He had worked for four years to get her into his home. Now he had her, and he didn’t know what to do with her. That night was the first time he realized something important. It was not worth having anything that wasn’t freely given. Their marriage wasn’t worth the paper it had been printed on. His victory was most definitely a
hollow one.
Not by a flicker in his face did he betray his feelings later that day, when Julia came to his office. Per his instructions, her suitcases had been taken to her in the guest room she’d chosen the night before, and she was dressed in one of the outfits he’d given her before the wedding. He had selected premiere labels, and at the time, he’d sneered, because he had known Julia Cosgrove-Howard had been raised to want only the best in life. But seeing her in the pale pant suit now, he realized he’d also instinctively selected outfits that flattered her dainty proportions.
With a frown at the quick response of his body, and the way her appearance reminded him what her skin felt like beneath the clothes, he said, “Good morning, Julia. Can I help you with something?”
So formal; so polite, and yet there was hostility there too.
She would not let him intimidate her. After all, she’d walked into their marriage with her eyes open, and she wasn’t going to let him cower her.
“I thought I might go out,” she said with a confidence she was far from feeling.
His frown was brief. “Whatever for?”
“This city is to be my home now. I thought I should go and explore it.”
“While I appreciate your willingness to immerse yourself in your new life, it isn’t possible.”
She lifted a brow. “Are you actually telling me I’m not allowed to go out, Zayn?”
“Don’t be facile. It is not a question of permission. You cannot go alone, and I am too busy to take you this morning.”
She compressed her lips in annoyance. “Don’t I have security people who can escort me?”
He let out a sigh of annoyance. “They are too busy to indulge your every whim.” It was a lie. His security staff would do whatever he asked of them, and that courtesy and duty included his wife. But for some reason he couldn’t fathom, he didn’t want her exploring the city without him. He had fantasized about showing it to her himself, only he was in no mood to play tourist guide that morning.
“Fine.” She muttered. “Have it your way.” She went to storm out of his office in what she had hoped would be a truly dramatic departure, only she stubbed her toe on the edge of a chair and wailed in pain, as her whole body instantly felt the reverberation.
With an oath in his own language, Zayn came to her side and pulled her into his arms. He was surprised to see that she was crying again. He had not remembered her being so emotional before.
“Are you dying?” He drawled teasingly, but she surprised him again by punching him hard, on his left pectoral muscle.
“Shut up,” she said through her tears. “Just shut up.”
“Shhh,” he murmured, pulling her against his chest and running his hands through her hair. And despite the insults he’d thrown at her the night before, his whole body was begging to be pressed to hers.
He couldn’t help it. Slowly, gently, he lifted her face to his. The misery he saw there made him question everything he’d ever done to the woman. With a stifled groan, he kissed her, sensually moving his lips over hers and trying to take away some of the pain she felt. Even if it was a temporary solution.
“Don’t cry, Julia,” he said against her lips, as his hands moved down her body. He lifted her camisole from the waistband of her pants, so that his hands were on her bare back, feeling the warmth of her fair skin.
“Another order?” She intoned huskily, but her arms crept up and wound around his neck. It was an innocent gesture, but it brought her breasts hard against his chest and he ached to feel their softness in his mouth once more.
“I don’t like it when you cry,” he answered honestly, and to underscore his point, he thumbed away the tears that were falling from her eyes.
“I don’t usually cry this much,” she responded with artless truth. Her statement made his heart contract painfully.
“Is marriage to me so unbearable?” He shouldn’t have asked the question, as he definitely didn’t want to know the answer.
Julia lowered her gaze, so that her eyes were concealed by her thick fan of lashes. “We haven’t been married long enough to say, but last night wasn’t a great start.”
His laugh was genuine, low and warm, as he wrapped his arms tight around her waist. He had never felt such a conflicting range of emotions for a single person.
“I was wrong last night.”
She lifted her eyes to his face again, hope so obvious that it made him feel like the worst kind of bastard.
“You were?” Her breathing had quickened and her question came out as a husk.