I’m afraid to now, too—afraid to believe that he might actually be making an effort. That nearly dying made him reassess his position on being married to me and what he wanted his marriage to be.
Only one way to find out.
“The first time I ever flew on a private jet,” Connor says absently as we find our seats, sitting across from one another once our luggage is stowed, “I was a teenager. My father sent me to Sicily for the summer to meet some Italian family that he wanted to make alliances with. He was displeased about the private jet. He always told me that the Italians and the Bratva wasted their money on all the fine suits and jets and multiple houses. That the Irish weren’t like that—we remembered our history, what it was like to starve. What it was like to be held down by those with more power than us. That we would never be so wasteful.” He snorts. “He was a fucking hypocrite.”
I look at him curiously, sinking into the plush leather of the seat. “It’s definitely not how most of the Kings do things. They’re all richer than God and don’t mind who knows. My father certainly doesn’t worry about frugality. And yours has an estate, how is that—”
Connor smirks. “That’s about legacy and handing things down in the family, don’t you know? And besides, it proves to those English bastards of yore that an Irishmancanown an estate and land and keep it well.” He laughs. “Like I said, a hypocrite.”
“It sounds like you and your father always had a difficult relationship,” I say softly, almost hesitantly. Connor doesn’t really ever open up to me, and even this is more than I’ve gotten from him in a long time—nearly the entire time we’ve been together. “That can’t have been easy, having expectations that he didn’t always meet himself.”
“Nothing I did was ever going to be good enough for him, no matter how hard I tried,” Connor replies bluntly. “And I did try, as hard as I possibly could, for a number of years. Right up until he thought it would be a good idea to try to double-cross both Vitto Rossi and Viktor Andreyev.”
“I’ve felt that way about my father too, sometimes,” I admit. “He’s always had very high expectations for me. And they haven’t always been what I would choose, or even entirely what I wanted for myself.”
“But you met those expectations.” Connor looks at me narrowly. “You got me to come back to Boston and marry you. You’re fulfilling everything your dear daddy wanted for you. To the letter.”
I frown. “Is that why you’re so resentful? Because I’ve done what was expected of me, and you nearly escaped that, only to be dragged back? That’s it, isn’t it? I’ve thought as much. I was afraid you’d feel that way.”
“And yet you did it anyway,” Connor murmurs and then straightens in his seat, his gaze resting coolly on mine. “I’m not resentful of anything, Saoirse. I just want us to stick to the deal we’ve struck, that’s all. Business, not pleasure.”
Something burns in my chest at that. I feel tired, deep down—tired of wanting, wishing, hoping. I’d had a spark of hope for this trip, and he seemed determined to snuff it out. I want to try to fight for this, for what I know there is between us, but it’s so hard when he pushes me away at every turn and when I have my own pride, my own sense of self-worth on the line.
Won’t it feel so much worse if we come to the end of this, and I haven’t tried, though? If I get pregnant and our marriage becomes nothing but words on paper, and I spend my life wondering if I could have changed it?
It takes a special kind of courage to put yourself out there in a relationship. I’d tried just a little with Liam and been burned so badly I hadn’t been sure I’d ever want to try again. Connor had seemed especially good after that, a safe bet, a man I already knew I didn’t have feelings for. But then I’d met him all over again in London—and that changed.
I think of Niall then, partially against my will, but it’s relevant to what’s happening—becauseNiallhas put himself out there for me. He’s pursued me as much as he’s able, been open and forthright about his feelings, even knowing that there’s a chance I can’t or won’t return them. Even knowing that I can’t give him everything he desires. He’s still risked his heart.
I should be brave enough to do the same with Connor. And then, if Connor still rejects me, I’ll be able to give Niall everything short of a traditional relationship because I’ll know for sure. I won’t still be pining for a husband who doesn’t want me, which would be the most embarrassing and painful thing of all.
“What if we tried?” I ask, holding Connor’s gaze just as evenly. “Just for this weekend?”
His expression turns guarded. “What do you mean,try? Try for what, exactly? A baby? We’ve already been doing that, and I assure you we will be the entire time we’re here.” His eyes fill with calculated lust as he says it, but I’m not letting him distract me that easily.
“No. What if we tried to act like an actual couple on their honeymoon. A real husband and wife.”
“I assure you, we are areal—”
“Stop it!” I glare at him, my hands tightening into fists on the seat next to my thighs, my heartbeat speeding up with frustration. “You know what I mean, Connor. And you might not remember that night in our living room when you made me call you William and actuallyenjoyedbeing with me, but I do. I remember the sex club in London, too, and the beach in Dublin, and—”
“Alright, enough.” Connor’s voice has hardened, but I think I see a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes, and it’s enough to give me a tiny bit of hope. “What exactly is it that you want, Saoirse?”
I take a deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts enough to be clear.It’s now or never. This is your only chance at maybe having what you want. Maybe.“I want us to behave like we’re in love. Like you want to be with me, and I want to be with you. Like we chose this marriage for reasons other than just politics and convenience—”
“I assure you, our marriage has been anything butconvenientfor me so far—”
I glare at him, and he raises his hands in surrender. “Sorry. Please, continue.”
It might be the first time Connor has ever apologized to me, and it throws me off so much that I have to blink at him for a moment before continuing, swallowing hard. “I want us to be like a normal husband and wife this weekend, on honeymoon in Japan. That’s it. Romance, dates, sex, the whole nine yards. I want it all. And then—we’ll go back home, and we can go back to our arrangement.”But if this works, maybe you won’t want to.
Connor frowns at me. “Why do you want this, Saoirse? I was under the impression you were as uninterested in being in love with me as I am with you.”
Those words sting, cutting like a knife, but I push forward anyway. “I want the experience,” I tell him bluntly, and it’s notentirelya lie. “No matter what other relationships I might get to have, Connor, no matter what other vacations with someone else I might go on, no matter how much romance or dating or affection I might get from other lovers in the future, you will always be my only husband. This will always be my only honeymoon—or something close to it. I want to know what it feels like to do this with the man I married. I want a taste of what a normal marriage feels like. Just once.”
Connor’s frown deepens, and for a second, I think he’s not going to buy it. That he’s going to reject me and my idea, tell me that I’m being ridiculous. That we’ll stay in the room and fuck as many times as we can, stress and interruption-free, and then head home.
Then his mouth twitches, and I see him relax into his seat, his expression turning curious again as he smirks. “Alright,” he says finally. “I’ll play this game, Saoirse. A ‘normal’ honeymoon. All the experiences a loving husband and wife who can’t keep their eyes off each other might have.” His gaze skims over my body, and I know he’s noticing the curve of my breasts in the dress, the way the soft, stretchy material clings to me. “I might have some desires of my own, then. Some thingsI’vealways wanted to do, with a woman who was willing to please my every whim.”