Emma
Tonight would be my third night on the third floor, and I had to admit my resistance to the attraction of Everett Ramses was waning.
“I don’t want you up here any longer,” Rett said, standing with me in the suite’s library. With the ceiling above us open, under the evening stars, he wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me closer.
Keeping him at bay during most of our days, I couldn’t deny the draw when we were together. In his arms, I was adrift on a cloud of Rett Ramses. The intoxicating scent of his cologne mixed with bodywash filled my senses. The key in my jewelry box gave me hope. And his dark gaze focused only on me was like a ray of sunshine that warmed me from within.
Nevertheless, I knew that I was perched on the precipice of the stand I took—my line in the sand. As my breasts flattened against his wide chest, his upsetting behavior was in the past. In the present, I was once again seeing the fairy tale of honeymoons and happily-ever-afters.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want those things.
I did, more than I cared to admit.
Despite what he’d done, I was completely under Everett Ramses’s spell.
Perhaps my stubbornness in remaining on the third floor stemmed from something deeper, similar to my desire to retain my name, Emma at the least.
This past month and a half had been crazy—to understate it. My world was upended much like a boat capsized during a hurricane. With all that had changed, I needed to hold on to me in some form. If I stayed with the boat analogy, I couldn’t sink. I couldn’t fall so far into the depths of the ocean that was Everett Ramses that in the process I was lost at sea.
It reminded me of how it had been with his desire for my submission. I wanted to do it on my own terms. I wanted to comply and yet stay true to me—not a version of me created by Rett.
Moving to the third floor had been my stand. I would maintain it for now.
“I’m still...” I wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence.
He lifted my chin. “This temper tantrum has gone on long enough. I could insist.”
My chest filled as I inhaled. “It isn’t a temper tantrum. There is no yelling. This is me making my own decision. I suppose you can insist, but I promise that wouldn’t accomplish your goal.”
“If my goal is to have you close, it would.”
“In proximity” —I laid my hand over the buttons of his shirt— “or here?”
“I’ve told you there isn’t some magical or symbolic organ present in there, Emma.” He laid his hand between my breasts. “Not like there is in here. You’re too good and too forgiving for your heart to be gone.”
“Mine isn’t gone, Rett. It was taken and broken, and what remains is guarded very closely. That’s why I won’t come downstairs yet. I’m not ready. As I said, you could insist, but if you do, you won’t like the result.”
The tips of his lips curled. “Are you threatening me, Mrs. Ramses?”
“Are you scared?”
“Not in the least. Throwing you over my shoulder and carrying you down the stairs sounds appealing.”
I wanted to say that it didn’tnotsound appealing to me, but instead, I moved the conversation forward. “Rett, I’m asking for your patience and calling on our deal, the one we made the other day. I fulfilled my part by signing the marriage certificate again. And you may recall, I added the addendum of additional clauses as they came to me. That is still in effect.”
Rett lifted my left hand in the palm of his hand and brought his left hand beside it. “You asked for a ring. I’m wearing it.”
I’d looked at the ring off and on since that night but not as closely as I was seeing it now. I reached for his hand and studied the large piece of jewelry. “Is that the Ramses crest?”
“A little smaller than in the courtyard.”
“Not much,” I said with a smile. “Where did you get it?”
“The safe. It’s where most of the jewelry comes from.”
“Is that similar to where they keep the Queen of England’s crown jewels?”
“Smaller.” He inhaled and exhaled as he looked down at the ring and back to me. “You won’t come downstairs.” It wasn’t a question. “I’d like to stay here for a while?”