“We’re married, and you’re telling me we can’t get divorced, but can we get an annulment?” I stay safely on the other side of the room, where I’m not in touching distance because I swearone touch from him is all it takes for my brain to shut down and my body to sayyes please, and we haven’t even had sex.
“No. Annulments aren’t recognized by the church, and we were married in the church.” Rhys stands his ground but looks two seconds away from closing the distance between us.
“Why then? Why marry me? I know neither of us were thinking straight last night, but you’ve got to give me something here, Rhys.” I wrap my fingers around the ladder-back chair at the small dining table and force my feet not to move, even if the pull is strong. “Because it sounds like you knew there was no out.”
“I could ask you the same thing. Do you have an answer, little bee?” The way he runs his hand through his hair looks practiced. Like he’s done it all day, and maybe he has. Maybe he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. Maybe this is already one of the worst days of his life, and demanding answers neither of us has isn’t fair.
Shit.
“Not a good one. Not one that makes sense.” Apparently not one that gets me out of this marriage. “So what do we do?”
“Make the best of it. Some of the longest marriages have been built on less.” Rhys loses whatever internal battle he’s fighting and stalks across the room, and I’m not sure what annoys me more. That he couldn’t give me space, or that my body relaxes as he gets closer. “Give me some time, Bellamy. Let’s figure this out. Think of all the good you could do as my queen.”
I recoil with that word.
“I don’t know?—”
“We don’t need to know yet, bee. I’ll be locked in meetings at the palace most of this week. The funeral will be on Friday, and we can figure everything out after that.” He speaks with an air of authority that makes you want to follow. A natural leader. It’s incredibly sexy, and even more annoying. “You camehere to look into the foundation. You came here to help. Well, help me. Spend this week getting familiar with everything we’re doing and everything you’d want to implement. And maybe you could spend some time with Joss. I’m sure she’d love to help you understand some of the intricacies of this world.”
He reaches for me, and I give in and let him.
I step into him, utterly frustrated.
With my inability to stay away.
With the situation.
With Rhys for his part in it.
With my less than responsible judgment for allowing it to happen.
But mostly, I’m annoyed with myself—because a tiny piece of me doesn’t hate this idea as much as I should. A tiny little delusional piece of me is clinging to the way my father always insistedeverything happens for a reason, and sometimes you just have to lean into it and follow where the wave takes you.
Well, I might not be on his fishing boat right now, but I’ve got a funny feeling there are stormy seas ahead, and I’m not sure they make life vests big enough for this.
“Fine,” I give in and offer up a silent prayer that this isn’t the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. And considering what I did last night, that’s saying something. “But I have one condition.”
He takes my face in his hands and tilts it up. “Name it.”
“I don’t want to tell anyone. If my brothers find out, they’ll blow off whatever games they have on the schedule and fly over here to drag me back home. They take overprotective to a nuclear level.”
“I can handle your brothers, love.”
“But I can’t. More accurately, I don’t want to. That’s my condition. Take it or leave it.” Surprisingly, my voice doesn’t waver.
“My sister and Maddox will be here in a few hours,” Rhys warns.
“Don’t you think Lennon will have enough to deal with already?” I counter.
He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear, and that buzz that always seems to be there whenever he touches me ignites. “I hate the idea of hiding you.”
“I don’t love the idea of being hidden, but I don’t see another way.” I look around the room. “There are worse places to hide.”
“Yes, love, there are. Which reminds me...” He takes my hand and walks into the bedroom and over to a corner with a stunning pale green chair with tiny white butterflies embroidered all over it. Rhys slides the chair aside and presses his palm against the wall and pushes.
“Oh my God. It’s a door.” I peek inside and smile. “Is that a secret passage...?”
Rhys steps inside the narrow hall, barely wide enough to fit him, and pulls me behind, then closes the door. A dull light hums to life overhead, apparently activated by our movement.
