Fear the prince’s love.
He loves the throne more than he loves you.
“Didn’t marrying me already mess up your claim to that throne, anyway? I’m not royalty. Don’t you have to marry a princess of something and somewhere?”
Nicolai shrugged. “My claim is based on male primogeniture, father to first son to first son. My mother wasn’t noble or royal. That part of the Pauline Laws hasn’t been used to support our claim for three or four generations, I think, so that doesn’t matter.”
“It just matters that your real marriage someday is Russian Orthodox, for whenever you marry your real wife. That’s whythis marriage to me has to be religiously annulled, not just a divorce.”
He nodded, still not looking at me.
At least he was being honest with me.
That was more than I’d ever had before.
“Okay. So, don’t worry about it, then,” I said. “We’ll get you what you need. If you need an annulment, we’ll figure out how to get one.”
He ran a hand through his hair and rested it on the back of his neck. “I shouldn’t care.”
“But you do. It doesn’t matter whether youshouldcare or not.”
He nodded, but one of his broad shoulders rose in a shrug. “I’ve never admitted that to anyone. I shouldn’t admit that to anyone.”
“Um, spousal privilege?” I grinned at him, though my face felt a little lopsided. “We’re legally married. Under spousal privilege, I can’t be compelled to testify about anything you’ve told me. Might as well use it while you’ve got it.”
He looked up, letting his hand drop from where he’d been fidgeting with his wedding ring. “There is that.”
“And speaking of legal spousal protections—” I started.
“Why am I suddenly worried about what you’re going to say?”
“You’re good at business negotiations, right?”
His chuckle and half an eye roll were cute. “Supposedly.”
“So, let’s finish negotiating this pre-nup agreement. Or, post-nup in this case, since we’ve already nupped.”
“Tonight?” His steady gaze accused me of being dumb. “It’s past three in the morning, and you should have legal representation.”
“I don’t want a lawyer. I knowexactlywhat I want. We should negotiate thisnow.”
He squinted at me a little, as if examining my state ofmind. “I feel I should ask for a breathalyzer test from you first.”
I cocked my head at him in snark. “I didn’t askyoufor a drunk test before we got married.”
His lips pulled into a grim smile as he shook his head. “YouknewI was wasted.”
True.“So humor me. And like I said, I switched to drinking water when Clementine ordered me to. I’m hydrated.”
“Fine, we’ll negotiate the terms now, but we won’t sign it until tomorrow morning.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
His half-smile and dip of his chin suggested that he didn’t believe me. “Nevertheless.”
“I’ll bet the concierge desk here could send up a notary public and a witness if you asked them to.”
“Tomorrow, morning.”But his tone wasn’t angry, just firm. “Because you deserve the chance to back out when you sober up, too.”
