“What are your expectations?” I know how to choose my battles and when to admit defeat.
"Public appearances. You'll stand beside me at court. Present a unified front."
"And if I trip over my own feet in front of all your important political allies?"
"I don’t like anyone touching what’s mine—”
My heart skips a beat.
“So be sure not to let any of them catch you."
But now I tell my heart to un-beat even as I choke back a laugh, andoh!
There it is again!
That twitch at the corner of his mouth. I'm starting to think that's as close to a smile as he gets.
"As for our private life—”
Do not skip a beat, heart!
“You'll have your own chambers. I won't force anything."
I should feel relieved.
I do feel relieved.
The little dip in my stomach is relief. Definitely.
"Your activities. You'll have freedom within the estate. Continue your photography if you like."
I blink. "My photography?"
"You work at a bridal studio. Lauve." He says it like he's reciting facts from a file. "You're a photographer."
"A photography assistant. There's a difference."
"Not to me.”
I have no idea what to say to that so I just...start eating as the candles continue to flicker and the silence between us gradually grows heavier.
I should let it go. Finish dinner. Go back to my room and figure out what happened to Abigail.
Instead, I open my mouth.
"And if I wanted to see someone?"
The words fall out before I can catch them.
Devyn's fork pauses. Just for half a second.
"See someone," he repeats.
"Not that I would." My face is getting hot. Why did I ask this? "I'm just asking what the rules are. For informational purposes."
"Informational purposes."
"Yes."
