“The hell it isn’t. You’re my wife.”
“In name only.” She kicked off her heels, wincing slightly as her injured ankle protested. “Our marriage is a business arrangement, remember? You don’t get to play protectivehusband when it’s convenient and ignore me the rest of the time.”
“I haven’t been ignoring you—”
“Haven’t you? Three weeks, Viktor. Three weeks of sleeping in separate beds, eating separate meals, living completely separate lives. The only time you pay attention to me is when you’re pissed off about something I’ve done or when you need me to play the dutiful wife for an audience.”
She was right, and they both knew it. But hearing her say it out loud, hearing the hurt in her voice, made something twist uncomfortably in his chest.
“That’s not...” He ran a hand through his hair, struggling to find the right words. “It’s complicated.”
“No, it’s really not.” She was backing away from him, heading for the stairs. “You married me for revenge. I married you to save my family. Everything else is just window dressing.”
“Is it? Because from where I’m standing, it looked like you were enjoying yourself tonight when I had my hands on you.”
She froze on the third step, her knuckles white as she gripped the banister. “That was an act.”
“Was it? Because your body seemed to have a different opinion.” He moved closer, trapping her between his body and the stairs. “You were melting every time I touched you, Anka. Leaning into me, making those little sounds in the back of your throat that I remember so fucking well.”
“Viktor—”
“Tell me you didn’t feel anything. Tell me it was all just pretend, and I’ll walk away right now.”
She turned to face him, and he could see the war playing out in her hazel eyes. Want versus self-preservation, desire versus the knowledge that getting involved with him again could only end in heartbreak.
“I felt something,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “But that doesn’t change anything. We can’t go back to what we were.”
“I’m not talking about going back. I’m talking about what’s happening right now, in this moment.” He reached out, tracing his fingers along her cheek. “I’m talking about the way you’re looking at me like you want to devour me whole.”
She leaned into his touch despite herself, her eyes fluttering closed for just a second. “We’ll only hurt each other.”
“Maybe. Or maybe we’ll finally get this out of our systems.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“I’m suggesting we stop pretending we don’t want each other. Stop fighting the inevitable and just... see what happens.”
For a moment, he thought she was going to say yes. He could see the moment her resolve wavered, could feel the heat radiating from her body as she swayed closer to him.
Then she shook her head, stepping back until her shoulders hit the wall.
“No. I won’t do this again. I won’t let you back in just so you can destroy me when you get bored or decide you’ve gotten your revenge.”
“What if that’s not what this is about?”
“Isn’t it? This whole marriage, this whole fucked-up situation we’re in—it’s all because you wanted to make me payfor what happened four years ago. And now what, you want to add sleeping with me to your list of victories?”
The accusation hit like a slap, mostly because there was truth in it. Or there had been, in the beginning. But somewhere along the way, his motivations had gotten muddy, complicated by feelings he didn’t want to examine too closely.
“It’s not about revenge anymore,” he said, surprised by his own honesty.
“Then what is it about?”
“I don’t know. I just know that I can’t stop thinking about you. About how you felt in my arms last night, about how perfect you looked tonight, about how much I want to kiss you right fucking now.”
Her breath caught, and he saw her pupils dilate with want. “Viktor...”
“Tell me you don’t want the same thing. Tell me you haven’t been thinking about what it would be like if we stopped fighting and just gave in to this.”
