“What do you think?” Arko asked, noticing the keen eye I was trying to keep from him.
I schooled my face into indifference. “It looks like I can survive here.”
He let out a bark of laughter. “I forgot. You’re a goddamn princess. This must seem quaint compared to the Lebedev palaces.”
“I’ve seen better,” I lied. The truth was that his home was gorgeous. But I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction.
“Let me show you around,” he said, ignoring my snide dig. “You should know where things are if you’re going to live here.”
“I don’t need a tour. Just show me to my room so I can lock myself in and pretend you don’t exist,” I hissed.
“All in good time.” He paused and faced me. “First, we need to discuss some ground rules.”
Wait…what the hell does that mean? I felt my defences rise at the injustice of it all.
“It’s not like I’ve chosen to be here,” I snapped. “So there’s no way I’m following any of your ground rules, whatever that means.”
“I wish life were that simple,” he chuckled. “But you are my wife, which means there are wifely duties to be followed.”
My eyebrows shot up at his sheer audacity. “Excuse me?”
“Your wifely duties,” he repeated, his face perfectly serious. “I have expectations.”
“If you think for one second that I’m going to sleep with you—”
“I expect you to stay in the house,” he interrupted. “Be good. Stay out of my family’s affairs and get yourself acquainted with the staff since you’re the mistress of the house now.”
My mouth flung open. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am completely serious,” he continued. “I expect fresh flowers in the foyer weekly. They improve the ambiance.”
“F…flowers?” I sputtered. “You want me to get you fucking flowers?”
“I can get you some too, if you like,” he grinned.
My eyes slit down in anger. “Show me to my room.”
“I’m not done yet.” He kept that stupid grin on. “As a wife, you’ll also need to accompany me to social functions, smile at my company, and generally behave like you don’t want to murder me in my sleep.”
“This isn’t the nineteenth century, you misogynistic asshole!” I exploded. “I’m not your servant or your arm candy!”
“I believe my expectations are perfectly justified for a wife.” He cocked his head.
“I don’t arrange flowers or handle household staff,” I said flatly. “I’m an accountant, not a maid.”
“You’ll learn,” he said with such infuriating confidence that it did me in. The mild temper I felt was now a full-on volcanic eruption.
“Like hell I will! I’ll burn your shirts. I’ll poison your food. I’ll put itching powder in your underwear.”
A slow smile spread across his face. “Thinking about my underwear already, princess?”
Just the way he flipped that conversation made me freeze and my heart race. He was too close, looking down at me with those same intense eyes that had made me weak-kneed back at the club.
“You’re disgusting.”
He laughed again, and it made me want to punch him.
“Well, that’s the first time a woman’s called me disgusting,” he said. “Now, as I was saying, your duties include—”
