“Nora.”
She hesitates, then shrugs. “He was just flirting…I guess.”
“What did he say?” I repeat the question, enunciating every word.
“He asked if you were keeping me satisfied. Whether I might…beup for variety.”
Every muscle in my body locks. I look over her head and find Patrick across the room. He meets my eyes, sees my expression, and goes white.
He should be afraid.
“Are you alright?” I ask her.
“How much longer do we need to stay here?”
“We don’t need to stay a second longer. If you’re ready to leave, then we leave.”
As the driver I hired for the night pulls away from the hotel, Nora sits beside me quietly in the back seat.
“I’m sorry if I—” she starts.
“I told you never to apologize for yourself. You did nothing wrong. He did.” My hands are fisted on my thighs. “I should have broken his jaw for speaking to you that way.”
“But you didn’t.”
“You wanted to leave. You come first.” I don’t tell her that I have every intention of following through on that threat.
She reaches across the seat and slips her hand into mine. I grip hard enough that she should pull away. She doesn’t. She holds on.
The penthouse is dark when we return. I flip on a lamp, loosen my bow tie, and run a hand through my hair.
I can hear her behind me. The whisper of silk against skin. The tap of her heels on the hardwood. I stare at the window, my reflection staring back.
“Go to bed if you’re tired. I’ll be in shortly,” I say, not moving.
“I’m not tired. In fact…”
I wait for her to finish her thought, but when she doesn’t, I turn.
Nora stands in the center of the living room—midnight blue silk, flushed skin, every fantasy I’ve ever hadmade flesh. She crosses to me, brave and deliberate, each step a choice. She stops a foot away, and I read her eyes. Not fear. Not resignation. Something I’ve been waiting fourteen nights to see.
“All night, all I could think about was how good it felt to be on your arm. To be your wife. And I couldn’t wait for you to bring me home and make love to me.”
I go rigid. “You understand what you’re saying.”
“I’m saying I’m done waiting. I’m ready to consummate this marriage properly. I want this to be real.”
“It is real.”
“Then make it real. All the way.”
I search her face for doubt, for obligation, for the people-pleasing instinct that drives her to give what she thinks is owed. I find none of it.
“Are you sure?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
I lift her the way I carried her across the threshold. She wraps her arms around my neck, presses her mouth to the hinge of my jaw, and my careful iron-willed restraint snaps clean in half.
