“No, I’m not hungry. I don’t want to stay here. Take me to Zurich.”
“Why?”
The fact that her tone is disrespectful is filed for another day because I’m more curious to discover where she was heading.
“Because my family runs a huge corporation there, and forgive me for my choice, but I would rather spend the year getting to know them.”
“Is that where the gardener was taking you?”
I cock my brow and she nods, an adorable angry expression on her face. “I thought he was, but I was the fool who took someone at their word. I mean, he was my friend, but it also turns out he was a traitor in disguise.”
“You got that right. He was working at the convent under a false name purely to get close to you and your sisters.”
“No way.”
Her eyes widen in shock, and I enjoy breaking the bad news just for the fun of watching her emotions play out across her face.
“Why?”
“Are you seriously asking me that question after our earlier conversation?”
I swig more champagne from the bottle, and she actually points her finger at me and yells, “I’ve just about had enough of you, this entire situation and the freaking day from hell I’ve had. Is it really too much to ask to get to my destination without being drugged, kidnapped and forced onto a plane to marry a man I have never met? Tied up and then to witness his murder. Then, to round off the perfect day, I’m in a freaking honeymoon suite with a man who obviously couldn’t give a flying fuck about how I’m feeling right now. So, you must excuse me if I’m pissed and demand you take me to a place where nobody will be concerned about my money and what I can offer them. I would rather be around people who will be concerned about me as a person and not just as a commodity.”
She brushes her angry tears away, and I feel like shit. I have been so busy sharpening my anger toward her, it skipped my mind how much she has been through already. She is right; it isn’t too much to ask, and I have disregarded her feelings in all of this.
I set the bottle down and surprise myself by walking toward her, registering the shock on her expression as I pull her close. My arms wrapping around her body, offering comfort, which is extremely alien to me. I’m even more surprised when she slumps against me and the tears flow fast, broken, bitter and cleansing.
We stand for many minutes while I hug her tightly, allowing her to let the emotion out without saying a word. After a while she whispers, her voice muffled against my chest, “Thank you, but this doesn’t change my opinion of you.”
“Your opinion?”
“That you’re an asshole.”
I disguise my smile because, to be honest, she isn’t wrong and with a sigh she pulls back and wipes her tears away with her fingers.
“Is there a bathroom here?”
“Of course, it’s a hotel room.”
“As I said, asshole.”
Her dismissive gaze is not unwelcome. In fact, I’m enjoying how indifferent she is to me. The way she speaks to me is a serious turn-on because I don’t believe anyone has ever spoken to me like this.
It offers a challenge that I am happy to accept, but I must concede she has a point. It’s been too much already for a woman whose day usually involves quiet contemplation, and so I point toward the door leading to the bathroom.
“Go and freshen up. I’ll order some food to be delivered.”
“If you like, but it changes nothing.”
She sighs heavily. “I don’t want to go to New York with you. My original plan stands. I am going to find my family, and if you try to stop me, I’ll call the cops.”
“You’ll call the cops.” I raise my eyes and ponder the words. Cops. Really. Is she so deluded to believe she has a choice?
I shrug. “You could try, I suppose, but one thing you will soon learn about me, sweetheart, I fix my own agenda and if I say you’re coming with me to New York, you are. Non-negotiable.”
“Fine.” She sighs with irritation and glares at me.
“Have your way, but here is my condition.”
