"Then why are you here?"
"Because I've been an idiot." I run a hand through my hair. "Because I've spent two weeks ignoring you while telling myself I was protecting you."
A thick silence settles between us.
"I'm just—" She stops and takes a deep breath before starting again. "I don't know what I'm supposed to be. Your wife? Your prisoner? The woman carrying your child? I don't know how to exist in this house. In this life. With you."
"I don't know either," I admit. "I've never done this before."
"You've never been married?" There's sarcasm laced in her voice. "Shocker."
I find myself almost smiling. There's the fire I've been missing.
"I've never cared whether someone was happy or not." The words come out rougher than I intend. "Usually, I just take what I want and don't worry about the consequences. But with you—" I pause. "I forced you into this marriage. Intothis life. And now I'm watching you fade away and I don't know how to fix it."
She's quiet for a long moment.
"You can't fix it," she says finally. "This isn't something you can solve with money or power or locking me up for my own protection. I'm not a problem to be managed, Adrian. I'm a person. And I need—" She stops and takes a shaky breath.
"What? What do you need?"
"I don't know." Her voice is small. "That's the problem. I don't know what I need anymore. Everything I had is gone. My job. My apartment. My freedom. My brother. Everything that mademeis just—gone. And I don't know how to be this new person you want me to be."
I've taken everything from her and offered nothing in return except safety.
"Tell me about your work."
She looks confused. "What?"
"Your restoration work. The books. You loved it, didn't you?"
"I—yes. But that doesn't matter now."
"It matters." I shift closer. Not touching, but near enough that she could if she wanted. "Tell me. What did you love about it?"
She stares at me like I've lost my mind. Maybe I have.
"Why do you care?"
"Because I'm trying to know you. Actually, know you. Not just the woman in my bed or the mother of my child.You."
"Why now? After two weeks of ignoring me?"
"Because I was wrong." I hold her gaze. "Because I've been so focused on hunting Gabe that I forgot—" I stop. Force myself to say it. "I forgot about you. And I'm sorry."
Her eyes shine with unshed tears.
"I would restore old books," she says finally. Quietly. "Sometimes they'd come to me barely holding together. Spines broken. Pages foxed and brittle. And I'd have to be socareful. So patient. It could take days or weeks to repair something properly. To bring it back to life without destroying what made it special in the first place."
"You miss it."
"I miss having something that was mine." She wipes at her eyes angrily. "I miss having a purpose beyond being pregnant. I miss feeling useful. I miss—" Her voice breaks. "I miss being me."
"What if you could do it again?"
"What?"
"Restore books. Here. From the mansion." I'm making this up as I go, but it feels right. "We have a library. You could set up a workspace. I could have projects sent to you. Clients who need restoration work."
