“Late.”
“Perfect,” I say, swallowing. The knowledge doesn’t sit well with me.
My contradictory feelings tear me apart; I can almost hear the fabric of my being ripping.
“There will be two guards constantly nearby.”
I open and close my mouth when he adds, “Security is something we will never negotiate. I need to know you’re safe. They will be stealthy. You won’t even know they’re there.”
“Married to you. A dream come true,” I say, infusing as much sarcasm as I can.
He shrugs, not deterred by my jab in the slightest. “I told you I am nothing like a hero. Turn me into your villain, but all I care about is your safety.”
“Any other things involving the position of being Mrs. Kinkaid?” I say in a tone reeking of pretend sweetness.
I catch a muscle tic in his jaw at the job dig. Petty, sure, but it’s the only thing I have going.
“There will be galas. Public appearances. Choosing nonprofit organizations to support. New York is a tight circle. They’ll want to know you. Trust no one. The bigger their grins, the more likely the desire to betray you to get what you have.”
No wonder he is always three steps ahead. It’s the same in the underworld. I guess he had to become the best at the power game.
I dip my chin, fidgeting with my fingers in my lap.
“Pretend, Viviana. No one does it better. You’ll have them eating out of the palm of your hand. Beat them at their own fucking game.”
I must, refusing to be simply the woman by his side. I want to establish my own power base.
At home, a smiling woman greets us. “Mr. and Mrs. Kinkaid, welcome home. Dinner will be served shortly.”
I turn to him, making a hand gesture in the air.
He scratches his neck. “That is our housekeeper, Daniela.”
Going with her to the kitchen, she says, “I hope everything is to your liking.”
“Thank you for doing this for us. I appreciate it.”
She nods, her smile turning brighter, and after we make the weekly plan, I tell her, “I have this from here. Enjoy some family time.”
Tristan is not a tyrant per se, but he lacks empathy.
I set the table when he comes inside, looking around. “Where is Daniela?”
“I sent her home. It’s Sunday, Tristan. Everyone should be with their families on Sunday.”
“You don’t need to?—”
“To what? Plate some food and set the table.”
“I have people for that.”
I slap my forehead. “Right, I forgot I am a princess. God forbid I do something and break a nail.”
Already in a mood, I point at his chair. “Sit. Let’s eat.”
He crosses his arms over her chest and cocks his head. “If my presence offends you this fucking badly, why don’t you eat alone?”
Why indeed? He loves to point out my weaknesses, slapping me with the truth I keep fighting.
