“Yes.”
He gave her a grin. “Mind if I shower first?”
“Go ahead.”
He disappeared into the ensuite. She tried not to listen, but it was so quiet she heard everything. The clink of a belt.The shuffle of clothing. Then the water.
Her brain supplied merciless visuals. Broad shoulders under steam. The flex of his back as he ran his hands through his hair, the way water always seemed to race down his abs like it knew where it wanted to go.
Distraction was needed. She put her book away, and grabbed the nearest thing—her makeup bag—and sat on the edge of the bed to sort it. It didn’t take long. Powder, mascara, lip gloss. That was about the extent of it. She unzipped the small inner compartment. Inside was the necklace she’d meant to weartonight and forgotten. It dropped out as a stubborn, metallic tangle.
She was still working at the knots when the door opened, and Rafael emerged shirtless, wearing only the grey shorts from the previous night. She glanced up—and immediately looked back down. He ran hot, and technically he normally slept that way, but yesterday he’d had the decency to wear a t-shirt.
His gaze dropped to her hands. “What’s that?”
She pulled. The tangle tightened. “I must not have clasped the end properly.” She held up the necklace in frustration.
He took it from her without comment and climbed into bed. The scent of amber, spice, and clean Rafael hit her like a pheromone concoction designed to erase every line she’d rehearsed. “We need to talk.”
Bea carefully moved beside him. She trained her eyes on his face, valiantly ignoring his bare torso. “Can you tell me the rest? About the law. About you. I’m ready to hear it.”
“It makes me yours,” he answered. “Legally. Publicly. Permanently. Everything I’m given control over is structured around protecting and prioritizingyou.”
The simplicity of his summation knocked the air out of her.
“If I abandon you, cheat, mistreat, or fail to provide, you can go to the Ministry. They don’t take those allegations lightly.” He paused. “Neither of us gets to love without consequences.”
She took a deep breath. “If we’re going to get married?—”
“Weare,” he said firmly. “There’s noif.”
It didn’t feel like pressure. Just truth.
Bea’s hand toyed with the hem of the duvet. “I want to marry you. But I don’t want to wake up one day and feel like I gave away too much. Or worse—resent you, for letting me.”
“You think this law makes you small,” he said quietly. “But I’ve never once looked at you and seen someone I wanted to shrink. Not when I met you. Not now.”
She stared at the ceiling for a second, then back at him.“I need assurances.”
“Name them.”
“But the law isn’t negotiable.”
He spoke, attention on the smallest loop between his fingers. “Everything is negotiable.”
“I want my own account. Real control. Not an allowance.”
“You’ll have one account that’s untouchable. That’s actually already built into the law as a future safeguard. But generally our finances will be pooled,” he explained. “I’ve told you before, my money is your money. I want you to spend it freely.”
Bea watched his face, searching. Then she nodded, filing it away. She sat up more fully. “Okay, so travel: I’m happy to discuss things with you, but I don’t want to feel like I need to ask permission.”
“I’ll get you an open-dated first-class pass with Westhaven Airlines,” he announced. “Pre-approved on my end. No pop-ups or override codes.”
Her brows lifted. “You can do that?”
“I already made inquiries.”
“What about my job?” she asked, bending her knees and hugging them to her chest. She rested her chin on them.
