I don’t say yes. I don’t even smile.
His brow creases. “You do know the verdict’s expected tomorrow?”
“Of course,” I say, sharper than I intended. “Pauline told me.”
“Did she also tell you it’ll be in my favor?” His tone is measured, but I catch the challenge.
I meet his gaze. “Not in those words. But yes, she said things don’t look good for Millie and me.”
“So, you know.” He exhales, visibly relieved. “Then we can talk reason.”
“You mean your business pitch with a side of sex?”
He props himself on one elbow. “Eva, think about what I’m offering. It’s generous. More than generous.”
I purse my lips.
“You’re thirty-five,” he continues, voice lower. “You might not be able to have more children. And even if you do…” His voice trails off.
“What?” I challenge. “Come on, say it.”
His eyes narrow. “If it’s a boy, there’s a fifty percent chance he’ll have hemophilia.”
He said it. Did that help?
“Realistically,” he says, “if we stay married, the most likely outcome is I’ll never have children of my own. I won’t get to pass on my genes. Millie will be my heir.”
She’s a Castellane,I want to remind him, but the lump in my throat stops me.
“Which is fine,” he says. “I don’t mind. She’s a great kid.”
My heart pinches. That part’s true.
“And she’s my niece,” he adds. “But if she decides not to have children?—”
I open my mouth, but he keeps going, “Don’t get me wrong, it would be an understandable decision for someone at such high risk of pregnancy and postpartum complications. But it would mean that the thousand-year-old Castellane bloodline ends with her.”
It takes me a moment to process the sheer gall of his tirade. Intellectually, I know it’s just Alex being stark honest. But each blunt, cold, transactional word stings.
He searches my face. “Eva? Please say something.”
“Where do I begin?” I tilt my head. “Let’s see… You prefaced your proposal with ‘if we stay married.’”
He doesn’t hear the warning in my voice. “I don’t know you well enough to be certain the union would last.”
“If we stay married,” I repeat, mocking. “Oh, I can promise you we won’t. Because we’re never getting married to begin with.”
His face tightens as he catches on.Good.
“You know what?” I say, anger crowding out everything else. “You can shove your proposal. If you win this case, congratulations. Millie and I will be out of here the next day.”
“Eva—”
“No.” My voice rises. “I’m done with marriage. I’m done with Castellane men. You’re all goddamn morons!”
I throw the covers back hard, tangling them at the bed’s foot. The cold air hits my skin, but I don’t care. My robe’s on the chair; I grab it, shove my arms through the sleeves, and cinch it tight.
He’s still in bed, watching me as if stunned I’m leaving.
