I wait for her to react, to be outraged, something, but Natalia’s face has gone blank, as though intercourse with me simply hadn’t crossed her mind before. It might be wishful thinking, but I don’t see the fear in her eyes that was there on our wedding night.
I lean forward in my seat.
“It was my understanding that intercourse would not be happening in our marriage? Based on the absolute fucking tantrum your family threw on our wedding night.”
A delicious flush spreads up her neck. Rose and cream. I fight the urge to press my lips to the places where that blood stains her creamy skin.
“My family told me not to.”She chews her lip.
“And what business is it of theirs, if I want my wife?”
She doesn’t answer that.
Of course, I know exactly why it is. It’s because they’re trying to keep their options open for remarriage. If they can say that our marriage was only on paper, never in bed, then it won’t be as difficult to marry off Natalia to the next asshole with the right surname.
We’ve detected five attempts on my life this week. The hitmen are still being interrogated, but I think we’re going to find that each and every one of them was acting on Maksim Bryusov’s orders.
I weigh it up in my head. Maybe I should have taken Maksim’s money, instead of his daughter. But this arrangement has already opened doorways that would otherwise be closed to me — I might not have the Bryusov name, but I’m the heir apparent.
Natalia is still mulling over my question. Very seriously. I almost want to tell her to forget it, but I like watching her when she’s deep in thought. She’s biting her lip — chewing on it really — her green eyes flashing at me as she thinks.
“You don’t love me.” She speaks slowly. “It’s supposed to be about love.”
That’s cute.
“Never has been, in my experience.”
Her eyes flicker at that, her reply quick and instinctual. “How many?”
Natalia never speaks on impulse, and she seems almost surprised by the way her words have slipped out.
“Women?”
She nods.
I shrug. No one’s kept count, least of all me. “Lots.”
“And are you… Are you still?”
I shake my head.
“I will, though. It’s not fair to you. Not if you want love, princess.”
“You make that sound like it’s such an unreasonable demand.”
It is, I want to tell her. It is, for me.
I don’t think I’m capable. And if I do have love to give, it’s not going to be the roses and chocolates kind of love that Natalia is looking for.
If it exists, my love will be like the rest of me.
Rough. Hard to take. Intense.
“If it hasn’t happened to me in thirty-one years, I don’t think it’s going to happen to me.”
“What about me?”
I don’t follow what she means.
