The Reluctant Wife: Chapter 34

“What?” My jaw drops. “You want me to marry you?” I whisper.

He nods.

There’s no denying the intensity in his eyes. He’s not joking. He’s serious about this proposition.

My heart begins to race. My pulse flutters like the wings of a hummingbird.

First, he offers to invest the kind of money which will help my father pay off the country’s debts and invest it in the future of the citizens. But to marry him in return? Holy shit.

I was sure I was headed for a marriage of convenience where I’d hate my spouse. But for Ryot to be my husband? My head spins.

I’ve been attracted to him from the moment I met him. He’s the only man I’ve ever wanted. To be his wife, to share my life with him, to share his bed… It feels too good to be true.

I pull away from him, and instantly miss his touch. I ignore that and search his eyes. “Why would you do this? What’s in this for you?”

Say it’s because you love me. Say you proposed to me because you want me to be your wife in every sense of the word, because you want me. You need me. You can’t live without me. Please.

Something flickers in his eyes. Surprise? Confusion? It’s banked at once. He rises to his feet and sits next to me. “Would there need to be something in it for me? Could I not do this because I want to?”

But why do you want to? Couldn’t you just say it’s because you love me? No…because he doesn’t love me. My heart sinks. My stomach heaves. I fold my arms about my waist, as if that’s going to help me contain my disappointment. “Given how you’ve blown hot and cold with me. Given how you’ve insisted on maintaining a professional line between us, I’m not sure what to make of this change of heart.”

Also, it’s clear you’re not over your wife’s death. Not that I’m going to say that out aloud.

“Isn’t it enough that I care for you? And I can help you?” he asks slowly.

Yes, he cares for me, but he doesn’t love me. Likely, what he feels for his dead wife is holding him back from committing completely. And I’m not going to be second in his affections. I’m not going to compete with a ghost for his attention.

When I stay silent, he stares at me intently, as if trying to read my thoughts. “What if I told you that this is a good business opportunity for the Davenports? With Verenza’s economy the way it is, there are bargains to be had. I have no doubt, The Davenport Group will more than recoup what we invest in your country. Besides, it’ll get Arthur off my back.” He half smiles. “When he finds out that you and I are getting married, he’ll throw his weight behind my proposal to get The Davenport Group to invest in Verenza.”

If I needed further proof that he’s not doing this because he’s fallen for me, here it is. He doesn’t care for me the way I do for him.

My head hurts trying to make sense of everything. “You’ve made it clear thus far that there’s no future for us. And now, you spring the prospect of my marrying you. It feels…too sudden.”

Exasperation flits across his features, then his expression shuts down. The hard planes of his face don’t allow me to read whatever he’s thinking. “I’m offering you a chance to save your country from the brink of financial disaster.”

“In return for marrying you?”

He nods slowly.

This is Ryot I’d be marrying. The man of my dreams. Only it’ll be another marriage of convenience. This time, I’m not repulsed by the man I’m going to marry, but in some ways, it feels worse because I’m in love with him, and he doesn’t reciprocate the sentiment.

How can I have everything and yet, nothing? My spirits droop. “And during the time we’re married, would we have separate bedrooms, or⁠—”

He shakes his head. “Afraid not, Princess. If we maintained separate lives my grandfather would never buy into our marriage.” He leans back. “More importantly, I can’t protect you if I’m in a different room. The intruder got to your bedroom in the hotel, remember?’

I look away. ‘So, no separate bedrooms?’ I curl my shoulders inwards, trying to understand what he’s suggesting. ‘Does that mean⁠—’

‘That we share a bed? Yes,” he says in a firm voice.

A frisson of heat curls in my lower belly. My thighs clench. Nope, I’m not averse to that part of the bargain at all. ‘And does that include⁠—’

‘Yes.”

I whip my head in his direction to find he’s serious. ‘You’re saying yes to⁠—’

‘Sex.’ He nods. ‘The chemistry between us is off the charts. I’d be a fool to think we could keep this platonic. Especially after I’ve already had you.’

‘We had each other,’ I point out.

‘Indeed.’ His lips twitch. ‘And since you’re not averse to my particular brand of domination, it should make things very interesting.’

Anticipation pinches my veins. Jesus, how can we be having this conversation in such a polite fashion when my skin feels like it’s on fire?

“So, what do you think?” He drums his fingers on his massive thigh.

What do I think about marrying the man of my dreams, when his proposal is not based on love? I want to laugh and cry at the same time. I want to demand that he not hide from his true feelings from me. I know how it felt to have him look into my eyes as he made love to me. And it was making love. It was. If only he’d acknowledge it, I’d be the happiest woman in the world. But things are never that easy, are they?

Spine straight. You’re a princess.

Now, more than ever, I need to follow my mother’s advice. So, I fold my hands in my lap and survey him with a measured gaze. “You’re asking me to marry you, but you’re still a stranger in many ways.”

His jaw tics. I’m sure he’s going to point out that I thought I knew Gavin and look how that turned out. But he doesn’t push his advantage. Instead, he leans back. “What do you want to know about me?”

This isn’t the way I envisaged finding out more about Ryot, but I’ll take it. “Your wife; tell me about her.”

He seems taken aback, then resigned. He rises to his feet, heads to the bar, and pours himself a shot of whiskey. Guess he’s no longer on duty? Or perhaps, he needs the hard liquor to be able to talk about her. That sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach intensifies.

“Would you like something to drink?” he asks over his shoulder.

“The same.” I nod.

He pours a finger of the amber liquid into another tumbler, then walks over to hand it to me.

He throws back the liquid in his own, then squares his shoulders. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything. How you met. How she…died. Whatever you’re comfortable sharing with me, that is.”