The Reluctant Wife: Chapter 15

‘You got a Michelin-starred chef to cook for us?’ She glances toward the kitchen where James has disappeared.

‘He’s a good friend of my brother, Knox. They served together in the Marines.’

I’ll also admit that it was a spur-of-the-moment decision. When I realized how at the end of her tether she was, I knew I had to get her out. I spoke with James during the time it took her to get dressed. And it didn’t hurt that she took longer than I specified. It gave James enough time to get himself and his staff over to the apartment to set up the table and get the food organized.

I pull out a chair. She walks over, places her purse on the table and slides into the chair, her movements graceful. I scoot her forward, make sure she’s comfortable, then walk around to take my own chair.

Cole, who followed us in, nods in my direction. He steps out then shuts the door behind himself as he leaves. I know he and Brian are standing guard outside. Given there have been no other incidents since that last threat and since I’m in the room with the princess, we agreed she should be safe, at least for the next few hours. I have to admit I’m happy to have some privacy with her.

She glances around the space with an appreciative sigh. ‘This is a beautiful spot and the view—’ She shakes her head. ‘It’s incredible. Who does this place belong to?’

When I don’t answer, she turns to me, understanding filtering into her eyes. ‘It’s yours.’

I nod. ‘I bought it with the money I saved up when I was in the Marines. I haven’t gotten around to furnishing it though.”

She looks at me with curiosity. ‘You didn’t want to use your family’s money?’

‘Does that surprise you?’

She shakes her head. ‘It makes me jealous of you.’

‘Why’s that?’ I frown.

‘I’d give anything to be able to have a normal job, earn my living, and be independent. But unlike you, being part of the Royal Family comes with a set of responsibilities which I cannot run away from.’

‘You could leave if you wanted.’ I reach for the jug of water between us and fill up her glass, then mine.

‘Thanks.’ She reaches for her glass of water and takes a sip before setting it down. ‘You mean, turn my back on my father and brothers, and my country?’ She blows out a breath. ‘The thought has occurred to me more times than I can count, but’—she taps her fingertip against the glass—’my mother made me promise I wouldn’t let down the House of Verenza. So’—she looks at the still empty wine glass—’anything else I can drink?’

James approaches the table wheeling a small cart with two Champagne flutes and a bucket of ice containing a bottle of my favorite drink. ‘I believe these bubbles that Ryot ordered will be to your liking, Your Majesty.’ He pops the cork and pours the fizzing liquid into both flutes before setting them on the table. He sets the bottle in the bucket and steps back. ‘Your starters will be out shortly.’

‘Thank you.’ She smiles at him.

James smiles back before nodding in my direction and heading back inside.

‘A bit imperious of you to think you know my tastes?’ She sniffs.

I merely reach for my flute and raise it.

She huffs, then raises her own. She takes a sip, and her gaze widens. She swirls the liquid over her tongue and swallows. ‘That’s…. Very good.’

‘I chose it especially for you.’

She takes another sip and closes her eyes, savoring it before swallowing. ‘It’s fresh and crisp and there’s a hint of’—her eyebrows draw down—’of…’

‘Honeysuckle, vanilla and strawberries,’ I offer.

It’s why I messaged James to choose this vintage.

‘That’s right.’ She sips some more, then—in a very unladylike gesture which brings a smile to my face, and which I take as proof of her loving the Champagne I chose for her—she drains the rest of the glass.

‘Can I have more?’

‘After you eat your first course.’

She narrows her eyes. ‘Are you now directing when I drink alcohol?’

‘Only because you ate very little lunch, and I don’t want the alcohol to go to your head.’

Her lips part. She looks both taken aback and turned on. With her flushed cheeks and flashing eyes, she’s a mixture of sass and hesitant need to accept that she likes being told what to do. And it’s such a fucking turn on. My cock thickens. My thigh muscles ripple.

On impulse, I reach over and place my hand on her free one. ‘You relish being told what to do.’

Apparently, I can’t hold back this evening. When I decided to bring her out to dinner, my intention was to keep on the right side of the bodyguard/principal boundaries I set for myself. But hearing her whoop for joy and then feeling her arms clasped around my waist as she clung to me on the bike weakened my resolve.

I told myself this wasn’t a date, but who am I kidding? It’s definitely a date, given the lengths I went to, to find a place that’s special yet secluded enough to be safe for her. Not to mention, calling in my years-old favor with James and asking him to cook us this meal. And when I saw the pleasure on her face as she took in the sight outside the window, my reservations melted away. I can’t be this close to her and not show her how well I can read her. There’s no harm if I tell her what I want to do to her, right? I could indulge myself, for just this evening, can’t I?

Her lips firm. She opens her mouth to speak, and I lean in and raise my finger to her lips. ‘Don’t deny it. Your heightened breathing and the way your pulse speeds up at your throat tells me you enjoy when you’re not given a choice.’

The pulse at the base of her throat speeds up.

‘Deep inside, you long to hand over the reins to someone more dominant. Someone who’ll help you relax into your own pleasure. Someone who’ll take care of you, and protect you, and punish you when you’re out of line. Someone who’ll tell you off when you test boundaries and put you in your place. Someone who’ll make you beg for what you most desire.’ Someone who I hope is me.

Her pupils dilate. She’s riveted by my words. Hanging onto every syllable. And fuck, if that doesn’t turn my cock into a raging column of steel.

She pinches her fingers around the stem of her Champagne glass and the skin stretches over her knuckles. ‘And I suppose that person is you?’

I incline my head, holding her gaze. The air between us crackles with unspoken need. Sparks seem to zing between us. The blood pounds at my temples, at my wrists, even in my fucking balls. A few more seconds, and I’m going to haul her to me, and kiss those soft lips of hers until she can’t think straight. But not yet.

Not ever.

Dammit. What the hell is the matter with me? Once more, I’ve forgotten myself in her presence. I need to…control myself better. I slide my palm from hers and lean back in my seat.

This was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have said anything to her. She’s tying me up in knots and confusing my train of thought. I’ve never been this…indecisive before. Never. Regret coils in my belly. I can taste the bitterness of remorse at the back of my tongue.

‘It could have been”—I look away, then back at her—“if I hadn’t taken this position of being your bodyguard.’

Her gaze narrows. Confusion laces her features. I shouldn’t have overstepped the boundary I set for myself. I thought I could give her a feeling of being free; instead, I’m going to hurt her. And all because I can’t fucking hold onto my control when I’m with her.

I toss back my Champagne, hardly tasting it, then fix her with an unblinking glare. ‘There cannot be anything between us, Princess.’

‘So, you keep saying.’ She juts out her chin. ‘Yet you’re the one who implied that I need someone dominant to bring my desires to life.’

‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that…even if it is true. But, the fact remains, I can’t do it. I can’t allow myself to be that person, however much I might want it.’

She seems stricken, then firms her lips. ‘You keep using the fact that you’re my bodyguard to throw up walls between us. But I think it’s because you’re still not over your wife. That’s the real reason you’re too scared of acting on your instincts.’

Anger squeezes my guts. My stomach churns. I grab the bottle of Champagne and top off my glass, then push the bottle aside. It’s a testament to how preoccupied she is that she doesn’t insist I also top her up. I take another fortifying sip of the bubbles and place my glass down carefully. ‘You have no idea what you’re talking about. You don’t know how things were between us.’

‘So, tell me.” She leans toward me. “I want to understand, Ryot. I know I have no right to ask you this, and I wish I didn’t care so much about your answer, but I do. I want to understand you better. That kiss meant something to me. And despite my best efforts, I’ve begun to care for you. And you must feel something for me. You must, at least, consider me a friend. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have brought me here today. So—” She looks at me earnestly. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

I glance away. I wish I could tell her how I felt about Jane. How if I hadn’t come home between tours at the same time as her, we never would’ve had that argument. I wouldn’t have pissed her off enough that she’d call up her commanding officer and insist that she leave right away. I wouldn’t have picked up the phone when it rang a few days later to find that she and her platoon had been taken out. I wouldn’t be left with the memory that she’d been unfaithful to me for a while by the time she died—which was why we were fighting before she left.

I knew I’d made a mistake within weeks of marrying her. I realized then, I had never been in love with her. I didn’t want to be with her, but I was so stubborn, I thought I could make things work. Meanwhile, it was clear she didn’t care. I wonder if she ever cared at all. I wonder whether I did? Maybe that’s why I felt …nothing—nothing—when I got the call. Nothing other than the lingering anger at her infidelity. And then the shame at being so relieved that she wasn’t coming back. The worst part was the crippling guilt that followed because, really, wasn’t I responsible for her going on that tour, in the first place?

How I wish I could tell Aura all of this. How I wish I could confess to her all that I feel foolish for marrying Jane, angry she cheated on me, guilty our fight caused her to go back early which led to her death, a failure for not making my marriage work, and ashamed for not even caring that she’s dead. Nope. Not happening. I’m not even ready to admit most of that to myself.

I toss back the rest of my second glass of Champagne and wish it were something stronger. I never talk about Jane. The fact I even shared this much with the princess when I haven’t discussed it with my brothers is something I don’t want to question too closely.

“So, you did love her?” She asks softly.

“It’s complicated.” I look away then back at her. “I realize, that’s not a real answer, but it’s the only one I can give you right now.”

James returns, negating the need for more conversation. He slides a plate in front of her. ‘Seared Scallops with Cauliflower Purée and Truffle Oil, for your Highness and’—he places another in front of me—’Lobster Bisque with Cognac and Tarragon for you, Ryot.’ He steps back and looks between us. ‘Enjoy.’ He turns and leaves.

She looks at her plate. ‘You ordered for me?’

‘I’m aware that you don’t have any food allergies and that you happen to love any fish-based dish.’

She looks at me strangely. ‘How did you find that out?’

‘I checked your file.”

She looks crestfallen. What her file didn’t mention is how much she loves Champagne. I found that out from her family chef. I used my position as her personal protective detail to find out everything I could about her.

‘For the record, I also love seafood.”

‘Hence…’ She nods at my dish.

I pick up my spoon. Unable to stop myself, I lower my chin and inhale the aroma of the bisque. When I make a sound of appreciation deep in my throat, she shivers. The blood drains to my groin.

Damn! Her responsiveness will be my downfall. And it’s wrong of me to be this horny when I’ve been thinking about just how much I fucked things up with Jane, and how happy I am that she’s not in my life anymore. Of course, I wouldn’t have wished her dead, but… Annnd, now I feel guilty again. Good times.

I shove aside my attraction for the princess, then take a spoonful of the soup. The rich, creamy, and savory flavor coats my palate. The aromatic notes of onion, garlic, leek, and carrot add a subtle layer of complexity, which both satisfies me and makes me want more. James is a genius.

I scoop up the last of the mixture in the bowl, then tear off a piece of bread that’s on the accompanying plate and soak up any remaining drops with it. I bring it to my mouth, savoring the last drops, then look up to find she’s looking at my lips. Her own are parted, her cheeks flushed. And when I drag my thumb across my bottom lip, she gulps.

‘Don’t you like your food?’ I nod toward her almost untouched plate.

She ducks her head, and spearing a scallop, brings it to her mouth. When her pink tongue flicks out to lick it off her lips, my scalp tingles. My skin feels too tight for my body. Nope, not going there. I glance away, trying my best not to be affected when she hums under her breath. ‘This is really good.’

‘It is.’ My voice comes out strangled and I clear my throat.

She peeks up at me from under her eyelashes and when she sees the expression on my features, she flushes further. Our gazes lock, and she freezes. A look of yearning glitters in her eyes.

Unable to stop myself, I reach over and slide the fork from her fingers, then pierce another scallop and bring it to her mouth. She parts her lips, and I place it on her tongue. She licks off the tines of the fork, then chews. When she swallows, I can almost feel the suction around my cock. This time, I’m helpless in the wake of the need gripping me.

I spear the last scallop and bring it to her lips. When she’s licked the fork clean, I place it on her plate, then lower my hand and wrap my fingers around her throat.