Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 89243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
His eyes deepened. “I told you, long before that. That night you went to the club with Emily.”
“Oh, right.” I pretended I’d just remembered. “The night you called me a nobody.”
He straightened from the door and stalked toward me, seduction flooding every inch of his face. “You’re not a nobody anymore. You’re my wife. Marist fucking Hale.”
I loved the sound of it, and I grinned darkly. “Should I put that on my business cards?”
“Do it.” He chuckled and climbed on top of me, straddling my hips and the wedding dress I wore. I lay back down as he delivered a slow, thorough kiss, like he’d been storing it up all day for me. His tongue dipped into my mouth, creating an achy desire that filled my body.
“I have to warn you,” I said, my voice rasping, “I’ve had a lot of champagne, and I might fall asleep on you.”
A short laugh was buried in the side of my neck. He echoed the same thing I’d said after I’d been released from the hospital. “I’ll do most of the work. You can just lie there and take it.”
I laughed. “Okay.”
But once he started, there was no danger of sleep.
The plane had just leveled off when Royce asked, like he’d been waiting for the ‘all-clear,’ “When did he give you the ring?”
I was still wearing it, and instinctively tensed. I wasn’t sure I was ready to have this conversation now. Maybe it was better to wait until we were too far across the Atlantic for Royce to order the pilots to turn around.
“Oh, uh, right before the ceremony.”
I’d been anything but normal with my answer, and he latched on instantly. “What happened?”
I wasn’t going to lie to him, but I stalled on telling the truth. “He said he thought your mother would have wanted me to have it, and that he hoped part of her could be with you on your wedding day.”
It was like I’d just told him Vance had been elected president. “He said that specifically? Or did he make you think that’s what he meant?”
He didn’t believe his father could do anything heartfelt because his father didn’t have a heart. My breath caught as I considered the two possibilities. Either Macalister’s gesture was genuine, and he was capable of feelings—meaning it was possible he was truly in love with me—or he was an emotional void, and the gift was just a calculated move to draw me in.
I wasn’t sure which possibility was worse.
I cleared the lump from my throat. “No, he said it specifically. He said it was hard for him to give it away because it means a lot to him.”
It was unavoidable, the way both of our gazes fell to the ring, and Royce’s voice lost some of its power. “I asked him if he’d let me have it so I could give it to you. He told me no.”
The urge to deflate was fierce, but I forced out a smile to stay strong for him. “When I look at this ring, I’m only thinking about her. All that matters is she was there with us, okay?”
He took in a deep breath and stared at me with his intense eyes, which saw all the way to the bottom of my soul. “Yeah.”
When the conversation fell quiet, the only sound was the hum of the plane’s powerful engines, carrying us away from Boston. I tried to let it go, but the truth itched under my skin. “Your dad said some . . . other things.”
Royce’s gaze had been out the window, but it turned back to me, and he looked wary. Like he knew whatever I was about to say would be bad, and he wasn’t going to like it. “Like what?”
My pulse was whirring as fast as we were hurtling through the sky. “He told me he loved me.”
He turned to stone for a long moment, before a sneer curled on his lips. His tone was patronizing. “As a daughter-in-law?”
It was doubly cruel for him, as his father hadn’t told Royce he loved him in at least sixteen years. Maybe his whole life he’d gone without hearing it.
I could barely choke the words out. “As in, he’s in love with me.”
“You believe him?” My husband’s expression was measured and cautious.
“No.” The word came quickly. “I don’t know,” I amended, staring at my hands in my lap. “It doesn’t matter either way. I love you, and you love me.”
My gaze flicked to his in a challenge, and he accepted it with a resounding word. “Yes.”
It was the closest he’d come to saying it, which made warmth spread through my chest, but it was also the ultimate tease. He could be so strong and assertive when he wanted. Why was it so hard for him to say what we both knew was true?