Page 116 of Corrupted Heart

I bark out a cold laugh. “Because I saw her.”

“Ew!” she blurts. “Like, you walked in on them!?”

“No!” My face twists bitterly.

So does my heart, as a million horrible, stabbing images of Kratos and Amaya start swirling through my head.

“No, I just…” I exhale heavily. Then I tell Milena about the I-guess-you-could-call-it argument that I had with Kratos, and then coming back afterward to find Amaya walking out like she’d just screwed him.

When I’m done, her jaw is hanging open and her face is livid.

“Motherfucker!” she chokes, shaking her head. “I mean, the fucking gall!” She angrily shoves her hair back from her face, looking away and gritting her teeth. Then she turns back, her brows thoughtful. “Wait…did you two…” She frowns. “Did you have any sort of talk about this?”

“About…what? Him fucking other women?” I spit. “We did not.”

“No, I mean…” Her mouth twists. “Look, I do know a bunch of girls who’ve had arranged mafia marriages, okay? Some of them turned out great, and it ends up they’re head-over-heels for their arranged husband. Others, not so much. But most of them, regardless of how things are between them, have ‘the talk’ before they get hitched.”

I frown. “What the fuck is the talk?”

Milena shrugs elegantly. “The ‘are we exclusive’ talk.”

“What?”

“Think about it,” she says. “You’re forced to marry someone, usually someone you don’t really know. You’re supposed to spend your lives together so that one family can do business with another, or so that people don’t go to war. Maybe you get lucky and they’re hot, and you click with them. But maybe you don’t. And anyone who says sex isn’t a basic human need is lying. So…”

I stare at her. “You mean there are people who go into arranged marriages and then…”

“Give each other permission to fuck around because they’re not into each other? Um, yeah.”

I swallow the lump that’s formed in my throat.

“So you and Kratos….”

I shake my head. “There wasn’t ever a talk.”

She nods, clearly unsatisfied.

“What?”

Milena makes a face. “Well, then you also never had a talk specifying that you’re exclusive with each other, right?”

“We’re fucking married,” I hiss angrily, waving my ring finger in her face. “Call me old-fashioned, but I was pretty fucking sure that implied exclusivity.”

“Not so much in our world, B,” she says quietly, making a face. “I’m sorry, but…” she shrugs again. “That’s our world.”

I turn away, feeling sick as I shove my fingers through my hair. I suck in air, shaking with rage.

That asshole. That fucking ASSHOLE.

And I hate that it hurts this much. That it’s not just that I feel duped, or lied to.

It’s that I truly feel cheated on.

“But, I mean, given what you saw today…” Milena says gently. “I think it’s fair to say you’re free to do what you want too, right? I mean, he clearly is.”

I turn to her, my mouth set. She makes a face.

“Sorry, girl,” she mumbles. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”

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