Page 88 of Unwillingly His

“Thank you,” I said as I gratefully picked up the cup and took a sip.

“So, there is a lot to discuss,” Lucian said, setting the paper down.

“Oh?”

“You have a wedding to plan,” he said as he grabbed my plate and filled it.

“I wanted to talk to you about that.”

“Did you change your mind already?” There was a slight edge to his voice that made me think he was expecting me to change my mind.

“No, but I have a lot to consider. And I think it is better to wait at least a little bit before we announce our engagement. There are some things that I need before I can commit to you completely.”

“What’s that?”

“Independence,” I said.

“Married women are not independent. I will not have my wife living separately, or?—”

“I am not saying I want complete independence,” I said, placing my hand on his arm and calming him. I kept my voice low and slow, trying to emphasize how I was not upset. I was not starting a war. I just needed to be heard. “I want my life to mean more than just being a trophy wife.”

“What do you mean?”

“First of all, I’d like not to have an allowance. I’d like at least access to my money. I have plans. Big plans. I want to be a mover and shaker in this city, a power player when it comes to policy and helping others. I plan to make some big donations with my inheritance.”

I raised my chin ready for his challenge.

He chuckled. “I removed the purchase limit on that black Amex card. Spend what you like, and I already told you I don’t care what you wear. I don’t care what color you dye your hair next or what other piercings you get.”

I raised an eyebrow. “And the donations?”

The corner of his lips lifted. “Give every fucking penny away for all I care, baby girl.”

“Thank you, but it’s more than that.”

“Oh? What other demands does my soon-to-be wife have of me?”

“I want a life outside of this house. Meeting people. Making deals. I plan to be active on those boards, not just a checkbook.”

“Be more specific,” he said between clenched teeth. “Because if you think I would ever let another man?—”

“No, I don’t want anyone else to ever lay a finger on me,” I assured him.

“Then what?” He pulled me from my chair into his lap.

I liked sitting like this, leaning my head against his shoulder, and feeling the warmth of his arms around me. Even if it made eating breakfast a little awkward, I was infinitely more comfortable like this.

I took a deep breath, needing to work up the nerve to tell him what I needed. Then, I took another long sip of coffee to give myself another minute to figure out how to express my feelings of uselessness and pointlessness.

“Of course, you realize that as my wife, you would be managing our social calendar, which includes throwing the occasional ball or gala. Those are charitable events, and throwing them can often be a full-time job.”

“For some. For others, it’s hiring the appropriate event planner. Most married women of our class don’t work. They might sit on a few boards, and they might throw the occasional gala, but that may occupy one or two days a month. I need something more. Something more fulfilling.”

“We could always just start a family right away,” he said, squeezing my side.

“You have three grown children. Do you really want more?”

“I have four children. Maybe we can discuss that later. But you want something to do while I’m at work.”

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