Page 44 of Thrones We Steal

This reminds me. “I have some conditions.”

“I’d be shocked if you didn’t.”

“Before I agree to anything, I want to make sure we’re on the same page.”

His left brow inches upwards. “Do elaborate.”

“This marriage will be on paper only. Obviously.”

He just stares at me. The tiniest creases appear near his eyes. Evidently, I’m amusing him. For the first time in my life, I actually wish he would say something. But like always, he does the opposite of what I want.

“I just meant—I mean, I—Nothing is going to happen. Between us. Nothing changes.” I wait for his agreement. There’s nothing but the slightest twitch of one nostril. “You do understand what I’m saying, right? We’re not—It’s not going to—This is not—” I can’t get the right words to line up and march out of my mouth.

“As much as I’m enjoying watching you bodge this up, I feel the need to put you out of your misery.” He doesn’t even attempt to hide his smile. Asshole.

“If you’re afraid I will try to force myself on you, rest assured. I only sleep with women who want me to.”

“Don’t forget the ones who are drugged.”

“Would it be the worst thing in the world to be loved by me?” he says quietly.

“We’re not talking about love. We’re talking about sex—something that for you is just an entertaining diversion, but for me it’s important.” The list of those I’d like to have this conversation with is short, but my mother, the prime minister, and an orangutan all rank above Henry.

“Lots of people have sex without being in love.”

“I am not ‘lots of people.’”

“Thank God for small mercies,” he says. “Any other demands? Designated corridor space? Hazmat suits? Shared custody of the dog?”

“When did you get a dog?”

He snorts and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Is that your only condition? You’re ready to go ahead with this?”

“I am the opposite of ready. But since my food coma did nothing to get me out of this mess, I don’t see what other choice I have. Unless you have some ice cream?”

He stands and pulls me to my feet, and my skin crackles where it touches his. I sway as the room spins, and he pushes me back into the chair. “On second thought, maybe you should stay sitting.”

Before my sodden brain can comprehend what’s happening, he drops to one knee and pulls a small box from his pocket.

“What are you doing?” I whisper. I’m not capable of a higher decibel because I know exactly what he’s doing.

“You ask too many questions. It’s my turn.”

My heart jack-hammers in its cavity. “No, really. What are you doing, Henry?”

“Relax,” he says and runs his thumb over the back of my hand. It has the opposite effect. “I want to do this right.”

I pull away from his grip and wipe my clammy hands on my trousers. “You don’t need to do this. It’s a business transaction, nothing more.”

“I know that,” he says. “But since this is the only proposal I’ll get, I’d like to do it right.”

I can’t very well say no to that.

He’s holding a red velvet box. A lump the size of a hedgehog dislodges itself from my stomach and crawls up my throat. He pries the split lid open to reveal an antique band of yellow gold filigree, set with a diamond the size of a small coin and surrounded by clusters of emeralds. In spite of myself, I gasp. It’s exquisite.

“I brought it with me just in case. It was Helena’s. Seemed appropriate.” He removes the ring from its box. “I know you hate me and think I’m an arrogant jerk. We drive each other crazy, and you’ll probably kill me before the year is over.” He reaches for my hand again.

Goosebumps scurry up my arm and into my hairline.

---