Page 36 of When Hearts Surrender

My chest squeezes at her words, but I ignore it. “No. No children of mine will be fatherless. Fifty, fifty custody, that’s my final offer.”

Her nostrils flare. “Fine.”

I recite the terms I had my lawyer draw up last week. “You’ll get a bonus for every heir you give me, a generous severance package upon divorce if we remain married for more than one year, in addition to the investment I’ll be providing to McKenzie’s.”

Her face darkens with each condition I list out.

“We’ll be sleeping in separate rooms, conducting separate lives. I will require you to accompany me to certain events and also to plan and act as hostess for our upcoming charity gala at the estate.” It’s the first publicevent I’m hosting—another attempt at winning over the press and the public.

“You will conduct yourself in a manner befitting the position of my wife. There will be no scandals and no affairs.”

Belle snarls. “I see you’ve thought of everything,Your Majesty.” The little kitten has sharp claws, and a flash of pride carves through the tempest of emotions rioting inside me.

She narrows her eyes. “What about you? Am I to sit back and be agood wifewhile you mess around?”

“I won’t cheat. Inever cheat. From the moment we say our vows, I will remain faithful to you.”

The words hang in the silence between us. It’s a somber oath that rings true to the depths of my soul, something I desperately want her to believe, even though she has no cause to think otherwise.

“Belle, fidelity is something I hold core to my values. I won’t cheat, and neither will you.”

Her lips tremble and I see the struggle she’s trying to contain inside her.

Pulling her close, I relish the soft gasp escaping her mouth and blood pools in my groin.

“We’ll be married in October. But make no mistake, this will never be a love match. It will only be a marriage of convenience. Youcannotfall in love with me, and I will never,everbe in love with you.”

Chapter 13

The brunette sits ona wooden chair as she toys with a button on her shirt, her hair already mussed up from what probably was a long night here on the Rose floors within The Orchid. She looks straight at me as though she could see me, but I know she can’t because the glass has a one-sided view unless I hit the button on the wall panel to turn it double-sided or even eliminate the glass all together.

But as I stare at her, I find myself shifting in my seat in discomfort. I’m removed from the situation, looking at her like an art critic would over a piece at a gallery—cold, dispassionate, objective.

My dick doesn’t even twitch.

After the intense meeting with Belle, where I acted like a complete bastard and laid out my requirements as if she were a luxury property I was purchasing, she stormed out of The Menagerie in a fit of anger.

I couldn’t blame her when every part of me wanted to chase after her, fall to my knees, and ask for her forgiveness.

To do anything to see her sweet smile directed at me again.

To taste those addictive lips again.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I spent another grueling week at work and in the studio, attempting to paint the same portrait of the woman in the rose garden, but this time, the woman’s silhouette was no longer blank and in its place was a very rough sketch of someone with a graceful, lithe frame, long, flowing raven hair, elegant nose tipped toward the sun, and a beauty mark under her eye.

When I realized what I had done—sketched her in the masterpiece I’d been trying to complete all my life, I recoiled in horror and came here to The Lilith, the voyeur and exhibitionist room within the Rose floors. It was a vice I felt comfortable in indulging once or twice a year in the past, where any sexual encounters, were it to happen, would be initiated only when I was comfortable, where I could otherwise sit in the shadows and just…watch.

For those lucky enough to gain membership at The Orchid, which includes forking over an obscene fee and enduring rigorous interviews, their every whim and desire will be met within these walls.

But my need will never be fulfilled here.

It was a mistake to come tonight.

The nagging want in my chest resurges, and with a frustrated growl, I stand up and pick up the phone in the suite.

“Mr. Anderson, how may I help you?” an attendant asks.

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