Page 353 of The Christmas Wife

"Look at her face. What do you see?" He places his glass on the table in front of us.

"It’s not polite to stare." The words come out in a prim tone, and I wince. The gap between me and this man has never seemed as insurmountable as now in this space. A very exclusive space which you have to be invited to, and only if you are of a certain profile, or so Edward informed me earlier. It's not about the money you have. It's about your ability to be discrete. Everyone here trades in something which entitles them to be here. When I asked Edward what he bartered, he stayed silent. I didn’t bother to pursue that line of questioning. See? I'm learning fast. He only answers if he wants to, and he can’t be swayed. I can only speculate, so I decided not to waste my time on it. I was too busy taking in the scene around me.

"She wants you to stare at her. She wants the world to know she belongs to him."

"You’re a man. Of course, you’d say that."

He blows out a breath. "You’re just like the rest—quick to pass judgement. Quick to view everything through a narrow moral compass, when the world is much more complex."

"You should know. You’re the one who turned your back on your calling, after all."

His entire body goes rigid. The tension that always seems to cling to him intensifies. The static in the air shoots up, and the hair on the back of my neck straightens. "I’m sorry," I whisper without meeting his gaze, "that was uncalled for."

"Life is complex, Belle. It’s not what you expect it to be. You think you have it all planned out, and then something happensthat destroys everything you believed in. Suddenly, your past and the choices you made haunt you. The future's a long road, with an end you cannot see. And your present? It digs its claws into you and refuses to let go, no matter how painful your everyday is."

Tears prick the backs of my eyes. A ball of emotion chokes my throat. The bleakness in his voice drips onto my skin like acid and burns me to the bone.

"What’s this?" He reaches forward and scoops up the moisture on my cheek. "Are you crying?"

If I didn’t know him better, I’d say his voice carries a note of wonder, but this man is not capable of such emotion. More likely, he’s laughing at me. And I’m not going to risk looking at his face to find out.

"Are you, Belle?"

I sniffle. "I didn’t mean to. It’s just…you sound so lonely."

"I enjoy being on my own."

"Yet here you are." I gesture to the large hall which is now considerably fuller than when we came in.

"This is a way to connect to the only part of me I still recognize."

"Which part?"

'The one I knew I always had but which I refused to acknowledge all that time I was a priest. The one that resulted in my losing everything I once held dear."

I stiffen. "You mean?—"

"I mean, you haven’t looked at her face and told me what you see yet," he interjects.

Of course, the moment it seems like he’s opening up, he has to change the topic. Which is good. I don’t want to get to know the man behind the facade. The man who’s emotionally wounded. The man who’s hurting and refuses to share it with anyone. The man who’s an enigma…

Which I want so badly to solve. I focus my attention on the woman who hasn’t moved from her perch on the floor. She’s been kneeling all this time on the wooden floor without a word of complaint. Her hands are clasped in front of her, her gaze lowered. The light is dim in the space, but there’s enough for me to take in her relaxed features. The slight upward turn of her lips. The man next to her runs his fingers through her hair, and she trembles. She licks her lips, and when he drags his knuckles over her cheek, her mouth opens. I’m not close enough to hear it, but I’m sure she’s panting. She’s even more aroused and she looks "blissful."

"She is."

Only when he replies, do I realize I said the word aloud.

"But he’s demeaning her, by making her kneel, and not paying any attention to her,” I protest.

"Is he?"

I bring my gaze back to his face and pout. "Of course, he is. She may seem happy, but looks can be deceiving."

"Everyone who is here is here by their own choice."

"But I—" I'm about to say I’m not, but he did give me a choice. And it was my decision to be here, too.

He nods.

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