Page 76 of The Devil's Pawn

Chapter Twenty-Six

IMOGEN

My emotions right now remind me of riding the Tilt-A-Whirl at a fairground that used to come to town once a year. I’m all over the place, thrown from side to side, up and down, round and round. I feel sick with it, but it’s not the kind of sick that makes me want to throw up. It’s more a slow realization that I’ve been treading a path so focused on my goal, I haven’t realized the destination has changed.

Alexander sending Emma home might be up there with the cruelest thing he’s done to me. To let me have a day with her after weeks of isolation, then rip her away when I think I’ve got another few days to bask in the love of my friend is beyond heartless. Yet if I’m reading him right, he sounds as though he’s regretting it, or at least he’s realized just how lonely I’ve been and is willing to make concessions.

We’ve both been cruel to one another, both pushed at the boundaries of our marriage. I know my reasons, but I don’t know his other than his obvious reticence to marry me in the first place.

“You said you had your reasons for sending Emma away.”

“Yes.” He dips his chin once.

“What are they?”

He bites his lip and shifts on the mattress. He’s nervous. Alexander doesn’t get nervous. “I know I’m culpable in making your first few weeks here difficult. I’m trying to make amends.”

“By sending my best friend away when she’d only just arrived?”

“Her being here would be a distraction. This is all new for you, and having her here for a few days would only make it harder when she went home. I thought it for the best.”

He’s lying through his perfect, white teeth. “I don’t buy it.”

A smile tugs at his lips, and he tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. The intimacy of it pulls at my stomach. He’s been so frugal with his touch, and for someone who is tactile, the lack of human contact these last few weeks has been akin to torture.

“Smart girl. Okay, how about this. I spoke to someone today, and they made me consider something I hadn’t until now. Please don’t ask me to explain further. I’m not ready to yet, but it’s made me look at things between us from a different angle. I’m not sure I have the answers I’m looking for just yet, but I’m working on it.”

“None of that explains why you sent Emma home.”

He takes a deep breath in. “I sent her home because I want you to myself. I’ve had my reasons why I’ve been resistant to our marriage, but I’d like to get to know you better, and I can’t do that with your friend hanging around.”

“What reasons?”

He tips up my chin, then runs the backs of his fingers across the slope of my neck. A shiver rolls down my spine.I like it. Too much. Nothing’s changed for me at least. I can’t stay married to Alexander. My entire identity is centered around the desire to make a difference, to use my degree to better the world we live in. I’ve already broached the subject of a job with Alexander, and he said no.

“I will tell you when the time is right.”

I run my fingers along my bottom lip, drawing his gaze. His breathing shortens, a faint flush stealing over his cheeks. He moves in to kiss me. I press a hand to his chest, pushing back on him.

“I want to work. You say you’re keen for me to settle into my life here. Well, that’s what’ll make it easier for me.”

His eyes shutter, and I prepare myself for an argument. This time, though, I’m not backing down. For the first time in weeks, I’m seeing clearly.

Alexander isn’t going to divorce me.

It doesn’t matter what I do, what I say, how many problems I cause him, or the number of times I wax off his eyebrows (or more painful bodily areas). He’s too steeped in duty to take that step. Add to that the mysterious person he spoke with today who’s made him want to give our marriage a try, and my goal is doomed to failure.

If I’m destined to remain married to Alexander, I have to work. I can’t spend the rest of my life rattling around this mansion with nothing to keep my brain active. I’ll go crazy. Without working, without contributing to society in some way, who am I?

“Zenith, right?”

I stare at him, incredulous. Does he know about the job? Has he known this entire time? Has my plan to force him into divorcing me always been so obvious?

Don’t show your hand. Take it slow. He may know nothing.

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, you donated a rather sizable sum to them using my credit card, and you told me you’d interned at their Los Angeles offices. It makes sense you’d want to seek out employment opportunities with someone you’re familiar with.”

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