Page 36 of The Devil's Pawn

Eventually, the simmering outrage in his eyes dims, and he takes a seat at the table, waving away an approaching staff member.

“Very well. I notice you haven’t been around today. Is everything all right?”

It must have been agonizing for him to give in to my demand, and if he hadn’t thrown me fully clothed into theswimming pool last night, I might have found it within me to be more charitable.

Unfortunately, he did, and unfortunately, I’m not. Feeling charitable, that is.

“No, everything is not all right. You threw me into the pool, Alexander. Does that sound like normal behavior to you? I might have caught a cold or the flu, and it would have been your fault.”

I know full well I wouldn’t. I spent hours in a pool when I was on the swim team, but even putting forward weak arguments is worth it. Just look at the way his jaw is flexing, and he’s restarted those deep breaths. It’s as if he’s box breathing. God, I do get to him, don’t I?

Good.Good.

“Colds and the flu are viruses. You can’t get them from being thrown into a pool. Aheatedpool.”

I knew he wouldn’t be able to let the little things go. It’s not in his nature.

Heaving a sigh, I ask, “Did you want anything else?”

As he lifts a hand to rake through his hair, grazes on his knuckles catch my attention. Has he… has he beenfighting?

“I suppose?—”

“How did you get those grazes and bruises?” I cut him off and rise from my chair. Four long strides bring me to him. I reach to grab his hand, but he snatches it out of my way.

“It’s nothing.”

“It doesn’t look like nothing. Let me see.”

“No.”

“Alexander—”

“I said it’s nothing,” he snaps. “If you’d like me to restate it in words you understand, then it’s none of your business.”

My eyebrows shoot up my forehead. “None of my business? I’m your wife.”

“As you so eloquently pointed out, in name only.”

Despite the fact I did say that, throwing it back in my face stings. I’m so confused. One minute, I’d like never to see Alexander again. The next minute, I want nothing more than to take care of him. Those cuts look nasty.

“Maisie,” I call out.

She appears, her steps faltering, probably picking up on the tension in the air. “Yes, Ms. Imogen.”

“Can you bring me a first aid kit, please?”

“I said I was fine,” Alexander snaps.

“I heard you. The first aid kit, please, Maisie. Thank you”

Alexander heaves a sigh, but remains seated. Silence lingers in the air, broken only when Maisie returns with the medical kit.

“Do you need anything else, Ms. Imogen?”

“No, we’re fine. Can you close the door on your way out?” Once the quiet click reaches me, I pull up a chair next to Alexander’s and open the kit. “Give me your hand.”

He runs his tongue over his top teeth, but does as I say. The moment our palms touch, an arc of electricity passes between us. I raise my gaze, meeting his eyes. They’re soft and warm, and the shock of it renders me paralyzed for a few seconds. Butterflies swarm my stomach. Somehow, I tear my gaze away and get to work, cleaning the cuts with an alcohol swab. He sits in silence, his breathing quiet and even while my heart is hammering against my ribcage like it’s trying to break free.

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