Page 24 of The Reluctant Wife

He continues to ride with me in the car to and from my appointments. Smelling his dark scent and being close to him in that enclosed space has me drenching my panties in a way that’s seriously embarrassing. Not that he’s speaking to me much. We’ve exchanged maybe five full sentences since that day, and all of it is related to my security arrangements. After we return from my daily appearances, I don’t see him.

I don’t even hear his movements, though he’s in the next room, with only an interconnecting door separating us. I was so bored, I forced myself to use the gym in the basement of the hotel. Under the watchful eye of a security guard who was not Ryot, which meant, I promptly lost interest. I ate a few meals in the restaurant downstairs and even had a late-night drink at the bar a couple of evenings, but it became such a hassle when security had to go down and assess threats before I could go. And when it became clear Ryot wouldn’t be the one accompanying me there either, I didn’t venture back.

I miss that man more than I care to admit. I’ve taken to watching TV and yes, I admit, also watching porn and masturbating while thinking of my big, dark, handsome bodyguard. None of which is helping.

I’ve worked myself into a state of such arousal, and my thoughts are so jumbled, that I know I need to speak to someone about it.

I throw off the cover, then sit up in bed and shove the pillows behind my back to support me. I stare at the interconnecting door between our rooms, which he made sure to lock after himself. As if I were going to head into his room? I snort to myself. Nope, I need a different way to approach him. Nothing as amateurish as my last seduction attempt.

Reaching for my phone, my gaze falls on my laptop, and I rub at my forehead. I should have started writing my next novel. Given I’m not going out in the evenings, I should make the mostof my time and, at least, start brainstorming ideas for the book, but I haven’t been able to get myself into the mood to do it.

I'm too busy worrying about the bill we're running up for this trip. This hotel is just as luxurious as the previous hotel, but it has a smaller number of rooms. And Ryot booked out all of them on this floor for our stay. I could remind my father we can’t afford it, but he’d insist—rightly—that this is the best way to ensure my safety. I can’t argue with that. But it means he’s probably spending money we can ill afford to cover the costs. Which makes my forthcoming arranged marriage and the money that will come with it even more unavoidable. My spirits plummet.

I need to get my mind off my upcoming nuptials, so I grab my phone and videocall my friend, Zoey.

I met her at university. She’s one of my best friends, and my editor. No one knows my inner thoughts more than she does.

She and her two friends, Harper and Grace, welcomed me into their circle, and being with them helps me feel more ‘normal’ and less like a princess. I dial her number, and it keeps ringing.Shoot, is it too late to call?I am about to hang up, when she answers.

"If it isn’t Her Royal Highness, herself." Her image appears on screen.

I wince. "You promised you’d never call me that."

"Considering you’re calling me close to midnight, I think it warrants the title, eh?"

"I’m so sorry.” I slap my forehead. “I couldn’t sleep, and it was only after your phone started ringing, I realized how late it is, and?—"

"Relax, Aura, I was kidding you.” She stretches and yawns.

"Woman, are you still at work?" I glance around what I can see of her surroundings and can make out the bookshelves in thebackground, as well as the coffee maker she keeps on the shelf at the far end. "Youarestill at work," I exclaim.

"Someone has to make sense of your meanderings and turn it into a coherent narrative.” Her eyes gleam with a wicked glint.

I grab my phone, then push my legs out of the bed and, standing up, I begin to pace. "How bad is my writing? Are you going to send me pages and pages of revisions that I’m going to have to spend weeks fixing?"

She laughs. "Firstly, no, it isn’t bad at all for a first book. And I wouldn’t have approached you to write a novel if I didn’t know you're talented and have been writing since the first day I met you?—"

"But—" I begin, but she cuts me off.

"I also know how much you love to read spicy novels, and you have so many drafts completed and gathering dust on your hard drive. And remember, you’re publishing under a penname, so no one is going to know.

I gnaw on my fingernail. "I'm still worried. What if someone finds out it's me writing?”

I only accepted the publishing contract when she named an advance that took me by surprise. It's good money, which I’ll use to help foodbanks in Verenza, who’ve reported a ten-fold increase in their services in the last six months. “If anyone were to find out?—"

"I promise, your penname’s identity will be kept secret.”

"Thanks, Z." I stop by the window and glance out at the park opposite. It’s dark and, but for the lights on in the courtyard below, everything is quiet.

"What’s on your mind, hmm?" She walks to the tiny counter at the back of her office and, placing the phone such that I can see her, she sets about filling her kettle.

"You mean, other than the threats made on my life?—"

"You’ve had threats on your life?" She places the kettle down with a thump and snatches up her phone. "Are you okay? What happened?”

"Relax." I half laugh. "I’m fine. I have a new team, led by a new security guy who’s bossy and overly cautious when it comes to my safety, so I’m sure I have nothing to worry about.”

She doesn’t seem very convinced. "How long have you been getting these threats? And why didn’t you tell me sooner."

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