Page 41 of The Reluctant Wife

As long as he’s with me, I’ll be okay. That sense of confidence his presence brings me is no longer a surprise. I may not have known him long, but I’d trust him with my life. He almost took a bullet for me. And it has nothing to do with how he spanked me and brought me to orgasm yesterday. My bottom throbs in recollection. It’s a pleasant soreness, not painful at all. As I wriggle into the bed, the chafe of the sheets against my butt sends a flurry of heat to my clit.

That orgasm relaxed me enough that I could sleep and wake up refreshed. I’m not sure how I feel about the fact that he seems to know me better than I know myself. Especially when he came so close to giving in and taking me. I saw the conflict on his face and almost felt sorry for him. But we’re here alone, and I can’t lose this opportunity to get him to fuck me and take my virginity.

And what about your upcoming arranged marriage? Shouldn’t you mention it to him?

If I do, he’s going to be angry with me. No way is he going to fuck me. Nope. He’s too honorable for that.And I’m a heel for thinking of seducing him while engaged to someone else. Then again, does it count if it's a marriage of convenience to someone I don't even like?I press my fingers to my forehead.The bottom line is, I want him.

I want...something to hold onto for when I’m trapped in a loveless marriage. This is the only way I can control my future. And he’s said he wants me too. He’ll probably be upset if I don’t tell him I'm engaged, but if I do, he might not want anything else to do with me. Which means, I'd miss out on being with him, even if it is temporary, and I can't bear the thought of that.

I’m a terrible person. My conscience would never let me rest. I have to tell him. Maybe later, though?

I message Zoey to let her know I’m fine and pick up the next one from my assistant.

Veronica: Thank God you’re safe. I was so upset when I found out what happened. I am so sorry.

Me: I am fine.

Instantly, the dots on screen jump around. Then a message pings back.

Veronica: Were you hurt? I feel responsible. I should have accompanied you to where you were going, Your Highness.

Me: You shouldn’t feel responsible. It’s no one’s fault what happened. And no, I wasn’t hurt.

Just shaken, but I’m not going to tell her that.

The dots jump around again.

Veronica: Still, I feel like if I were there I might have helped somehow.

Me: That’s sweet of you. You’re already a big help in managing my schedule.

Veronica’s been a lifesaver. When my former assistant suddenly quit a year ago, I needed someone to replace her asap. The recruitment agency the palace worked with sent through a bunch of resumes, but they weren’t satisfactory. That’s when I coaxed the palace to advertise on the official Royal Family website for the first time.

The two assistants I shortlisted from the entries and offered the job to dropped out. I then met with Veronica and, while I wasn’t a hundred percent happy with our chemistry, I put that down to the fact that her personality is so different from mine.

On paper, she was a perfect candidate. She ticked all the boxes. And because I urgently needed someone, I decided to proceed with her. My former security team screened her. And so did Ryot and his team. So, if there were anything suspicious, it would have shown. Besides, she’s never given me any reason to be dissatisfied with her performance.

Me: Please put out a statement assuring everyone that I am fine and that the people of Verenza will not be defeated so easily. We are strong and we will survive this. Please post it to all my social media channels.

Ideally, I should record a video message, but given I don’t have any cosmetics with me to appear halfway decent on screen, this will have to do.

Veronica: Of course, Your Highness. BTW, Ryot messaged to say you’re in a safe place and on his advice I cancelled your appearances for the next five days. I hope that’s okay…

I frown.He cancelled my events? Without checking with me? That’s taking things too far. How dare he take this liberty?It feels like someone dumped a pail of cold water on me.

I sit up, and the last vestiges of sleep fade away. I push off my cover and rise to my feet. Taking in my naked form, a blush sears my cheeks. Also, I’m pissed with myself. I’m grateful for the orgasm, but making decisions related to my schedule without consulting me is not something I’ll tolerate.

I spot a bathrobe, along with a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt folded on the chair next to the bed. He must have left them for me. I shake them out and when I hold them against my body, I realize they're my size. And they’re brand new, with the labels attached. So, that rules out this belonging to any girlfriend.How did he manage to swing this? And did he do this because he was being thoughtful?

I should find his actions controlling but it turns me on.For someone who hates restrictions imposed on my life, I find Ryot ordering me around very hot.

Besides, I don’t fancy wearing the same clothes I was wearing yesterday. Not when they remind me of the assassination attempt. My stomach clenches, and my knees feel rubbery.

Assassination attempt? Is it right to call it that? Aren’t assassinations only supposed to happen to public figures who are important? I’ve never thought of myself that way. But what happened yesterday makes it clear thatsomeonethinks I'm important enough to shoot at me. Another tremor of fear squeezes my chest. I brush it aside. I am safe, for now. And I feel rested.

I pull on the bathrobe and walk into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me. The space is smaller than the size of the bathrooms I’m used to, and the furnishings are basic. But everything is clean. There’s a sink with a hot and cold tap. A mirrored cabinet above it. An old-fashioned clawed tub stands to my left. There’s a shower cubicle tucked away into the wall behind me. And thick towels are hung over the rack next to the sink. I walk over to survey myself in the mirror.

A stream of condensation along the top tells me he already showered. There’s one used toothbrush, along with toothpaste, next to the sink. I pull open the mirror, and finding a new toothbrush, snap it open. I brush my teeth, shrug off the bathrobe and step into the shower. I use the soap, which doubles up as a shampoo, and wince when I massage it into my hair. Without any conditioner, my hair’s going to be a mess, but at least I’ll be clean, right? Besides, it smells like him.

---