Page 69 of Empire of Ache & Ruin

Archer thinks he knows me. But he has no clue what I’m capable of enduring. Being a ballet dancer isn’t for the faint-hearted. Sinking into my pillow, I turn the figurine in my hand until it catches the firelight. When the side of it shines blue, I stop to stare at it. It reminds of my elusive husband. Why does he make it so hard for me to get close? What is he afraid of?

His rejection used to sting. But it doesn’t anymore. I can see he wants me in the worst way possible. Somehow, he believes that staying away from me is for my own good. If he knew how much it physically hurts to be in this constant state of wanting, he would take pity on me and give me the sweet release I crave.

I’m tired of getting scraps from him. He won’t even let me touch him. The night he made me pleasure myself with the swan, he didn’t even take his clothes off. I may not have a lot of experience when it comes to sex, but I at least know this, it takes two to make it work. A shiver runs down my spine when I think of all the various states of naked he’s seen me in now. Of all the things he’s done to me, his mouth on my pussy is the best of my memories.

I reach below the covers and palm my mound. What would he do if I entered his room again? Would he finally concede and give me my wedding night? Anger swirls in the pit of my stomach when I think that after all this time in his mansion, I’m still a fucking virgin. I hate it. I hate that I crave him inside me so much. And all he can talk about is how he stays away because he’s not a good man.

What kind of secrets is he hiding? What makes him think that being my husband can hurt me? I don’t believe he’s capable of hurting me. Especially when everything he does turns me on. I dip my fingers into my folds. I’d like to think we made some progress this morning. A smile pulls at my lips. He almost fell to his knees when I reached into his trousers and wrapped my fingers around his shaft. Gosh, his erection was everything I thought it would be—strong and hard as a rock. I felt powerful holding him in my hand like that.

I wanted to take him into my mouth. But I chickened out. No idea why. I’m no longer afraid of his rejection. He’s not like Hunter. Hunter had a way of making me feel dirty for even asking him if he wanted me. He made me believe I was the reason he wasn’t turned on. I think he hated it when I took control, or when I asked for sex.

Archer is different. He says no to me, but I see the agony in his eyes. He wants me as much as I want him. So what is really stopping him? I’m his wife. I know he’s hiding something. My gut tells me it has to do with Dad. The way Archer’s eyes shoot daggers whenever Dad comes up in conversation is a huge giveaway.

And his family? They’re so weird too. They didn’t even bat an eyelash the night Archer brought me home. As if he went out once a week and bought women at auctions. They just accepted that I was his wife as if they were expecting it. Well, at least, Fisher and Jacob did. Gardenia had a different reaction to me that had nothing to do with the auction. She’s in love with Archer.

I turn to my side on the bed, placing the swan on the bedside table. Who wouldn’t fall in love with him? Yeah, the man is infuriatingly stubborn and controlling. But also caring and so passionate. He makes me feel like I’m the most beautiful woman in the world. I know I’m not. There are literally fifty other women in my ballet company that look exactly like me.

“Why don’t you love me?” I scream into my pillow, then freeze. Do I want him to love me?

“Paloma.” Archer’s voice rumbles outside my door.

Speak of the devil…

“Go away.” I sink deeper into the covers and shut my eyes close.

“One,” he begins to count.

What is he even counting for? I sit up in the bed, glaring at the door.

“Two,” he says louder.

And I just know he’s clenching his jaw the way he does when he’s losing patience.

“Three.” The lock clicks, and then the door swings open.

“What the hell?” I gasp. “You have a key?”

“This is my house. Of course I have a key.” His gaze darkens. “You missed dinner. Again.”

“I wasn’t hungry.” I shrug. “I hope you enjoyed eating alone.”

“You really do think I’m bluffing.” He shuts the door behind him, then shrugs off his suit jacket.

My heart races when he begins to roll up his sleeves. “What are you doing?”

“Delivering on my promise from earlier today.” He loosens his tie and pulls on it.

“What?” You can’t be serious about that.” I clutch the covers to my body. “You wouldn’t dare. My father is going to find out about this. How you treat me?—”

“He’s not here now. I am, Little Dove.” He stalks toward the bed. “Why am I here, Paloma?”

“What? How should I know?”

“Okay.” He smirks, gripping my covers. “I’ll explain. You’re acting like a brat.”

“I am not.” I eye the long fingers threatening to pull away the only thing keeping me safe from Archer. “I don’t have to eat dinner with you if I don’t feel like it. You can’t make me. Despite what you think, you’re not the king of everything.”

“I warned you, Little Dove. Tonight was your last chance to be a good wife and join me for a meal. But since you didn’t, I’m here to show that beautiful ass of yours what happens when you act like a brat.” He towers over me. “But if you want to save yourself the embarrassment of a spanking. Now is the time to apologize.”

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