to marry me.”
Xerxes cupped her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. His black eyes went through her, causing a flicker of heat against her skin, spreading down her body. He moved closer to her, so close that she felt consumed by the black fire of his gaze. “He wanted to make sure no other man could have you.”
No other man? Try no man ever. She took a deep breath. What would he say if he knew he was actually the first man who’d ever kissed her? Would he think she was a freakish old maid?
She covered her face with her hands. “I feel pathetic.”
“Rose.” Xerxes’s voice was low. “I was wrong to call you naive. You…you just believe the best of people. It’s a rare quality.”
She felt the warmth of his arms start to encircle her. No! She couldn’t let him touch her, or she might completely collapse back into his arms. She jerked back away from him on the bed, looking up at him fiercely. “If you believe that, let me call my family and tell them I’m safe!”
He blinked. “I’m sure Lars told them that.”
She thought of her parents, her grandparents, her brothers and sisters and nieces and nephews, and choked back her tears, causing her throat to throb. “No. I need to talk to them now. ”
“I already gave you my answer. No.” He abruptly stood up from the bed. “There are a variety of new clothes in the closet for your stay. Enjoy your breakfast.”
He left. Rose stared at the closed door.
With a weary sigh, she rose from the bed and went to the closet. There, just as he’d promised, she found an entirely new wardrobe, laundered and pressed, in a variety of sizes.
She ran her hands over all the hanging clothes softly, then looked at the shoes stacked neatly beneath.
There was every style of clothing possible, everything any woman could want—from bikinis and cocktail dresses to oversized sweatpants and T-shirts. Schlubby to chic and everything in between.
Very unlike Lars, who’d always had a very specific way he’d wished her to dress. He hadn’t even allowed her to pick out her own wedding dress. “You’re beautiful in anything, petal,” he’d said. “But I prefer you to wear the jewels and furs you deserve.”
She’d tried to tell him that she didn’t feel comfortable in those things, but he never listened to her. So she’d worn his fancy clothing in the hope it would make her feel like she belonged in his aristocratic set.
Grimly, she went back to the bed and poured herself some hot coffee into a pretty china teacup on the tray. Taking a sip of the steaming black coffee, she stared at herself in the vanity mirror.
She looked awful. Like a raccoon with circles under her eyes, or maybe a Halloween ghost, pale and thin. Yesterday’s wedding makeup was still smeared on her face, black mascara dark beneath her eyes from weeping.
With Lars constantly telling her she was perfect, when she knew she wasn’t, she’d been afraid to stick up for herself or even, heaven forbid, start a fight. She’d told herself she was just inexperienced at dealing with relationships. Couples were supposed to compromise, weren’t they?
But instead of compromise, she’d given herself up completely—when all he’d offered her in return were lies.
Rose choked down another sip of black coffee. Her eyes fell upon the wedding dress, still lying in a crumpled heap on the floor where Xerxes had dropped it the night before. Crossing the room in her bare feet, she picked up the couture gown with two fingers and dragged it into the trash.
There. It was gone. Brushing off her hands, she turned her back on it and felt immediately better. And then— she was hungry.
Going back to the breakfast tray, she dumped three heaping spoonfuls of sugar into her coffee, followed by copious amounts of real cream. She took a long drink of the hot, fragrant coffee and it was so sweet and creamy that she gasped with pleasure. She reached back for the buttery, freshly made chocolate croissant and polished it off
Xerxes cupped her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. His black eyes went through her, causing a flicker of heat against her skin, spreading down her body. He moved closer to her, so close that she felt consumed by the black fire of his gaze. “He wanted to make sure no other man could have you.”
No other man? Try no man ever. She took a deep breath. What would he say if he knew he was actually the first man who’d ever kissed her? Would he think she was a freakish old maid?
She covered her face with her hands. “I feel pathetic.”
“Rose.” Xerxes’s voice was low. “I was wrong to call you naive. You…you just believe the best of people. It’s a rare quality.”
She felt the warmth of his arms start to encircle her. No! She couldn’t let him touch her, or she might completely collapse back into his arms. She jerked back away from him on the bed, looking up at him fiercely. “If you believe that, let me call my family and tell them I’m safe!”
He blinked. “I’m sure Lars told them that.”
She thought of her parents, her grandparents, her brothers and sisters and nieces and nephews, and choked back her tears, causing her throat to throb. “No. I need to talk to them now. ”
“I already gave you my answer. No.” He abruptly stood up from the bed. “There are a variety of new clothes in the closet for your stay. Enjoy your breakfast.”
He left. Rose stared at the closed door.
With a weary sigh, she rose from the bed and went to the closet. There, just as he’d promised, she found an entirely new wardrobe, laundered and pressed, in a variety of sizes.
She ran her hands over all the hanging clothes softly, then looked at the shoes stacked neatly beneath.
There was every style of clothing possible, everything any woman could want—from bikinis and cocktail dresses to oversized sweatpants and T-shirts. Schlubby to chic and everything in between.
Very unlike Lars, who’d always had a very specific way he’d wished her to dress. He hadn’t even allowed her to pick out her own wedding dress. “You’re beautiful in anything, petal,” he’d said. “But I prefer you to wear the jewels and furs you deserve.”
She’d tried to tell him that she didn’t feel comfortable in those things, but he never listened to her. So she’d worn his fancy clothing in the hope it would make her feel like she belonged in his aristocratic set.
Grimly, she went back to the bed and poured herself some hot coffee into a pretty china teacup on the tray. Taking a sip of the steaming black coffee, she stared at herself in the vanity mirror.
She looked awful. Like a raccoon with circles under her eyes, or maybe a Halloween ghost, pale and thin. Yesterday’s wedding makeup was still smeared on her face, black mascara dark beneath her eyes from weeping.
With Lars constantly telling her she was perfect, when she knew she wasn’t, she’d been afraid to stick up for herself or even, heaven forbid, start a fight. She’d told herself she was just inexperienced at dealing with relationships. Couples were supposed to compromise, weren’t they?
But instead of compromise, she’d given herself up completely—when all he’d offered her in return were lies.
Rose choked down another sip of black coffee. Her eyes fell upon the wedding dress, still lying in a crumpled heap on the floor where Xerxes had dropped it the night before. Crossing the room in her bare feet, she picked up the couture gown with two fingers and dragged it into the trash.
There. It was gone. Brushing off her hands, she turned her back on it and felt immediately better. And then— she was hungry.
Going back to the breakfast tray, she dumped three heaping spoonfuls of sugar into her coffee, followed by copious amounts of real cream. She took a long drink of the hot, fragrant coffee and it was so sweet and creamy that she gasped with pleasure. She reached back for the buttery, freshly made chocolate croissant and polished it off
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