Page 35 of When Hearts Surrender
“You can’t marry anyone else. I won’t allow it.”
The hurt in her eyes recedes and is replaced with anger. She straightens and crosses her arms over her chest. “You won’tallowit?”
“No. I’ll ruin anyone whocomes near you.”
“What!That’s ridiculous. So, you don’t want to marry me, but no one else can either? What kind of sick, twisted person are you?”
Very sick. Very twisted.
Her eyes flash with fury. “For the last month, I’ve dreamed of our night more times than I can count, wishing…wishing I could find you again.”
Her tiny body shakes with passion as she stalks toward me and jabs her finger at my chest. “Apparently, that night was a mirage, an illusion, and I don’t really know who you are. But don’t think you can control me, mister, or you’ll be the one who’s sorry in the end.”
She spins around, moving toward the exit. “I won’t beg for anyone to marry me. If it isn’t you, I’m sure there are plenty of men out there willing to do it.”
I reach out and snag her wrist in my grasp, my fingers tightening automatically.
Don’t leave me.
The words haunt my mind, but what comes out of my lips is a simple, “No.”
She whirls toward me. “What do you want then, Maxwell?”
Staring at my hand covering hers, watching the smattering of goosebumps appearing on her forearm, I reply, “Fine. You want to proceed with the arranged marriage for your family. So be it. Let’s talk terms.”
She wrenches her arm away and gnaws on her lips. “Fine.”
“One year and one child, minimum.” My cock, the fucking organ which has been lifeless for the past year, twitches in my pants as I imagine trying for a child with her.
“I can’t guarantee that…the child.”
“That’s the entire purpose of this arrangement for me.”
“You can’t guarantee that with any woman!” Her face darkens and her hands are now fisted to her sides, her voice rising in volume. “Not everyone can have children of their own!”
The words echo in the room, the background music long muted by the staff since our meeting started. A suspicious sheen glimmers in her eyes and she looks away, blinking rapidly.
She looks devastated. A fissure forms inside my chest. I want to fix her problems and wipe that expression off her face.
But instead, I say, “The attempt at it is what I’m asking for.”
She sharply inhales. “A-Attempt?”
“Where do you think babies come from? Divine intervention?”
She grits her teeth, her nostrils flaring. “Don’t patronize me. I assume we can go the IVF route.”
“No.”
I’m a damn bastard, because if I’m going to do this, to put myself through this marriage while keeping her at arm’s length, I want to wrench out every morsel of happiness and intimacy from this relationship.
I want an excuse to touch her silky skin, to feel her warmth against me, even if I have to shield my heart from her.
“I’m not opposed to using fertility treatments or adoption, but only after we’ve tried for one year.”
She blanches, her pulse fluttering rapidly in her throat.
“I-If we get pregnant, I want custody of our children after we divorce,” she says.