He could sense the layers hidden beneath the question, but couldn’t guess what they were. “I also knew you,” he said.
She made a scoffing sound, uncrossed her legs, then recrossed them the opposite direction, annoyance emanating from her in a wave. “Oh. You knew me. As in, were acquainted with me. How very romantic.”
“Did I ever promise you romance, Tabitha?” She said nothing, her glare glacial now. “No. I did not. I told you that I would stay faithful to you, and I have. I told you that I would be loyal to you, which I have also done. That I would do my duty to God, country and to you. I have done all of that, to a satisfactory degree, many would say. You were the one who decided it wasn’t enough.”
Righteous anger burned through him. He had not lied to her. He had not told her he would give hearts, flowers or any frilly symbol of weak emotion. He had pledged commitment.
She seemed to have no concept of that at all. He would never have taken her for being so faithless. He had thought she was like him. Had thought she was logical. Had thought that she understood sacrifice. That duty and honor superseded emotion.
“A theoretical marriage is a lot different than actual marriage. I can hardly be held to assumptions I made before I had ever had a...a relationship.”
“Certainly you can. Everyone makes vows before they marry. For the most part, they have never made such vows before.”
“And sometimes marriages end. Because in spite of the best intentions of everyone involved, things don’t work out the way you thought they would.”
“As I am also not a fortune-teller, I fail to see how I can be held accountable for not fulfilling needs you did not voice to me. In addition to not being able to see the future, I cannot read your mind.”
“Even if you could, I can only imagine that you would find it unworthy of listening to.”
“When exactly did you become such a pain?” he asked, not bothering to temper his anger. “You were not like this before we were married.”
“That’s because before we were married, you paid me to be your assistant. An assistant is not a wife.”
“I was very clear when I proposed to you that this would not be a typical marriage. That it would in fact reflect some of the duties that you took on as an assistant.”
“Well, maybe nothing changed, then. Nothing but me.” She crossed her arms, closing herself off from conversation, and turned away from him.
He gritted his teeth, and determined that he would not speak to her again until they landed. Once they were on the island... He didn’t know. But she wouldn’t be able to escape him. Not until he allowed it.
If that was kidnapping, then so be it.
But he was not going to take the end of his marriage lying down. The sooner she realized that, the better.
IT WAS STRANGE, landing on what you knew was your husband’s private island, an island you had never been to before. He’d never brought her here, to this place, to this villa. It was incredible, like every property the Demetriou family owned. Just like the penthouse downtown that she was staying in while she avoided the reality of her life, just like the palace.
This was different. White walls, a red roof, placed on white sand in the middle of the blue, glittering bright sea. Like a beautiful piece of jewelry, perhaps part of the crown jewels. It was isolated, nothing like the palace, so filled with staff, tour groups and political leaders. Nothing like the penthouse, enveloped in the busy motion of the city.
She blinked against the sun, pale light washing over everything around them.
“Why don’t you come in?”
She looked at Kairos, suddenly overcome by a sense of déjà vu. Of being in a new place with him, for the first time. That day she’d first walked into his office as his assistant.
* * *
“Come in. Sit down.”
Tabitha shifted where she was standing, unable to decide what exactly she should be staring at. At the most beautiful, opulent surroundings she had ever seen, or at the most blindingly handsome man she had ever laid eyes on.
She crossed the room, taking a seat across from him at his desk.
* * *
Tabitha was suddenly brought straight back into the present as she imagined that desk. The one they had conceived their baby on. Walking into his office that day, she never could have imagined that eight years later she would end up screwing him on it after asking him for a divorce.
She blinked against the stinging sensation in her eyes. They weren’t tears. She was not going to cry any tears for him. For the man who didn’t feel anything for her.
She followed him into the villa, unable to remain entirely unimpressed with her surroundings. She was used to opulence. She had spent years working with him in the palace prior to their marriage, and had had a good dose of exposure to it even before she herself was royalty. After nearly a decade in these kinds of settings she should be used to them.
But a small part of her was still very much that girl from the single-wide trailer, utterly unable to believe that she now rated entry into these sorts of places.
This—this small weakness for luxury—was the flaw in her armor. At least, the entry point by which to reach many of the others.
Everything in the room was white, large windows looking out over a lush garden, an infinity pool and beyond that the sea provided the only color. That was one of the first things she had noticed when she came to live in the palace. Even when she was simply in the apartments provided for her as an employee, the decor had been simple, but the quality unsurpassed.
It made her feel small and gauche to think of her observations now. The linens had been pure white, no pattern, or ornate embroidery to draw the eye. It was all in the feel of it. So soft it was like touching a cloud. Everything was like that. The tissues and the toilet paper even. Tiny pieces of luxury that added up to the kind of comfort she had never even imagined existed.
“My room is upstairs, at the end of the hall, feel free to choose whichever quarters suit you best.”
She looked over at him, reminded yet again of that first meeting.
* * *
She had never seen an office quite like this. And she had never seen a man quite like him. When she entered the prestigious university that was currently facilitating this study-abroad program she’d been exposed to a higher class of people, a higher class of living than ever before. But this was somewhere far beyond that.
For one thing, he was a prince. No matter how blue the blood, that placed him several rungs higher on the social ladder than any of the old-money Americans she’d encountered. For another, he was unlike any of the other men she interacted with at university. He was a man, a real man, for a start, not a boy barely edging into his twenties.
In his perfectly cut custom suit he was daunting to say the least. Add the fact that his face was objectively the most beautiful masculine work of art she’d ever seen, and she found herself unable to speak. That never happened. She’d learned early on that if she wanted to improve her position in life she would have to attack her goals with single-mindedness. She could never afford to look like she didn’t belong, because people would be all too willing to believe her. So she had cultivated confidence from the beginning.
It deserted her then. All her words drying up completely.
“It’s nice to meet you,” he said, not offering her his hand, but rather a simple incline of his head. “I have read your file, and taken the recommendation of my advisor into consideration.