Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
The door opened without a sound.
Bea’s head came up. The book in her lap had been open for twenty minutes and she hadn’t turned a page.
“Were you waiting for me?” Rafael asked when he saw her on the bed.
“Yes.”
He gave her a grin. “Mind if I shower first?”
“Go ahead.”
He disappeared into the ensuite. She tried not to listen, but it was so quiet she heard everything. The clink of a belt. The shuffle of clothing. Then the water.
Her brain supplied merciless visuals. Broad shoulders under steam. The flex of his back as he ran his hands through his hair, the way water always seemed to race down his abs like it knew where it wanted to go.
Distraction was needed. She put her book away, and grabbed the nearest thing—her makeup bag—and sat on the edge of the bed to sort it.
It didn’t take long. Powder, mascara, lip gloss.
That was about the extent of it. She unzipped the small inner compartment.
Inside was the necklace she’d meant to wear tonight and forgotten.
It dropped out as a stubborn, metallic tangle.
She was still working at the knots when the door opened, and Rafael emerged shirtless, wearing only the grey shorts from the previous night. She glanced up—and immediately looked back down. He ran hot, and technically he normally slept that way, but yesterday he’d had the decency to wear a t-shirt.
His gaze dropped to her hands. “What’s that?”
She pulled. The tangle tightened. “I must not have clasped the end properly.” She held up the necklace in frustration.
He took it from her without comment and climbed into bed. The scent of amber, spice, and clean Rafael hit her like a pheromone concoction designed to erase every line she’d rehearsed. “We need to talk.”
Bea carefully moved beside him. She trained her eyes on his face, valiantly ignoring his bare torso. “Can you tell me the rest? About the law. About you. I’m ready to hear it.”
“It makes me yours,” he answered. “Legally. Publicly. Permanently. Everything I’m given control over is structured around protecting and prioritizing you.”
The simplicity of his summation knocked the air out of her.
“If I abandon you, cheat, mistreat, or fail to provide, you can go to the Ministry. They don’t take those allegations lightly.” He paused. “Neither of us gets to love without consequences.”
She took a deep breath. “If we’re going to get married—”
“We are,” he said firmly. “There’s no if.”
It didn’t feel like pressure. Just truth.
Bea’s hand toyed with the hem of the duvet. “I want to marry you. But I don’t want to wake up one day and feel like I gave away too much. Or worse—resent you, for letting me.”
“You think this law makes you small,” he said quietly. “But I’ve never once looked at you and seen someone I wanted to shrink. Not when I met you. Not now.”
She stared at the ceiling for a second, then back at him. “I need assurances.”
“Name them.”
“But the law isn’t negotiable.”
He spoke, attention on the smallest loop between his fingers. “Everything is negotiable.”
“I want my own account. Real control. Not an allowance.”
“You’ll have one account that’s untouchable. That’s actually already built into the law as a future safeguard. But generally our finances will be pooled,” he explained. “I’ve told you before, my money is your money. I want you to spend it freely.”
Bea watched his face, searching. Then she nodded, filing it away. She sat up more fully. “Okay, so travel: I’m happy to discuss things with you, but I don’t want to feel like I need to ask permission.”
“I’ll get you an open-dated first-class pass with Westhaven Airlines,” he announced. “Pre-approved on my end. No pop-ups or override codes.”
Her brows lifted. “You can do that?”
“I already made inquiries.”
“What about my job?” she asked, bending her knees and hugging them to her chest. She rested her chin on them.
“You love your job.”
“Do you expect me to work at GV? I’m not saying I never would, but…”
He shook his head. “Not unless you want to.”
The stiffness in her back loosened by a fraction. She was on a roll, so she added, “Also, if someone makes you uneasy, that’s a conversation. Not a ban.”
His fingers stilled around the chain. “Not unless he oversteps.”
“And if you misread that?” she challenged.
“I don’t misread men.”
Bea’s eyes narrowed. “That’s too arrogant by half.”
“I’m not stopping you from seeing Dao, am I?”
“Mostly pouting,” she conceded.
He gave her a look. “Then trust me to know the difference between discomfort and danger.”
“What if I didn’t like one of your lady friends?” she asked, fluffing the pillow behind her back.
He pulled too sharply. One of the knots cinched smaller. “I don’t have lady friends.”
“But what if you did?”
“I don’t keep women in my life who blur lines. You won’t have to compete.”
Bea nodded. The room went quiet again while she let that answer sit.
She reached for her water glass on the nightstand, took a sip. She’d been saving this last one, or maybe it was more accurate to say she’d been avoiding it. But it mattered. The most.
“I want it written into our marriage contract that, if it’s ever necessary, our children can be raised in Canada through their school years.”
The chain hung between his hands. “No.”
“Rafael.”
“Absolutely not.”
“There are other ways to grow up,” she argued, her fingernail worrying a seam in the comforter. “Other cultures they can experience.”
“People choose the UR every day,” he replied. “Laurent. You.”
“Laurent was sent. I was an adult.”
His jaw worked. “You’re talking about leaving the UR.”
“I’m talking about us leaving,” she corrected calmly. She reached a hand out and placed it on his forearm. “Together.”
The breath he drew was slow.
“The marriage law made something clear to me,” she went on. “I don’t fully understand the system I’d be handing them over to.”
“You write the internal memos for M and S. You know our system works.”
“I know most of it is extraordinary,” she agreed. “But I want the option to show them another way if we need to.”
Silence. Bea watched as he toiled at the final twist in silence, not interrupting.
When he finally spoke, it was slower. “My children would grow up without the structure that made me.”
“You’re a man of the UR,” she said. “No matter where we live, they’d still learn from you.”
His gaze held hers.
He exhaled through his nose, tension easing by a degree. Eventually, he leaned back slightly. “You’ve learned to negotiate.”
She suppressed a grin. “Nico told me you said it was all about leverage.”
“You’re asking me to build in a back door.”
“And you’re asking me to sign my name into yours,” she said softly.
He bent one knee and leaned his free arm on it. “I think the UR is the best place to raise children.”
He stopped there. Her pulse climbed into her throat.
“I still believe I’m right,” he said evenly. “But I’ll add what you asked for.”
Her lungs unlocked. He leaned forward and draped the chain over her collarbone, fastening the clasp behind her neck.
His green eyes bore into hers. “If we ever leave, we leave together.”
“I’ll take that.”
He dragged a hand down his face. “Is that everything?”
Part of her was tempted to push her advantage, just to see how far it went. Instead, she nodded. “Yes.”
“You agree to those amendments?”
“I do.”
A slow smile touched his mouth. “Say it again,” he murmured. “I like that answer.”