Blaidd
It took me less than an hour to draft a potential cohabitation chart. It was so ridiculous that I anticipated her reaction, but it also allowed me to hammer out the key things I wanted from the union without giving myself away. I needed my Friday nights back.
“No,” she said, pushing the document back once she reached the two-week timetable.
“Which part?” I asked, keeping my eyes on her.
She looked as though she was about to answer, then paused to stare down at the document.
“No—to eighty percent of it,” she said stiffly.
Perfect.
“I’m open to negotiating,” I said, tapping my lip as if in thought, “but sharing a bedroom and Friday date nights are non-negotiable. I believe that’s part of a normal relationship.”
Her eyes flicked up before she dragged the document back to her side of the table.
“What if I give birth on a Friday?” she muttered.
Is she… being sarcastic? I asked Fenrir.
“Of course the timetable will change drastically once the pups are born. I will be participating in all activities that involve them.”
“So you’ll be changing nappies, bathing them, and staying up all night to rub their backs when they have colic?”
I believe that tone implies that you think you are incapable of such acts, Fenrir said.
“Yes,” I snapped, almost banging my hand on the table.
“Uh-huh,” she hummed, one sceptical eyebrow lifting.
That tone implies—
Shut it.
“So no restrictions on how often I see my family or work? I can come and go as I please?”
“Yes—”
“I want that in writing and signed,” she cut in.
“And you’ll agree to marriage, sharing a bedroom, and date night?”
The silence between us stretched.
Her eyes hooded as she stared down at the paper between us. When she looked up, it was to pin me in place with a glare. Two dark pools, full of fire.
I’d never been this turned on since the rut.
Say yes.
Yes.
Even Fenrir gravitated toward her—I felt the pull, the stretch.
“Fine,” she said tightly. “But I will never forget what you did, Prothero.”
I could live with that.
?
?
?
The text alert dragged my gaze from her parents’ house to my phone. The minions were in charge of transferring everything from the island to my home—one I’d be sharing with Lielit from tonight.
Guard 3: What do you want us to do with her clothing?
The thought of their scent on her clothes made Fenrir growl.
Me: Ask the housekeeper to put it away. I made space in my dressing room. DO NOT TOUCH HER CLOTHES.
Guard 3: Yes, sir.
I relaxed, my gaze returning to her home. She could tell her family the truth—because she would never testify against me. A small, sneaky clause I’d slipped into her cohabitation contract.
Who would believe them?
She hadn’t spoken to me—or even looked at me—the entire journey home.
I glanced at the time glowing on my phone. She’d been in there for over three hours. I couldn’t imagine talking to anyone for that long.
We were willing to wait. Tonight, she would be where she was always meant to be—in our bed.
?
?
?
She didn’t walk to the car—she marched. The driver started the engine and pulled away from the kerb smoothly. I glanced at Lielit and noticed she was clutching her purse to her belly. Her hands trembled.
“Pleasant visit?”
Her head snapped around so fast her curls fell into her face.
“You’re an absolute arsehole for putting my family through that,” she snapped, shoving her hair back.
“I kept an eye on them,” I said, studying her puffy eyes.
I’d never understood tears. I’d thought I might shed one when I found out my mother had died—but nothing.
“You creepy fuck,” she muttered with a sniff.
“We discussed—”
“Yes. Yes. No abuse, verbal or physical,” she grumbled, turning to stare out the window. “Prick.”
She sighed, then glanced back at me.
“Okay. Last one. Let me get it out of my system.”
She drew a breath.
“Mother-fucking nasty psycho dick-faced little bitch.”
I chose well, Fenrir guffawed.
My fingers tightened around my phone.
“Feeling better now?” I asked dryly.
She leaned her head back and turned to the window.
“Yes. I believe I do.”
I rolled my eyes and tapped on my phone. She was back—in my car, on the way to my home. Now I could get back to the prime minister.