CHAPTER FIVE #4
She stared at him blankly. “That has nothing to do with whether or not I could fall in love with you.”
“You said that you don’t want to have sex again until you’re in love. And you also said you wouldn’t have sex with me. Those statements in conjunction imply that you don’t think you could fall in love with me.”
“It’s not that I—”
“I can’t say I blame you, considering”—his eyes flicked to his daughter—“my situation.”
Daphne’s eyes followed his. “That has nothing to do—”
“Therefore,” he said, turning to face her fully, “I can only assume that your stance extends to my own ability.”
“I beg your pardon? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that love, often enough, is a two-way street. If you don’t think you can fall in love with me, then surely you think that I can’t fall in love with you.”
“I never said that.”
“No. But you might as well have.”
“Maximus. You—”
“I take offense, you know.”
“You take offense?”
“I assure you I am quite capable of love.”
“I’m sure you are. But—”
“I find it rather insulting that you would assume otherwise. Perhaps you should just leave now if you consider our circumstances so dire.”
Daphne was staring at him with her mouth open.
He casually passed her the wine, which she took.
“I’m not saying that I don’t think I could fall in love with you,” she said firmly. “Or that you’re incapable of love. All I’m saying is that I’ve never been in love. And when I do fall in love, I want it to happen naturally. Not under…these circumstances.”
He tilted his head. “And what circumstances, exactly, are those?”
She looked up at him, answering quietly, “Forced ones.”
Silence fell. Daphne was watching him cautiously, as if she were trying to figure something out. Or figure him out. Maximus wasn’t sure he wanted her to do so.
“My father would not approve of you anyway,” he said.
Daphne raised an eyebrow. “I beg your pardon?”
“It is merely a fact.”
She took a rapid sip of wine. “And why would your father not approve of me?”
“You are not Constance.”
Daphne fell silent. Even she couldn’t argue with that.
Maximus took the wineglass back, draining it in a single sip.
The alcohol hit him in a merciful wave, carrying away the remaining traces of his earlier anger.
This evening had not turned out at all how he had expected, yet it had not turned out badly at all.
An hour ago, he’d been in the pantry receiving head.
Now he was talking to Daphne with his trousers fully on.
He knew perfectly well which one he enjoyed more.
“Daphne,” he said quietly.
She looked up at him. “Maximus?”
He loved the way she said his name. “Shall we make a deal?”
She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. “What sort of deal?”
At the look on her face, he rephrased: “An…arrangement.”
“What sort of arrangement?”
Maximus steeled himself. “One wherein I convince my father that I am in love with you.”
She blinked again. Then she took the wine bottle and refilled the glass. “I thought you said he wouldn’t approve of me.”
“He wouldn’t.”
“I thought you said I wasn’t Constance.”
“You aren’t.”
“Then why would you—”
“My father would rather call off the wedding than see me married to someone like you.”
“How flattering.”
“If I choose you, he will never allow us to wed.”
“I’m failing to see how that benefits you. Or me.”
“It’s like you said.” His voice dropped as he whispered his next words. “Without the competition, I could…mourn. That is how it benefits me.”
Was he imagining it, or did Daphne step closer?
“You aren’t here for me anyway,” he continued. “You’re doing this for someone else—you said so yourself. Whoever it is, do they want you to win?”
A pause.
“Yes,” she whispered. “They do.”
“Then that is how it benefits you.”
The pause grew.
“Do this for me, Daphne,” he said, his voice becoming rough. The wine was going to his head. “I don’t want a wife. I wanted…”
“Her,” Daphne finished for him. “You wanted her.”
Maximus didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.
Lilibet’s presence hung between them: the mother of his child, the woman who held his heart. It was the type of love that never went away. The type of love Daphne coveted. True love.
“Yes,” he whispered back. “I did.”
There was nothing more to say, really. What was the point of discussing anything further? Maximus’s heart was broken. Daphne’s was too, albeit in an entirely different way. They were two people who had nothing to offer each other. Which made this the perfect arrangement.
Maximus looked at her once more, his eyes narrowing with resolve. “So, Daphne,” he said, his voice steady. “Will you pretend to date me?”
The pause went on for what felt like forever.
Maximus saw her considering her choices, weighing the options.
There was only one result that made sense—one answer she could give.
He’d laid it out so thoroughly she would not have a choice.
She was right; their circumstances were forced.
But this was a way for them to regain control.
This, they could take back for themselves.
So it was not a surprise when she said, “Yes.”