Chapter 43
London
Two Months Later
The trip to Rheadur, so we could receive my father’s blessing, had to be postponed. The rebels’ clashes with my brother’s government intensified, and the Intelligence Agency of my country even uncovered a bomb threat.
Kaled asked that we wait for things to calm down, and now my heart feels perpetually heavy in my chest, imagining that some madman might hurt my family.
We ended up spending fifteen days in the Highlands on our honeymoon instead of one week, as Rodrick had initially planned. During that time, isolated in my husband’s world, I was able to learn a little about him, more by observing than by him telling me about his life. He remains closed off.
Now, however, I know small nuances of his personality that had previously escaped me. I know he’s sarcastic when he’s irritated and that he tends to attack when something bothers him.
Sometimes I feel anxious, thinking I’ll never fully understand him, since he doesn’t seem willing to let me into his world. Or rather, into his secret world. It’s as if he compartmentalizes his universe, keeping me in the social room—entertainment and sex—but withholding true intimacy or trust.
He takes almost obsessive care with everything that might make me happy, providing small joys, being affectionate, giving me gifts for no reason at all.
But the most important thing—sharing his history with me—he doesn’t do.
It’s as if he was never a child, just an adult from the very beginning.
At most, he reveals episodes from his teenage years at the Swiss boarding school.
It seems to me that his only good memories include his friends.
I have no doubt that my husband’s past is an intricate puzzle that doesn’t allow him to live fully.
Without realizing it, he once let slip that he considers himself guilty of his father’s death.
I can’t see how a twelve-year-old child could be responsible for such an act of insanity. The former duke killed his wife and then took his own life. To me, that is madness in its purest form.
We have rough edges to smooth out, and I feel as if our relationship is suspended, balanced on a tightrope—held by a fragile thread.
What exists between us beyond a marriage contract and sexual compatibility? I don’t think much.
I feel increasingly attached to him, my heart filled with affection for the man with whom I now share a home, but I don’t know if it’s mutual.
I decided to permanently withdraw from college.
I’m not an artist or a creator. I like buying the final product.
They’re completely different things. I was wasting my time, spinning my wheels in a program that had nothing to do with me, simply out of a desire to have a purpose in life that wasn’t being someone’s wife, which is what would have happened if I’d stayed in Rheadur.
There is something, however, that I realized fascinates me: marketing.
I went to visit a program today that’s half in-person and half online, and on my way back, I stopped by my husband’s office.
He was coming out of a meeting with the marketing team for his new whisky brand and looked very angry. I asked him to explain what was wrong, and now we’ve been talking for almost half an hour.
Rodrick is dissatisfied with the sales of the cheaper brand, which fell short of his expectations.
After he explained the situation, I think I discovered where they went wrong. Even though they tried to popularize the drink by bottling a product that was more affordable for people with less money, they didn’t pay attention to how to sell it.
At first, I felt shy about offering my point of view, afraid he might mock me. But as I speak, I see that he’s paying attention to every word, and little by little, I feel more confident giving my opinion about what I think could be changed.
“So you’re telling me that even when buying a cheaper brand, these new consumers still want to feel special?”
“Yes, exactly. Everyone wants to feel special, actually. Even if you sell a more affordable brand, you can dress up the product in such a way that whoever buys it will believe they’re part of a select group.”
He looks at me from the other side of his desk.
I find myself thinking about the men who are forced to negotiate with my husband. Rodrick is intimidating, and to those who don’t know him, his face is unreadable.
His arms are crossed over his chest—not in a relaxed posture but as if he’s studying me.
In the past, I would have been fidgeting in my chair, anxious, but I don’t fear him anymore.
He treats me with respect, and even though we argue now and then because of his controlling streak, most of the time we resolve our problems through discussion.
“Are you really going to study marketing? If so, you’re hired.”
“I am,” I say, smiling at the implied compliment. “I liked the program’s proposal, especially the fact that I can study from home part of the time. Being on campus isn’t for me. Maybe I started too late. Even before we got married, I didn’t see the appeal in all that college hustle.”
“So you’re disappointed with life here, then?”
I know he isn’t asking that randomly; he’s assessing me. It sounds crazy, but I have the feeling Rodrick believes I might leave at any moment, as if our marriage doesn’t matter.
It may not be based on love on his part, but for now, what we have satisfies me. Even without any clue about what he feels for me, we’re good together, and I’m happy.
“No. I like living here, and even more when we go to our castle in the Highlands on weekends.”
I can tell he’s very focused on what I’m saying, as if he wants to be sure I’m being sincere.
“Why, Jazmina?”
The way he says my name sends a shiver down my spine. After two months of marriage, I already know his look, and his tone of voice, when he desires me.
I stand and walk over to him. That was what I wanted from the beginning, but sometimes I feel as if he raises a barrier between us. I keep trying to tear it down. I don’t think I’ll ever give up.
“Because there it’s just the two of us,” I say, spinning his chair and sitting on his lap. “It’s our special world.”
“If it’s that special, does it mean you’ll never leave?”
My heart pounds hard in my chest.
Can I swear that to him?
I’m in love with Rodrick, but giving him that guarantee means giving up my dream of being a mother someday. He doesn’t want children, and as much as I accept his honesty about it, is it fair that I stifle my desire so he can live his life the way he wants?
“It means that right now, what we have is more than I ever dreamed of.”