Chapter 52
DRASKO
No one was allowed at the tower. It was truly his. This place was built to remind him of the lone path of the king , the words spoken once by a man who had taught him everything and indeed made Drasko’s path lonely.
The words were truly sad. Perhaps not to those great men who lived to serve others. But to those who built a fortune for themselves, made allies and enemies, but didn’t have a single person by their side to share their success with.
Drasko had gotten to understand it. Hence his need to build other businesses.
Hence his aversion to diamonds. Hence him seeking out brilliant minds and investing in their visions of the future, a future for the people.
He understood that once he reached the top, there was nowhere to go.
He couldn’t build higher, but he could build wider, making room for those who would stand by his side.
And now Grace was here, the only other person ever having set foot in this room.
Drasko had tried to avoid her for several days.
It was easier to be away from her. Easier to pretend those nights together were a simple deal.
It was easier to tell himself that she wouldn’t be hurt in this wicked diamond game.
That she wouldn’t be like those others, who’d lost their lives because of him.
Lies, of course. Nothing was ever easy with her.
His heart was heavy, his mind a mess. Two days were left until the auction, and two more letters were yet to arrive. As fearless as Drasko thought he was, he dreaded them, was going mad, hoping that somehow, the game would spare her.
“What is the matter, darling?” he asked with intentional indifference and took a swig from the bottle in his hand.
Whisky was supposed to dull the growing need to be close to her. Instead, it made him acutely aware of her standing in the doorway as if the air between them was made out of invisible wires that connected her every move to his.
She had sought him out, here of all places, with the intent to—what exactly?
“Why are you here?” she asked.
Because the night they had spent together was still fresh in his memory, he wanted to say.
The thought of sleeping in his room with her sleeping in the next one was unbearable.
Because he wanted more. Because she was his madness.
It grew day by day and tore him apart. Because he was afraid that whatever this game was, he would lose her. And that thought was devastating.
He could tell her all that. What would she say?
“Why are you here?” he asked instead.
Her gaze shifted to his mattress, then to his bare feet, to the bottle.
“Did you get scared that something happened to me?” he asked. “If anything had, you would have all the freedom you once told me you wanted. And all my money.”
He wasn’t sure why he wanted to hurt her with his words. Or perhaps, he wanted her to argue.
“Is it easy to lie to yourself?” she asked. He cocked a brow. “Because when you told me on our wedding day that you despised our arrangement no less than I did, you lied. Lied to me. Did you lie to yourself, too?”
He wondered if she finally understood where he had come from, why this was happening. So, he let her talk.
“You coming to my performances in the last years was no coincidence, was it? But you won’t tell me about your past.”
“And you want to know about my past?”
“Why can’t I?” she snapped, much louder this time. “Tell me, Drasko, why? Why?” She bit her lip and frowned a little. “Elias has a past with you. So does Brodia. Men and women at your company do. Women at the balls smile knowingly. And I… Of all people, Drasko, I…”
If only she knew…
“I am your wife, am I not?” She went silent, studying her gloved hands.
She was so pretty in her burgundy dress, with flowers pinned to her hat. So vulnerable, making Drasko’s heart ache. So oblivious to many things in his life. But would she accept the truth if he told her?
“Why does everyone get to know you while I only get little pieces like a homeless dog?” she inquired quietly.
“A bit here. A night there. You use me to teach me your lessons, to prove me wrong. ‘H ere, Grace, a piano, be happy,’ ”—her bitter words made him flinch—“ ‘here, darling, two fingers, be grateful, ’”—she mocked him in his voice—“‘ smile, darling, play for me, while I live my life with other people .’” Her voice grew louder and turned shaky as she continued.
“‘ There, Grace, a necklace, so you can look like a doll and make me proud .’”
It wasn’t what she said but how she said it, for the first time so vocal, not an ounce of haughtiness, just hurt in her eyes that gazed straight into his heart.
Her chest shook as she continued in a voice that broke slightly.
“Your servants know about your scars, Drasko. But Grace—oh, Grace doesn’t need to know.
” She smirked. “‘ Here, Grace, talk to the duke and duchess, tell them how well you play, tell the reporters how grand your husband is .’” A soft sob interrupted her speech.
“It’s been months and I still don’t know a single bloody thing about your past.”
Her eyes, misted with tears, met his, and his body wanted to turn inside out at the need to comfort her.
Drasko could tell her a lot of things. But all of it led back to when he was a boy, to the awful events, to the enormous pain that he would not share with her—she’d had enough of her own. He simply couldn’t tell a little without telling the entire story. And the story… Well, it would hurt her.
The silence lasted for a long minute. Disappointment swept across her face. She looked away, widening her eyes to keep her tears from spilling.
What would he tell her? That she lived inside him, in his heart, growing bigger every day? And the only time he was at peace was when she was next to him?
Drasko couldn’t bear seeing her so upset, but he wanted her to say it—that things were changing between them, and she wasn’t just accepting them but wanted them that way.
“I see,” she whispered and turned on her heel.
Her hand had just grabbed the doorknob when he called her name.
“Don’t walk away,” he warned in a low voice. “Not now, Grace.”
She paused, her back to him, her head low.
She didn’t move.
He didn’t breathe.
The stillness was tangible. The silence ate at his heart.
Finally, he rose to his feet. “Tell me what you want, Grace.”
“I want you to tell me why this had to be this way,” she said quietly without turning. “Why you have the scars. Why you can show me your secret tunnels but won’t tell me where those scars come from.”
He flinched at her words.
She slowly turned around, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Why I don’t deserve to know you like others. Why, Drasko, can’t I have a part of you?”
“You already do, Grace. More than you think.”
He was all hers, if she wanted. His past was hers, too, if she cared. So was his present and, he hoped, his future. And he so desperately wanted to have a future together.
“With time, I can give you the answers, Grace, I promise.” When the auction was over. When he knew she was safe.
He took slow steps toward her.
“Is that what you are here for?” he asked. “In the middle of the night? Because you are jealous of others and want to know more than them?”
“You.”
“Me?”
“I am here because of you, Drasko. Because I want you.”
He took another step closer. “You want me to take you home and to my bed?”
She shook her head.
“No?” His heart fell. “You don’t want another night? A new month is due,” he said, hating himself for baiting her.
She shook her head. “No, Drasko. I don’t want those anymore.”
He stopped short.
Couldn’t be. She didn’t mean it, did she?
She wiped her tears with the back of her hand, quickly and with determination, not taking her eyes off his.
“I don’t want that agreement. I don’t want agreements , Drasko. I want to have what lucky people have.”
He didn’t respond.
“Be able to tell each other how they feel and what they want.”
“So, tell me.”
She smiled through tears.
“But you know it, Drasko. You know it just as well as why you sit behind the music room doors and listen to me play when you think I don’t know it.
Why you come to my room and touch my things, your scent lingering there long after you are gone.
Why you bought me the pianos in the first place.
No, not as a bargain. Don’t lie. Rich men like you have others do work for them.
They don’t spend days making deals with people so they can buy rare pianos for their wives. ”
Her lips parted in a little sob. For the first time, she seemed unafraid of her emotions. Her beautiful eyes held him hostage.
“My reasons are the same ones as why you watch me sleep,” she said.
“Why you carry me home when I am in pain. Why you went to my performances for years.” Tears spilled down her cheeks, falling freely, and she didn’t hide them.
“For years, Drasko! Don’t underestimate me.
I remember every one of them, you in the crowd.
I knew from the very first time we met that, at some point, life would bring us together.
And I remember your stares, intense and intimidating.
I wondered why, though I didn’t know you then and was afraid to ask, afraid of such blunt attention from a stranger. ”
He took the last step that covered the distance between them. The slowest step, the most careful one. He raised his hand to her face and stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers.
She blinked away her tears but didn’t look away.
“So, you tell me, Drasko. You are so brave, so important, flaunting your knowledge and power. I will be wherever you are. In the tower, in the tunnels, on your ship. Anywhere! You made me marry you. You made me yours. And no matter what you say—that we will have our freedoms and part ways when this deal is over, or whatever game you are playing. No, Drasko. We won’t.
Tell me we won’t! Because I want to be with my husband as long as my husband tells me that we are not playing games anymore. ”
“We are not.” He mustered all his courage to start this conversation. “But there is something you need to understand, Grace. You can’t be mine unless your heart makes that choice.”
“It did,” she said so quietly, yet he heard it, the silence between them so loud, it sent a shockwave through him.
His heart thudded in disbelief.
He bowed his head to hers. “I will tell you about my past, I promise. There are things you might not accept. But right now, you have to accept one lie.”
“Tell me,” she demanded, her hot whisper grazing his lips.
“I lied on our wedding day. I lied when I said that I despised this arrangement. And I never intended to let you go,” he said and searched her eyes for the reaction.
There were more lies that he had tried to cover up by simply not talking about his past. What he needed to do first was to talk about how he felt.
“Will I scare you if I tell you that when I first saw you, Grace, I hoped that one day, you would be mine?” She flinched at the words.
“I was angry that you didn’t try to charm me like other women.
I was jealous that the bloody earl attracted you more than me.
I was already the wealthiest man in London, yet you never expressed any interest in me.
It drove me insane, Grace. It wounded my pride.
Yes, it did. And I gloated on our wedding day that you were trapped with me by the cruel deal.
I told myself that I would make you pay.
But it was short-lived anger. Because right away, I promised that I would do anything to make you change your mind about me. ”
He brought his hands to her face and gently wiped her tears that didn’t cease.
“I am sorry for all I made you go through,” he said.
“But I wanted to pry your heart open. I wanted you to see that what you thought you felt for Charles was a tiny drop of what your heart was capable of. And I wanted it to be mine. Someday. Even if it took years.” He inhaled, trying to suppress the feelings that burned his chest. “I always wanted you for myself, Grace. So badly it hurt. But there is an ocean between you being my wife and you being mine. You might think I am delusional or a cruel man?—”
He didn’t get to finish the sentence.
“I’ve never crossed an ocean until now,” she cut him off, rose on her tiptoes, and kissed him.