Page 25 of Chains of Recompense
Still, her cheeks color slightly beneath her freckles. I smirk because I know she can’t help but think about our time together, the pleasure I drew from her, the countless ways I made her come.
“I’ll still need to hear you say it,” I tease.
“Fine. Absolutely no sex. That’s an easy one. What else?”
“We will need to show displays of affection in public and in front of our families to make this work. If it’s going to be convincing,everyonehas to believe we’ve developed a true connection.”
“That’s ridiculous. It’s an arranged marriage. No one is going to expect us to have real affection for each other,” she scoffs.
“If I’m going to trust that your family won’t turn on mine, then they have to believe this is real, that this is working. If they think you’re unhappy—if they think I’m not a good match for you—what’s to stop them from changing their minds, going back on their word and betraying my family again? What’s to stop them from killing me to end your misery?”
“You make it sound like we’re nothing more than backstabbing liars,” she snaps. “My family owed yours no loyalty in the first place. It’s not like your father encouraged good will between us. So don’t go questioning my family’s honor or their promises just because your pride took a beating when we sided with the Tanakas.”
“It was more than that, and you know it,” I hiss, my temper flaring white-hot as I step forward to get right in Aisling’s face.
The color drains from her cheeks, and for the first time, I catch a flicker of fear in her eyes. But she quickly hides it.
“You’re right. I recognize that your family lost a great deal that day. But I swear to you, my family’s word is good.”
“And…?” I press, unwilling to let it go.
“I will do what it takes to convince everyone that our marriage is legitimate and our alliance is worth defending.”
The ball of tension in my gut loosens slightly at that.
Getting Aisling to promise to my terms in a house of God is the closest I’m going to get to trusting her word.
Still, I intend to keep my guard up. Too much is on the line for half measures.
“Good.” I turn to walk away, but Aisling’s quick grip on my tie tugs me back toward her, and I can’t help the way my body responds to the almost provocative gesture as she jerks me close.
“You think you’re the only one who gets to set terms?” she demands, peering up at me through thick lashes.
“Alright,focosa,” I taunt. “What are your ground rules?”
“I reserve the right to visit my family whenever and however often I want,” she says.
A potentially risky concession to give if she intends to use the opportunity to pass information to her family about mine. It could be a trap. If I’m not careful, this whole scheme could blowup in my face. But I think it would be riskier to refuse and build further resentment between us.
“Fine, but you will keep the guardsIassigned with you at all times when you leave the house,” I counter, hoping that will at least minimize the amount of information she will be able to pass along without my knowing.
“Fine,” she agrees through clenched teeth.
“Anything else?” I press.
Aisling’s lips part, as if another demand sits on the tip of her tongue. But after a moment’s hesitation, she simply closes her mouth and shakes her head.
“Then I’ll see you at dinner tonight.”
4
AISLING
Saint Augustine’s Catholic Church is packed, bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder, hushed voices blending into a tense cacophony as I stand in the sacristy, peering through the crack in the door, waiting to be sewn into a white dress that cost more than a midsized car.
The walls are old stone, gray and cold, but everything else—flowers, candles, silk draperies—is extravagant, the soft pastels accentuated by the painted light that bleeds through the stained glass windows.
Everything about this day screams of wealth and luxury.
