style="font-size:15px;"> Olivia arched a brow. “Have a seat.”
It hit him then, one of the things that seemed so strange about her. “You are not afraid of me.” He took a seat where his food had been placed and set about pouring a cup of coffee.
“Last night I felt afraid,” she said. “But you had a sword.”
A sharp, hot pain lanced his chest. “I did not hurt you or threaten you, did I?”
“Would you feel bad if you had?”
He turned her question over slowly. “I have always taken the protection of women and children seriously. I would not like to hurt you. Or cause you fear.”
“You speak like a man,” she said, “but I wonder if you feel things like a man.”
“Why?”
“You’re very deliberate in your responses. Most people would know right away how something made them feel.”
“I have not spent much time examining my internal workings.”
She pinched her lips, her expression assessing. “You are very well-spoken. It won’t be the manner in which you speak that we will find problematic, only the things you say.”
“You could always write my speeches for me.”
“I assume someone at the palace already does.”
“I released the majority of the staff that worked under my brother.”
“What did he do that made him so bad?” she asked.
Pain lanced his skull. “He just was.”
“Why do you sleepwalk?”
Frustration boiled over inside him, sudden, hot. “I don’t know,” he said through clenched teeth. “I was not even aware that I did. How on earth would I know the reason?”
“I had to take sleeping pills for a good six months after... Sometimes sleeping is hard.” She swallowed, her pale throat expanding and contracting. That part of her was pleasing, as well.
“I’m not going to take sleeping tablets. It would compromise my ability to act if the need arose.”
“You’re surrounded by guards here.”
“You forget, I was used in addition to palace guards, and an army.”
“True. But now you’re the king. And I only have thirty more days.”
“Twenty-nine,” he said.
“No. Definitely thirty. I was only here for a few short hours yesterday, and we barely interacted.”
“Twenty-nine.”
She let out an exasperated breath, rolling her eyes. “You working against me will not make this pleasant.”
“Sadly for you, I am not pleasant.”
She stood, her hands flat against the tabletop. “And I am not pleasant when provoked. I didn’t get where I am in life by being a shrinking violet.” She straightened, tapping her chin with her forefinger. “The first thing you need is a haircut. And a shave. Also a suit.”
“All today?”
“As I only have twenty-nine days, we may, in fact, squeeze more into this afternoon. I don’t know. It depends on how ambitious I’m feeling.”
“Why does that sound ominous?”
“Because,” she said, crossing her arms beneath her breasts, an action that drew his eye, “I’m also unpleasant when I’m ambitious. I have some phone calls to make. I will meet you in your office in a half hour.”
With that, she turned on her heel and walked out of the room, leaving him sitting at the dining table alone.
OLIVIA WAS TEMPTED to break into her antianxiety medication before meeting Tarek in his office. But no, she needed to save those for full-on panic attacks. Which, fortunately, only happened when she was boarding planes these days. She should have had one when confronted by a naked man with a sword. But panic had not been the dominant emotion.
She squared her shoulders and raised her fist to knock on his office door. She wasn’t going to dwell. Not on the conflicting, heated feelings that had gone coursing through her veins when she’d seen him out in the corridor last night. Naked, tortured.
She was sick to focus on his nudity. She didn’t know the man. He obviously had a great many issues. He seemed scarcely more than a feral beast.
You came prepared to marry him.
True. Which made his naked body very much pertinent to her and her interests. The idea behind marriage, after all, was for him to produce an heir.
She didn’t consider sex a negative. It was part of marriage, as far as she was concerned. Not an unpleasant part. She’d never been under any illusion that this marriage agreement would mean celibacy. And in the two years since Marcus’s death she had, indeed, been celibate.
She knocked, ruthlessly cutting off her line of thought.
So many things were innocuous in theory and much more daunting in practice. Tarek, his body and what she felt on the subject, was one of those things.
“Enter.” She heard his voice through the door.
She pushed the door open and shut it behind her, the breath rushing from her lungs at the sight of him standing in front of his desk with the posture of a soldier, hands clasped behind his back. There was no bracing for the impact of Tarek. She just needed to recognize that now and move on.
“I have entered,” she said, waving a hand. “Now to get down to business.”
“I am happy to take direction from you when it comes to matters of my civilization. However, that does not mean you will be assuming total control of my daily life.”
“Only for the next twenty-nine days.”
He chuckled, an entirely humorous sound that chilled her. “No. If you are to be my wife, then we must start as we mean to go on. I do not know how your previous marriage was conducted. However, should you become my wife, you must be aware of this one thing—you will not be my minder.”
“I didn’t think I would be,” she said, her stomach tightening painfully. “And the subject of my first marriage is off-limits.”
“You spoke of your husband only this morning.”
She sniffed. “It’s different if I broach the subject.”
“Are all women so difficult?” he asked.
“Only
