in him now. Uninhabitable.
She went on. “What I want from you is for you to try.”
He purposely did not make the scoffing sound that rose in his throat. “Try.”
“Yes. I want you make an effort to be a real husband to me. I want you to spend time with me. I want you to have breakfast with me every day and dinner as well. I want you to give me—to give us—the evenings, that time after dinner. I want us to spend our evenings together, just the two of us. I want you to tell me about your day and I will tell you about mine. I want us to share, Alex.”
Share. Did it get any worse? She wanted him to share.
She was still talking. “I want you to read the books I choose for you.”
“Books. Hold on just a minute. You’re choosing what books I read?”
“Not all the books you read, of course not.”
“I suppose you’ll have me studying those romance novels you so enjoy.”
“Don’t judge romance novels until you’ve read a few of them. One can learn a lot about love and life and relationships from a good romance.”
He had no words to reply to that one. So he said nothing. He didn’t really need to say much around Lili anyway. She had the talking covered, and then some.
She said, “No. Actually, I didn’t plan to have you reading romances, though I’m sure it would be good for you if you did.”
He made a grunting sound and left it at that.
“But I do think if you would just spend a little time with a few books on how to develop a meaningful and loving relationship with your spouse, it would really help you. Help us. And then once you’ve read the books I choose for you, we can discuss them—and tell me, have you been seeing a counselor or a priest?”
“For what?”
“For … help, with all you’ve been through. Surely you’ve noticed that you’ve changed, Alex.”
“Yes, Lili, I’ve noticed. And no, I haven’t seen a counselor or a priest and I don’t intend to.”
“Oh, Alex …”
“And as to those books on love and marriage that you mentioned …”
“Yes?”
He knocked back more scotch. “No.”
Gingerly, she inquired, “No as to …”
All of it, he thought. He said, “Not the books, Lili. Or the priest. Or the counselor.”
“Ahem. Well. What about the rest?”
He saw no other way. He was going to have to pretend to go along, to bargain and then reluctantly come to an agreement. He needed to convince her that he would do what she wanted, that he would try. “Yes to the meals—the breakfasts, the dinners.”
“And the evenings? What about the evenings?”
He let the silence draw out before grunting, “All right, damn it. The evenings, too.”
She actually clapped her hands and the most radiant smile bloomed on those plump, way-too-kissable lips. “Oh, I’m so glad.”
“But not every evening,” he said. “Two evenings a week.”
“Six.”
“Three.”
“Four.”
He repeated his previous offer. “Three.”
She considered, then stipulated, “Friday, Saturday and Sunday.”
“When possible.”
“Three at any rate. And you have to try to make them the evenings I just asked for.”
There was that word again. Try. Such a flexible word. And such a simple thing, to say one was trying when one actually wasn’t. “All right,” he grudgingly agreed.
“Wonderful. And we will share an apartment—this apartment will be fine.” She was too damn quick by half. He’d been counting on them keeping their separate suites, on her heading back to Alagonia as soon as the ink was dry on their secret marriage license.
But he supposed there was no help for it. If they were to pretend to be deeply in love for the whole world to see, they certainly couldn’t be living in separate quarters. “Fair enough.”
“And I will expect you to be my birth coach when the baby arrives. That means we’ll be going to childbirth classes together.”
He sent her a speaking look, one that told her exactly what he thought of being her birth coach.
Quickly, she added, “Spare me the put-upon glances. You’ll have time to become accustomed to the idea of the childbirth classes. They won’t even begin for four or five months yet.”
Anything could happen in four months. And the goal was to get her to marry him tomorrow. “All right.”
“Wonderful, then. For the first year, I’m willing to live here, in Montedoro, with you.”
The first year? “How generous of you.”
She nodded. “I know you have your … secret fighting force that you’re, um, working with.”
“The CCU is not a secret, Lili,” he informed her flatly. “Montedoro has no standing army. It’s simply expedient for us to have a small, specially trained corps of men at the ready to take action in a critical situation.”
“Yes. Expedient.” She wore an irritatingly patient expression. “I understand. And as I was saying, you need to be here for that. And as I mentioned earlier, I know you’ve been through a lot.”
“What does what I’ve ‘been through’ have to do with anything?” he demanded.
She answered carefully. “I just meant you’ve only been back for six months. I think you need more time here, in Montedoro, at the only home you’ve ever known, more time to … heal.”
To heal? How so? His wounds no longer festered. He’d put back on the thirty kilos he’d lost during his captivity, and then some. His “healing,” such as it was, was done. But he didn’t say that. He said nothing.
And she continued, “I’ve always loved Montedoro anyway. So let’s say a year, together, here at the Prince’s Palace. I’ll clear my calendar.”
“For the entire year?” She was constantly giving speeches at charity functions, working diligently to establish trusts for the needy. “Isn’t a year a bit extreme?”
“Perhaps, but necessary. I want our marriage to work. There’s the baby to think of, any way. I’ll
