I lift the cover to find my favorite, a perfectly cooked steak with roasted vegetables. In just a few weeks, she's learned all my preferences and despite my being the worst husband in history, she does what she can to make my life easy and comfortable.
The food is excellent, but guilt sours each bite. This isn't what she wanted. She should be in college right now, pursuing her art and building the life she dreamed of. Instead, she's playing the role of a Mob wife.
I still haven’t found her an art teacher. I suspect the last one shared his ordeal and no one is brave enough to come here. Another reason for me to feel guilty.
But I know she’s painting. Sometimes late at night, I go into her art room. It’s a way to be close to her without risking hurting her. She has real talent. Her latest paintings capture an emotional depth, revealing her loneliness and yet, also her light.
Setting down my fork, I rub my temples. Maybe I could arrange for her to take some classes at the local university. We'd need extra security, but she deserves the chance to pursue her education. The thought of her trapped here, her dreams slowly dying while she tends to my needs… it doesn't sit right.
I push the plate away, appetite gone. I head upstairs, and I’m in our room before I realize it. This last week, I’ve slept in my office, if I’ve slept at all. But something pulls me into the room, to Hannah, sleeping peacefully.
She flinches and sits up, her red hair a wild, wanton mess around her perfect face. “Is something wrong?”
I shake my head. “No. I’m sorry I woke you.” I feel like I need to do something. Go to the closet. The bathroom. Or maybe just leave. It’s creepy for me to be here simply because I wanted to see her sleep for a moment.
"I went to see my father today," she says softly.
My muscles tense. "Did you?"
"He gave me a list of families who might support us against the Keans. Some are already sympathetic. Others would need convincing."
"That wasn't your responsibility." My voice is harsher than intended. I try to soften it. “It’s your father’s job to honor his word.”
She bites her lip, her fingers toying with the edge of the sheet. "He's nervous. The Keans have been pressuring everyone lately. But if we could show other families that the Ifrinns are back and strong enough to?—"
"No. This isn't your battle. Your father agreed to provide men and support in exchange for clearing his debt and marrying you.If he's having second thoughts…" I let the threat hang unspoken between us. Hannah's shoulders stiffen.
"Are you threatening my father?" Her voice trembles slightly.
Fuck. “Deals work both ways, Hannah. What do you think your father would do if I backed out after he met his side of the deal? He got what he wanted. Now it's time to deliver."
"And if they don't?"
"Then this alliance means nothing.” I can’t bring myself to tell her the possibility of his death. “He can give me my money back. And everything goes back to how it was before."
She blinks at me. "Including sending me back to my father?"
My heart stutters in my chest. Send Hannah back? "That's not…" I run a hand through my hair, frustrated. "I wouldn't do that."
"Why not? If the alliance means nothing without my father's support, then our marriage means nothing either."
Her words slice through me. I study her fully, taking in the hurt in those green eyes. The truth is, even with all my walls up, Hannah's worked her way under my skin. Her sunny disposition, her kindness, the way she handles everything I throw at her with grace, she's become more than just a business arrangement.
"The marriage stands," I say firmly.
"Because you need a wife for appearances?" Her chin lifts defiantly. "Or because you actually want me here?"
A part of me wants to tell her the truth. That I like having her here even as she’s the source of my emotional torment. But that would be crueler, wouldn’t it? To tell her I want her but won’t allow myself to have her. To say I’m going to keep her, even though I’ll never give her what she wants or deserves?
No, it’s better to lie. She’ll more likely believe it, and it won’t hurt as much as the truth. “To keep your father in line. Maybehe won’t keep his word, but I’ll be damned if he’s going to betray me.”
The fear in her eyes nearly brings me to my knees. When I see it, I realize how she’s taking it. Not a threat to her father, but to her. I scrape my hands over my face.
“I won’t hurt you, Hannah—fuck… I mean physically. Your life. I promise that.” I sink to the edge of the bed, feeling so fucking exhausted mentally and emotionally. “We’ve come too far not to see this through. The Keans will fall with or without your father’s help. I can’t guarantee what will happen to him, but I promise with my life that I’ll protect you.”
"Then let me help," she whispers. "As a true partner."
“Hannah—”
