Today we have to make our first public appearance as the Duke and Duchess so I can speak on the initiative of providing free access to the internet to our citizenry. Idobelieve in this initiative. Corwick’s economy and literacy rate are in the shitter, and providing this to them will help improve that over the long haul. I’ll never be the king of this country, so my responsibility is to take on pet projects that I actually care about.
So today, I’ll make the speech officially announcing the Freedom of Information Access Initiative, and Isla will stand at my side while I do it. Which means she has to get the fuck out of the west wing for the afternoon. Which means I have to go fucking talk to her and tell her to be ready to leave by four p.m.
The walk from my study in the east wing of the palace to her bed chamber in the west wing takes a good fifteen minutes. When I arrive at the end of the main corridor where her chamber is, the door is wide open.
I glance inside to see her sitting cross-legged on the seat in the bay window, a laptop balanced on her legs, while she types furiously. Her hair is long and loose and falling in shiny, ebony waves over her shoulders, the sun hitting at just the right angle to illuminate it to a warm, chocolate hue. With eyes turned down toward the screen, her lush, black lashes are nearly flat against the apples of her cheeks. Full lips in a pensive pout. She’s wearing a red tank top that’s thin enough that it borders on pornographic, barely concealing her braless breasts underneath. Her tiny, equally thin shorts aren’t much better.
Isla is fucking spectacular. She always has been. And she certainly used that to her advantage after I left for my last year of college.
“Duchess,” I bark, causing her to jump and grab the screen of the laptop as it nearly topples off her lap. “What the fuck are you typing?”
I know she hates me as much as I hate her now, and I wouldn’t put it past her to go sniffing around on the internet for ways to nullify our marriage.
She coughs as though I startled her enough to make her choke on oxygen and cuts her big, timid, brown eyes up at me. “I’m just writing.”
“Whatare you writing?”
Her jaw hangs slightly for a beat. “Just creative writing. It’s just something I do in my spare time.”
I narrow my eyes at her and then march into the room, grabbing the laptop and lifting the screen to my line of sight. Then I have to slap the lid shut and set it on the desk because the three sentences I just read are far more pornographic than her tiny tank top and shorts.
“So, you write smut,” I say dryly. “How very classy, Duchess.”
She jumps up off the seat and steps around me to stuff the laptop into a bag on the floor next to the bed. “If you don’t like it, don’t snatch my computer and read it.”
“I have to ensure that you’re not skimming the internet for additional ways to betray me,” I clip. “Consider yourself fortunate that I allow you to have a computerat all.” I point at the bag. “Icouldconfiscate that and issue you atypewriter.”
She sits on the edge of the bed and hangs her head, fingering the diamond on her hand. “You’re an asshole.”
“And you’re a whore, so it seems we’re quite well-suited.” I take a large step to stand over her. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
She merely inches backward on the bed and draws her knees to her chest, hugging them and resting her cheek on her kneecap.
“Now, the reason I came over here,” I say, checking my watch and not missing the fact that she doesn’t evenbotherdenying the way she betrayed me all those years ago. Which I sort of appreciate in anI-hate-your-fucking-gutskind of way. “I have to deliver a speech later this afternoon, and you have to be present for it. You will wear one of the skirt suits with conservative heels and neutral hose. Do something with your hair that keeps it from becoming unruly in the wind. Minimal make-up. Report to the main hall by no later than 3:55, and I will have the appropriate jewelry waiting. Is all of that perfectly clear, Duchess?”
Isla lifts her face to glower at me and cocks her head. “Por supuesto, su alteza real.”
“Additionally,” I snap, pitching forward to bring my face mere inches from hers, “you will only speak in English when addressing me.”
“Whenaddressing you?” She scoffs. “You turned into anevilman.”
“Youturned into a bona fideshe-devilwho didn’t give a single thought to—”
“I need to start getting ready for thisspeech, so if there’s nothing else,youcan leave,” she hisses, leaping up from the bed so suddenly that she nearly headbutts me. “Or did you come to my room because you changed your mind aboutconsummatingthis marriage?”
A fireball of rage surges through my veins becausethatisclearlya reference to the way she fucked me over eleven years ago, and I grab her arms to jerk her close to me.
“Oh, I bet you would like, wouldn’t you, Duchess?” I cock my head sideways in a gesture at the laptop bag. “You’re in here writing smut and probably taking breaks to finger-fuck yourself. I hope you at least have the good sense to sterilize your fucking keyboard from time to time.”
She squirms in my grip, but I squeeze harder and pull her closer to me. “Iwould notlike that, andyoucan let me go and get the fuck out of this room so I can change clothes.”
“Actually, Duchess, I kind of like this outfit.” I tighten my grip further and shove her backward so she trips over the edge of the bed. She’s now flat on her back, and I pin her wrists to the mattress so I can crawl over her. “I like this outfit alotbecause it’s flimsy and small enough that I won’t even have to remove it while I claim what’s mine as your husband.”
Isla’s brown eyes are now wide with fear as she pushes with all her tiny might against my hands on her wrists. Some hidden part of me is clanging like an alarm to protect her even though the protection she needs right now is fromme, and she doesn’t deserve it anyway.
“I do not consent to this,” she wheezes through a tightened throat, eyes pooling, and it didn’t have to be this way. Itnevershould’ve been this way.“I do not consent to this.”
I push her thighs apart with my knees and lower my face to just a breath from hers. “I don’t need your fucking consent. You belong to me now, Duchess. And I will fuck you whenever andhoweverI damn well please.”
