On One Condition

“No. I’m going out for a little while. Alone.”

A flash of pain crossed over her eyes and then disappeared. He stared her down, steeling his heart against the surprised look on her face. He didn’t need to make her feel better. Didn’t need to apologize for being blunt. It wasn’t in the contract.

“So, if you’d please get out?” he ground through his teeth.

“Oh.” Shoulders stiff, she exited the car and fled into the house.

He watched the door close behind her and kicked the seat in front of him. I don’t love him, so you won’t break my heart. Of course she didn’t love him. She didn’t give a damn about him. His plan to make a serious go of their marriage was crumbling.

The driver opened to door. “My lord?”

“Take me to a strip club. Any strip club.”

“Yes, my lord,” the man said after a slight hesitation.

“Wait.”

The driver stopped. “Yes?”

“Make it a bar instead.”

Son of a bitch. Even now, when he wanted to hate her with all of his heart, she controlled him. He was nothing but her puppet—and she didn’t even know her own power.

…

Johanna marched up the stairs and shut the door to her room before she allowed herself to burst into sobs and collapse onto the bed. What a fool she’d been. For a minute, she’d thought he might have cared about her, but his reminder of her “status” as his business partner ruined all of those silly notions.

She was the only confused idiot in this business-only marriage. Undressing, she crawled onto the bed in only her slip. Damon probably wouldn’t be coming home tonight.

More than likely, he was on his way to Cecile’s even now.

Wrapping her arms around herself, she closed her eyes tightly and tried not to imagine where he might be right now.

At some point, she must have drifted off to sleep, for she lurched awake with a gasp. Sweat crept down her spine as she stood up and walked to the window, just in time to see the car pull up. She dropped the curtains as if they were on fire and jerked back from the pane. Her eyes watered and she straightened her spine. He might be her spouse by law, but he wasn’t her husband. He didn’t love her.

And she wouldn’t cry over him anymore.

The door opened and she jumped. Damon entered her room, hair disheveled and cheeks flushed. The tie he’d been wearing earlier now rested in his hand, and he’d unbuttoned his shirt. His eyes fell on her, cold and hard.

“Oh, look. It’s my wife.” He stumbled inside the room, scowling as he worked his way toward her. He said the word wife like it was a curse. “Did you wait up for me? How… nice.”

“This is my room, Damon. You entered the wrong room,”

she pointed out.

“No. I came to the right room.”

She tensed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. He reeked of booze and perfume. “You woke me up.”

He eyed her skeptically, looking from the watch in her hand to her face. “Now who isn’t being honest?”

She flinched. “Fine. I woke up and saw you weren’t home.

I was checking the time.”

“Ah. The truth comes out,” he said as he stalked closer.

She skirted past him, heading toward the door. She had no desire to see him like this. “Hey. Where are you going?”

“Your room. We’ll talk in the morning.” She closed her hand around the knob.

“Wait!” He stumbled after her. “Don’t go. Please.”

She closed her eyes. He’d been out with Cecile—and he wanted her to crawl into his arms? Not likely. “I have to.”

“I’m not drunk. I tried to get drunk, but the drinks weren’t working tonight.” He pulled her into his arms. “I need you beside me.”

She bit her lip. “You didn’t seem to mind leaving me before.”

“I was mad. Hurt. I’m better now, see?” He kissed her forehead.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she whispered.

“I know.” His heart raced underneath her cheek. “Can I stay?”

Did she have a choice? “Okay.”

She crawled into bed, holding her breath as he stepped out of his pants. “Where did you go?”

He tensed, pants halfway down his legs. “A bar.”

She swallowed heavily. “Did you…” Go screw Cecile? “… meet anyone new?”

“No. I don’t want to meet anyone. Or sleep with anyone.

Or even look at another woman.” He crawled into bed, pulling her against his chest. “I only want you.”

“You must be drunk,” she mumbled. “Stop it, Damon.”

“I’m not bloody drunk. I’m just sick of lying. Sick of pretending to not care when I do.”

“Damon…” She struggled to break free of his hold. “You don’t even know what you’re saying. Go to sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“I know damn well what I’m saying, Johanna. I love you.

There. I said it. I love you.”

“No, you don’t!” Tears burned her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. No, he didn’t love her. Couldn’t love her. He’d leave her, just like her parents had. It was only a matter of time.

“I do, Johanna.” He kissed her cheek, his breath fanning over her face. His breath smelled sweet. Not like alcohol. Was he sober? She spread her palms over his chest. Should she push him away…or pull him closer?

“Damon,” she whispered, her voice cracking.

“Johanna, let me love you. Let me show you how much I love you,” he whispered, kissing her. He slid atop her, his skin pressing against hers in tantalizing temptation. His eyes burned into hers, crystal clear and not the slightest bit foggy from alcohol.

“And if I tell you to go?”

“I’ll leave. Do you doubt I’d honor my word?” His grip tightened on her shoulders. “I would never force my attentions on you.”

“I know. You’re an honorable man.”

“Mmhm.” He nuzzled her neck. His fingers caressed her shoulders. “I have to warn you, though. I’m feeling less than honorable right now.”

“I don’t want you to be honorable,” she whispered. “Not anymore.”

“Thank God,” he breathed. He melded his mouth to hers, stroking her tongue with his own. She whimpered, pressing closer. His breathing matched hers, hot and heavy, as he lifted himself over her. He met her eyes, cheeks flushed. “Are you certain? Last chance to back down.”