Chapter 6

I stared at the back of his head. A mirror? He was sending me home to practice loving him in front of a mirror.

Five years ago this man had sent flowers to my office every morning. He had once driven across the city in the rain because I mentioned wanting a particular pastry. He remembered the smallest things about me including that I hated lilies and could not sleep without checking that the front door was locked. Now he was grading my performance.

I would have thrown the folder at his head if I had not needed it so badly.

"Anything else Your Majesty?"

"Sign this."

I went back to my chair and signed so hard that the pen nearly went through the page. Aziel took the folder and checked my signature.

"Patricia will take you to legal department . We will go over the rest after the wedding."

"The wedding," I repeated. It was the first time either of us had said it aloud.

"Come to City Hall on Monday at ten in the morning."

"Monday? That's in two days."

"I'm aware."

"Five months ago you said no. Today there's a contract and a wedding date."

He finally looked up. "Five months ago you had not asked me properly."

I opened my mouth and then closed it. What on earth did that mean? I had spent two hours in his lobby and swallowed my pride and practically begged on my knees and endured an inspection of my facial expressions. How much more properly could a woman ask? I searched his face for an explanation and found nothing. His expression was roughly the temperature of a parking garage.

I decided I would rather keep what remained of my sanity.

"Fine, I’ll be there on Monday byTen o'clock."

"Don't be late."

"I wouldn't dream of it." I picked up my bag. "Goodbye Aziel."

He did not answer and he did not even look up. I had been dismissed so completely that I felt like a piece of furniture he had decided to keep.

Patricia was waiting outside. Just one look at my face and she rose from her chair.

"He agreed?"

I nodded and she let out a relieved breath. "Oh Ria. That's wonderful."

"Is it?"

Her smile faltered. I held up the folder.

"Apparently I need to practice looking at him as though I love him. He says my acting is poor."

Patricia pressed her lips together.

"Don't."

"I'm not saying anything."

"Your face is saying plenty."

She turned away but her shoulders shook.

"Wonderful. Even his assistant finds my suffering entertaining."

"I'm sorry," she managed.

"No you're not."

I could not even blame her. If someone had told me a year ago that I would beg Aziel Richards to marry me and then be sent home to practice affection in front of a mirror I would have recommended professional help.

Patricia walked me to the legal department where I signed the remaining papers. In the elevator, I leaned my head against the mirrored wall and let out the breath I'd been holding for two hours.

I truly looked as though I wanted to murder someone and you know who.

When I finally left the building my wedding was less than forty eight hours away. I sat in my car and leaned my head back against the seat.

I had a husband who just made it abundantly clear that he wanted separate bedrooms and separate lives and a convincing performance in public. I would smile for photographs and attend his events and pretend our marriage was the most natural thing in the world.

By the time I got home I had replayed my meeting with Aziel Richards so many times that I had started to resent the sound of his voice. I certainly didn’t need another reason to resent him but my mind seemed determined to supply one anyway.

He had agreed to marry me. It had taken two visits and three ignored calls and an afternoon of humiliation I would probably still be unpacking at eighty but he had finally said yes. I should have felt relieved. Instead I kept seeing his face as I stood beside his desk with my hand on his shoulder while he told me my acting was poor.

I dropped my handbag on the sofa and closed my eyes. Five years ago that same shoulder had been where I rested my head while he told me about his day. He used to pull me closer whenever I went quiet and press a kiss to my forehead as though he could read every thought I was trying to hide. Now I couldn’t touch him without feeling I had made a terrible mistake and what I hated most was that I remembered the difference.