Page 24 of Throne of Fire

He closes his eyes for a moment, and when they open again, the scary version of him is gone. “I had considered living separately, but it will be better security-wise that I don’t. But, Hannah?—”

“I know. We’re a marriage on paper only.”

The waiter arrives and takes our order. Ash also asks for a whisky. I want one too but ask for seltzer water instead.

“Once we’re moved in, you can decorate and furnish as you please. If you want to hire someone, let me know. I want to vet anyone before they come into the house.” He talks like he’s trying to placate me again.

I remind myself that this is my lot in life. "I've been thinking about the living room. That gorgeous bay window needs floor-length curtains, maybe in a deep emerald green? And the walls?—”

"Walls?" His eyebrow arches, but there's an amused glint in his eyes.

"The current beige is so… boring. I was thinking of a warm cream for the main areas, but that study would look amazing ina deep navy. Of course, that’s your office, but…" I pull out my phone, scrolling through the inspirational photos I'd saved when I first learned I’d be getting married and would be keeping a house. "See? Like this."

Ash leans closer to look. The heat of him, the scent of him, sends powerful yearning through me. Why can’t he like me?

"You've given this some thought."

“I’ve known my place for a long time.”

His expression softens, almost to pity. "Whatever you want for the house, it's yours.”

“What if I want an Italian leather sofa?”

"Even that." He signals the waiter for another whisky. "Though I draw the line at pink walls."

"Deal." I laugh. This isn’t the marriage I’d have wanted, but something does loosen in my chest as I get the sense that Ash wants to help me make the best of my situation. "Although the master bathroom would look lovely in a blush tone…"

His mock glare only makes me smile more, and for a moment, it feels like we're just a normal couple planning our future home. I make sure not to ruin the moment by pointing out that he doesn’t plan to share the room with me.

The waiter sets down our meals, scallops for me, beef tartare for Ash. I take a bite, savoring the buttery texture while searching for something to say.

"The security you mentioned, will that include cameras? My father always had them everywhere. Made sneaking out impossible."

His eyes snap to mine. "You tried sneaking out?"

"Once or twice." I shrug, offering a small smile. "Usually just to meet my friends at this little café near our house. Nothing scandalous."

"Your father's men let you?"

"They pretended not to see me. I think they felt sorry for how strict my parents were." The memory makes me nostalgic. "Patrick, one of the guards, he'd always make sure I got home safe, though. I had such a crush on him?—”

“Does he still work for you?” Ash’s voice is nearly a growl. He can’t possibly be jealous.

“He works for my father. But no, he’s not one of the men assigned to me."

Ash's expression remains neutral, but something flickers in his eyes. "You won't need to sneak around anymore. Just tell me where you want to go, and I'll arrange protection."

"No curfew or restrictions?"

"You're my wife, not my prisoner." He takes a sip of whisky. "Though I'd prefer if you didn't make it too challenging for the security team."

I lean forward, encouraged by this small concession. "What about you? Did you ever sneak out as a teenager?"

His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. "Different circumstances."

"Tell me about them?" I try to keep my voice light, genuinely curious about his past. "What were you like growing up?"

He sets down his fork, and I worry I've pushed too far. But instead of shutting down completely, he says, "Rebellious. Caused my parents plenty of headaches. All of us did."

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