Page 59 of Tragic Empire
“I didn’t cut myself,” I grumble, snatching my hands back. “I didn’t even get that far, how pathetic is that?”
“What?” He asks, brows dipping in confusion. “Nothing about you is pathetic, Ana.”
“I’m throwing a fit over fucking onions, Cassio,” I exclaim, tossing my arms up in the air. “Cryingbecause I can’t have the French onion soup I want. That’s pretty damned pathetic.”
His head shakes and he cups my face with large, steady hands. “Sweetheart, take a breath.” Thumbs brush my cheeks, gliding over the fallen tears and swiping them away softly.
“Don’t call me sweetheart,” I mumble frowning. “I’m not sweet. Dante calls Jade that. She’s sweet.”
“You’re sweet too, Ana,” Cassio says patiently. “But if you don’t like it, I’ll stick to calling youforza, andmy wife.”
“You still want to call me your wife after this little display?” I ask bitterly. “Aren’t you embarrassed?”
“Embarrassed that you threw a couple of onions and yelled in frustration while in your own home?” He breathes out a laugh. “Ana, you haven’t done anything wrong. Some people punch walls or hurt actual people when they’re upset. I hardly think one little outburst is something too concerning.”
“I’m not a good wife,” I rasp, not accepting his sweet words.
Cassio’s hands subtly flex around my jaw. “Why would you say that?”
“I can’t cook,” I start, flicking my ashamed gaze away from his face.
“Agnes cooks.Ican cook. I don’t give a shit how you are in the kitchen, Ana.”
“I’m a mess,” I continue sadly.
“I signed up for your mess.”
“I’m needy.”
“I like being needed.”
“I’m lazy,” I argue. “I hardly get off the couch nowadays. I don’t even want to take showers anymore, it’s exhausting. I only do it so I don’t smell.”
“You’re not lazy, you’re recovering. I didn’t like showering either after Isobel passed. Being alone with your thoughts isn’t fun when you’re grieving, and mundane activities can feel pointless, it’snormal.”
I sigh and Cassio lifts my chin.
“Anything else, Wife?” he challenges, lifting a brow. “Because so far, you haven’t told me anything to scare me off.”
Blinking at his controlled demeanor, I frown. “How can you sound so pleased when you call me that? You get nothing out of this, Cassio… we haven’t even consummated.”
His jaw flexes, like he’s attempting to control his reaction, like I’veangeredhim. “Iampleased to call you my wife,” he says, voice hard like gravel. “We haven’t consummated because it isn’t the right time. I get more out of this than you will ever know, and I promise you, sex has nothing to do with it. You aren’t just a body to me, Ana. You are… everything. And apparently, I need to do more to make that clear.”
His words make me freeze, spine stiffening. “I?—”
I can’t possibly ask formore. How could he domorefor me than he’s already done?
His hands drop from my face, and I watch him in my stupor as he rounds the counter, opening the fridge. He doesn’t explain the action, merely gets what he needs and returns to stand in front of me.
“Here,” Cassio says softly. I blink away the last of the blasted tears in my eyes to find him putting a small box in my hands. It’s chilled from the fridge and is decorated with the logo of my favorite sweet shop. “Take these, go relax in the bath, and then take a nap. I’ll get dinner prepared for later, all right?”
Fumbling with the folded lid, I peek inside the container and almost burst into tears again. “You got me chocolate covered strawberries?”
Peering up at him through wet lashes, I find a softness in his eyes that I’ve never quite seen before. “It’s no big deal,” he says, shrugging it off. “You like them, so I got them.”
“That simple, huh?”
“That simple, Ana.”
