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“Twenty years ago.” I need her to know the truth, but how much can she handle, how long before she runs away?

“So that would make you what? Like twenty-eight?” She ventures a guess.

“I’m thirty-one.” I smile. “Same as your brother.”

“So you left for the UK shortly after the fire.” She looks at me with so much pity in her eyes. Or at least pity for the boy who had to leave everything behind to survive. “I’m so sorry, Archer.”

She apologizes for her father’s greed and lack of morals. And for some reason something unlocks inside my chest. Her genuine regret eases a tiny bit of my pain. And I hate myself even more for using her to get to the Senator. She’s a pawn in a game she doesn’t even know about.

“You don’t have to be sorry for me. None of what happened to me is your fault.” I lean in, longing for a taste of her lips again, but I can’t keep doing this to her. Every time I waver in my resolve, her feelings get hurt.

“You’re my husband. I should be allowed to feel for you.”

“There you go again, thinking this thing between us can be real. Little Dove, don’t you see? I’m not good for you.” I need her to hate me.

“I don’t care.” She cups my face. “I want you. Do you…” She steps closer, flushing her body to mine. “Do you want me?”

“Jesus, Paloma.” I open her coat and bring her closer to me, so she can feel how hard I am for her right now. “What do you think?”

“Then, why do you push me away? I’m your wife.” She swallows and slowly brings both hands to rest on my chest. “You touch me every time you want. Why can’t I do the same?”

“Because I can’t trust myself around you. I’m barely holding it together. I’m trying to do the right thing. Don’t you understand that?” I take in her scent. “But you smell so good. And you taste so sweet. It’s hard to keep my hands off you.”

“Then don’t.” She drops her hand to my steel hard cock. “Let me in.”

My fantasies of her push the boundaries of my resolve. My chest expands in anticipation as she unbuttons my pants and reaches inside my boxer briefs.

“Hmm.” I grip the back of her neck and draw circles on her scalp with my thumb. “I want nothing more than for that pretty mouth of yours to suck me dry.”

“Let me.” She looks at me with big eyes, the same way she did the first night we met.

“You’ve done this before, Little Dove?” Jealousy burns at the pit of my stomach. “Is that what Hunter required in exchange for leaving your pussy untouched?”

“No.” She removes her hand. “He just didn’t want me.”

“I find that hard to believe.” I scoff. “The lust and greed in his eyes are hard to miss. I’m surprised he didn’t bid on you.”

“He didn’t have the money.” She swallows. “Otherwise, the auction wouldn’t have happened. He tried to help.”

It pisses me off that I came so close to losing her. If Hunter was a little smarter with his investments, he would’ve paid her. And I would’ve killed him for it. I run a hand through my hair. Jesus, she’s driving me insane.

She shivers and closes the coat around her. “I think I’d like to be alone now.”

The hurt in her eyes cuts me. If I could love at all, it would be her. She wants me now. But not for long. Soon, I’ll have to tell her the truth. My biggest problem now is that as the days go by, I find it harder and harder to stay away from her. I need her like I need air.

I follow in silence behind her. She goes in through the kitchen access to grab a water. While she’s browsing the fridge, I wrack my brain for the right words to say. But I come back empty because she’s not ready to learn the whole truth. I doubt she’ll ever be. So where does that leave us? Hell, I suppose.

“Paloma,” I call out as she leaves the kitchen.

When she ignores me, I grip the edge of the counter. For a moment, I decide to let her be. But then my instinct wins over and I chase after her. She must’ve bolted after she left the kitchen because by the time I find her, she’s already halfway up the stairs. I climb up in two long strides and grab her by the elbow.

I’m dying to fuck her.

“I didn’t want to make you have dinner with me before.” My gaze drops to her pouty mouth. Her hot breath lingers between us as she’s trying to make out what I’m saying. But she’s too flustered by how our bodies are touching in three different places—her arm, her chest and the outside of her thigh. When she doesn’t make to free herself of me, I continue, “For one because I didn’t want to make you, or Gardenia feel uncomfortable.” I stop to inhale.

Gardenia’s name is definitely the wrong thing to say her. Red blotches skip down her neck as she glares at me with disdain. The hate I see in her eyes is exactly the thing I’m trying to avoid. And yet here we are—destined to be enemies.

“You will join me for dinner tonight.” My thumb slides across the inside of her elbow. “That’s an order.”