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“And would you have?”

“Do I like being lied to? Absolutely not. But if you’d come to me with the truth earlier? If I’d found out from you—instead of from your family—like I did with the provision in your grandfather’s will, I wouldn’t have been nearly as upset.”

He was quiet. Why wouldn’t he say something?

“Do you even realize how humiliating that was?” I paused, trying to gauge his reaction. His calmness grated on me. It was probably a front—at least, that’s what I was telling myself—but still. I was livid, and he was just standing there, taking it.

“I would’ve answered any questions you had,” I continued. “Provided any information you wanted. All you had to do was ask.” I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t stop myself. I was a runaway train of emotions, and it was full steam ahead. “Or maybe you were afraid to ask because you’re afraid to let people in. To let them see you.”

He narrowed his eyes at me. God, his silence was so infuriating!

And still, he said nothing.

I crossed my arms over my chest. “I felt like I was in a fishbowl all evening. Like they were watching our every move, every interaction, waiting to call us out on the lie.”

“You’re being paranoid.”

“Yeah, well, you would know.” I glared at him.

He furrowed his brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

I sank down onto the bed, exhausted. Defeated. Why had I ever thought this was a good idea?

I twirled my wedding ring on my finger. Barely a week into this marriage, and everything already felt as if it were crumbling faster than the walls of my ancient château.

“What are we doing?” I asked, feeling as if I’d been hit over the head with an anvil. My head spun. I could go to jail for this fake marriage. And for what? Money?

My shoulders sagged. This wasn’t me.

“We’re working together to achieve our goals,” he said.

“It doesn’t feel like it,” I muttered, feeling dejected and scared and angry and so many other emotions I couldn’t even name.

He’d lied to me. And not about something small.

“This feels like a mistake.”

“Because of one evening?” he asked, incredulous.

Because of everything.

But I didn’t tell him that. I didn’t tell him that I felt like I was using him, and he was lying to me. And at this rate, we were going to fail. He’d forfeit his company, and I’d lose the château.

We were supposed to be partners. Sure, we’d each agreed to this for our own reasons, but we were only going to succeed by working together. Not by keeping secrets from each other. I was hurt. And angry—at him and myself.

“I was out there busting my butt to sell our relationship to your family.”Andhe was calling me his little fish. “You can’t possibly think that throwing around a term of endearment” —and a shitty one at that— “and one kiss would be enough to convince them, right?”

“Jesus, Lil.” He threw his hands in the air. “What more do you want from me?” He lifted his chin, and I wanted to punch the imperious expression off his gorgeous face. “I had my stylist work with you to give you a whole new wardrobe. Moved you in to my penthouse. I gave you twenty million dollars for the château.”

Wow. I was reeling from his statement. Wow. Wow. Wow.

Yes, he had done all those things, but I wasn’t impressed by them. By money. It made me feel like a hypocrite to admit that when I’d accepted twenty million dollars from him for the restoration of the château, but it was true.

“I’m not even going to dive into everything wrong with that statement. But what do I want from you? I want you to respect my privacy. I want this to be the partnership I signed up for. I want you to promise you’re not going to lie to me again.”

“I won’t. Lie, that is.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, assessing him. “And my privacy? Are you going to respect it?”