Page 163 of Savage Empire

“So much,” she emphasizes.

A moment of tender silence passes between us. And I ruin it.

“Anything else you want to profess fondness for?”

She stiffens by my side, freezing up like a deer in headlights. “Ummm, the bathtub? Or the heated floors?”

Disappointment hits me like a punch to the gut, but I ignore the sting.I don’t know why I expected anything else.

“Rayna!” Yordan calls out from the main house’s backyard. “Dinner is ready, Martha made lobster!”

I need to speak with him about his uncanny ability to break up a private moment. It’s only beneficial to me when he isn’t cutting intomytime.

“Right,” Rayna says, clearing her throat. “We should probably head back.”

“Should we?”

Her throat bobs and she bites her lip. “You’re not hungry?”

“My appetite isn’t currently for food.”

“Come on,” Yordan calls out again. “Your plate will get cold!”

“We’re coming!” she shouts back. Rubbing the back of her neck, looks up at me. “Is there something else you wanted to say?”

Not until I know you want to hear it.

“No,” I lie smoothly. “Let’s go before he comes over to drag us in.”

Dinner drags on for over an hour, with more conversations being had than lobsters eaten. It’s maddening to be impatient when I have to smother it. The last thing I need is for my father to ask questions if he picks up on my mood. I’m meant to be in my post honeymoon glow, so God knows he’ll be suspicious if I’m snarky and trying to rush through the meal.

But as soon as everyone is done eating, he’s gone and I no longer have to conceal my eagerness to leave. I pull Yordan aside without a word, practically shoving him upstairs and into my office. We need to talknow,andwithout prying eyes or ears.

“Whoa, where’s the fire?” he bristles, stumbling into the chair next to my desk. “Are you good?”

I ignore his question entirely. “Tell me how to make your sister like me.”

“What?” Yordan gapes, shaking his head like he must have misheard me.

“Rayna,” I emphasize. “Tell me how to make her like me.”

“She does like you,” he replies, confused. “Dude, she married you.”

“You know what I mean,” I grumble, dropping into my seat across from him. “She tolerates me. Tell me how to make her love me.”

His brows jump up toward his hairline. “Do you love her?”

“I’m asking the questions here,” I warn. “And I’m growing impatient. Tell me what I need to know. She cares for me more than she’ll admit, but I need to do something to make it undeniable.”

Chuckling in disbelief, Yordan shakes his head. “Why should I help you?”

I pause, looking at him. “Repeat that.”

He holds up his hands, appearing far too smug in his mock defense. “You’re the one who told me never to do anything without incentive.”

“Is wanting your sister and your mentor to exist in a happy marriage not enough motivation for you?” I challenge, crossing my arms.

“I could be motivated further,” he replies, lips pursing playfully.