The Scorsolini Marriage Bargain

“Yes, I accept it.”

“You accept also that you married me with the understanding that it was for a lifetime?”

“Yes, of course.”

He moved to tower over her, his fury all the more powerful because he stood there magnificently naked and not in the least bit ashamed of it. “Then you must also accept that I will not allow you to renege on the lifetime commitment you made to me.”

“Sometimes things happen that make it impossible to keep a bargain.” Even in his vaunted world of business.

“Not in our marriage, they do not.”

“They do. They have. I have…” Her throat closed over. She had to say it, but it hurt more than she’d ever expected to say the words out loud.

“Do not say it,” he barked. “I will never let you go.”

She stared at him. “You don’t mean that,” she gasped out.

He spun away from her, his whole being vibrating with a palpable rage she still did not understand.

“You will not walk away from our marriage and make me the second sovereign in Scorsolini history to be divorced. Do you understand me?” he bit out in a voice as sharp and frozen as an icicle shard. “I will not allow you to make me a laughingstock amidst my peers and subjects.”

Finally she understood. It wasn’t his heart being impacted here, it was his pride. He didn’t need her…only a whole marriage, because he did not want to look like a fool. Anger welled from deep in her soul. She’d agonized over the prospect of losing him, but all he cared about was how he appeared to the international community.

“Is that all that matters to you? That people might compare you to your father?”

He spun back to face her, his expression a mask of stone. “My father broke his marriage promises. I did not break mine. I will not let you divorce me simply because you want to break yours…or have already done so.”

The emphasis he gave on the last bit sent chills down her spine and she had to swallow before she answered. “I don’t have a choice.”

He said a word that made her flinch. “We all have choices, you are making bad ones. You promised me an heir to succeed me on the throne. What about that?” he asked with pure derision.

She almost choked on the pain his demand evoked. She could not give him that heir and his wording reiterated the fact that that alone was her primary requirement as his wife. “I didn’t want it to be this way. Please, believe me.”

But he looked like he’d rather strangle her than believe her. Even knowing he would never, ever physically hurt her, she found herself stepping backward and away from him.

If possible, his jaw went more rigid.

A knock sounded on the door and she jumped.

“Go away,” Claudio barked out.

She’d never heard him use that tone and she knew if she had been the one on the other side of the door, she would have listened, but after a brief pause another knock sounded again. “Your Highness, it is extremely urgent.”

Claudio said something else vicious under his breath in Italian. Then he grabbed his robe and put the black garment on with jerky movements before stalking over to the door and yanking it open. “What?”

She could not make out what the security man said, but she heard the ugly curse that spit forth from her husband’s mouth as his body jerked as if receiving a blow.

“Claudio…what is it?” she asked.

But he just shook his head and opened the door wider, obviously planning to leave the room. He stopped on the threshold and looked back over his shoulder, his expression feral. “This is not finished.”

The security man gave Claudio a worried look and her a curious one before following his employer to the other room. Therese did not know what to make of either her confrontation with Claudio or what had interrupted it.

And for the second time that night, she stood stock-still in the middle of the bedroom reeling from unenviable emotions after he walked out on her. She did not wonder what could be more important than the end of their marriage because it could be just about anything, she thought sadly. However, she acknowledged that whatever it was, it had to have been singularly important for security to interrupt Claudio against his express wishes.

She walked across the room, feeling like she’d been through World War III and was not quite sure if she was a survivor or not. Yet neither she nor Claudio had actually ever raised their voices. He was incredibly good with undertones, though. No one listening could have doubted how furious he was with her, or how determined he was to keep his marriage for the sake of appearances.

She rubbed her eyes with thumb and forefinger, feeling tired despite the fact she’d woken from what amounted to a longish evening nap and that it still wasn’t all that late. She’d been so stupid to think that she meant anything to Claudio on a personal level. His whole reason for wanting to stay married to her had to do with him not being the second Scorsolini sovereign in history to be divorced by his wife.