Christmas In The City (Imperfect Match 1.50)

She nods hesitantly but still doesn’t speak.

“You said maybe your new husband would protect you.” I gently turn her arm over, glaring at the fingerprints. “That the right man could keep things like this from happening.”

Her eyes drift past my shoulder.

“Don’t look at him,” I order quietly. “Fuck him. Look at me.”

She snaps her dark eyes back to me and draws a deep breath. “What are you saying, Grim?”

“I’ll be that man.” I cup her face, heedless of the guards’ watchful presence, of Kimo bristling behind us, of Vashti standing to the side.

Confusion and hope mingle on her pretty face, and her brows pull together. “But you said your life is here. You said—”

“It is, but we can work out the details. I’ll travel when needed, and technology makes just about anything possible.”

“After one night?” she whispers faintly. “Why?”

“We rolled years into one night, Lani. Don’t ask me to label this because you’ll be disappointed. I don’t do labels, and I have no category for what I felt last night.” I press her hand to my chest. “For what I still feel, but I think we’d be good together and I know I can keep you safe. Keep your son safe.”

At the mention of her son, she bites her lip and looks down at the snow beneath our feet. “But what exactly are you asking me, Grim?”

I reach into the collar of my sweater and pull out the chain I’ve worn around my neck since I buried my mother, the last funeral I ever attended. My parents’ wedding rings glint in the winter sunlight, twined in memoriam as they were in life. My father’s plain gold band and the tiny circle of gold with its chip diamond look so modest next to this small woman’s opulent beauty. She is the crown jewel, and even I see how inadequate this ring is, though it means the world to me.

“Oh, God,” Lani gasps, her hand pressed to her throat. “Grim, I couldn’t. It’s too precious. No.”

It’s too precious.

The flower in her hair last night could pay mortgages, but she looks at my mother’s department store engagement ring like she might not be worthy of it.

And I know.

I won’t call this love after a night, but I’m the right man for her, and she is the right woman for me.

“Oh, no,” Kimo says, drawing up next to us. “You can put that little bauble away. Noelani isn’t just a woman, she is a tradition. Her family is promised into royal matrimony. She is groomed for it. Do you not realize according to Manaroan law, you aren’t free to marry just anyone, Noelani?”

“He’s right.” The assertion comes from an older gentleman standing on the steps just above us. I remember him from last night’s event.

“What?” Noelani asks, tears filling her eyes. “But Hehu, I thought—”

“You thought what?” Kimo sneers. “That you could marry some blockhead security guard commoner?”

His eyes crawl along her body, lust and anticipation tainting his stare. “The state paid for your education, your grooming, your life, Noelani. The people of Manaroa own you. You were purchased with their hard-earned tax dollars.”

“Once,” Hehu says with quiet certainty.

“Excuse me?” Kimo snaps. “What do you mean?”

“Our laws do indicate that with all we’ve invested into making you a queen, Lani,” Hehu says softly, “you must marry a king.”

Noelani’s eyes widen, and sparks set the dark eyes on fire. “But—”

“The laws say you must marry the king,” Hehu says again, shrugging carelessly. “And you did.”

He turns to Kimo and smiles. “She fulfilled the law to the letter. Nowhere does it say if that king dies she must marry another one. She’s free to do what she likes.”

“That’s—that’s ridiculous,” Kimo snarls. “She doesn’t get to choose.”

“Oh, yes she does,” I say, slipping the necklace over my head. I loosen the clasp and ease my mother’s ring down the chain and into the palm of my hand.