“Let’s go,” I say, standing. I extend my hand to help her to her feet.
We take the back exit again and grab the first elevator. It’s not until we are halfway to our suite do I notice she’s shivering. One quick glance tells me she’s physically fine, and she’s not crying. “Are you alright?”
Her eyes are locked on the numbers, and she sways slightly on her feet. Enough that I wrap my arm around her middle and hold her tightly to my side until we reach our floor. It takes seconds to swing her into my arms and walk her into our suite. I march straight for my bed, the first thing coming to mind.
Her eyes are fluttering open and closed. It’s not until I lie her on top of the covers that she relaxes and stops shivering. Did I miss something? Was she injured and hid it from me? There’s no way I wouldn’t have seen something in the figure hugging cut of this dress, or the tiny shorts she’s always wandering around the suite in.
I tap her cheek gently, trying to wake her, but she doesn’t stir. So, I go for plan B and make her as comfortable as possible. Gently, I remove her shoes, massaging up her calf muscles, then pull a blanket from the end of the bed to cover her with.
Still nothing.
Shit. I try to tap her cheek again. “Selena, wake up. If you die on me, your brother will kill me, and this will all have been a colossal waste. Wake up.”
She stirs, and I let out a sigh, relaxing, remembering I’m wearing this fucking costume still. I strip off my jacket, the tie, open all the buttons at the collar and sleeves, trying to give myself room to breathe.
Slowly, she blinks her eyes open, staring at the ceiling. Then she drops her gaze and pins me with her eyes. “What the hell happened?”
“You tell me. We were in the elevator, and you just passed out. I had to carry you in here.”
She stares around and touches the blanket at her waist. “Where is here?”
“My bed, in our suite.”
“Why did you bring me to your bed, and not my own? It’s closer to the door.”
For fuck’s sake. I sit beside her legs, shoving them over to make more room. “You’re really arguing with me right now when you’re the one who passed out? I took you straight here because it was my first thought.”
Her eyes narrow. “That you’d want me in your bed, or that I’d want to be in your bed?”
“Stop twisting my goddamn words. You being in my bed means nothing. I was just trying to assess if you were injured.”
She sits up and groans. “I’m fine. Thank you.”
I want to punch a hole through the fucking wall. “You’re fine,” I say, deadpan. Then yell, “You’re fine?”
She stares at me, her eyes narrowing again. “Do not speak to me like that.”
“You are not fine. Not if you are even entertaining the idea of marrying that guy. Why didn’t you stick to the plan? Why didn’t you just tell him no right there at the table?”
She drops her shoulder and sits higher, straighter, like a queen commanding attention. And when her cleavage pushes at the edge of her dress like that, yeah, I’m paying attention, whether or not I want to. “What does it matter to you? If this is how I get out of this fucking hotel room and back to my life, then maybe I should consider it.”
“I didn’t do all of this, and keep you safe, so you can just sell yourself away for nothing. You don’t even know if he’s capable of protecting you. He gave you absolutely no assurances.”
“Marriages have been forged with less, I assure you. If I must trade what dregs of my power are left for freedom, for protection, then it’s what I have to do.”
I narrow my eyes. “Who says? You can protect yourself. I’m here, right now, under orders from your brother to protect you. This marriage isn’t even an option. It’s a distraction.”
She stands, her tone sharpening, her eyes turning cold. “You don’t know shit about selling yourself for the promise of protection. You don’t know anything about what it feels like to be considered the least important person in a room. The one everyone else uses, abuses, and discards. That’s what it’s like to be a woman in our society. That is what I’ve been working to change. If that means I have to do it as a wife instead of a queen, so be it.”
I stand, stunned, my anger bubbling under my skin like a professional swimmer’s trail, never breaking the surface, only setting it roiling. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
It’s dumb, but I can’t help but react around her. She does something to my self-control I can’t repair. I rip open my shirt and jerk it off my arms to toss to the ground. Then I turn so she can see my back. Or rather, the mess of my back when Sal’s family’s buyers got finished with me. “Don’t you dare tell me I don’t know what it feels like to be used or abused. You think these scars were voluntary? No. This happens when a beautiful child is sold by a sadist to a pedophile. I’ve been violated in more ways than you can ever even know is possible.”