“Do I want you, Monica? Yes, I do. I don’t think I ever stopped. Is there a debt to settle between us? Yes, there is. But you owe that to me and to no one else. I was wrong to do that to you just now—never should have exposed you in that way. You’re mine and I didn’t realize how much I wanted that. It’s not my intention to marry you and make you the laughingstock of the world. You are going to be my wife, and I take that seriously. I’m sorry that I embarrassed you. I hope you can forgive me, and I know that I’m not going to humiliate you publicly again.” Tears come to my eyes again, and I have to close them. Daneil pushes his hand into my hair and tilts my face to his. “I need you to hear me when I say that. I want you, you’re mine, and I’m sorry.”
He kisses me then, and it’s soft and fierce at once. It makes me tingle and ache with emotion that I’m afraid to put a name to. I’m dizzy with it, and I have to cling to him just to remain upright. I can’t breathe, and it’s not just from the kiss. Fuck, what is happening to me?
I absolutely believe his apology. I feel it in my bones, that he means it. His fervent lips on mine leave no doubt. He won’t do that to me again, and the relief makes me able to breathe. I was willing to suffer it, but I would much rather just suffer for him, as fucked up as that makes me feel.
He’s breathing hard when he pulls away. “And I’m not going to stop making you beg me,” he says. “Not yet, at least. For all the things between us that need to be settled. And you know that there are a lot of them. You owe me a debt, and you’re going to pay it privately. To me and only me. I like it when your face flushes with embarrassment when I tell you what to do. I like to see you out of control. I like having power over you.” He pauses, looking down at me seriously. “But I think you like it, too.”
“I don’t,” I whisper. But we both know that it’s a lie.
“Not the kind of power where I’d hurt you, or where I control what kind of clothes you get to wear. You know what I’m talking about.”
I can’t look at him anymore. I press my forehead to his chest to hide my face. “I shouldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because.”
“Because women have to be strong?” He simply holds me, letting me hide. “You’ve been plenty strong, Princess. I know there are things that you haven’t told me, and I know it’s been worse for you than you’re letting on. It’s okay to be angry about it. And it’s okay to enjoy not having to make any decisions for a while. It’s also good to be able to ask for what you want even if you feel like you shouldn’t want it.”
Anxiety grips my chest, and I wrap my arms around his waist. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“What happens when you’ve had enough? When you decide that the debt is paid and you want to move on? Because you’re making it very hard to hate you, and if you’re going to take what you want from me and then decide that it’s over, I need to hate you. I need that or I won’t survive it.”
There are so many things that he could say, and I thought that I was prepared for all of them. But not this one. His words are soft, but firm. “It will never be paid, Princess.”
To most people, those words may sound like a death sentence. But I hear them for what they really are: a declaration. Whether or not we ever view ourselves as equal in the things we’ve done to each other, he’s not letting me go. Something small eases in my chest, and I relax into him. He has no exit strategy, no plans to drain me and drop me and leave me for dead. And that, for right now, is enough. I sense that he wants to say more, but neither of us are ready for that. We both know it though. Both feel it.
“To answer your first question,” he says, “I don’t give a shit what you wear. You could parade around the streets as naked as Lady Godiva and that would be fine with me, even though I might be a little jealous. Will there be events? Yes, probably. You can wear whatever you want to them. Buy the most expensive dresses you can find if that’s what’s going to make you happy. But don’t think for a second that I am going to make you dress a certain way.”