More Than a Convenient Marriage?

Adara couldn’t help the fit of giggles as she sat up to remove his shirt. “I was kinda caught up and didn’t realize you were with me. That’s nice. I’m glad.”

“Yeah, I noticed you were enjoying it. That’s why I was so turned on, but I didn’t mean to lose it completely. Thank God it’s dark. I’m so embarrassed—would you quit laughing?” He threw the stained shirt after the pants.

“I’m sorry,” she said, unable to help convulsing with giggles as he spooned her into him again, skin to skin. It felt incredible and she snuggled deeper into the curve of his hot body. “Was it good for you?”

“What do you think? It was fantastic, you brat. How’s baby? Did I hurt you? I was holding you pretty tight. Good thing you’re not going anywhere tomorrow, with that giant hickey on your neck.”

“We’re fine. Both very happy.” She smiled into the dark, melting as he caressed her belly and nuzzled her ear. “But you’re not going to leave those clothes on the floor, are you?” she teased.

He stilled and let out a breath of exasperation. “They’re fine till—oh, hell, it’ll drive me crazy now you’ve said it and you know that, don’t you?” He flung off the covers and gathered the shirt and pants to throw them in the hamper. “Enjoying yourself?” he asked as he returned to the bed that was shaking with her laughter.

Adara used the edge of the blanket to stifle her snickers. “I’m sorry. That was mean, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, it was,” he growled, cuddling her into him once more. They both relaxed. “But you must believe me now. About finding you irresistible?”

“I do,” she agreed, sleepily caressing the back of his hand where it rested on the side of her belly. Tenderness filled her and she knew she’d never been this happy in her life. “And I can’t help thinking... Gideon?”

“Mmm?” he responded sleepily.

“Are we falling in love?” Her heart stopped as she took that chance. It was such a walk straight off a cliff.

That didn’t pay off.

Stillness transformed him into a rock behind her. Her postorgasmic relaxation dissipated, filling her with tension. His breath didn’t even stir her hair.

Stupid, stupid, Adara. Hadn’t she learned a millennium ago not to beg for affection?

“I’m not sure,” he said in a gruff rasp.

“It was a silly question. Never mind. Let’s just go to sleep. I’m tired.” She resolutely shut her eyes and tried to force herself to go lax, to convince him she was sleeping, but she stayed awake a long time, a thick lump in her throat.

And when she woke in the night, he was no longer in the bed with her.

* * *

Gideon stood before the living room windows and saw nothing but his past. A dozen times or more over the years, he’d considered coming clean with Adara. Every time he’d talked himself out of telling her his real name, but this time he wasn’t finding an easy way to rationalize keeping his secret.

At first it had been a no-brainer. She’d been all business with her proposal, selling him the upside of marriage in her sensible way. The hook had been deliciously baited with everything he’d ever wanted, including a sexy librarian-style wife. Telling her at that point that he was living under a false name would have deep-sixed their deal. Of course, he’d stayed silent.

His conscience had first pinched him the morning of their honeymoon though. She’d come to the breakfast table so fresh faced and shy, barely able to meet his gaze. He’d been incapable of forming thoughts or words, his entire being filled with excited pride as he recollected how trusting and sweetly responsive she’d been.

“Any regrets?” she’d asked into the silence, hands in her lap, breath subtly held.

“None,” he’d lied, because he’d had a small one. It had niggled that she was so obviously good and pristine and unquestioning. He’d soiled her in a way, marrying her under pretense.

He hadn’t exactly been tortured by his lie, doing what he could to compensate, even forgetting for stretches at a time as they put on charity balls and cut ribbons on after-school clubs. He had let himself believe he really was Gideon Vozaras and Adara legally his wife. Life had been too easy for soul-searching and when the miscarriages had happened, well, things had grown too distant between them to even think of confessing.

Since Greece, however, the jabs to his conscience had grown more frequent and a lot sharper. Honesty had become a necessary pillar to their relationship, strengthening it as much as the physical intimacy. He respected her too much to be dishonest with her.

And he loved her too much to risk losing her.

God, he loved her. Last night when she’d asked him about his feelings, he’d been struck dumb by how inadequate the word was when describing such an expansive emotion. He’d handled it all wrong, immediately falling into a pit of remorse because he was misrepresenting himself. He had to tell her.

And he would lose her when he did.

He could stand losing everything else. The inevitable scandal in the papers, the legal ramifications, the hit to his social standing and being dropped from his numerous boards of directors... None of that would be easy to take, but he’d endure it easily if Adara stood by him.

She wouldn’t. Maybe she would stick by a man who came from a decent background, but once he really opened his can of worms and she saw the extent of his filthy start, she’d be understandably appalled. It would take a miracle for her to overlook it.

Yet he had no choice, not with Nic breathing down his neck.

His heart pumped cold, sluggish blood through his arteries as he waited like a man on death row, waited for the sound of footsteps and the call of his name.

* * *

Adara didn’t bother trying to go back to bed when she woke at six. Swaddling herself in Gideon’s robe, she went to find him, mind already churning with ways to gloss over her gaffe from last night. If she could have pretended it hadn’t happened at all, she would have, but it was obvious she’d unsettled him. She’d have to say something.

She found him standing at the window in the living room, barefoot and shirtless, sweatpants slouched low on his hips. His hair was rumpled, his expression both ravaged and distracted when he turned at the sound of her footsteps.

He didn’t say anything, just looked at her as if the greatest misery gripped him.

Her heart clutched. This was all her fault. She’d ruined everything.

“It was never part of our deal, I know that,” she blurted, moving a few steps toward him only to be held off by his raised hand.

He might as well have planted that hand in the middle of her chest and shoved with all his considerable might, it was such a painfully final gesture of rejection.

“Our deal...” He ran his hand down his unshaven face. “You don’t even know who you made that deal with, Adara. I shouldn’t have taken it. It was wrong.”

She gasped, cleaved in two by the implication he regretted their marriage and all that had come of it thus far. He couldn’t mean it. No, this was about his childhood, she told herself, grasping for an explanation for this sudden rebuff. He’d confessed that before they married he’d had a low sense of self-worth. He blamed himself for his friend’s death. He had probably convinced himself he wasn’t worthy of being loved.

She knew how that felt, but he was so wrong.

“Gideon—” She moved toward him again.

He shook his head and walked away from her, standing at an angle so all she could see was his profile filled with self-loathing. A great weight slumped his bare shoulders.

She couldn’t bear to see him hurting like this. “Gideon, please. I know I overstepped. We don’t have to go into crisis.”

“It’s not you that’s done anything. You’re perfect. And I wouldn’t do this if your brother hadn’t threatened to do it for me,” he said through gritted teeth, as if he was digging a bullet from his own flesh. “I would never hurt you if I had a choice. You know that, right?”

“Hurt me how? Which brother? What do you mean?”

“Nic. He’s threatened to expose me to you, so I have no choice but to tell you myself.”

His despair was so tangible, her hand unconsciously curled into the lapels of the robe, drawing it tightly over the place in her throat that suddenly felt sliced open and cold. She instinctively knew she didn’t want to hear what he had to say, but forced herself to ask in a barely-there voice, “Tell me what?”

He solidified into a marble statue, inscrutable and still, his lips barely moving as he said, “That I’m not Gideon Vozaras.”

After a long second, she reminded herself to blink, but she was still unable to comprehend. Her mind said, Of course you are. He wasn’t making sense.

“I don’t... What do you mean? Who is then?”

“No one. It’s a made-up name.”