The Marriage Clause. Alexx Andria

life to someone else’s standards. So...I’m out.”

      “It won’t be that simple,” I told her, distracted by a whiff of her hair as she purposefully turned away and a wash of memories hit me hard.

      Hemlock trees and sage, the heat of summer, coconut-scented sunscreen mingling with her signature white-citrus-and-cucumber body spray and the feel of her beneath me as I took her virginity.

      I could still feel her tight wetness clasped around me, the way she shuddered and gasped as I gently pushed myself deep inside, breaching her lithe body for the first time.

      She’d been eighteen; I’d been twenty-two.

      The way she’d cried out, her teeth worrying the full pink flesh of her bottom lip, seconds before she came on my cock, her sweet sex clenching around me, greedy for more.

      In spite of the slight chill of first class, sweat dampened my forehead as I took a deep swallow of my champagne.

      Jesus, now was not the time to think of that memory if I wanted to keep my head on my shoulders.

      “I’m not looking for an easy way out. I just want out,” she said.

      Time to move the subject to safer ground. “If I were going to run away, I’d at least pick someplace warm with a secluded beach and a well-stocked bar,” I shared, clearing my throat and my head of the pornographic things I wanted to do to my not-so-sweet bride-to-be. “I mean, San Francisco in winter...kinda crappy.”

      “Perhaps if things don’t work out for you being CEO of the Donato empire, you can start a travel agency,” she quipped with a dismissive glance before adding, “I picked San Francisco because I wanted to experience the cultural vibe of a liberal city. Not because I wanted to get a tan on some beach.”

      I smothered a grin. She’d always been curious and artsy—a big film buff, Coppola to be specific—so I could understand why the city appealed to her. “Well, that’s good, because the San Francisco beaches smell like dead fish and they’re barely nice to look at, much less lie around on the sand. The homeless are particularly fond of the beaches, as well.”

      “I know what you’re doing,” she said, bored. “Trying to scare me off with all your negative press, but I don’t care. It’s time for me to live life on my own terms, and I want to see the West Coast.”

      “You could’ve asked me. I would’ve made it happen.”

      “I don’t want to ask you or anyone for anything.” She turned to me. “Do you realize it was never my choice where to go to school or even what I would study in college? Your family made all my choices based on what would benefit the Donato name when we married.” She huffed out a breath. “I am more than a doll you can dress up and prop in the corner, waving and smiling as the perfect, uselessly educated housewife. I never even wanted to go into marketing. I wanted to be a veterinarian, remember? But your father deemed my choice of profession inappropriate for a Donato. So the decision was made for me.”

      I remembered Katherine’s desire to work with animals. I also remembered my father’s disdain for such a career choice. I should’ve stuck up for her, but I’d remained silent. At the time, I’d had my hands full finishing up my own degree and learning the business at my father’s side. I hadn’t had the spare brain space to fight Katherine’s battle, too.

      But still, I regretted not saying something.

      Everything she said was true, but it didn’t mean I’d had any say, either. I couldn’t give a shit what degree she had or what career she pursued. Maybe it was my misfortune to have fallen in love with my arranged bride, unlike others in similarly wealthy families that treated marriage alliances as business transactions.

      “So, you quit Franklin and Dodd. What’s your plan? Become a vet?”

      “Maybe. I don’t know, but when I decide, it’ll be my choice.”

      God only knew it would’ve been so much easier if I’d felt nothing for the troublesome redhead. If I’d felt nothing but obligation to produce a kid, I would’ve written off Katherine a long time ago, selected any of the numerous women trying to get that gaudy ring on their finger, put a kid in her belly and moved on with my life.

      But I loved her. That was the inescapable truth that made it impossible for me to walk away without one hell of a fight.

      “So...did you pack appropriately?”

      “Of course I did,” Katherine said, adding sardonically, “Did you?”

      “I didn’t pack anything. Whatever I need, I’ll buy new.”

      “Of course.” Katherine’s gaze returned to me, accusatory. “I preferred my original seat.”

      “No one prefers coach over first class.”

      “I do.”

      “Was this the entirety of your strategy?” I asked, drawing attention to how poorly she’d planned her getaway. “Liquefy your accounts and then melt into the bohemian life of a hipster on the West Coast?”

      “Maybe. As long as whatever I planned was on my own terms, the details were irrelevant.”

      “I beg to differ. My family has a significant investment in your welfare. Did you think that if you breached the contract, it would go without some sort of compensation or penalty? My father isn’t going to let this insult pass without consequence.”

      Katherine fell silent. I knew she’d given this possibility thought, but she was resolved to follow through. “I’ll have to take the risk,” she finally said.

      “You really hate me that much?” I asked, all levity fading from my voice.

      It was the minute hesitation that gave her away and filled me with hope—maybe misplaced and wildly irresponsible hope, but hope nonetheless.

      Before Katherine could answer, the flight attendant returned with a refill of the champagne. I preferred scotch, but since I’d already started with champagne, I figured it was best not to mix. I needed my head on straight if I was going to find a way to get Katherine to love me again.

      “I don’t hate you, Luca,” she said, glancing away. “I just don’t love you any longer.”

      I didn’t believe her. One thing I’d learned about human nature was that strong emotion betrayed vulnerabilities. In the last six months, she’d done everything in her power to avoid being alone with me. If there weren’t residual feelings messing with her judgment, she wouldn’t have needed to avoid me.

      Maybe I was basing my opinion on my own wild hope, but I believed she still loved me. Somewhere deep down she loved me like I loved her, but she was afraid to trust me again.

      I could sense her agitation with her sitting so close to me; her fidgeting fingers gave her away. Memories of growing up around each other, falling in love, having sex...they were all in there, rubbing against the memories that hurt. It was my guess that Katherine was running from every memory between us.

      “I know you remember how good it was between us.”

      “I try not to live in the past.”

      Ouch. “It could be that way again,” I told her. “If you’d just give us a chance.”

      She answered with heavy silence.

      I tried again. “Katherine—”

      “I want out of my contract,” she blurted.

      “Excuse me?”

      “I didn’t stutter and you have perfect hearing. Let me out of our marriage contract or I’ll spend the rest of my life embarrassing your family, starting with an exposé on your family that begins with how I was essentially purchased to be your bride.”

      She’d thrown down a goddamn gauntlet.

      “If you do that, you’d ruin your own family, as well,” I pointed