The Royals Collection. Rebecca Winters

ruthless nature?”

      “Yes.”

      “Why?”

      “I don’t understand.”

      “I think you do.”

      If anything, his face paled further. “Don’t, Chanel.”

      “Don’t what? Make you admit your vulnerabilities. If you have any, that is.”

      “I do.”

      “I’m not stupid by any stretch, you know. Legalese may not be science speak, but I understand it well enough.”

      “Yes?”

      “Yes. Bartholomew Tanner’s will is unambiguous. My marriage to you negated all claim I, or any of my children, had to Yurkovich Tanner.”

      Demyan nodded.

      “The prenuptial didn’t need to spell that out at all.”

      “No.”

      “You had that paragraph added as a kind of warning to me, didn’t you?”

      He shrugged.

      “You also made sure I would be taken care of financially despite the fact that legally I would have no way of pursuing any monetary interests in the future.”

      “You are my wife. I wanted you provided for.”

      “I bet the king just loved the terms of the prenup.”

      “He agreed to them.”

      She was sure there was a story there, but right now she wasn’t interested in hearing it. “You came after me with the intention of securing Volyarussian economic stability, no matter the cost.”

      “Yes.” The word sounded torn out of him.

      “You could have just asked me to sign the shares over and I would have done it. Especially after reading my grandfather’s diaries.”

      “His diaries?”

      “He spelled out his intention of leaving the shares to the people of Volyarus, but at first he was still holding out hope your great-uncle would marry my great-grandmother, then he got his hopes set on the next generation. He died before he could try to make that alliance happen.”

      “I am aware.”

      “What you didn’t know was that he’d written my great-grandmother and told her that he planned to leave his interest in Yurkovich Tanner to the Volyarussian people. I never would have tried to undermine his clear wishes.”

      “Your stepfather would not be so sanguine. He might well have convinced your mother to bring suit on her deceased husband’s behalf.”

      “A suit that wouldn’t have gone anywhere without my cooperation, and I wouldn’t have given it.”

      “We did not know that.”

      “You had to have realized, as you got to know me.”

      “Once I commit to a purpose, I do not change my direction on a whim or the hope of a different outcome.”

      “Maybe you decided you wanted to marry me.” It was hard to say the words, to put it out there like that, but this man was about as in touch with his emotions as the puppet he was so adamant he was not.

      “I did want to marry you.”

      “Why?”

      He stared at her, his expression so open she wanted to cry. Because it showed so much that he so clearly didn’t know how to express verbally. One thing was really obvious. This man did not know what to do with his emotions.

      “We are very compatible.”

      “Are we?”

      “You know we are.”

      “You’re a prince. I’m a scientist.”

      “Those are our titles, not who we are at the core.”

      “Okay, then you’re ruthless and I’m insecure. We’re both emotionally repressed.”

      “But you are more secure about yourself with me.”

      “And you are less ruthless with me?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

      Looking back on it, she saw that the prenuptial agreement was practically a love letter from Demyan.

      The uncertainty in his expression was heartbreaking. “Yes?”

      She couldn’t hold back from touching him any longer. She stepped right into his personal space and he wrapped his arms around her like it was the most natural thing in the world to do.

      “Yes, Demyan. Yes.” His ruthlessness wasn’t always a bad thing, but she brought out the best in him, too.

      Now, if she could just get him to realize what that meant.

      “You turn me on like no other woman ever has.” He spoke as if that fact confused him. “I don’t like being without you. Not even for a couple of days. It makes it hard to focus.”

      “I’m glad to hear that. I feel the same way.”

      “I miss you,” he stressed. “Every hour we are apart. Even when I am working.”

      No matter how this thing between them had started, it had caught Demyan in the whirlwind of emotion right along with her. Which was the conclusion she’d finally come to after a lot of pain-filled soul-searching and examination of every memory from the moment they’d met.

      “It hurt finding out about the will and your reason for marrying me from your sperm donor.”

      Pain twisted Demyan’s features. “I am sorry.” He reached up to wipe along the tear streaks on one cheek. “You cried.”

      “At first, all I could think was that you’d tricked me into loving you when you felt nothing for me at all. That you probably planned on getting rid of me as soon as the ink was dry on the marriage certificate.”

      “No!” He kissed her, the connection between their mouths infused with a desperation stronger than anything she’d ever felt from him.

      It was a magnified version of the feelings that emanated off him at night when making love since their arrival in Volyarus.

      She did nothing to stop the kiss for a long time, needing this connection as badly as he so clearly did.

      But eventually, she broke her mouth away. “Were you going to tell me?”

      “Maybe someday. I do not know. I did not want to.”

      “You were afraid.”

      “I am never afraid.”

      “Not usually, but the idea of losing me scared you.”

      “Have I lost you?” His arms tightened around her even as he asked the question.

      “No.”

      “No?” he asked, his voice breaking so the word sounded as if it had two syllables.

      “Definitely not. Yet.”

      His big body went absolutely rigid. “Yet?”

      “It all depends on your answer to a question.”

      He stared down at her.

      “You never break your promises, right?” She let her body mold completely to his, trying to give him strength.

      That’s what people who loved each other did—they lent their strength when it was needed.

      “Right.”

      “Tell me you love me.”

      The tension emanating off him increased exponentially.

      “Your mom told me what she made you promise her.”