Beneath His Cold Vows novel Chapter 2

"An open marriage."

The words hit me like a fist to the chest.

For a second, I went rigid, my towel digging into my palms so hard I thought it might rip. Water slid down my neck, too cold, too hot—I couldn't tell anymore.

Then I dragged a blouse over my damp skin, fumbling with the fabric like covering myself could shield me from the words hanging between us.

I must have misheard. I had to have. Right?

Sorry,” I said, my voice low, my heart beating in my ears. “What?”

"You heard me."

Edward didn't even stutter, as if detonating my life was no different than ordering wine at dinner.

I laughed. It was a sharp, ugly sound that didn't belong to me. "You're joking."

"No."

That was it. No speech. No apology. No emotion. Just a neat little wrecking ball swung through the middle of our bedroom. With the way he had said it, one would think it was perfectly reasonable to ask your wife to share you.

I gave a slow shake of my head, disbelieving. "You want to run that by me again? Because it almost sounded as though you just suggested you sleep with whomever you want while I sit here clapping, your well-trained seal."

He sighed, soft, patient. The kind of sigh men used when they thought women were overreacting. "Alicia—"

"Don't." My voice snagged. I hated that it did. "Don't you dare say my name like that. Like you're about to explain how this all makes sense if only I were smart enough to understand."

"This marriage was never about love," he said evenly, rolling his cuff with deliberate care. "It was an agreement. A contract. Nothing more."

And there it was.

A knife slid between my ribs, clean and smooth. That was all he thought of me.

It was no news, but my chest burned regardless...thinking that I could change that all these years.

My hands shook, but I yanked the zipper of my skirt into place anyway, as if finishing the act of dressing could hold me together when everything else was coming apart.

"You asked me to stay after the contract ended, Edward. You. Not me. You said I made you better. You said—" My throat closed, but the words came out anyway. "You said I completed you."

He looked at me then. Just for a second.

Something shifted in his eyes—something I hadn't seen once in this whole conversation. A shadow of regret. Maybe for the fight. Or maybe for letting me start to hope in something that was never really there.

"You didn't have to stay," he said finally. "You chose to."

I laughed again, low and bitter. "Yeah. Because apparently, I'm a world-class idiot."

I thought about my family. The debts. How I had sold my pride, my plans, my whole loathsome self because a man with a flawless smile had promised safety and money and maybe—just maybe—a future. And I hadn't seen any other way to help them.

And so I went with it.

The biggest mistake of my life. But wouldn't I make it again, and again, if it meant my sister could live? That mattered more than anything. More than my happiness. More than...my life put together.

I swallowed hard. "This is about her, isn't it?"

His head tilted slightly.

"Lucy," I said, the name a poison on my tongue. "The childhood crush. The one in the photo. The one who looked as though she'd walked off a runway while I stayed home like a damn fool."

He didn't answer.

Didn't deny it.

Didn't confirm it either.

Just stood there, immaculately silent, while something inside me coiled tighter and tighter until I could barely breathe.

"You're unbelievable," I whispered.

Edward's jaw flexed, the only crack in his polished armor. But his voice stayed maddening steady.

“Listen—”

"No," I cut him off, the word breaking in my throat. God, I was so tired. "You want an open marriage? Fine. Do whatever you want. You've got the money, the name, the press eating out of your hand. Go ahead. Burn the rest of it down."

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