"Rule two." Asher continued.
I watched him, my fingers clutching the wine glass, my heart pounding as I waited for whatever came next.
"The performance we put on for the public does not end at the front door."
I opened my mouth to protest, but he held up a hand, silencing me.
"In this house, you are my wife. That means you share my bed. You share my meals. And you will stop looking at me like I'm about to strike you."
The last part landed like an accusation, and I realized he was right. I had been watching him warily all evening.
"I don't…" I started.
"You do. Ever since this morning, when I confronted Julian, ever since I told you we needed to talk. You've been looking at me like I'm dangerous, like I'm someone to fear."
"You are dangerous." I said quietly. "You destroyed an employee's career within a minute. You keep Julian at arm's length despite being family. You control everything and everyone around you."
"But I've never hurt you." His voice was softer now. "Never threatened you, never given you reason to be afraid of me."
"You control me."
"I protect you." He moved closer. "There's a difference."
"Is there?"
We stared at each other, the question hanging between us unanswered. Then he walked and stopped directly in front of me. Then he leaned down, placing his hands on the arms of the sofa on either side of me.
"And rule three…" He whispered, his face was inches away from mine. "The next time I ask you a question, you will answer me with the truth. Not what you think I want to hear, not what's safe or appropriate. The truth."
"Starting with this one. Why are you afraid of me now, when you were never afraid before?"
My mind went completely blank.
The truth was impossible to articulate. How could I explain that his neglect had been safe? That being invisible had meant being protected from whatever was happening between us now. His attention was more terrifying than his neglect had ever been. Because when he'd ignored me, I was lonely but safe in that loneliness.
Now, when he saw me I felt exposed. I couldn't say any of that. I couldn't admit that I was afraid of my own reaction to him as much as I was afraid of his power over me.
"I... I'm not afraid of you." I replied.
It was a lie. We both knew it was a lie.
I looked away, focusing on the painting behind his head.
"I'm not." I repeated, as if saying it again would make it true. "You just startled me with the rules."
His hand moved. Slowly, he reached out and cupped my jaw, his fingers were warm against my skin, he turned my face back towards him, forcing me to meet his eyes.
"Rysa."
His thumb brushed on my jawline. His touch was soft but it made me jump anyway. He noticed my reaction.
"Lying is a violation of rule three." His thumb was still stroking my skin that made it impossible for me to think straight. "Try again."
His face was so close. His thumb traced from my jaw to my cheekbone. His other hand remained on the sofa arm.
"Tell me the truth." He murmured. "Why are you afraid?"
"I..." I started, then stopped.
"The truth, Rysa." He asked again.
Trapped by his gaze and his touch something inside me snapped. If he wanted truth, I'd give him truth. I straightened slightly against the sofa, meeting his eyes directly despite the proximity that made my heart race.
"Before, you ignored me." I said, my voice gaining strength even as it trembled. "I was a piece of furniture. Something you walked past without noticing. Something that existed in your peripheral vision but never demanded your attention."
His thumb paused in its movement, but he didn't interrupt. He kept looking at me.
"I knew where I stood." I continued. "I knew what you expected of me. To smile at parties, wear the right clothes, stay out of your way. It was lonely, but it was safe. I couldn't disappoint you because you had no expectations. I couldn't fail you because you weren't paying attention."
"But now... you're watching me. You watch every move I make, every word I say. You're touching me…" I gestured to his hand still cupping my jaw. "…looking at me like I matter, like I'm something you're paying attention to."
"And I don't know what you want from me, Asher. I don't know if you want a colleague who finds errors in your deals or a wife who shares your bed or an asset you can leverage for business advantage or something else entirely that I can't even name."
"Before, I couldn't fail you because I was invisible. Now, I can see a hundred ways to fail you, to disappoint whatever expectations you have that you won't tell me. And that is terrifying."
It wasn't the whole truth. I didn't say that his attention made my pulse race, didn't confess that the way he looked at me now made me feel things I had no right to feel for a man who'd married me as a business transaction.
His hand moved, his thumb resuming its gentle stroke along my jaw, and I realized it had become almost soothing rather than electrifying, like he was trying to comfort rather than overwhelm.
For a moment after my confession, Asher was perfectly still. He was looking at me with burning intensity, but his expression was unreadable. Then, slowly a smile spread across his face.
"What do I want?" He repeated.
His hand shifted on my jaw, tilting my face up, forcing me to maintain eye contact.
"I want to stop ignoring the piece of furniture I bought. I want to see what it's made of, what happens when I touch it." His thumb traced my lower lip. "What sounds it makes when I apply the right pressure."
My pulse was racing so fast that I felt dizzy.
"I want to unfold it and discover all the secrets it's been hiding." He leaned closer, until his lips were almost brushing mine.
"And I want you…" He whispered against my lips. "…to stop pretending you don't want the same thing."
"Asher…."
"Shhh." His thumb pressed gently against my lips, silencing me."