by Lexi Whitlow
“That’s a nice thing to say but—” She looks at me and bites her lip, pulling her jacket tight around her so that it sits just under her breasts. With a glance, I can tell that those are rounder, firmer. I want to reach out and touch her, eliminate the space between us, but the time and space between us make that feel impossible.
“But it’s true.” I want to lean in, to kiss her, to peel off her clothes and take the time to get to know her body again. Instead, I take her hand in mine. She doesn’t squeeze my fingers in return. Her long artist’s fingers sit in mine.
“There are complications, Matthias. This isn’t just a week of fun anymore. There’s your family—is it your family? The man in my apartment? Like you said? I thought you might not be serious. People don’t do this kind of thing, do they? Come by and intimidate and make demands? This isn’t real, is it?”
Her voice speeds up as she speaks, and I raise a hand to stop her. “It’s real. And I do have reason to believe it’s them.”
“That’s why you came?”
I nod. “Partly. And you’re…” I almost can’t say the words. Mal just appeared here after I’ve spent days scouring the city, going to each of the graduate schools with her name and asking the administration if she was enrolled. As it turns out, most people in school administration won’t accept bribes for information—even in France. The whole night feels surreal, and here she is, wide-eyed and scared, and somehow more real than she ever was during the days we spent between Amsterdam and Brussels.
“I’m pregnant. I’m going to assume that’s one of the reasons you’re here. Or no?” She speaks slowly, diplomatically.
I feel a rush of protectiveness, all at once. This woman, she trumps every other girl I’ve been with, and I can’t articulate all the reasons why. And she’s carrying my child—mine and hers. An indelible tie that binds us together. I’d have thought it was impossible to feel this way. But I’m feeling it, deeply, as I watch her sitting across from me. I take my hand to her hair and run my fingers through it. She sighs softly, the sound sudden, like she didn’t expect it to escape her lips.
I sigh. I’ve been toying with my thoughts for a solid week now, on the flight here, on the train. And I come back to one single thing—I don’t want to lose her. I’ll do anything to keep her, and more than that to keep her safe.
“Matthias,” she whispers. “Answer me. This wasn’t something I was going to talk to you about until he was born. Or at least until I made it to the third trimester—or I don’t know. It hasn’t seemed real enough yet. And I know—I really do—that this isn’t part of how you envisioned your life.”
I bring my fingers to her chin, stopping when she pulls away from me slightly. “Sometimes there’s a better life than what you envision. And maybe this is the one for both of us.”
I wait, watching. Her dark eyebrows are knitted together, tears drying just below her lash line. But she moves closer to me and takes my other hand, grasping it. This time, I bring my lips to hers, and she yields to me, her mouth melding with mine, the feeling of it at once gentle and brutal. I’ve kissed many women, and I’ve met maybe a thousand in my time. But none of them have been Mallory—with her sweet warmth, her laughter, the aching need of her body when it collides with mine. As I kiss her, my tongue darting against hers, I think that she’s someone I want to know, that maybe I had a longing in my life all along, and it was Mallory that made me see it. She sighs into me, a tiny whimper, and I can feel the fear and hesitation in her body. I pull her close, pushing her jacket away from her shoulders and bringing her onto my lap to straddle me.
Panting, she pulls away from me. “Is that true, Matthias? Or are you just saying it because it sounds like what you should say? Because your family has decided I’m important enough to hunt down when I’m keeping entirely to myself?”
“It’s true,” I say without hesitation. I pause, bringing my hand to her belly where her low rise jeans are buttoned. I place my hand there, and I can feel a gentle swell. Not enough for anyone who didn’t know her to notice, not enough for her to get questions or concerns wherever she goes. But still, I smile when I touch her there. “It’s not something I thought I wanted. But I think of you, and I think of this child. And I want to protect both of you. I almost went insane when I got your letter and didn’t know where you were. I don’t want to be without you.”
She looks at me sadly. “You say you want to do the right thing. What’s the right thing? There’s no one right thing, is there, Matthias?”
Mal looks the same as she did when I first met her, round-faced and dark-haired, smart, curious eyes. But there’s deeper maturity there, like all these thoughts and all the days we spent apart brought on a piece of her adulthood that had stalled when her sister died.
I kiss her lightly on the lips again, pulling away after I do. “I knew when I met you that I wanted you. More desperately than I’ve wanted anyone. When you left, and I knew I wouldn’t see you again, I went home and met the woman my parents want me to marry. She’s from the family they selected. She’ll do as they please, and she seems more than willing to let me lead my own life and do exactly what I want—”
“Do you want to marry her?”
“No. I didn’t think I wanted to marry anyone. It was always something my parents wanted for me, so I never had it on my mind. But Mallory, now, I don’t feel that anymore—” This is the truth.
“Matthias, what are you saying?” Her eyes grow wide, and she shifts away from me, almost imperceptibly. “I’m glad you’re here but—”
“Stop, Mal. Let me say what I need to say.” As I think through what I discussed with my sister, all the words and promises that would save both me and Mallory, I realize I believe each one of them. I may not have wanted a real life with anyone—but that was before I met Mallory. She makes it all seem possible. Is that love? The heat I feel when I’m with her? The impulse to ask her every secret longing she’s ever had, to listen to her speak. “Mal, I want to marry you because it’s right for both of us. I want to provide for this child. I want to keep you safe. And I want to wake up next to you every morning.”
She turns her head away. Her face, even when she’s sad, betrays this pure beauty, this vulnerability. It’s something I haven’t seen many times in my life. I ask myself—even if my sister hadn’t come to me with that letter, even if my parents weren’t going to find Mallory or threaten her, even if she wasn’t pregnant—would I want to wake up next to this woman every day?
The answer is instant. I would.
She turns to me. I want to tell her I love her, that all the things I was before aren’t real.
“Is that enough, Matthias? Enough to build a marriage on? What is this, really? My roommate keeps telling me that there are old families that do things like this—force their children to marry to keep up a bloodline. But they’re all noble. Royal blood, and all that. Are you doing this to keep me quiet or—what? I know you’re here because you say I’m in danger. But I don’t know the nature of that danger. I don’t understand it—”
“My family is—” I pause. There’s a long history that revolves around a powerful, controlling monarchy that’s not kind to its citizens or its children. They’ll do anything to keep me from marrying a commoner, whether it’s legal or not. And yes, the danger is deeply real.
I imagine Mallory fleeing, running back to her home country or, worse, straight into the North Islands militia. The thought leaves me speechless.
“Matthias, it’s time to tell me who you are. Or I go. It’s not just you and me anymore. There’s someone who’s far more important.” She bites her lip, like she’s shocked at what she just said. But I just nod. For the first time in my life, I understand.
“I love you, Mallory. That’s why I want to marry you. And I need to marry you now because my family is very old, very powerful, and utterly ruthless when it comes to making their children do what they want.”
She’s quiet, studying me. Where my fingers touch her wrist, I can feel
her pulse racing. The color rises in her cheeks, but before she feels like she needs to respond, I begin the long story of my family. Her hands stay in mine, her body angled over my lap. It’s no fairy tale. The events might be the same in any dysfunctional family, but with my mother and father, there’s far more money and power involved. She grows pale when I tell her about Adelaide and the way they keep her locked in the palace—maybe she imagines herself in the same position, unable to escape, to do what she loves.
With this marriage, I can protect Mallory and our child. But with it, she also must give up the plans she had for her solitary life, at least for now.
If she makes this decision, she chooses to face my family head on, to become a part of something that might damage both of us. And if she doesn’t—it’s a devil of a decision. Because of me, she and our child might be in real danger.
When I finish, I tell her again that I want to be with her, forever, if she wants that too. She answers with a small nod and asks me to take her to bed.
Instead of spoken answers, she gives me her body, and I come to know it again. And this time, I’m quite sure I’m making the right choice.
Chapter Eighteen
Mallory
When I wake that next morning, nothing has changed. It seems like it should have. After all, I agreed to marry a man I barely know. And I’m carrying his child. I move a hand to his muscled shoulder, and he stirs in his sleep. What we have when we’re together—it’s incendiary. I wasn’t imagining it. All the time spent thinking about him, I didn’t dream it.
There’s something there, but I don’t think either of us knows what it is. We haven’t spent enough time figuring it out—and I’m not entirely sure that’s how a marriage should go.
He told me he loves me, but the words felt rushed. And I had no idea how to respond. It’s a word I’ve toyed with in my mind a thousand times, but when I think of the Matthias that I know, reckless and wild, the word seems wrong, like it doesn’t fit.
This night, this morning. This proposal. None of it happened how I imagined it would.
I wasn’t one to flip through bridal magazines and make plans for the perfect wedding. I didn’t ooh and ahh over dresses the way my sister did. And the relationships I had—well, they weren’t exactly romantic.
But if someone had asked me, I would have told them that the man I’d choose to marry wouldn’t be asking me to protect me from imminent danger. It would be a mutual decision, one that we came to together, after about a year of dating. Maybe at the age of thirty.
Instead, Matthias methodically told me about his home, the people under his parents’ control, and thousands of years of sanctioned bullying. He’s the first to break away—and if it weren’t for me, he might be able to.
He didn’t add that last part himself, but I’m sure it’s crossed his mind. It might be the first thing on his mind when he wakes up and sees me this morning.
But there’s no other choice for me, is there? I put my hand to my belly. I can feel it growing over the waistband of my jeans. Thirteen weeks this morning, with a real, growing life inside. Matthias assured me his parents or one of their people would find me, no matter where I went.
Soon, I’ll be feeling flutters.
Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.
I promise.
I have a sick, sinking feeling when I think about leaving the program, leaving Emilie, leaving the life I worked for. But this man—this prince—told me I could trust him. He told me that there would be a time when this was all over, when we could both be who we are. And we would do that together.
“Matthias,” I say, pressing my hand to his shoulder again. Despite the darkness linked to his proposal, I can’t help feeling the inward pull to him that I’ve felt since the first time I laid eyes on him. I swallow hard, fighting back tears. I test the words out in my head again.
I do love you, I think. Is that what you really feel for me? Or is it something you said to get what you want?
“Mm?” He turns over, eyes still closed. His face is smooth while he’s sleeping, the worry lines I saw last night vanished.
I lean down and kiss him, and his lips melt against mine. I throw one leg over his body and catch him in my grip. I can’t help myself. My body, close to his, responds, heat searing through my core, making its way to my sex. Throbbing, pulsing need. My body seems like it’s betraying me, making me want this man that I shouldn’t want. I need him. I want him.
Do I love him?
His eyes open, and he pulls me on top of his body. Tenderly, he touches my thighs. His hands travel over my thighs and up to my hips. One hand travels to my belly and touches it gently, almost reverently. My cheeks color, and there’s a different kind of heat in my body now, mixing with the desire I feel for Matthias. “Do you feel anything yet?”
“No. No flutters. Soon, though. Maybe. My mother said she felt both of us early, so maybe soon.”
“You said you had an ultrasound. Did you keep any pictures?”
His hand rests on my abdomen. I’m thirteen weeks this morning. It’s tiny, the life inside of me. But it’s beautifully formed, with a face and hands and feet. I saw it all, just before Matthias came. “I didn’t. I didn’t have anyone here who would care.”
“I do care, Mal.” His hands move to my waist and rest there. “I want this. I want to be a part of this. And I want you to be a part of my life.”
A thrill runs through me. “That’s what you said last night. But you also said you wanted to do the right thing. And that you and I needed to be married to protect ourselves. All of those things you said—they’re different things. They mean different things.”
“They’re all true. And I love you. I do.” He brushes the back of his hand over one thigh, closer to my sex. I’m aware that he wants me again. I can feel him growing hard against me, and my own need is growing, making my blood buzz, making it hard to think about the things we need to talk about.
“That’s what you said.” When I say the words, tears sting my eyes again. “I love you, Matthias. At least I think I do. But when I left Brussels, I thought I’d never see you again. I wasn’t prepared for this.”
“Neither of us were.”
“I’m not like that other girl,” I say. “The one who wants to marry you. I won’t share you with anyone else if we do this. I’ll do everything you ask. I’ll protect all of us. But I won’t share you. I won’t give you up. This is forever, for me.”
He nods and grips me by the waist, moving me over his growing length. I sigh, body aching for his. But I stop him, putting my hand to his tight abs. “I’m not sharing you with anyone either, Mal. And I’m not leaving you once we do this. This is real. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything.”
He moves me again, the head of his cock pressing against my entrance. I shudder with the same desire I felt when he first touched me. “Is this what we should be doing? What we really need?”
With concentrated slowness, he pushes himself inside of me. I’m already sopping wet, and when he thrusts from below, there’s no resistance. He groans deeply, and the longing I felt when I woke up next to him intensifies until I’m gripping his shoulders, moaning, riding him.
He looks me in the eyes, pulls me toward him, and kisses me hard, biting down on my lower lip. When he pulls away, he rolls me over in the bed and pins me to my pillow. “Yes.”
He brings his hands to my breasts, teasing my nipples, and then lowers his mouth to one, pulling it between his lips as he fucks me. Each thrust hits hard against my clit. I realize now that where I once felt he was too big for me; he fits me perfectly now. The tension in my body begins to build, bringing me closer and closer to the edge until my mind tips into oblivion. Pressure spreads through my legs and thighs, and I come hard, my body tightening around his. Shivers run the length of my spine, down to my toes, which curl against the plain white sheets.
Matthias rides me through my orgasm, and as I come down from my high, I realize that this sex is simpler, sw
eeter than it ever was before.
“Then I will, Matthias. I will marry you.”
We don’t speak anymore that morning. Instead, we eat a simple breakfast from a cafe downstairs, sitting inside. Later, we shower together and watch something on TV that I can’t quite follow. It’s in French, and I can’t quite follow it. The words are too fast and seem to blend together. Even though my French has improved, it’s not quite good enough for things like this. I wonder, while we’re sitting together on the old couch in the rental Matthias found, if I’ll need to learn to speak French like that—fast and fluent. Or if we’ll have to raise the baby speaking Dutch. Maybe I’ll have to learn that too.
I try to push away the rising swell of anxiety. I take solace in being close to Matthias. This seems to be the calm before the storm, the part before our plans become a reality.
Before we have to face all the things that are coming for us, just so we can be normal.
Maybe Matthias being by my side will make it all manageable.
But I have yet to see.
Chapter Nineteen
Matthias
For the next week, we keep to ourselves. In the mornings, I make phone calls to the Parisian government, leaning on personal connections I know won’t contact my parents. There’s the marriage license to sort out, the witnesses. And finally, finding a minister or justice who won’t balk at marrying two non-Catholics, one of whom is pregnant. Mallory tells me she trusts her friend Emilie enough to come by and fit her for a dress—something simple, knee-length, elegant. I know she doesn’t actually need it, the dress. It’s something to occupy her mind while she sorts all of this out. She throws herself into designing it, talking to Emilie, taking measurements. And I try to make sure no one sees where Emilie is going at any given time. Her roommate eyes me suspiciously any time she comes by, but she doesn’t say much.