He doesn’t hug me back right away, so I squeeze him even tighter. “I just want you to know that I’m here.”
He holds my face, pulling me back slightly. “For how long?”
It sounds almost angry, but somehow—remembering what Athol said and knowing what I know now—I’m certain it’s not directed at me.
“No deadline. We didn’t set one, and for now, we don’t need one.”
Chapter 43
London
Two Months Later
The trip to Rheadur, so we could receive my father’s blessing, had to be postponed. The rebels’ clashes with my brother’s government intensified, and the Intelligence Agency of my country even uncovered a bomb threat.
Kaled asked that we wait for things to calm down, and now my heart feels perpetually heavy in my chest, imagining that some madman might hurt my family.
We ended up spending fifteen days in the Highlands on our honeymoon instead of one week, as Rodrick had initially planned. During that time, isolated in my husband’s world, I was able to learn a little about him, more by observing than by him telling me about his life. He remains closed off.
Now, however, I know small nuances of his personality that had previously escaped me. I know he’s sarcastic when he’s irritated and that he tends to attack when something bothers him.
Sometimes I feel anxious, thinking I’ll never fully understand him, since he doesn’t seem willing to let me into his world. Or rather, into his secret world. It’s as if he compartmentalizes his universe, keeping me in the social room—entertainment and sex—but withholding true intimacy or trust.
He takes almost obsessive care with everything that might make me happy, providing small joys, being affectionate, giving me gifts for no reason at all. But the most important thing—sharing his history with me—he doesn’t do. It’s as if he was never a child, just an adult from the very beginning. At most, he reveals episodes from his teenage years at the Swiss boarding school. It seems to me that his only good memories include his friends.
I have no doubt that my husband’s past is an intricate puzzle that doesn’t allow him to live fully.
Without realizing it, he once let slip that he considers himself guilty of his father’s death.
I can’t see how a twelve-year-old child could be responsible for such an act of insanity. The former duke killed his wife and then took his own life. To me, that is madness in its purest form.
We have rough edges to smooth out, and I feel as if our relationship is suspended, balanced on a tightrope—held by a fragile thread.
What exists between us beyond a marriage contract and sexual compatibility? I don’t think much.
I feel increasingly attached to him, my heart filled with affection for the man with whom I now share a home, but I don’t know if it’s mutual.
I decided to permanently withdraw from college. I’m not an artist or a creator. I like buying the final product. They’re completely different things. I was wasting my time, spinning mywheels in a program that had nothing to do with me, simply out of a desire to have a purpose in life that wasn’t being someone’s wife, which is what would have happened if I’d stayed in Rheadur.
There is something, however, that I realized fascinates me: marketing.
I went to visit a program today that’s half in-person and half online, and on my way back, I stopped by my husband’s office.
He was coming out of a meeting with the marketing team for his new whisky brand and looked very angry. I asked him to explain what was wrong, and now we’ve been talking for almost half an hour.
Rodrick is dissatisfied with the sales of the cheaper brand, which fell short of his expectations.
After he explained the situation, I think I discovered where they went wrong. Even though they tried to popularize the drink by bottling a product that was more affordable for people with less money, they didn’t pay attention to how to sell it.
At first, I felt shy about offering my point of view, afraid he might mock me. But as I speak, I see that he’s paying attention to every word, and little by little, I feel more confident giving my opinion about what I think could be changed.
“So you’re telling me that even when buying a cheaper brand, these new consumers still want to feel special?”
“Yes, exactly. Everyone wants to feel special, actually. Even if you sell a more affordable brand, you can dress up the product in such a way that whoever buys it will believe they’re part of a select group.”
He looks at me from the other side of his desk.
I find myself thinking about the men who are forced to negotiate with my husband. Rodrick is intimidating, and to those who don’t know him, his face is unreadable.