Page 7 of Wicked Queen

I decided to change tactics. “There's going to be a press conference. I'd like you to be there with me."

She snorted, but she still didn't look at me. "Why? It's a bit late to include me."

"I don't want people to think…” I trailed away, instantly realizing my blunder. It was like I was planting land mines and then jumping on them. My self-preservation was clearly off. Of course, everything was off when she was shutting me out.

Clara abandoned her search of the closet and whirled around, planting her hands on her hips. "Don't want them to think what? That you kept secrets from your wife? Do you want them to think I knew about—”

"I want to be a united front." I was still in dangerous territory, but I meant what I said.

“You have a funny way of showing it." She returned to her search.

“Are you ever planning to speak to me again?”

“We’re talking now.”

“That’s not what I meant.” All of our conversations had been short these last two weeks. She shut me out almost as soon as I started speaking.

She shrugged as she reached for a silk robe. "Are you going to tell me the truth?"

"I don't have any more secrets from you." Even saying it, I knew it was too little, too late. Still, I was growing tired of this song and dance. We needed to talk. I needed to explain. Since the moment she’d walked out of that room in Windsor, she’d had no interest in my explanations. I couldn't blame her. But I wasn't going to let my past and the mistakes my father had made take my wife from me now.

Clara attempted to move past me to the bathroom, but I stretched an arm out to stop her.

“Really, X?” She pushed at my arm and tried to squeeze past me. Considering she was eight months pregnant, she wasn't going anywhere if I didn't want her to.

And I wanted her to listen.

"We need to talk," I repeated more forcefully.

"No, you need to listen." She glared at me with such intensity that I dropped my arm.

I didn't care how I got her speaking to me. She could yell at me, rant at me, berate me—I would take it all. I deserved it. "Fine. I’m listening.”

This stopped her, but only for a moment. It didn't take her long to recover before she launched into everything she had been holding back. "Things are going to change around here. If I find out that you so much as went out to lunch without telling me, I'm gone. Also, Georgia is my new head of security. No arguments. I am not dragging another man to the obstetrician.”

I clenched my jaw shut, forcing myself to listen rather than argue with her. I wanted her to talk. If she thought I'd let her walk out on me, she was very much mistaken. Now wasn’t the time to tell her that, however.

“Anything else?” I was in no position to question her, but I couldn't be sure if she was thinking clearly. Not since she’d stopped sharing what she was thinking with me entirely. No matter how much she might push back, I couldn't allow her to place herself or our child in danger just to prove a point.

"I don't want to talk about it. I'm going to take a bath."

I grabbed her shoulder and spun her around, moving her backwards against the wall before she could dodge me. "I do want to talk about it. What changes?"

My arms bracketed her in place as my body began to calculate how long it would take to get her dress off. Maybe I didn’t want to talk at all. We had more effective ways of ending an argument—ones we both enjoyed. If I could touch her, she’d remember why she loved me. Then she’d be able to forgive me.

"It's not going to work this time," she murmured, her lashes fluttering.

“What isn’t it going to work?" I asked absently as I lowered my face closer to hers.

“Fucking this out," she said harshly. But even as her eyes blazed, her body began to respond to mine. Her belly was an unfortunate barrier between us but not insurmountable. She breathed in soft, shallow pants, a flush creeping across her fair cheeks. The hand planted on my chest was soft, not firm. She wasn't resisting me exactly, but my Clara was far too stubborn to admit she missed me, too.

“Poppet,” I whispered as I angled my lips to her ear. Catching its soft shell between my teeth, I sucked it gently before lowering my lips to the curve of her neck. “Don't you miss this? I'm sorry. I want to talk. I do. But maybe this is what we need.”

“Alexander." There was a warning on her tongue and I stepped back, heeding it. She pushed past me into the bathroom without so much as a glance back at me. I watched as she started the shower.

"I thought you were going to take a bath."

"I changed my mind. A bath doesn’t sound relaxing anymore.” She still wouldn't look at me. “I’m tired. I’m going to shower."