Chapter 44
[ 941 words ]
Delia’s POV
“Everything is fine, Martha,” he answered perfectly, his voice smooth and reassuring. “It’s not easy being the head of the Windsor Empire, especially during a transition this size. There are a thousand moving parts, and the pressure can be immense.” He paused, turning to look at me with an expression so full of simulated devotion that I almost believed it myself. “But with Delia by my side, everything seems easy. She’s the calm in the middle of my storm p>
Mother beamed, the lines of suspicion on her forehead smoothing out instantly. She seemed entirely content with the answer. “I’m glad to hear it. A man in your position needs a solid foundation at home.” She leaned forward, her eyes twinkling with a more personal curiosity. “So… are we expecting grandchildren soon? I know you both are busy, but a legacy like this needs an heir p>
I held my breath, waiting for Julian to stiffen, waiting for the coldness to return. Instead, he chuckled softly. He didn’t look annoyed by Mother’s prying; he looked encouraged.
“Of course, Martha,” Julian said, giving my hand a gentle, affectionate squeeze. “That’s the main reason for people to get married, isn’t it? To build something that lasts beyond ourselves. Delia and I will be trying soon. You gave me a very loving and patient wife, and I intend to make sure our children inherit those qualities p>
I felt a flush creep up my neck. I was beaming, unable to help myself. For the first time since the wedding, I was having a real dinner with my husband. He wasn’t just there; he was present. He spent the rest of the meal doting on me, constantly leaning in to whisper small, private comments or pressing a soft kiss to my temple.
By 9:00 PM, the atmosphere was full of Mother’s approval. Julian wiped his mouth with a linen napkin and stood up, taking my hand and pulling me gently to my feet beside him.
“Well, Mother, if you do not mind, we are newlyweds,” he said, a playful, suggestive smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “My wife and I would need to go to bed early today.” Mother’s eyebrows shot up in delight. “We have grandchildren to make,” Julian finished with a wink.
He didn’t wait for her to respond. He leaned down, and before I could gasp, he swept me off my feet, carrying me bridal-style into his arms. I instinctively wrapped my arms around his neck, my heart thundering against my ribs.
Mother was beaming non-stop, her hands clasped together in triumph as she watched us. I buried my face in Julian’s neck, the heat of his body making me dizzy with hope. He carried me out of the dining room and up the grand staircase, his stride certain and powerful.
We reached the end of the hall, the heavy, dark oak doors that led to his private sanctuary. The room I had been forbidden from entering. The room where he slept alone.
Julian pushed the door open with his foot and carried me inside, the click of the lock echoing in the quiet hallway. I was finally here. I was finally in Julian’s room, in his arms, and for the first time, the title of Mrs. Windsor felt like it finally belonged to me.
The door to Julian’s private suite clicked shut, and for one glorious, delusional second, the world was perfect. The air in his room was different, cooler, smelling of cedar, expensive leather, and the heavy, intoxicating scent of the man who carried me. I felt the strength in his arms and the steady beat of his heart against my shoulder, and I let myself believe the lie. I let myself believe that the dinner, the kisses, and the promises of grandchildren weren’t just a performance for my mother.
Then, the world shifted.
Julian didn’t carry me to the massive, silk-draped bed in the center of the room. He didn’t even slow down. With a sudden, jarring motion, he unceremoniously dropped me. I didn’t land on soft pillows; I hit the hardwood floor with a dull thud, my dress bunching around my thighs.
“Ouch! Julian!” I gasped, looking up in shock.
The man standing over me wasn’t the loving husband from the dining room. The warmth had vanished from his eyes, replaced by a crystalline, predatory coldness that made the room feel like a tomb. He didn’t offer a hand to help me up. He didn’t even look concerned that he just dropped me on the floor as if carrying me was like carrying fire. Instead, he reached out and pressed a hidden panel on the far wall.
A narrow, recessed door slid open silently. It was a service passage, a shortcut that led directly to the hallway of my wing, bypassing the main gallery where my mother might still be lingering.
“The act is over, Delia,” he said, his voice a flat, dead monotone. “Go back to your room p>
I scrambled to my feet, my face burning with a mixture of shame and desperation. “Julian, wait. You told my mother… you told her you wanted children. You told her I was a loving wife. You can’t just turn it off like a faucet! I can give you those children. I can be the woman you need, even if you don’t love me yet. We’re married. This is what married people do p>
Julian turned his head slowly, his gaze raking over me with profound disinterest; it was worse than if he had struck me. He walked toward the hidden door and gestured toward the dark hallway beyond it.
If you find any errors (non-standard content, ads redirect, broken links, etc Please let us know so we can fix it as soon as possible.