I pause in the doorway of our bedroom, rigid at the sight before me. Sutton is hunched over the vanity, her shoulders trembling as she desperately tries to muffle her sobs.


    My first instinct is to find whoever made her cry and make them bleed. But the rational part of my brain knows it’s not that simple.


    Not when the person causing her pain might be me.


    “Sutton?”


    She pulls away from the vanity, hastily wiping her eyes. Her cheeks flush pink as she avoids my gaze in the mirror. The afternoon sun streaming through the windows catches the tears on hershes.


    “Y-you’re home early,” she stammers, trying and failing topose herself.


    I cross the room in three long strides. “What’s wrong?”


    She shakes her head, still not meeting my eyes. “You’ll think I’m silly.”


    “Try me.”


    “I just…” She draws in a shaky breath. “We’ve only been trying a few months. But…”


    Realization hits me between the eyes. There is a kernel of disappointment, yes, but nothing thates close to the regret I feel seeing Sutton this upset.


    “You started your period.”


    She nods miserably. “I was three dayste. I was so sure… I wanted to tell you this morning, but you’d already left for the office.”


    “Fuck.” I run a hand through my hair, despising how broken she looks in front of me. “I’m sorry.”


    “Don’t be. You’ve got things to do, ces to be. Unlike me,” she hups. “Who apparently can’t do any of the jobs she’s hired for.”


    The self-loathing in her voice makes my jaw clench. I think about the dreams I’ve been havingtely—a little girl with Sutton’s golden hair and my eyes, her tiny hand wrapped around my finger.


    My chest tightens every time I picture it.


    This arrangement is about an heir, about securing my lineage. I can’t let myself think about it being anything else.


    It’s too pure, and my hands are stained with blood.


    “You need to be patient with yourself,” I tell her.


    “It’s hard to be patient when I know you’re waiting for me to give you good news.” Her eyes finally meet mine in the mirror, swimming with tears. “Like you said, you don’t exactly have time to spare, do you?”


    I grit my teeth. “I shouldn’t have said that.”


    “I’m d you did. It’s good to know where you stand.”


    “Come here,” I extend my hand, fighting to keep my voice even despite the rage building in my chest. Not at her—never at her—but at myself, at this whole fucked-up situation.


    I nned toe home and celebrate again with her, but she needs something else from me. Deserves something else.


    She eyes my hand like it might burn her. “I… I’m okay right here.”


    “Don’t make mee get you, princess.”


    Her lips start trembling. “If you touch me right now, I’m going to burst into tears.”


    “So then burst.” I meet her eyes in the mirror, unflinching. “I’ll wipe away every goddamn tear.”


    “That’s not your job.”


    That fucking contract. The urge to find it and tear it to shreds nearly overwhelms me.


    Instead, I stalk toward her, my hands going to the buttons of her blouse.


    “What are you doing?” she asks, not resisting as I start to strip her with methodical precision.


    “You need to calm down. Since you’re clearly in the mood to fight me on this, we’re starting with a bath.”


    She falls silent, letting me undress herpletely. When she’s naked, I guide her to the floating tub and start the water.


    While it fills, I undress efficiently, never taking my eyes off her.


    The vulnerability in her posture makes my chest ache. She looks small, fragile—everything she’s not.


    My Sutton is a fighter. A survivor.


    I slide into the tub behind her, pulling her back against my chest. She’s stiff at first, her breathing in short bursts that tell me she’s still fighting tears.


    I ignore that and start massaging her scalp, working my fingers through her silk-soft hair until I feel her shoulders start to rx. Thevender-scented steam rises around us.


    “I need to rify something,” I say finally, keeping my voice low and controlled. “And I need you to actually hear me this time.”


    She tenses again. “Okay.”


    “You seem to think I’m disappointed somehow. That you’ve failed me.” I tighten my arms around her. “Let me be crystal fucking clear: I’m not, and you haven’t. The only thing disappointing me right now is seeing you tear yourself apart over this.”


    “But this weekend on the yacht?—”


    “I was an overbearing asshole,” I cut her off. “It was a bad day for me. But you pulled me out of it.”


    She sniffs. “You’re just being kind.”


    I snort, the sound echoing off the marble walls. “That’s something I’ve never been used of before.”


    “You like to pretend you’re some unfeeling brute who doesn’t give a shit about other people, but I know that’s not true, Oleg.”


    The way she says my name does something to my chest I don’t want to examine too closely.


    “If you can believe that, then believe me when I say I’m not worried about getting pregnant. It will happen when it happens. We just have to be patient.”


    She finally rxes fully against me, her head lolling back on my shoulder. I wrap my arms tighter around her.


    “I suppose maybe I’m projecting,” she admits quietly. “The thing is, the more I think about getting pregnant, the more I want it. I keep having dreams…”


    “Tell me about them.”


    She sighs. “I keep seeing this beautiful little baby. Gold eyes, like yours. Blonde hair, like mine. The sweetest smile you could imagine.”


    “Boy or girl?”


    “Boy,” she answers without hesitation. “He’s a little heartbreaker.”


    “Funny,” I murmur against her hair. “I keep seeing a girl.”


    “Really?” She twists in my arms. “I would have thought you’d want a boy. To carry on the family name and all that gendered bullshit.”


    “I should want a boy, for all those reasons. Buttely…” I pause, the words sticking in my throat. “I’ve been thinking about Oriana.”


    She slides her hands over my arms, her touch achingly gentle. “What do you think she would have made of all this?”


    “She would have liked you.” The admissiones easier than expected. “But she would have called me crazy.”


    “Because of the contract?”


    “Because of all of it.” I stare at the water, our hazy reflections in it. “She was a romantic. Believed in sappy shit like love at first sight and soulmates.”


    “But you don’t?”


    “No. I’m more practical.”


    I have to be. Being anything else is as good as a death sentence.


    I feel her slight exhale, the way her body seems to dete against mine. “I suppose there’s something in being practical,” she acknowledges softly. “You don’t get caught up in sentimental gestures.”


    “Elise can attest to that.” I huff out augh, remembering how angry Oriana and Elise were when I said all of this to them back then.


    My sister called me a “heartless monster.”


    We fall silent. There’s just the swish of the water, the easy rumble of my breathing and hers. I can almost hear Sutton’s mind working, weighing whether to ask what she really wants to know.


    “Did you love her?”


    I don’t have to ask who she means. “I suppose I did. As well as I could love at eighteen. I can’t tell you if it would havested. But it was real.”


    “Then you’re lucky,” she whispers, and the brokenness in her voice makes my fists clench under the water. “I’ve never loved any man. And no man has ever loved me.”


    Something in my chest cracks open.


    The box that has been burning a hole in my desk drawer is in the pocket of my pants on the floor now. I thought it would be a good idea to give it to her, but now…


    Would giving it to her only make her feel worse?


    “Men have wanted me all my life,” she says bitterly, speaking softly like she wishes she didn’t have to say it at all. “Ever since I hit puberty, I’ve gotten attention. But no one has ever cared about me. It’s the Palmer curse. We’re desired, never loved.”


    “That’s bullshit,” I growl against her hair. “The Palmer curse is fucking nonsense.”


    She shrugs. “Does it matter now? My hands are tied. I signed on the dotted line.”


    I reach for my discarded jacket, pulling out the Tiffany box I’d nned to present with more ceremony.


    But fuck ceremony.


    This isn’t about romance.


    It’s about setting things right.


    I snap open the box, revealing the eight-carat blue diamond. “I think it’s time we renegotiated terms.”


    She stiffens in my arms. “What do you mean?”


    “This arrangement between us has… evolved. The old terms don’t fit anymore.” I take the ring out, letting the box fall aside. “You’re not my employee, Sutton. You’re my partner.”


    She stares down at the ring. “Oleg…”


    “The old ring was never right. My mother gave it to you; it doesn’t fit. This one…” I slide it onto her finger. “This one is you. Rare. Valuable. Strong enough to cut through anything.”


    “It’s too much.”


    “It’s exactly enough.” I close my hand over hers. “New terms. Equal partners. No more hiding behind that fucking contract.”


    She examines the ring, tilting it to catch the light. “And if I can’t give you what you want?”


    It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her that everything I want is right here in this tub.


    This is all I’ll ever need.


    Instead, I turn her around to face me, sending waves of water sloshing out onto the tiled floor. “Since meeting you, I think about the future in a new way. I have hope, Sutton. Hope that things will work out.”


    Her eyes are watery as she blinks up at me. “Do you mean that?”


    “Every word.” I nod. “I want you to have hope, too.”


    She bites her lip. “I don’t know if I can. It’s nevere easily to me.”


    I hook a finger under her chin and draw her a little closer to me. “Then I guess I’ll have to find a way to change that.”