Page 76 of To Tango, with Desire

“So, communication. If we want to make this work, then we need a system or something.”

“I think that’s wise. Given how busy I can get, I can share my calendar with you. You’ll be able to access all my meetings and social events.”

“No.” I held up my hands. “I don’t want to be your secretary. I want you to communicate with me. Like this. Face-to-face. So . . . if you won’t be home for dinner or are working late or something, let me know. And I’ll do the same.”

If it was one thing my parents sucked at, it was being on the same page. This might be an arranged marriage, but I didn’t want to be constantly fighting or in conflict with my husband.

“Deal. But can I make a request that you take a few days off? I know your business is important and you’re at the scaling stage, so I get it. Maybe we carve out a bit of time every day for critical work matters, but for the most part, we have a week off. I don’t want to spend eight hours in my office on my honeymoon.”

“I hadn’t planned to work all day, just here and there.”

“I can handle here and there. Now, what are your thoughts about charity events? Would you be willing to accompany me when required?”

I shrugged. “Yeah, sure.”

“It might mean dressing in fancy clothes and dripping in diamonds.”

I leaned back, huffing. “Oh, if I must. But honestly, Zane, I don’t expect any of that. I mean, I get you have bucket loads of money, but you don’t have to gift me things.”

“You’re my wife, Amira. I want to do it.”

And it was something that I was still getting used to. It was wild how my life had changed so drastically in the span of a few months.

“Sooo what now, husband?”

“Want to go swimming?”

“Out in the cold?”

“In our indoor pool.”

“Oh. Right. Forgot about that.” I looked down at my rings glinting in the morning light. It still felt odd being married and living in a mansion. Would I ever get used to it? “Sure. I’ll just need to find my bathers.”

Zane stood. “You won’t be needing them.”

TWENTY

AMIRA

The next week passed in newlywed bliss . . . until I got caught.

We talked, swam, watched movies, did all of the normal things that a couple would do on their honeymoon. Everything except actually having sex.

And because of it, there was a delicate ripple in the air whenever we touched. I found myself holding my breath when he stripped off his T-shirt to work out or ogling his body when he dressed in the morning. Somehow, the lack of sex had me wanting it even more. It was like some bizarre form of foreplay.

I was horny for my husband but refused to do anything about it.

It was madness.

We spent our days at the mansion, sometimes going out for lunch dates or just lazing by the pool. Our evenings were usually spent with Zane teaching me how to play chess or watching a movie. I found out he was allergic to kiwi fruit, loved caramel popcorn, and woke up early every day. Years of discipline had made it difficult for him to switch off.

It wasn’t like I was any better. My business was at a critical stage, and I was in the process of fielding calls from potential seamstresses to help me keep up with orders. We’d decided against a traditional overseas holiday honeymoon at this stage, until I’d at least brought someone on board to help with sewing. Now I was regretting it, thinking a touristy honeymoon would have been the perfect distraction.

My parents had visited us a few times, as had my sister and brothers. And as far as the world—and the papers—were concerned, we were locked away in Zane’s mansion, doing what newlyweds did.

Which last night was a fucking jigsaw puzzle.

I’d not been this hot for sex since I was a virgin.