I am in love with Santiago De La Rosa. I am in love with my husband which in a normal world would be a wonderful thing. But in our world, it’s dangerous. It’s a weakness. Does he see it too? Does he see it and is using it to manipulate me? To have an obedient wife who will accept his wishes, submit to them without an opinion of her own? A wife who carries and births his heir?

His.

“Ivy?” I blink, look up at Antonia who asks me again if I want something else to eat.

I glance down at my plate, see the eggs are still there. Cold now. My toast is untouched. I don’t remember buttering it but I haven’t eaten a single bite.

And Santiago is sitting at the head of the table, tired eyes locked on me.

“No, thanks. I’m just a little nauseous this morning,” I lie. Although I’m sure if I keep going down this road it will be the truth. “I’ll just have some tea.” I pick up my now tepid tea and realize I haven’t sipped that either.

“Let me get you a fresh cup,” Antonia starts but Santiago puts a hand on her arm.

“No.”

“It’s cold—”

“Leave us.”

“It’ll just take a minute, sir.”

But he shifts his gaze up to hers and what she must see in his eyes sends her hurrying away.

“You should be nicer to her. To all your staff. Master,” I say.

The line of his jaw hardens.

“You don’t deserve her as it—”

His fist comes down on the table so hard it rattles the silverware and dishes, making me jump. “What the hell has gotten into you?”

I put my tea cup down and set my hands on my lap. I don’t want him to see they’re trembling.

“You’re still wearing the clothes from last night,” I say.

“And?”

“You didn’t come to bed at all. At least not our bed.”

His eyebrows rise. “Whose bed do you think I’d have gone to if not my own?”

“I don’t know, Santiago. Ever since you moved me into your room it’s not like you’ve ever actually slept beside me. Did you think I wouldn’t notice? Did you just do it to shut me up? Stop my whining, I think you’d said before.”

“Of course not. What is going on with you?”

He looks taken aback. I pick up my toast and pile scrambled eggs on top but when I take a bite, the now hard toast breaks apart and the eggs slip off onto the table, my lap and floor. “Shit.” I drop what’s left of the toast onto my plate and begin to scoop up the mess on the table but Santiago’s hand closes over mine.

“Stop.”