them. He tugs me closer. "No one will break you ever again. I'm sorry we have to be back here."
I stick my chin out. "I'm not."
A deep line forms between his eyebrows. "Why not?"
"Have you heard me complain?"
He tucks my hair behind my ear. "No, ma belle. You have never complained once about any of this. I'm fortunate to have a woman like you who can love me through all this chaos."
"As your wife," I add.
His grin widens. "I love how you never let me forget it."
I wrap my arms around him. "I am Mrs. Malin Cox. Owned and loved and no one's property but yours. And no matter what the President or any other man wants, they will not touch me because they have to go through you."
Malin's eyes darken. "I only own you to the extent you own me, ma belle. We are equals."
He reminds me all the time. It's so easy for me to slip into our roles. No matter how much time passes, it doesn't seem to get easier for Malin. But I don't have a problem morphing into it.
I'm screwed up. I know I am. No one should want to be owned by anyone. But I love every aspect of being Malin's property.
I smile. "I know." I point to the wall. "And he will not break me, or you, or us. This time, I am prepared for the room."
Malin's face grows more serious. "You can never be fully prepared for the room, Emilia."
"I don't believe that."
"Do not ever drop your guard in the room or around any of them."
"That isn't my intention."
Malin studies me for a moment. "We haven't been to an event since we got married. And we've not been to the room since you were presented."
"It couldn't last forever, could it?" I tease.
"Someday, it will. There will be no more of these."
I trace my bare neck. "I kind of miss wearing my choker."
His eyes turn to slits. "Why do you make light of this?"
"Why do you not understand I love showing everyone I am yours?"
"There are other ways to show that we are each other's."
"You had it made for me."
He glances at the ceiling, clenching his jaw.
I lean into his ear. "If I love it, you should embrace it."
He sighs. It's a never-ending issue we can't agree on.
I slide his wedding band off his finger and hold it up. "Your band says, 'Emilia' and 'Ma belle.' Not 'love, Emilia' or 'love, Ma belle.'" I take mine off. "Mine says, 'Forever Yours, Malin.' You happily wear both my names every day, yet you don't like me wearing yours."
"It's not the same."
"Isn't it?"
He stares at my lips. "You're impossible, ma belle."
"You still love me," I tease and steal a kiss.
"It won't be like our other dinners," he says.
"I'm aware of the difference."
"We will not be able to leave until the President's son does."
Silence fills the room, and my heart beats faster. "Our normal arrangement will not work then."
"I will make it work."
I shake my head. "No."
"I will not share you with any of them."
I lean into his ear. "I know what I'm going to wear."
He freezes.
I put my hand on his chest. "Under whatever dress you have sent here, of course."
"Oh?" He arches an eyebrow.
I suck lightly on his earlobe. "Do you know what I remember seeing during my presentation night?"
His heart thumps against my palm. He murmurs, "What?"
"Dark corners. People away from others."
He pulls my chin so I'm looking into his eyes. His voice is stern. "What are you asking me, Emilia?"
I know whenever he calls me Emilia, he is worried, or on the verge of being angry. He's now done it more than once during this conversation.
I pick my chin up. "To find the dark corner before others in the room find it first."
"I thought I made it clear I won't share you."
"You have. And that's what the dark corner is for."
"Em—"
I put my fingers over his lips. "Call me, your ma belle."
His jaw clenches.
"Do not think we can be in the room and not have a different outcome when we have to be there all night and into the morning."
He closes his eyes.
"A dark corner, my husband. We will arrive early. We will choose our spot. We will ignore the stage and focus on each other."
He opens his eyes, but his jaw twitches.
"It's the best solution. Think about it." I kiss him then step back.
"Emil—"
I cross my arms.
He exhales. "Ma belle, this underworld we are in..."
"What about it?"
"I sometimes wonder if you