The Wrong Sister

The Choice

Arwen felt the ground shift beneath her feet. “Where is she?”

“I don’t know yet. Rowan just sent a preliminary message.” Caelum set his phone down without looking at it again. “But that’s not what matters right now.”

“How can you say that doesn’t matter? If Isolde’s back, then I...”

“Then you what?” He moved closer again, eliminating the distance she’d created. “Go back to being invisible? Disappear like you never existed? Pretend these last few weeks didn’t happen?”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“Stop thinking about what you’re supposed to do and tell me what you want to do.” His voice dropped lower. “You opened that door tonight for a reason, Arwen. You came into my room being yourself for maybe the first time since I met you. So tell me why.”

She looked up at him and the truth was right there at her throat, begging to be let out.

I want you to see me. I want you to choose me over the idea of her.

But the words were too much like admitting she’d fallen for a man who’d married someone else.

“I want to be more than a replacement,” she said instead, and heard her voice come out steadier than she felt. “I want to be an asset to you, a real partner in this marriage, instead of just someone playing a role. I want...”

“A business proposition.” His jaw tightened. “That’s what you came here to offer me? A better deal than your sister?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean? Because I need you to be very clear right now about what you’re asking for.” He was so close she could feel his breath on her face. “Are you asking to stay married to me because it’s practical and saves your family?”

“I’m asking to stay because I don’t want to go back to being no one.” The words tumbled out faster now. “I don’t want to spend the rest of my life wondering what would have happened if I’d been brave enough to ask for what I actually wanted.”

“And what do you actually want?”

You. This. Us.

But she couldn’t make herself that vulnerable when she didn’t know if he felt anything beyond suspicion and desire.

“I want to be your wife,” she said carefully, watching his face for any reaction. “Not Isolde pretending to tolerate you for money, but me actually choosing to build something real with you. I want to be a partner you can trust...”

“Stop.” He cut her off, his voice rough. “You make it seem like a business negotiation.”

“But that’s what marriage is in our world, isn’t it? A negotiation, a merger, a...”

“Is that really what you think this is?” He reached up, and she thought he was finally going to touch her, but his hand stopped inches from her face, hovering in the space between them. “After everything that’s happened between us, you think I want another cold arrangement?”

“I don’t know what you want.”

“I want you to stop performing.” His hand was still suspended near her cheek. “I want you to tell me the truth instead of giving me calculated answers.”

“I’m trying to tell you the truth.”

“No, you’re trying to sell yourself to me like you’re a product I should invest in.” His voice gentled slightly. “I don’t want an asset, Arwen. I don’t want a business partner who’s going to make smart decisions at charity events.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I want to know if you feel this.” He finally closed the distance, his hand cupping her face with a gentleness that made her breath catch. “I want to know if you lie awake at night thinking about me the way I think about you, if your heart races when I walk into a room, if you look at me at every event even when you’re pretending not to.”

She couldn’t breathe. His thumb was tracing slow circles on her cheekbone and she wanted to lean into the touch so badly.

“I want to know if any of this is real for you,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper now. “Or if I’m just convenient.”

“You’re not convenient.” The words came out shaky. “You’re terrifying.”

“Why?”

“Because you see me.” She closed her eyes, unable to hold his gaze while admitting this. “You look at me, and you see Arwen, not the invisible daughter, not the replacement. And that’s more frightening than anything else that’s happened.”

“Why is that frightening?”

“Because what happens when you stop liking what you see?” She forced her eyes open to look at him. “What happens when the real me isn’t enough, and you wish you’d gotten the polished version instead?”

“The polished version was empty.” His other hand came up to frame her face, holding her gently like she was something so precious. “She was beautiful and completely hollow. I would have spent the rest of my life married to a stranger.”

“And now you’re married to a liar.”

“No. Now I’m married to someone who paints because it makes her feel alive, who handles aggressive reporters without breaking a sweat.” His thumbs were still moving in those maddening circles on her cheeks. “I’m married to someone real, even if she’s been hiding behind someone else’s name.”

“Caelum...”

“Tell me what you really want, Arwen.” His forehead dropped to rest against hers and she could feel his breath mixing with her own. “Tell me what you want when you’re lying in bed at night and you’re too tired to keep lying to yourself.”

The truth found its way up her throat and this time she couldn’t push it back down.

“I want you to choose me.” Her voice broke on the words. “I want you to want me. I want you to look at me the way you’re looking at me right now and mean it.”

He closed his eyes.

And she watched his expression change, something cracked in that careful control he always maintained, and when he opened his eyes again the cold heir was completely gone.

What stared back at her was just a man—vulnerable and wanting and laid completely bare.

“Then be mine,” he whispered, and his mouth crashed down on hers.

The kiss was not gentle.

It was claiming and surrender and desperation all tangled together. His hands were in her hair, tilting her head back to deepen the kiss, and she grabbed onto his shoulders to keep from collapsing because her legs had stopped working entirely.

She’d been kissed before but never like this, never like someone was trying to consume her whole.

He pulled back just far enough to look at her, his pupils blown wide and his breathing ragged.

“Say it again,” he demanded, his voice wrecked. “Tell me you want this.”

“I want this. I want you. I want...”

He kissed her again before she could finish, and this time when his hands slid down her back to pull her flush against him she went willingly, pressing herself against the solid warmth of him and finally admitting what she’d been denying for weeks.

She was in love with her husband.

When they finally broke apart they were both breathing hard, foreheads pressed together, and Arwen could feel her heart hammering so hard she was sure he could hear it.

“We should talk about Isolde,” she managed to say, even though talking was the last thing she wanted to do. “About what happens now that she’s been found.”

“I don’t care about Isolde.” He kissed her again, softer this time. “I care about you. About this...”

His phone buzzed again.

They both froze.

“Don’t answer it,” Arwen whispered.