“Mana mila.” He took her hand in his and kissed her cold fingertips. “You know that I love you. You know that those women mean nothing to me, that I never so much as laid a finger on most of them. You know that you own me, every last bit of me, forever. Why do you allow this to hurt you?”
“Because it’s true,” she said hollowly. “You’ve dated models. You’re a handsome doctor from a prominent, wealthy family. I’m a plain girl from a plain family, working under some of the most unglamorous conditions in the world. I’m not ashamed of what I do, but I’ll never be one of those beautiful women in the photographs.” Tears leaked down her cheeks, and his heart felt like it might break.
He gathered her in his arms. “You are so much more beautiful to me than anyone else. I do not want one of those women. I only want you.” He kissed the tears from her cheeks, then pressed her against him. “I will never want anyone except you. You, and only you.” She began to sob into his shoulder, and he rocked her in his arms. “I am here now. I will not leave. We are together now,” he whispered, remembering the faraway echo of her voice during his delirium. She cried for a long time, then lay still in the dark with him.
“Mother made you a tray.” He switched on a light and propped her against the pillows. “Please eat, or else she may come up here and feed you herself, whether you wish to eat or not.”
She spooned up his mother’s soup as he watched anxiously. She hadn’t gained back the weight she’d lost during her bout of dysentery. The circles under her eyes still hadn’t gone away.
“Joanna made a suggestion this evening about how we might deal with this unsavory coverage.”
“Oh?” Sophie’s voice was dull. “What does she have in mind? We should move to a desert island?”
He smiled and waggled his eyebrows. “That appeals to me. I would have you naked the entire day,” he said. “And make love to you in the ocean and on the beach.”
“Seriously, now.”
“She would like us to consider doing an exclusive together on a major primetime news program.”
Sophie immediately shook her head. “No. Absolutely not. Marlene said...”
“I know what Marlene said, but the situation has changed. We must change with it. Joanna thinks Current Event would be best. She believes we would be treated with greater respect and be given an opportunity to tell our story the way it should be told.”
“An exclusive? On Current Event?” She thought that over for a moment. “That would mean we would talk about everything, including us. They would ask a lot of questions. Your privacy…”
“Our privacy,” he corrected her, “is already in tatters. This cannot go on, mana mila. I cannot stand to see you hurt this way.” Michael took her hand. “Will you consider it?”
“You would do this for me?” Her eyes filled with tears again.
“I would do this for us.”
Chapter 20
April 16, 2014
“Hold still, you’ve got an eyelash on your cheek.” Sophie reached for his face.
Michael glowered at her, his hand twitching as if he wanted to slap her hand away. “Do not touch me. Leave me alone.”
She scowled back but didn’t attempt to touch him again. He swiped furiously at his cheek, trying to get rid of the offending eyelash. Michael caught a glimpse of the hair and makeup assistants rolling their eyes at one another, and he glared at them. They both found things to do in other rooms.
“For two people who are madly in love with one another, you look like you’re going to tear each other’s throats out.” Joanna walked into the room, her high heels clicking on the tiled floor. Michael had spent so much time with Joanna that he was ready to kill her, and Sophie suspected the feeling was very mutual.
All Sophie wanted was to be left alone with Michael. Instead they were walking into a television studio to do an interview. She reached down to brush his sweaty, clenched fingers.
“It’s all right,” she said in Orlisian. “It’s only this once. Then we can go back to your parents’ house and make love on your father’s desk.” His eyes flew up to hers in shock. “Or perhaps we could just stick to your bed.”
He smiled reluctantly and brought her fingertips to his mouth.
“Ms. Swenda? Dr. Nariovsky-Trent?” They looked up at the man who had entered the room. “Why don’t you come into the studio to meet Annabelle?”
Neither of them was ready to let go, so they walked into the Current Event studios hand in hand to meet Annabelle Hunter.
April 27, 2014
Michael had no interviews scheduled for the week the show aired, a good call since his reaction to nervousness was – predictably – bad temper. He’d been so surly at the breakfast table on the day of the airing that Maxwell had given him a few choice sentences in Orlisian about common courtesy. Sophie had never heard Max speak the language before; his mastery of it put her own to shame. Michael apologized and subsided into a tense silence.
“Put the morning show on.” She poured her second cup of coffee. Michael’s refuge might be temper, but hers was control. “They usually run an excerpt from tonight’s show.”