\[Denali’s POV\]
I stare in disbelief while Rosco steadily holds his gaze on me. His eyes are full of so much honesty and earnestness that it makes my heart squeeze and my stomach do a little flip.
No, I whisper inwardly as I feel myself beginning to cave. If you do this, you’re just going to end up broken, like all the other times you tried to trust someone.
Right. This was just a passing fancy for him. Soon, the new moon ball would roll around, and there was a chance he would find his mate. If that happened, I would be free from this marriage, and I could have the freedom I wanted.
What Rosco and I had now was enough. I had someone on my side against my family, and I was more than grateful. I didn’t need to be more greedy. Doing that wasn’t fair to me or Rosco.
“Sorry,” I say quietly. “I can’t do that.”
The words hurt to say, but a line needed to be drawn between us. I gave my heart to someone before and ended up scorned because of the mate bond, and I wasn’t willing to do it again.
“You’re a good guy,” I continue when Rosco doesn’t speak. “And because of that, you’re doing all of this for me. I’m thankful and will forever be indebted to you, but I can't possibly be selfish and wish for all your affection. There is a woman out there waiting to meet you, and when you find her, you won’t even think twice about me.”
Growing quiet, I wait as Rosco processes my words, but instead of understanding forming on his face, I’m met with disbelief and even anger.
“Is that the real reason?” He asks, his gaze narrowing. “You’re worried that I’ll find my mate at the new moon ball?” As he speaks, his eyes darken. “Don’t make me laugh. This has nothing to do with that. You’re just scared of getting hurt.”
Of course, I was scared of getting hurt. Since my mother’s death, all I have received was pain and suffering from those I hoped would actually care about me.
“And?” I ask slowly. “What’s so wrong with that? I’ve only been shit on up until this point, and I don’t want to continue being disappointed.”
“I’m not any of them,” Rosco counters. “And it actually pisses me the fuck off that you would even compare me to all the others.”
“How are you any different?” I challenge. “We’ve only known each other for about a week, and even if things have been going smoothly since that fumble at the beginning, it doesn’t change the fact that we are still practically strangers.”
“Strangers,” he repeats, giving me a look of disbelief. “I don’t think that at all.”
Frowning, I try to determine exactly what he means by us not being strangers. The most I knew about him was that he absolutely hated my father, and it seemed he wasn’t a fan of his parents either. Along with that, he was a workaholic and had a habit of not being able to be serious about a single thing, except sex.
“How are we not?” I sigh. “You don’t know anything about me, and likewise, I don’t know a thing about you.”
“I know you,” Rosco counters. “I know that you lost your mother at a young age and, in the process, lost the one person that meant the most to you. I know that you desperately crave love and acceptance, but because of that asshole who calls himself a man, you’ve been crushed beyond belief. I know that you wear your heart on your sleeve despite everything you’ve been through, and even now you’re willing to try to see the good in everyone despite being hurt and fucked over by them. You're strong, and despite everything, you continue to push forward. Any man would be lucky to have a woman like you."
Shivering, I try to ignore how spot-on he is about everything, but despite all of that, there was still so much that he didn’t know about me.
“Anyone would know that,” I sigh. “My history isn’t exactly a secret. But there’s much more to me than my demons.”
“And I want to know all of that,” Rosco pushes. “I want to know your every dream and goal. I want to know what makes you smile and what makes you cry. No one goes into a relationship fully knowing one another; that’s what time is for.”
Dammit, why was he making this so hard? Wasn’t it enough that we were comrades and I was going to help him with his revenge against my father? Why did he insist that we actually attempt to form something much deeper? Unless…
“Is this simply because you want an heir?”
The words are out of my lips before I can even stop them, and the minute they are, a growl of anger escapes Rosco.
“Do you really fucking believe that I would go through so much trouble to fuck a woman?” He hisses, his aura beginning to trickle out around us. “I’m sorry, but I’m not that desperate.”
Wincing, I try to ignore the fear I feel from the anger emanating from him, but in the end, I hold strong since I was the one who pushed this button.
“Is this what you truly think of me?” He continues. “That I’m a piece of shit that would lie about actually wanting to form something deep with a woman just so I can sleep with her and make a fucking child?”
Letting out another growl, Rosco revs the car to life and slams on the gas while I slam back into my seat.
“I do,” I say quietly, deciding that this was what was needed to keep the distance between us. “I’m sorry, but I won’t be another notch in your bedpost.”
“I guess I was wrong about you.”
Eyes widening, I take in Rosco as he stares straight ahead, easily navigating the streets of this foreign country that we are in until we reach our hotel. Unlike earlier on, when he seemed so open and easy for me to touch, he looks so distant that it makes my heart hurt.
“You were." I agree. “I have no interest in love or anything like it, and I don’t plan on ever having children because our world is too fucked up. Please do yourself a favor and find another woman to help you create an heir and divorce me once we’ve completed your revenge.”
“Got it.”
When we reach our destination, Rosco jumps out of the car and doesn’t bother coming to help me out. Instead, he just storms inside while I’m left to watch.
With each step he takes further away from me, I can feel a dull ache, and that alone leaves me uneasy. If it was hurting me to have him act this way toward me when we weren’t really anything, how bad would it be if we were actually close or even in love?
“This is for the best,” I whisper, fighting the tears. “For both of us.”
Settling on this, I slowly get out of the car and then head in the direction Rosco disappeared in, taking as much time as I possibly can so that I can compose myself. And when I arrive at our room and head inside, Rosco is showering.
Sitting on the bed, I wait until he finishes and comes out with a pair of slacks on. Ignoring me completely, he heads to the closet, pulls out a white button-down shirt, and throws it on.
“Going somewhere?” I ask, wanting to break the silence. ”Do you need me to get dressed and go…”
“No,” he says, cutting me off before I can finish my sentence. “This isn’t business-related. I’m going out for some drinks with Harold; don’t wait up; I’m going to be late.”
Nodding, I swallow down the knot that is beginning to rise in my throat. Out for drinks with another single man, women were sure to be there.
“Have fun,” I say, giving a small smile. “You’ve worked hard and definitely deserve to relax a bit.”
“Yeah.”
Giving me one last look, Rosco grabs his jacket and makes his way to the door, and after pulling on his shoes, he heads out without giving me a second glance.