Conrad was in his study when Victoria strolled in. She hopped up on his desk, crossing her legs. Conrad smiled, but his smile faded when he noticed his wife's behavior. She had taken his glass of scotch, downing it in one gulp and sat in silence. Her forehead furrowed the way it did when there was something on her mind and she stared out the window.
"To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"It appears that Charlotte has made a project out of getting us back together." Victoria didn't even bother looking at him. Instead she stared out the window, watching the clouds darken.
"Surely our daughter is smart enough to realize that we're already together."
"You know what I mean." She said harsher than she had intended.
"As usual, I am befuddled by you."
"She thinks that you're in love with me!" She cried.
"Smart girl. I am in love with you." Conrad said it so matter of factly that Victoria huffed, suddenly agitated.
"She thinks I'm in love with you, too."
"You are."
Victoria jumped up, crossing her arms. She had been irritated by Charlotte, but Conrad was beyond deplorable. She regretted emptying his glass because she could have thrown it in his face for an accusation like that.
"You're delusional."
"My dear, you've had many chances to leave. You chose to stay. You've taken 'wifely duties' to an entirely different meaning. You've helped me build an empire and more importantly, helped me maintain it. You take care of me and our children. Your wit keeps me humble," he said, knowing she would roll her eyes. "Are you cautious? Of course. Guarded? No doubt. But you are madly, passionately, desperately in love with me."
She slapped him across the face. She knew he was right and that made her angry. She didn't want to love him. She didn't choose it. And more than anything, she had hoped to keep that aspect of her life secret, especially from him.
Instead of taking offense, Conrad considered the slap a symbol of Victoria's agreement. If she weren't in love with him, she could just list reasons why she wasn't. She couldn't come up with any reasons, which had infuriated her. He ran his hands through her hair before gripping the back of her neck, pushing her close enough for his lips to crash into hers.
"I don't love you," she whispered. Her lips immediately reconnected with his. He lifted her back onto the desk, letting his hands wander up her legs. She pressed her hands against his chest, forcing him to catch his breath.
"I can't do this."
"You can't or you don't want to?"
"I'm not sure anymore," she said with such sadness that he had to look away. By the time he glanced back, she was already out the door.