"A marriage?" Xavier whispered, his eyes wide. "You want me to marry you for a year?"
"Three hundred and sixty-five days," Seraphina corrected him, standing up to look out at the storm-drenched city. "My grandfather's inheritance requires me to be a 'stable, family-oriented leader.' I need a husband who is quiet, obedient, and out of the way. You fit the bill perfectly."
She turned to face him, the lightning outside silhouetting her like a goddess of war.
"There are three rules, Xavier. Rule one: We are a perfect couple in public. Rule two: We are strangers in private—no touching, no emotions. And rule three..." Her voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "You will stay in the East Wing of my mansion. You are never, under any circumstances, to enter the basement. Do we have a deal?"