“I’m sure you can pretend just fine,” he murmured, as he raised his hand and began to twirl one of the curls that framed her face around his index finger. “Think of it as playing a character. Inside the walls of Enchantra you’re no longer Genevieve Grimm. You’re my wife.” He tucked the strand of hair he’d been playing with behind her ear, letting his fingertips graze her cheeks ever so lightly and making her suck in a breath as she resisted the urge to lean into the touch. “In front of everyone you’ll smile and pretend like you actually enjoy my company. There can be no arguing.” A wicked
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