The First Lady

I lifted my rose-colored whale-bone skirt, deciding I ought to play the innocent. Leaning toward Edward's ear, I said, “Darling, what did Toxilie mean just now? Why didn't I understand? How annoying. You must be thinking I'm stupid.”

He glanced at me without a word, a vein twitching in his forehead.

I went on, “You men are so awful, always thinking about dirty things. Your Highness, why aren't you saying anything? You're ignoring me again.”

He covered his forehead and shot me a sideways look. “What are you doing?”

I thought for a moment. “Don't you think I'm adorable like this?”

He narrowed his eyes at me.

“Isn't this the sort of thing men like, when women act coquettish?”

He pinched my cheek and squeezed hard. “Sophia, don't think I won't bully you.”

I was furious. “When have you ever not bullied me? You just take advantage of the fact that I like you. Come on, try it! You're sleeping on the floor tonight.”

“Darling,” he said, pouncing on me. “I was wrong. You can bully me. I'm adorable, so bully me all you want.” (No matter how twisted things get in the middle, the ending is HE, so don't worry.)