Mary Ann’s POV
“May I court you properly, Mary Ann?”
For several seconds, I simply stared at him.
Of all the things I expected Modric to say after placing his Alpha ring back on his finger, that was not one of them.
Court me.
My husband wanted permission to court me.
The man who had once treated our marriage like a punishment now sat before me looking uncertain, almost cautious, as though my answer mattered more than his pride.
My wolf stirred beneath my skin.
Not with excitement.
Not entirely.
With suspicion.
Hope had hurt us before.
I tightened my hold on the provisional agreement.
“You want to court your own wife.”
“Yes.”
“You understand how ridiculous that sounds.”
“I do.”
“And humiliating.”
“For me?”
“For both of us.”
His expression remained serious.
“We were marr
