Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 54630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
"But I d-didn't—-"
"Or start rumors with such an insinuation."
Mary's mouth snapped shut at this.
"But I'll give you one chance to make it up to me."
"H-How?"
"Look at me first," he ordered.
She shook her head.
"If you don't meet my gaze," he warned, "then I'll be exactly what you accused me of."
"A serial murderer?"
"A serial kisser."
She gasped even as her stunned gaze flew up to his, and Mary could only gasp again as she found herself under the merciless hold of the duke's icy blue gaze.
Oh dear.
Camille's gushing words about Rathe Wellesley came pounding back like nails being inescapably hammered into her brain.
The Duke of Flanders is the most beautiful man on the planet.
That was exactly how Camille had described him, and it was undeniably true.
Staffan Aehrenthal, Saffi's own rockstar husband, as well as Saffi's older brothers, Steel and Silver, were all considered some of the most beautiful men on the planet as well. There was also Saffi's devastatingly handsome almost-fiancé Jeremy, who was the bastard son of the Emir Sheikh of Ramil.
Just being friends with Saffi meant having considerable exposure to countless good-looking men, but...
The Duke of Flanders is the most beautiful man on the planet.
Rathe somehow made all of those men pale in comparison in Mary's eyes, and strangely enough, he only looked even more beautiful when she saw his wonderfully sexy lips slowly curve in a smirk.
"I finally get it," the duke murmured.
"Get what?"
"Why Staffan find his wife's eccentricity sexy as hell."
"I'm n-not eccentric," she denied right away.
"Actually, little pearl...you're the most interesting girl I've ever met."
Little pearl?
The words didn't feel like something she deserved, but for now Mary told herself to concentrate on what was more important.
"I think you're m-mistaken," she countered. "I'm the most b-boring person you can ever meet."
"If you were as uninteresting as you say—-"
"I really am," she insisted.
"My cock right now wouldn't be so fucking hard under my pants."
The duke saw Mary's eyes widen...but instead of looking away, he was disconcerted to find himself - or more specifically his cock - suddenly subject to her gaze. She was practically eating his cock with her eyes, dammit, but just as he was about to warn her how dangerously close she was to being eaten herself—-
What the fuck?
Rathe belatedly noticed the aquarium in the room. Albeit similarly set up to Saffi's, what was not the same at all were the fish swimming inside of it.
"Is that a fucking piranha?"
While Rathe was partially disappointed at how his words had her expression shifting from arousal to surprise, the smile that suddenly blossomed over her lips more than fucking made up for it.
"They're my pets."
Mary sounded exactly like a parent showing off her babies, and he saw her face even soften as she turned to look at her fish.
What the hell?
Rather's lips tightened as an unusual emotion seized his chest. Was he actually feeling...jealous of her fish?
Mary's gaze drifted back to him, and her expression immediately turned worried when she saw him glaring at her piranhas.
"I'm not going to eat them, for fuck's sake."
"I didn't say anything."
That might be true, but the way she was still looking at him now spoke volumes. The duke had a feeling it would only take one wrong word for her to bolt, with Mary looking as if she was ready to turn herself and her fish into bloody Bonnie and Clyde if that was what she believed it would take to live happily ever after with her piranhas.
The thought had him gritting his teeth, but a knock on her door saved him from telling her that there was no way a bloody fucking piranha could ever see her as family.
Mary was relieved to see Camille enter her room. She was always nervous around strangers, but more so than usual when she was alone with the Duke of Flanders. He was just too perfect that he made her feel inadequate, but what was really strange was how his proximity made her feel absurdly weak...and even stranger was how her chest literally started hurting, as soon as she heard Rathe ask the other girl to look after her. The duke handed Camille his card as well, saying in his usual chillingly polite voice that her friend was to call him if Mary were to need anything.
He almost sounded like he cared for her, but...if he did, then why was he leaving her?
Then again...why did that matter when she didn't care for him either?
Rathe told himself to ignore the look of wounded confusion on Mary's face as he saw himself out. He was not abandoning her, dammit. They might have shared one fucking kiss, but that didn't mean they had anything going on.
Camille teased her friend for acting jealous for the very first time, and while Mary insisted that the other girl was mistaken—-being accused this way troubled her.