Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 125121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
“You hate olives, reality TV, and people who adopt dogs only to leave them chained up in the backyard all day and night. You love rainy days, sleeping in, and anything purple.”
I drifted down to my purple heels.
“I know all about you, Sinclair.” His voice was hard. “You’re rare. No one like you has ever lived in Regalia, and I can’t help holding on to everything you say and do. The stupid fucking fact of the matter is that we do belong together.”
I blew back. What did he say?
“My mother was right to choose you, and I realized that too late to stop myself sticking my dick in another girl’s mouth and getting caught. I messed it up the first time, but refusing to forgive me, constantly picking fights, ignoring my calls, standing me up when I asked you out, moving in with the Rogues, hooking up with them the second we split, and kissing my brother...” He shook his head. “That was all you.”
“Victor...”
He let out a small bark of a laugh. “The funny thing is that I know you so well, I also know why I’m the one you won’t let yourself be with.” Victor met my gaze. “You look at me and you see a Royal. My family, my home, the wedding. Marrying me is stepping into the world that destroyed your sister.”
I swallowed hard, lips trembling.
“Why should it accept you when it rejected her? How can you go where she couldn’t, or be happy where she wasn’t?” He stopped just short of my reach, and backed away. “One day you’re going to realize that the sweet, kind girl I used to pass in the halls doesn’t want your unhappiness. But by the time you figure that out, who knows if there’ll be anything left between us to save.”
Victor slammed out the door, leaving me shell-shocked and frozen on the carpet.
“Wait,” I croaked softly. “Victor, wait!” My legs came alive. Taking off, I ran through the hall after him. “Please, stop. You can’t just leave me here.”
“I’m not.” Victor slammed his keys down next to our forgotten pancakes. “Take the car back. I need to think.”
“Think about what?” Leaving me?
He didn’t answer.
Victor climbed off the boat, heading down the marina. I waited against hope that he’d come back, but he never did.
“EVERYTHING ALL RIGHT, Lady Luna?”
I shook myself, coming to and finding Lucien leaning against my doorframe. He was sex dipped in chocolate—wearing a tight black-and-red waistcoat, and even tighter pants.
I tried for a smile. “I’m okay. I just had a weird date with Victor. I’m not sure what to think about how we left things.”
“Did he give you an answer on if he can handle this?” He gestured between us.
“He told me a lot of things,” I said softly, “but not that.”
“Are you up for this tonight?”
“Yes,” I replied before he finished the question. “There is literally nothing else I’d rather do tonight than go to Toussaint’s with you. I even dressed for the occasion.”
I twirled in the lace, black-and-blue embroidered Victorian gown I bought online. I was starting to understand why Lucien wore these clothes every day. It was one hundred percent a choice because vampire or not, there was nothing stopping him from slipping on jeans and a t-shirt.
Still, he didn’t because there’s something about this era’s clothes. Both modest and sexy. Elegant and understated. Creative but simple. Prudish and fun to get out of.
“What do you think?”
“Luna, you look so incredible, I’m tempted to slam this door and do very ungentlemanlike things to you for the rest of the night.”
“Good,” I teased. “That’s what I was going for.”
Lucien held out his arm. “Shall we?”
We left for the restaurant, heading out in his rarely used car. I put Victor out of my mind—for the moment.
Toussaint’s was packed that night as it was most nights. The Royals loved it because most Dregs couldn’t afford to eat there, and everyone else loved it because the food was ambrosia fallen from the buffet of the gods.
“Table for two. Calais.”
I peeked through the busy restaurant to the back.
Toussaint’s molded their space in the French bistro style. A blue sky of painted, wispy clouds covered us, and green vines covered the columns reaching to meet them. Dotted around the space were small, intimate tables covered in white linen and candles. It was all open floor plan except for the space in the back which was slightly blocked off by columns and a well-placed tapestry of the French countryside.
It was obvious that tapestry was added after the restaurant was built, because the Royals wanted separation from the regular patrons.
“Here you are, sir,” said the hostess. She cut a striking figure in an elegant black dress and a charming smile. “Right this way.”
“I requested a table in back.”
“We were able to accommodate, sir.” She winked. “Along with your special request.”