Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 28462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 142(@200wpm)___ 114(@250wpm)___ 95(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 142(@200wpm)___ 114(@250wpm)___ 95(@300wpm)
Gorgeous blue eyes locked on my own.
Resting his chin on a fisted hand, his shoulders grow tense. He leans forward as if he’s a moment away from launching out of his seat and choking the life out of Miles. Just as I think he’s going to instigate a fight, undoubtedly a bloody one, the rest of the Brotherhood file in, one by one. Liam enters last, decked out in one of his suits, and commands everyone’s attention.
Even Sebastian’s.
But while all eyes are on the chancellor, he only sees me.
“Why is the queen naked?” He shoots Miles a look dark enough to blot out the sun.
“The queen’s attire is not your concern, Chancellor.”
“Novalee concerns us all, which is one of the reasons we hold these monthly dinners.” Liam dips into his seat next to Mr. Bordeaux, displeasure notable between his brows. “Do you think this is an appropriate way to treat the queen?”
“Yes, I believe taking away privileges is an appropriate response to disobedience.”
“Clothing at a formal dinner is a privilege?”
“In my house, it certainly is.”
Sebastian slams his fist on the table. “Maybe clothing shouldn’t be a privilege but a goddamn right, especially when in the company of twelve men.”
Miles whips his head around, and the two men engage in a standoff of murderous glares. “You have a lot of audacity to lecture me on how to run my house. You didn’t even show up to dinner last month.”
Sebastian’s gaze lands on me again, and that look—full of longing and sadness and helpless frustration—punches me in the gut. We’re both reliving that day.
The wind in our hair as excitement overflowed.
The warm sand that welcomed my body for his touch.
The breathless union of two bodies in the glow of candlelight.
“You’re in love with the queen,” Miles says, jolting us out of the memory. My keeper lets out an amused laugh. “I didn’t see that one coming, considering your disdain for the institution of marriage.”
Sebastian clenches his jaw but doesn’t give a verbal response.
It’s not enough for Miles. “Do you deny you’re in love with Novalee?”
“Who wouldn’t love her?” Sebastian’s implied declaration echoes in my mind, thawing the ice of betrayal by a degree. He meets my gaze again, and those eyes—usually on guarded lockdown—relay so much.
How sorry he is.
How much he misses me, already.
How he’s dying to trap me in his arms and never let go.
Lilith clears her throat, dragging his attention away from me. “Gentlemen, I’m famished.” Shooting a barely concealed glare at Sebastian, she shifts in her seat. “Some of us have more pressing matters to worry about than what the queen does or does not wear to dinner.” Her ruby-painted lips purse in something akin to jealousy, and for once I’m thankful for her need to be the focus of attention.
If the men are looking at her, then they aren’t looking at me.
Except for Liam. He gestures to the team of servers on standby as he aims an apologetic glance my way. “Let’s not prolong this any further, shall we?”
“Agreed,” Miles says, reaching into his jacket pocket. “But before we begin, I’d like to present the queen with my gift.” He sets a small box on the table in front of me, his expectant smile as bright as the white packaging, intricate bow and all.
After everything he put me through since I entered his house, or even the minutes before in Vance’s office, he’s delusional if he thinks a gift will make up for his behavior.
“Open it,” he prompts, a rare amount of impatience entering his tone.
I lift the lid to reveal a delicate key on a white gold chain, the bow adorned with the glyph for Virgo etched in a circle of diamonds.
“How lovely,” I say dryly. “Another key.” Landon gave me a key to a fashion studio, but I don’t expect the same type of selfless gift from Miles. “This better open a wardrobe.”
He’s not impressed with my haughty demand. Eyes narrowed, he lifts the key from its resting place in the box. “The key opens me. On our wedding night, you’ll do the honors.”
“You’re assuming there will be a wedding night.”
“Of course there’ll be a wedding night. If I’m not the winner of your virginity, then you’ll return the gift to me.” As he drapes the chain over my head, I bite my tongue to keep from asking if I can return it now.
“Thank you is an appropriate response when a man presents you with a gift.”
I parrot my fake gratitude as the key nestles between my breasts, the weight of it as heavy as the ring on my left hand.
“The symbol of my virginity looks good on you, my queen.”
Saving me from the obligation of a reply, the servers begin setting dishes on the table, and for a while, I can almost forget that I’m naked—that I’m not the center of attention as lustful gazes dart over my rosy nipples.