Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 73580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
When I lay the dress on the bed, I spot the shoes in the bag's bottom. They are equally stunning, and just as expensive as the dress. “I can pay for these things myself. I don’t want to inconvenience you.”
He shifts beside me, surprising me with how close he is. “I don’t need your money, Princess. I can afford anything I need to buy.” His words are stinging, but his tone isn’t meant to cut like it had been before.
Even though he’s a hard-ass, the ceasefire stands for him too.
But how long until one of us breaks it and fires the first shot?
I clear my throat, stepping back, praying I don’t look like I’m retreating. The scent of his soap, or cologne, lemongrass and something spicy, is close and cloying and doing things in my belly. “Well, thank you. I’ll be ready when it’s time to go down.”
He gives me a long assessing look, like he’s trying to fit the last few puzzle pieces in place, and they just don’t seem to work. “Fine, be ready at ten, and we’ll go down.”
Once he leaves, I scramble into the bathroom and hope I have everything I need to get ready properly. At ten sharp, I walk out of the bedroom wearing the dress I would have bought for myself, but it seems so much heavier with him buying it and him staring at me wearing it with his haunted eyes.
We go down to the casino floor, but immediately head into a side door into an underground tunnel. It’s deserted, and I try to keep up with his long pace in my obscenely high heels. Once we get to another row of doors, we slip into one and are met by a man who looks like he could be security, or a waiter. I can’t tell since it’s dark, and the man is in all black.
We are led into a small dining room set with a table for four.
Candlelight glitters off the chandelier, and Michail shifts behind me. I’m about to turn when he gently eases me toward the table by the elbow and pulls out the chair. “Sit, relax. We have a few minutes. We are early.”
I sit, and he grabs my hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing the back.
“What the fuck?” I try to jerk away, but his eyes blaze, locking on mine.
“Like the other night when we each played a role, tonight too, we both have a part to play. You, the queen, and me, the besotted lover. Your protection and your conquest.”
His lips skim my knuckles, and I try to relax with him holding my hand that way. He takes the seat beside mine and drags my hand, still attached to his, into his lap.
I don’t have time to think of some argument against this because the door on the other end of the room is thrown open and a stunning woman saunters in. She’s dressed in all black with blood-red nails, black stilettos, and her long, dark hair hangs in a smooth sheet to her hips. The councilman I’d already met walks in next, and they both assess us, then sit across from us at the table.
I stare at the woman and man, and shake myself into the task at hand. Get the information we need and give nothing in return.
When I shift to extend my hand to the woman, she beats me there. “Andrea,” she says, her voice smoke and shadows. No doubt every man’s fantasy. She gives Michail a familiar nod, and I glance at him. He knows her.
I focus on the councilman. He’s older than his date, but his face is perfectly symmetrical, his eyes shining and strangely kind despite his position. No one on any council could ever be called kind. “I didn’t introduce myself when we met before. You may call me Emmanuelle.”
“Selena.”
A waiter enters, pours everyone a glass of white wine and retreats again. Michail squeezes my hand and teases his fingers up my wrist to the joint in my elbow, as if he’s nothing more than window dressing.
I glance between the two of them, unsure how to begin.
The councilman jumps right in before I can open my mouth. “I’m here to renew my offer of an alliance.”
He pulls something out of his pocket. Michail tenses beside me, but relaxes when it’s just a box. But I don’t relax, not because it’s not a weapon, but because there’s only one thing he could offer with that little velvet box.
Gently, he pries open the lid, revealing a massive rose cut diamond. “Ms. Aquilla, I’d like to ask for your hand in marriage.”
9
MICHAIL
She’s obviously going to tell the crazy man, “No, thank you,” and then approach the topic of information.
I wait.
And wait. The room is so quiet despite the roil of sound I know lies outside the doors to the main casino floor. I risk a quick flick of my eyes at Andrea, who is staring down at the ring with the same slack-jawed expression Selena is wearing. If I knew diamonds shut women up so thoroughly, I might have tried to use them sooner.