Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 76(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 76(@300wpm)
“What’s your condition?”
“Between now and then, I want you to give yourself to me. Every piece of you, Novalee.”
A confusing tingle flares between my legs. “You want my virginity?”
He all but grinds his teeth. “Not until you’ve made your choice. If you choose me, we’ll marry, and then I’ll have you in my bed the way you deserve.” His eyes dim to burnt umber. “Not on an elevator floor, ass-fucking in the traffic of people’s filth.”
My mouth slackens. “How did you know about that?”
“I’m aware of many things.” He drags a hand down his face. “The security team saw the two of you on surveillance footage.”
I swallow hard, wondering what else he’s seen, heard, or discovered. “So you’ll let me go back?” A dubious note enters my tone. Why would he risk everything just to return to the tower with me?
“As long as you give me what I want.”
“If not my virginity, then what?”
“I want what you gave Sebastian. Your body, your heart…a willingness to try.” His gaze is as unwavering as the ultimatum settling between us, those prying eyes spreading heat across my cheeks. I almost look away—almost lose the courage to stand my ground in the power of his stare. Giving in to his demands would be as easy as breathing. The chemistry has always been there. The connection and need.
The want.
But deep down, I know the guilt will eat me raw. The heart wasn’t designed to love two men in equal measures. Despite its two halves, the heart was meant to love as a whole.
“Do I have another option?”
“None that you’ll like.”
Clarification isn’t necessary. His intentions shape the dominance of his mouth, enforce his confident stature, solidify his rigid jawline. When Liam decides something, he’s not easily swayed. Not long ago, he was willing to let me go if it meant ensuring my happiness, but the man standing before me now is a pillar of possessive power. A man whose self-sacrificing nature is nowhere in sight.
He’s left me no choice. Short of escaping Liam, the only way back to Sebastian is to give the chancellor what he wants.
2
As the ship journeys across the Atlantic, I recover from my final days in the House of Virgo. Someone comes to the door of our room three times a day like clockwork to bring us food. Liam keeps me out of sight like the stowaway I am, though neither of us leave the room while we’re at sea.
It’s imperative we lie low, Liam insists.
So with the constant thrum of the ventilation system in my ears, combined with the crew’s scampering footsteps on deck, I do my best not to go mad from boredom. Mealtime marks the rhythmic peaks of each day. It also helps me regain my strength and mental fortitude.
But nothing fortifies me against the rage building inside, because knowing I have no choice and accepting it are two different things. My anger infiltrates the space like an odorless gas leak, just a spark away from igniting.
Commanded to stay out of sight once again, I listen as Liam greets our mysterious ally while the smuggled food exchanges hands. The guy sounds older, his indecipherable words reaching my ears with a raspiness that makes me think he indulges in nicotine.
This unseen messenger is our only contact on the ship, and I consider calling out for help. But deep down, I know I won’t make a sound—not when leaving Liam means returning to Zodiac Island. In my heart, I know the chancellor is a man of his word. He’ll take me back to the tower at the end of Pax’s month.
But only if I give him what he wants first.
As he sits across from me at our tiny table for two, finishing off his bowl of bland vegetable soup, my reluctance to give in weighs heavily between us. In spite of his stated intentions, Liam has barely touched me. We’ve spent the previous three nights in separate beds, and the days are filled with games of chess and silence.
Uncomfortable silence that seems louder than the constant hum of the ship. Our tense coexistence comes to a head after dinner as we battle each other on the chess board, the pieces scattered in a haphazard mess.
Kind of like this situation.
“How long are you planning to give me the silent treatment?” he asks, moving his bishop. When he meets my gaze, there’s a challenge in his soft umber eyes, though that calculating stare has nothing to do with the game before us.
Licking my lips, I push my queen two spaces to the left. “I never said I was giving you the silent treatment.”
His lips curl into an amused smile. “That’s the point. You haven’t said much at all.”
“I’m processing everything.”
Still sporting that annoying smile, he moves a castle right into the path of my pawn. “You had me figured out by sundown on the first day, Novalee. Your brain has already processed every angle.”