“Not by choice. Your brother is the puppet master in this.” He tucks a braid behind my ear. “You’ll find out soon enough, I promise.”

  “At least tell me you’ll spend that weekend with me.”

  “If the trade-off is worth it to you, then I’m in.”

  “It’s worth it,” I whisper, my attention stalling on his mouth.

  With pure need weighing down his eyelids, he trails his thumb across my bottom lip. “You’d better go.”

  An eternity seems to pass, in which I’m caught in the allure of his stare, intoxicated from his salty thumb on my lips. Keeping my distance is going to be torture, but it’s paramount in ensuring we don’t get into trouble again. I slip out of his studio and hurry down the hall toward my own.

  The end of this month can’t arrive quick enough.

  9

  The next week whizzes by in a flurry of finalizations, last-minute prototypes, abundant frustration, and too many tears to count. It’s a grueling process, catching up for lost time in the studio, so when Elise drops by midweek, offering an afternoon outing of lunch and shopping, I can’t turn down such a tempting invitation.

  Landon’s driver takes us to the village, where we enjoy a spread of Parisian cuisine at a boutique café Elise discovered last month. After sharing small talk and too many lulls in conversation over lunch, we stroll down the sidewalk in the shopping district, leather boots crunching on a blanket of colorful leaves. The overcast sky threatens to shower on us, but the breeze is light, the temperature a tad above chilly, and for the first time since I returned to Zodiac Island from Liam’s safe haven off the coast of South America, I feel the burden of my circumstances lift from my shoulders by a small degree.

  It’s these unobtrusive moments that mean the most—a meal shared with a friend, an afternoon away from the domineering testosterone in the tower, the simplicity of a walk while enjoying the autumn air.

  If only Elise weren’t so quiet today. I eye her for the fifth time since we left the restaurant, and my concern grows with each shop she passes without so much as a glance at the display window. If there’s one thing Elise loves, it’s shopping.

  “How’s married life?” I ask, keeping my voice nonchalant as I stop in front of a jewelry store. A ruby necklace sits on display, and the piece reminds me of the Heart of the Queen.

  “Married life is wonderful.” She halts at my side and gestures at the necklace. “You should try it on.”

  “Maybe another time.” Just the sight of the gaudy jewel takes me back to Mr. Bordeaux’s month. Willing my heart rate to slow, I move on toward the next shop, which happens to be a baby boutique. “Want to go in and look around? I haven’t gotten you a gift for the baby yet.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “Of course I’m going to shower you with gifts, Elise. The birth of your first child is a momentous occasion that should be celebrated.”

  To my horror, she bursts into tears. After my shock abates, I ignore the curious looks of passersby and usher her across the street to a deserted park. A pavilion gives us cover from the first rain of the day as we claim one of the benches.

  “What’s wrong?” I grip her cold hand between my own.

  “Nothing.” She wipes the moisture from her rosy cheeks. “It’s just hormones.”

  “It’s more than hormones. You’ve been quiet all day.” I squeeze her hand. “I know I haven’t been there for you lately, and I’m so sorry about that, but I’m here now.”

  “I don’t deserve your friendship.”

  A heavy moment of disquiet sneaks by. “Of course you do. Why would you say such a thing?”

  As she pulls her hand away, her gaze lowers to the ground. “I-I guess I’ve been going through a phase of feeling unworthy. It really is just hormones.”

  “You’ve been through a lot. You’re allowed to have bad days.”

  “There have been a lot of them. I don’t know how Landon puts up with me.”

  “He adores the ground you walk on.”

  “He shouldn’t.” She exhales on a sigh. “God, listen to me. I didn’t mean to turn this into a pity party, especially after everything you’ve been through.” The breeze disrupts her bangs, and she brushes the wispy strands from her eyes. “How are things in the House of Scorpio?”

  “I don’t want to talk about me.” She’s changing the subject, and we both know it.

  “I get that, but I need the distraction right now. The baby’s been kicking a lot, I’m peeing all the time, and I’m tired and emotional.” A hint of a smile pulls at her lips. “At least one of us got to drink at the ball. I think you had enough champagne for the both of us.”

  “And then some. I’m not a fan of hangovers, or Ford’s afterparties.”

  She arches a brow. “You mean there was more craziness after the ball?”

  “Naked people everywhere the next morning.” I glance heavenward, because even talking about Ford Stryker requires a plea to the gods for patience. “He entertains guests almost every night. They drink, they have sex, they blast music. It’s amazing I’ve been able to sleep at all. Those walls must be soundproof.”

  “That sounds…intense.”

  “That’s putting it mildly, but he mostly leaves me alone, so I guess I can’t complain, all things considered.”

  Because prior houses have shown me how worse it can get.

  “Sounds like he’s different from the others.”

  “So far, a good time is his only agenda. He’s strong-armed me into being his date for a party this Saturday.”

  “That could be…fun?”

  “I only agreed because he promised me a weekend with Sebastian if I accompany him.”

  “Landon told me you were allowed to spend time with Sebastian this month.”

  My eyes widen. “Sebastian told him?”

  She shrugs. “Landon’s been spending more time with him since he came back last month.”

  “Do you know where he went during his exile?”

  “I heard him mention a cottage on the beach.”

  My chest constricts, and Elise must notice the sudden brightness in my eyes because she sets her hand on my shoulder.

  “Are you okay?”

  Blinking back tears, I nod with a smile I don’t feel. “I know of the cottage. It’s just…memories. Really good ones.”

  Her face softens. “You haven’t had many good experiences on this island.”

  “No, but we’ve come this far, right?”

  “We certainly have.”

  I stand and hold out a hand. “How about we make this day shine by spoiling that baby like she—or he—deserves?”

  “The baby boutique?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Okay, but I’m putting a limit on your gift-giving spree.” With the first genuine grin I’ve spied on her face all day, she lets me pull her to her feet, and we head toward the shop, trying to dodge the rain.

  10

  Apparently, formal attire isn’t required for the evening. Decked out in a pair of khakis and a maroon button-down shirt, Ford appears as relaxed and casual as ever.

  “What are you drinking tonight?” he asks, already perusing the limo’s minibar, even though we’ve only been on the road for five minutes. “We’ve got scotch, vodka, whiskey, and champagne, sans the doctor’s magic, of course.” He winks at me.

  “Seltzer water, please.”

  Ford laughs, his deep rumble filling the neon-lit space. “You still don’t trust me, do you?”

  “I’m reserving judgment until after the party.”

  With a smug grin, he settles into the leather seat, knees spread shoulder-width apart as a fifth of top-shelf vodka takes up the space between his legs. He passes me a bottle of sparkling water before fixing himself a cocktail—though it’s a loose term considering he adds just a splash of juice to the highball glass.

  “Having a little screw with your driver?”

  “Are you offering? Because as much as I appreciate Henry,” he says, nodding to where the driver sits out of view on the other side of the partition, “he’s not my type.”

  “I was talking about the orange juice.”

  Ford downs the drink in one long gulp, his hazel eyes laughing at me from above the rim. Licking his lips, he pours another. “Your sassy attitude gets me horny as fuck.”

  “That sounds like a personal problem.”

  He chuckles. “I bet you drove Heath crazy with that rebellious mouth.”

  “He used fear to break me into submission. I knew not to push him.”

  “I don’t scare you?”

  His question rattles me. “You make me uncomfortable,” I admit with much reluctance. “But you don’t frighten me.”

  “That’s good to know. Scaring women isn’t my style.” He raises a brow. “You don’t have to sit all the way over there, you know…unless you’re scared I’ll bite?”

  Ignoring his obvious effort to provoke me, I stretch out my arms and take up the back seat, legs crossed, while he sits in front of the bar. My rose gold dress falls to my ankles, and though the halter top shows off a good amount of cleavage, it’s a modest ensemble.

  “Jesus, you tempt the hell out of me, baby girl.”

  The standoff continues as I hold his gaze, infusing some of that attitude he enjoys in the jut of my chin.

  Amusement pulls at the corners of his mouth. “Remember that role I said I wanted you to play?”

  “I remember.”

  “You’re supposed to be playing my date tonight, Novalee.”

  “I thought I was your date.”

  “I need you to play the part, which means you need to get comfortable sitting in my lap.” He sets aside his half-empty glass and the bottle of vodka before patting his thighs.

  “The last time I sat in your lap, you made a fool of me.”

  “You loved every minute of it.”

  I fold my arms. “What kind of party is this?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough. In the meantime, how about we do a practice run?” There’s a challenge in his tone, a quiet dare, and I let a full minute pass, refusing to budge.

  But he’s patient, allowing enough time for my natural curiosity to take flight. With an exaggerated sigh, I move to where he’s sitting and lower myself onto his lap, my body facing the bar. As I wind an arm around his neck, his cock hardens beneath me.

  I feel my skin flush. “What now?”

  “Pretend you like me.” He runs his nose up the side of my neck before turning my head.

  Our eyes lock, making my traitorous blood pump too fast in my veins. Why is my breathing shallow? Why is he having this effect on me? I can’t even blame intoxication this time. Much to my chagrin, there’s undeniable chemistry between us, and it sends me reeling.

  “You’re supposed to distract him,” he says with a hard swallow. “Not me.”

  “Who?”

  “My friend.”

  “Oh.” I nibble on my lip, thoughts scattering. “Why is that again?”

  “It’s a game he and I play.” His gaze lowers to my mouth. “But right now, I’d rather play with you.”

  The limo slows, and as we pass through the gates of a sprawling estate, I let out a breath of relief. “Looks like we’re here.”

  Ford sighs as I move off his lap. “Playing hard to get only makes me want you more.”

  “I’m not playing hard to get.”

  His lips curve into a mischievous grin. “Saying it’s not a game to you is like waving a red flag in front of a bull. How do you expect a man to resist?”

  “I don’t expect anything from you, Mr. Stryker, except for you to hold up your end of the bargain.” My tone is harsh, but my anger is self-directed for feeling any amount of attraction to him. The men in the Brotherhood have twisted me into a sexually confused pretzel.

  “Don’t worry, my queen. You’ll get your weekend with Sebastian.”

  The limo comes to a stop in front of a lit up Renaissance style estate the size of most government capitol buildings. The chauffeur opens the door, and Ford and I dart through the rain to the front entrance, where a doorman allows us entry. The interior is no less stunning than Zodiac Estate, with immaculate marble flooring, two-story columns, and a grand double staircase situated under a domed chandelier. The symmetry is breathtaking.

  Guests pass through an archway on the left, and Ford extends his arm, revealing a chivalrous side of his character I wouldn’t have guessed existed. We follow the stream of people into a room with a cathedral ceiling, where a massive stone fireplace sets the place aglow as oversized windows face the sea. Most intriguing are the kidney-shaped tables positioned around the room, their tops covered in black felt and mahogany trim.

  “What kind of party is this?” I ask as guests begin claiming the vacant seats.

  Ford settles his palm on the small of my back. “It’s a private gambling shindig.”

  “Is this even legal?”

  Ford’s eyes twinkle. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

  I’m taking in the scene when a guy waves in our direction. He’s seated at a table on the far side of the humongous room, a brunette bombshell decorating his lap. As we approach, the dark-haired stranger rises from his seat. All evidence points to him being Ford’s so-called friend—the man my virginal presence is supposed to make jealous.

  “Who’s your gorgeous date?” The man’s startling blue eyes linger on me like an obscene caress, his flirtatious grin creasing the edges.

  “Novalee Van Buren,” Ford says. “I’d like to introduce you to Axel Ivermann.”

  “So this is the queen everyone’s heard so much about.” The other man offers his hand, and when I slide my palm along his, he lifts it to his lips, brushing a lingering kiss there. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sweetheart.”

  “You as well,” I say, my proper upbringing rearing its ugly head, though inwardly, I find the endearment inappropriate and condescending.

  The woman next to him clears her throat, and Axel drapes an arm around her shoulders. “My apologies. This is Dedra. She just landed a modeling gig for some hotshot clothing designer.”

  “Alejandro Von Jean.” She stares down her nose at me. “You might have heard of him.”

  “I have. I’m a fan of his work.”

  “Novalee is a designer herself,” Ford speaks up. “She’s debuting next month at the Fashion Festival in Los Angeles.”

  Growing uncomfortable with the one-upmanship, I gesture at the table Axel and his date were seated at. “I take it you guys are playing tonight?”

  “Of course.”

  “Shall we sit?” I ask, hoping to get the evening moving along so we can end it that much faster.

  Ford treats me to a smile full of debauchery that has no business coming to fruition among mixed company. Before I can protest, he grabs me around the waist.

  “My lap is all yours.” He pulls me down with him as he throws a bundle of cash onto the table. “You’ll be my good luck charm.”

  Axel smirks. “As if we need luck.”

  Ford shoots him a warning look. “Don’t push it, Ax. I’m not up for the hassle tonight.”

  Axel shrugs. “Just keeping it real.”

  I have no idea what they’re talking about, but Dedra doesn’t seem bothered by their cryptic conversation. She lowers her lithe form onto Axel’s waiting thighs, and I file away my curiosity for later.

  The table fills quickly, bets are placed, and the first round is dealt by a formally dressed dealer sporting a stoic expression.

  I’m not familiar with gambling in general, but I know enough to know they’re playing blackjack. Ford explains the motions for hitting a hand or staying, and he has me tapping the table and waving off the dealer in no time.

  And dang it. He wasn’t lying when he said it would be fun.

  “How about a side bet?” Axel says after a solid hour of them bleeding the house dry.

  “What do you have in mind?” Ford doubles down on a nine and a two. The dealer is showing a six—a card that favors the players. Sure enough, Ford is dealt a face card, giving him an unbeatable twenty-one.

  Axel’s date waves off the dealer, staying on eighteen. “We play until midnight. Whoever comes out with more money takes the win.”

  The dealer reveals a nine hiding under his six, and I hold my breath as he places another card face-up on the table. It’s a seven, and the house goes bust.

  “What are the stakes?” Ford asks his friend as they both rake in more chips. They’ve been on a winning streak since the third hand.

  “If you win, I’ll sell you the Bugatti.”

  Ford is pulling a long drink from his beer when he almost chokes on it. “The yellow 110 GT?” He sets the micro brew down. “Are you serious?”

  “I’m always serious when it comes to cars.”

  “And if you win?”

  Axel’s gaze lands on my chest. “I want her for the night.”

  Disbelief roils in my gut, and I stiffen in Ford’s arms. He squeezes my side, as if telling me not to panic.

  “You know she’s a virgin and has to stay that way.”

  “I’m aware. There are other ways of fucking a woman, as I’m sure you boys in the Brotherhood have already discovered.”

  “She’s not a goddamn bargaining chip.”

  Axel raises a brow. “Isn’t she?”

  “Dude, she’s off-limits to you.”

  And that’s when I relax into Ford, realizing that this is the reason he wanted me to accompany him tonight. Despite the cards and chips on the table, the real game is an unspoken one, and Ford had the winning hand from the moment he walked in with me on his arm.

  Axel gives a carefree shrug, but there’s a tightness to his mouth that wasn’t there before. The gambling commences with an undercurrent of disquiet, their talk of a failed side bet taking the fun out of the game. Another hour passes before Ford calls it quits.

  “Afterparty at my place?” Axel asks as he and his date stand.

  Pulling me against his side, Ford shakes his head. “Maybe some other time. I’m eager to get the queen out of this dress.”

  “Excuse me?” I turn wide and angry eyes on Ford. “I don’t know what you think—”

 

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