A knock sounds on the door and I force myself to take several deep breaths before opening it, the expansion of my lungs almost spilling my breasts over the swooped neckline of my costume.
I let the costume act as a reminder. I’m playing a role here, and no matter how terrible or insufferable Callum Reid turns out to be, I must stay in character.
I open the door with that resolve strong in my gut. Only to have the wind knocked out of me.
Callum Reid stands in front of me, dressed in a classic tuxedo, perfectly tailored to his impressive frame. He’s tall and broad, with the kind of arms that could sweep a woman off her feet. His copper-colored curls are longish and slightly disheveled, as if he’s been running his hands through them; he twists a top hat in his hands. But it’s his eyes that arrest my breath. A light, bright blue that doesn’t hide his emotions: nerves, and a hint of excitement.
I find my voice first, though I can only manage two scant words. “It’s you.”
A sheepish, not-quite smile pulls on his lips. “I wasn’t sure you would remember me.”
Of course I remember. Not many handsome strangers turn down a night with me. Even fewer linger in my mind long after they’ve left the club. But I can’t let him know how often he’s been on my mind since our brief encounter. I force myself to stand up straight, give the impression of confidence even if I’m not feeling it in the moment.
I sweep my arm, gesturing for him to enter. “Welcome, Your Highness.” At least he wasn’t lying when he told me he wasn’t a lord.
His near smile fades as he steps into the suite. “I shouldn’t need to remind you that titles are no longer required, Lady Caterine.” He twists my name in his mouth, as if to remind us both that it has always been meaningless, always been fake.
“Well then, welcome back to La Puissance, Mr. Reid.”
He crosses to the center of the room, his eyes sweeping over every inch of the space, like he’s on some kind of tactical mission, taking in the details, the sumptuous fabric draped across the bed and across the four posts surrounding it; the crimson chaise piled high with pillows; the small dining area and accompanying golden bar cart; the dressing table littered with headpieces and jewels and makeup. “Just Callum will suffice.”
“As you wish, Your Highness.” I give his title a twist of my own, smirking at the furrow of his brows. The man wears his emotions all over his face. Handsome and easy to read; perhaps this week will be fun after all. “So…” I perch myself on the edge of the bed, crossing my legs so the full expanse of my thigh is visible, up to the cut of my hip.
Callum’s eyes trace that leg, from ankle to hip, and the tips of his ears turn a darker red than his hair. I will not even need two full days with him if he is this affected by the sight of my thigh.
He catches me catching him and I grin. “So, Your Highness, you are in need of some guidance? Of the sexual persuasion?”
He grimaces, the flush spreading to his neck and cheeks. I remind myself that he is a royal so I don’t find his blush to be adorable. “I don’t know that I would say I am inneedof said guidance.”
I cock my head to the side, exposing the long line of my neck. “Are you a virgin, Your Highness?”
“Callum. And no.”
An unexpected bolt of jealousy hits me right in the chest, at the thought of Callum in someone else’s bed. And before I can dismiss it, that itch returns, this time with waves of heat behind it.
He doesn’t seem to be lying. I might not have him as vulnerable as I truly need him to be in order to manipulate his emotions, but I can usually tell when someone is hiding the truth.
I steady my breathing as I watch Callum Reid fight a war within himself. I watch every bit of it play out over his face and in his eyes. This man really needs to get better at shielding his emotions. But he comes to some sort of conclusion and turns to face me head-on, though he keeps his eyes averted. “I am aware that I will need to marry soon, my lady, and it is my wish to learn how to please my future wife. And I choose to learn from the best.”
I push off the bed and close the distance between us. I find myself needing to be close to him, to breathe him in, to feel the heat of him. Surely because I know the mission at hand requires it. “You are certainly right about that, Your Highness. Are you ready to begin?”
“I would be lying if I said I wasn’t just a little nervous.” Bold of him to admit such a thing just a few minutes after meeting me.
“That’s okay. I figured tonight we could start with something easy.”
His blue eyes finally meet mine. “I would appreciate that.”
Now I’m the one shoving down emotions. Those eyes. They have some kind of hypnotic power. They make me want to press my lips to his or breathe him in deeply or spill all my secrets. But I don’t let myself look away. Instead, I drag a finger along the glittered edge of my neckline. Callum’s eyes can’t help but follow it as it traces a path, and I’m spared the fire of his direct eye contact.
So far this man seems nothing but genuine, and if I allowed myself to think about it, I might feel guilty about what I plan to do to him over the course of this week. Of course, this whole bumbling-shy-prince façade could be an act. I won’t truly know until I bring him to climax.
Fortunately, I don’t think that will be too difficult. Adding an extra swivel to my steps, I cross the room, bending over to check my lip paint in the mirror. “I do have a couple of rules before we begin.”
“Of course.” He swallows, his throat bobbing.
I want to rid us of the space between us and lick it.
The thought startles me and I keep my back to him, watching his reactions in the reflection. “I don’t kiss on the mouth. And I won’t touch you without your consent. I expect you to do the same.”
