Smiling to myself, I shake my head as I think about how men are so easy to manipulate. A couple of sad expressions, and I had him completely fooled. For the first time since concocting this plan, I think I might actually have a chance of pulling it off.
9
Braxton
Shereallythoughtshehad me fooled with that fake disappointed look. Nope. I can smell her scheming all the way from the Siren Sea. There is no doubt in my mind that she is up to something, but unfortunately, I’m going to have to play along with her little ruse to fully figure out her plan.
If I were a betting man, which I’m not anymore, as that has clearly only gotten me into trouble in the past, I would say she’s trying to seduce me.
Well, maybe not seduce, but a man can dream. She is trying to trick me. Of that, I’m sure, and the best way to keep her from finding out the truth is to go along with her plan.
I walk back into my study, running my fingers through my hair. I sink down into my office chair, my eyes fixated on the spot I had her pinned to my desk just the other day. Just thinking about the defiance in her eyes as she yelled at me is enough to get me hard all over again. I have to admit, I don’t hate that she’ll be getting close to me to try to find information, because that means I get to get closer to her in turn. I wonder how far I’ll be able to push her. What I might convince her to do.
Regardless, the end goal is always the same. Keep her protected. Unfortunately, the only way to ensure her protection is by doing the one thing she hates the most—keeping her in the dark.
I run my hand over my jaw, feeling the slightest hints of stubble forming. I can’t imagine how I look right now. No wonder it was so hard for her to even pretend to be interested in having me join her in the gardens. I haven’t slept in my office in what feels like centuries, but yesterday I got news that was worth the sleepless night. I learned something that might even be able to save Azalea after all this time.
The old bitch who I made this deal with in the first place, Dianthus, is checking up on me. She says it’s for the countdown to the curse, but I know there has to be more. She’s never visited me in the past, and now I’ve had two visits in a matter of days. If I’m lucky, she’s dying. But I’m not a very lucky man as of late.
For once, time might actually be on my side here, and if I can draw out this fake courting plan with Azalea, it might give me more time to figure out how I can best the old crone that cursed me in the first place.
First things first, I need that bitch dead, and I need to do it before Azalea learns the truth.
10
Azalea
Iclenchmyshakinghands at my side as I stand in front of the door leading into the dining room. This is absurd. I’ve had dinner with this beast of a man for what feels like a thousand times, but my mind can’t stop from wondering if this dinner is acting as the official start to our “courtship.” I grimace at the thought, but take a deep breath, reminding myself of why it’s so important that I pull this off.
Cursing my quickening heartbeat, I curl my fingers around the doorknob, pausing for a moment to let the sting of the cool metal ground me.
“Are you just going to stand there, or do you plan on going in?” I jump at the sound of Braxton’s voice behind me.
“Wh-what are you doing out here?” I ask, turning to face him. “You’re supposed to be in there.” I jut my thumb over my shoulder pointing at the room behind me.
He cocks his head to the side, clearly amused that he caught me off guard. “My sweet Wildflower, are you nervous?”
I swallow down the sneer that so badly wants to curl my lip upon hearing his ridiculous nickname for me, even more-so at hearing him call me his.
“What would I have to be nervous of?” I brush off through tight teeth. “We’re having dinner as we do every night.”
“Well, the reason I’m not in there is because I figured it was only proper that I escort you in tonight, seeing as you want to spend more time together.”
I see the question lingering behind his irises.Is he testing me?I smoothly glide my foot backward, allowing for some much-needed space between us as I try to assess what game he’s playing. I’ve learned that’s what Braxton does best when it comes to his toys, and I know that’s all I am to him—a trinket to play with and show off.
With the added distance, it doesn’t take long for his eyes to trail down my body. I picked another particularly distracting dress for dinner tonight. The cream-colored gown has a long bodice that hugs my curves until right below my hips, where the skirt then flows out in draped ruffles, and the square neckline is magical at helping to lift my bust so that my already ample assets are on display without being distasteful.
The creamy color of the satin fabric makes my dark hair and tanned skin look luminous in the flickering candlelight littered around the sconces in the castle. Even now, I can see the flames flicker in Braxton’s dark irises that seem to have deepened as he gazes at me. I’m almost taken aback by the look on his face. It’s not leering or lustful, but something completely different. Before I can place it, I watch him curl his fingers into a fist at his side, his knuckles going white.
When I left my room, I felt incredibly confident in this dress, but now as my eyes slide back to his, I find his expression to be somewhere between pain and loathing, and my presumption falters.
“Get inside,” he grits out before grabbing the handle behind me, pushing our bodies together.
I hear him release an excruciatingly tight breath as my body molds to his. Then, just as quickly as we stood pressed together, he shoves the door behind me open and stalks past me into the dining room.
His expression remains pinched as he takes his seat at the table and beckons the wait staff in to start laying our food out for us. Confusion crinkles my brow as I take my own seat. I thought this outfit would certainly be a good distraction for him while I gathered my bearings in pretending to enjoy his company, but he’s acting about as displeased as I feel.
I despise the effect his reaction is having on me, but I can't help but long for a shawl to drape around my shoulders. I'm starting to think I missed the mark and turned myself into a sight to be ogled due to my improper garments. Placing my elbows on the table, I cross my arms and plant my hands on my shoulders, trying to conceal as much of myself as possible. I know it isn’t the ladylike way to sit at the table, but I couldn’t care less at this point.
