The door to her room clicked quietly open and Maeve whipped around, nearly falling over and dropping the shoe. She sighed with relief as Mal closed the door quietly behind himself. He strode across the room with a satisfied look on his face.
Maeve picked up her shoe just as he reached her. He snatched it away and tossed it across the room. His lips found hers quickly. And he took her on the writing desk, one hand hoisting her leg high, and the other over her mouth, to keep from being heard.
When Maeve arrived in the dining hall, her father was waiting for her.
“So I’m difficult, huh?” Asked Maeve as she walked toward him.
Ambrose laughed.
“I believe I said ‘he would have difficulty,’ which is entirely different.”
“Please don’t make me sit next to him,” said Maeve.
“He’s already asked to,” said Ambrose solemnly.
Maeve took a deep breath.
“What about Iris?” Asked Maeve.
“She won’t be of age for another year,” answered Ambrose.
“Natalia or Victoria?”
“She and Marcos are set to be married after the New Year, and Victoria is under a bidding war currently.”
Maeve rolled her eyes. “As if the Mavrosi family can’t afford her.”
“The Mavrosi want you,” said Ambrose carefully. “We agreed to that years ago.”
“I didn’t agree to anything.”
Clarissa’s voice came from behind Ambrose. “Technically, you did.”
Ambrose turned. “Not now.”
“Look at your wrist,” her mother said coldly.
Maeve swallowed. She didn’t obey.
Clarissa nodded, her upper lip curled. “When those honorable stars were burned into your skin, you took a vow as a Pureblood Witch.”
“I was a child,” said Maeve. “I don’t even remember that.”
Clarissa looked at Ambrose. “Neither do I.”
She walked to the Dining table and began straightening the place settings. Ambrose watched her as he spoke quietly.
“Just play the damn game, Maeve. If not for yourself, then for Mal.”
Maeve rounded her father and sat in her seat with a huff. Dinner was shortly served, and Maeve ate her food silently for most of the meal.
Xander was much too close to Maeve all evening, and judging by the look on Mal’s face across from her, he felt the same.
“Your attire, Miss St. Beveraux,” said Eryx. “It’s quite unique. I’ve not seen such fashion on Earth.”
Ophelia dressed like all the spoiled girls in Paris. Over the top frills and ornamentation.
“Thank you,” said Ophelia.
