“No. I mean it. You love her.” He stands, refilling both of our mugs, sliding one of the steaming cups back at me. I take it, gripping the warm porcelain, needing something to distract me a little before I tumble over the deep end. “I heard you on the phone when speaking about her. Your voice when you said her name. Why the hell do you think I left London and flew home? I had to see her for myself. The woman who had ensnared you. Never before had you so much as mentioned any of the other nannies. They didn’t register with you other than their lack of caring properly for the children. You blathered on to me about Bellamy for a solid ten minutes.”
Is that true? Did I do that?
“Last night, when I saw you with her, well, it’s love, my brother. I don’t know what else to tell you. It’s easy to see and all over your face.”
“It can’t be. That’s not…it’s not who I am, Rowan.”
“What would you call this then?”
“Sex.”
“Try again. You had sex with Nora and never so much as caught a feeling for her.”
“Fine. Different sex. Dirty sex. Rough sex. Hot sex.”
He smirks at me. “Except the phone conversation happened before you even touched her. Keep going.”
I groan, falling back in my chair, my fingertips pressing into the edge of the wooden table. “Infatuation. Obsession. Desire. I can’t get enough of her, but it will pass.”
“Will it?” he challenges, and I don’t answer him because in my gut, in my blood, I know it won’t. I have feelings for Bellamy, yes. Strong feelings. Consuming feelings. But love?
“Explain how that is not love then,” he presses when I remain silent. “Because you learned the ugly, evil side of that word? What about the other side? The side that creates instead of destroys. The side that heals instead of ruins.”
I scoff, taking a sip of my coffee in a futile attempt to blow this all off. “And you know from experience this sort of love?”
“No. Not yet, but we’re not discussing me. We’re discussing you. Face it, Sebastian. You love Bellamy.”
I stare bewildered at him. My father always taught me that love is a vulnerability for a king. A danger. One that can be weaponized. I see it with how I love my children, and I never imagined I’d marry for love. It’s not what we do. We marry for station and power and bloodlines. Or at least I did with Nora as that was what was expected of me.
But there is no denying that I want this woman. More than just her body, I want her in a way that defies logic and reason. I watch her and think about her and seek her out even for just a glimpse or a word from her smart mouth. Words likemineandforevertumble over themselves for top placement in my head. I’m possessive and savage over her. I want to kill Samil for simply saying her name.
I was inside of her last night, and it was like…like I was found. Seen.Home.
Is that what’s happening? Is that what this feeling is? Am I falling in love with her?
I want to speak, but suddenly I can’t breathe. The hollow part of my chest starts to burn, and I feel overwhelmed. Dizzy. Disoriented.
“Does she love you in return?”
My hands scrub up and down my face. “How does one know?”
He chuckles. “You just do. What I’m asking is if she’s using you or if there is genuine affection.”
“She’s not using me. Half the time I’m not even sure she likes me.”
“Who can blame her?”
I growl, glaring, beyond annoyed. Utterly out of sorts. “Fuck, Rowan. What the fuck?” I stand, pacing, running my hands through my hair. This is so much worse than I thought. “She’s twenty-one.”
“And?”
“And their nanny!” I roar, spinning on him. “I’m fucking my kids’ nanny who is fifteen years younger than me. I’ll be seen as a lecherous, evil old man preying on my young employee. No one will understand the truth of it. And now…”Fuck. “Now…”Shit. “Now I…motherfucker, now I love her.” I collapse into my chair.
Rowan is as calm as ever, not the least bit disturbed by any of this. In fact, he looks…elated. Smug.
“Perhaps if the two of you genuinely love each other, well, maybe that’s enough to save you all.”
“I don’t even know how to entertain that.”
