Not because she’s cute.
There’s nothing cute about that foolish smile or her round flushed cheeks.
Or that tangled auburn hair that she managed to pin in what looks like a bird’s nest on one side of her head.
Or the way she swings her legs on her too-high stool, humming a stupid little tune?—
“William?” Arwen steps into my line of sight, her lovely blue face blocking my view of Edwina.
I shake my head, realizing this isn’t the first time she’s had to say my name. While I’m well into my cups tonight, I haven’t had a drink since Edwina and I made our bet. Word of our bargain quickly spread, which sent a flock of males to my rival. With Monty flitting about the room like a butterfly, someone had to stay sober and keep an eye on Edwina, lest she leave with one of the men.
For the sake of sabotage, of course.
Not for her protection.
Thankfully, it didn’t take long for her faculties to unravel, and she lost her male companions. No decent person would try to bed a drunkard who no longer had the means to consent.
I force my attention to settle on Arwen. “Sorry, love, what were you saying?”
“I asked if it’s true that you’re really a stage actor, as well as a poet.”
I don my winning grin, one that is admittedly growing tired on my visage. “It’s true. I am a stage actor and have been since my days at university.”
“Have you been in anything I would have seen?” Jolene asks.
It takes an effort not to glower at the human girl. She’s practically clung to my side since the bet began, and I’d feel much better if she would have stayed with Edwina to give her some female company.
Again, for the sake of sabotage.
“Big productions aren’t my style,” I say. The words almost burn my tongue, for they aren’t entirely true.
Pureblood fae like me can’t lie.
Unless you’re an actor playing a role.
“I prefer private plays or artistic endeavors,” says William Haywood the Poet, while William Haywood the Stage Actor would give anything to star in a big production.
“I’d love to see a private play,” Jolene says, blinking up at me from under her lashes.
Arwen sidles into her friend and steals my attention. “It’s getting close to midnight.”
I know what she’s getting at. According to the terms of the bet, I must enjoy an act of intimacy in my bedroom by midnight. Arwen and Jolene have been engaged in a competition of their own—who can earn their place in my bed tonight.
Little do they know, I have no intention of participating in anyone’s game. Not Arwen and Jolene’s. Not mine and Edwina’s. She and I may have secured our bargain by verbally agreeing to the terms of the bet—that’s all it takes to make a bargain with a fae—but this farce will be over by morning, I’m sure of it. The little idiot will wake up, remember all her horrible decisions from tonight, and beg me to release her from our bargain. Easy. Done.
Then I can go back to beating her in sales and win the contract on my personal merits.
I may be eager to win—desperate, more like—but I’d prefer to do so with my dignity intact.
“I am growing tired,” Arwen says when I fail to respond. “What I wouldn’t give to have a quiet place to sit down.”
I lean slightly to the side, stealing a glimpse at Edwina. She’s awake, but barely, chatting to someone I can’t quite see. Then the figure—a fae male with a mane of golden hair and a feline nose—leans down and whispers something in her ear.
She laughs, then lets out a startled squeal. “Oh, you have a taaaail!” She drags out the last word too long and too loud. Her eyelids grow heavy again, and I catch sight of the tip of a tan, fur-tufted tail tickling her cheek. The male must be a lion fae in hisseelie form. She gives a halfhearted chuckle with her eyes closed. “I’m writing a book about a fae with a tail. You wouldn’t happen to be in love with a surgeon, would you?”
“Oh, I’d love to sit down too,” Jolene says, tugging my sleeve.
“There are plenty of open seats at the end of the bar,” I bite out. If the girl would just fucking keep Edwina company?—
