The spa wrapped around one side of the ship, floor-to-ceiling windows letting in too much sun for this early in the morning—afternoon—whatever. It was deliberate, of course. Some of the rooms were open like this, for guests whose inner animals preferred an open view of their surroundings. Some were fully enclosed: small, dark, and safe.
She frowned. Eloise was on her in a flash. “You’re not feeling it?” she asked, lips pursed sympathetically.
Francine smiled. “I’m just glad you got rid of the black tile walls,” she lied, with a wry twist to her lips. “Every step through this place reminds me of being a fresh baby grad.”
Eloise laughed. “You were such a moody bitch back then.”
“Moody,” Francine echoed. “I designed this place like a tomb.”
“A stylish tomb!”
“Who wants to feel like they’re having their nails done as they’re being lowered into the ground? This is so much more relaxing.”
“Daddy redid it as a present to me after I got my first promotion.”
The spa manager showed them to their treatment rooms. They were bright and open; light tones without being clinical or beige. Subtle filaments in the ceiling gave the impression of stars.
She’d beenmoodywhen she designed theQueen of the Pride. She’d forgotten. And…
“I didn’t even know your father bought it,” she admitted as the manager introduced their masseurs.
Eloise sparkled at her. “Maybe you should keep better track of your things.”
“If he got you a ship for your first promotion, you must own a whole fleet by now.”
“Oh, I’m well beyond that. And being CEO of a pharmaceuticals company has its own benefits.” Her smile was entirely feline.
“We’ll leave you to get undressed,” the manager said quietly and slipped out of the room with the team of masseurs.
Francine could suddenly feel nothing except Julian’s eyes on her. She opened her mouth to tell him to give them some privacy—then thought better of it.
Or maybe not better. Maybe worse.
“You don’t mind, do you?” she asked Eloise, indicating Julian with a twitch of her head and raising an eyebrow in question.
“I’m not that big of a hypocrite,” Eloise laughed.
*She has four guards with her currently,*Julian explained.
Of course she did. Francine managed to look outraged, and not like she’d had the breath slapped out of her. “Tell them to mind their manners,” she said coolly, and tugged the curtain between their beds closed.
Julian watched her undress.
She would have enjoyed it more—or maybe less, who the hell knew what her mind or body wanted these days—if her thoughts hadn’t been splintering back to her conversation with Eloise about the décor.
She’d been moody. Yes. Everyone bucked under harness sometimes, right? But that wasn’t what bothered her the most.
TheQueen of the Pridereflected a younger her, and that younger Francine might have been emo and bristling and thoroughly convinced of her ability to fit out a luxury cruise liner to her own exacting specifications—but those specifications hadn’t only been for her own comfort. She’d thought of other shifters, as well. What they would like. How best to host them.
She’d beenthoughtful.
Where had that part of her gone?
*Something’s worrying you.*
She glanced up. Julian was watching her face. *It’s nothing,*she said, and then out loud: “Unbutton me?”
She’d managed to pull her own clothes on after her shower, but why waste a spare pair of hands? She half-expected Julian to refuse, or—damn it. No. He would hate this. It was no different to forcing him to stand around being dressed like a doll, only in opposite. Treating him like a servant she could order around—
