Under the weight of his gaze, my face flushes a hundred different shades. I do everything I can to ensure as little of my bare skin as possible is visible as I let go of the blanket and slip into the robe.
“Close your eyes,” he demands softly.
I obey without hesitation. That’s when I realize what he’s been holding in his fist. A blindfold, made of the softest velvet. He ties it over my eyes. The fabric is gentle against my skin, a contrast to the spike in my heartbeat as my vision disappears.
He takes hold of my arms and guides me forward, step by step, through the room.
“You know, Princess, we men don’t need a special story to get into bed with a woman. We don’t even need to know who she is, what her name is, or, in most cases, what she even looks like. As long as she has three holes, that’s enough.”
Well, his opening line doesn’t exactly bode well for his chances of seducing me. But he continues anyway.
“But for you women, sex needs a prelude, a reason, a story. A love story. Even if it’s made-up, you need to believe that what you’re doing is sacred. The result of some grand, eternal love. You need to believe that the man claiming you, the man you’re giving your body to, worships you. That he wants you for a lifetime, not just for a fleeting, fiery moment of lust.
The unfortunate truth is this: a man’s motivation is almost never what a romantic mind wants to believe.But you’re good at fooling yourselves. If you weren’t, the human race would be extinct by now.”
He stops moving and takes my hand in both of his. “So now, let’s create a story for you, Lucia. A story where you’re the innocent, lovely, heroine. How does that sound?”
I don’t say a word, just listen to his deep, husky voice. My body is still tense, rigid, and full of distrust. He lets go of my hand, and from the way his voice shifts closer and farther, I can tell he’s circling me.
“In this story, you’re the only daughter of a minister. A hypocritical snake who’s kept you hidden from the world since the day you were born, saving you to sell to the highest bidder one day.”
He runs a hand through my hair, his voice edged with something like regret. “The same blonde hair… the same ocean-blue eyes…”
His fingers trail down to my neck, grazing the edge of the robe’s open collar. For the briefest moment, they brush over the delicate skin of my collarbone, tentative and fleeting. “And this flawless, soft skin...”
I hear him draw a heavy breath. Then his touch vanishes.
“You’ve never experienced love,” he murmurs. “Not even a simple kiss. Not even a stolen, nervous glance.”
Once again, I feel the warmth of his fingers on my shoulder, trailing slowly across to the other. “You have no idea what it feels like when a man touches you because he actually wants you. The way the heat of his embrace can melt you to your core, the sheer intoxication of being held captive in his arms, the unmatched pleasure of lips meeting, teasing, and tasting one another.”
My breath catches, then comes faster, my chest rising and falling in shallow bursts. It’s getting harder to hold onto my fear, I’m slipping into his story.
“But one day, your father will decide it’s time to make the most profitable deal of his life, with you. He dresses you in your finest attire; something like a deep red gown, full skirt, slipping off your shoulders.”
His voice shifts, now coming from behind me. He tugs the robe’s collar back, his hand slipping inside. The fabric slides off my shoulders, exposing more skin as his fingers pull the edges down to the curve of my shoulders. Everywhere his fingers drag, my skin burns.
“In that gown, you attend a grand New Year’s ball in the king’s opulent palace. The hall is packed with dukes, counts, princes and princesses from every corner of the world, all dressed in lavish gowns and dripping with jewels.”
He’s right behind me now. His whisper brushes my ear, warm breath ghosting over the hollow of my neck. “For the first time in your life, you feel alive, like you truly exist, like you belong to this vast, dazzling world. And then, suddenly, you notice the weight of someone’s gaze on you. You search for it, turning your head, and then you see him—the king of a neighboring land, his eyes eating you up like he’s starving. And in that moment, for the very first time, you feel it.”
My chest rises and falls wildly. Excitement and anticipation swirl inside me.
“What do I feel?” I ask, my voice trembling.
His lips brush my other ear as he whispers, the words sinking deep, impossible to ignore.
“The pleasure of being wanted… the fiery thrill of being desired… the irresistible pull of needing a man.”
I swallow hard, my thoughts slipping to the day I first saw Tony. Yes, I’ve felt all of that.
He moves again.“The king strides toward you with purpose. He stops in front of you and asks for a dance. Do you accept?”
I don’t even think before the word slips out. Heat rushes through my whole body, and without thinking, I murmur, “I accept.”
His voice turns approving, almost encouraging. “Good girl.”
He lifts my left hand, placing it gently on his bare waist. His right hand clasps mine, while his other hand slides to my side, resting just above my hip.
