The meat got stuck in her throat for a moment. She swallowed, making a mental note to dial down a bit. If she showed him how much she knew about Gwokon, her entire goal would be at risk. “Dowry, huh?”
He bit a piece of lobster. “Yeah.”
She leaned back on the chair. “Like, what’s it going for these days?”
“Hmmm…there’s not an on-set price. If the family is poor, they’ll settle for animals they can cook and eat.”
“That’s sad,” she said, unable to help herself.
“It’s a way for the prospective husband to help out the family who’s losing one of their own.”
She took a sip of wine. In a twist of events, the money she’d make from this virgin auction deal would help her out after losing Mary. It would assist her to find the culprit behind her death.
When her gaze met his again, she caught him studying her. Her breath caught in her throat, but she didn’t cut the stare. Memories from the enticing way he’d kissed her popped into her head, even if she’d done a good job avoiding those. Until now.
A smile danced on his lips. Was he thinking what she was thinking?
Her internal temperature rose. A woman could lose herself in the depths of his eyes. Silvery rings circled the cocoa irises. Heat flared at the pit of her stomach, the place between her legs getting wet. When he’d kissed her, he’d explored her mouth, pinned her with his touch. She never thought kisses like that existed in real life, only in some movies and books. Not that she indulged herself in the romantic atmosphere of either.
Her view of love had always been straightforward and cynical. Her birth mother had loved doing crack more than she’d cared for her. At ten she’d been adopted by Harold, who took care of her for three years until he met Mary and married her. She’d expected her stepmother to shun her, but Mary had surprised her and cared for her, loved her, even after Harold’s death, only a year after their marriage. Mary had filled the parenting void, but as the years went by, she needed her own romantic love, and ended up embarking on a naive trip without return.
“You’re very guarded, Isabela,” he said in that sexy voice that had the power to turn even the most trivial words sinful. His deep baritone accented the way he called her name, a name she’d detested ever since going to school in Nevada. Girls made fun of her, of her accent, of her poor English and strange mismatched eyes. When Mary entered her life, she called her Izzy, and the nickname helped shape a new woman inside.
“You bought me temporarily. I’m here at your…disposal. I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression.”
He stretched his hand across the table and touched hers. A frisson shot up her arm, immediately sending thrills of excitement to her sex. She shifted in the seat, unsure about what to do, but didn’t move her hand. Didn’t want to—the feel of his fingers brushing her knuckles was too good to let go.
“You know, when I was a little boy, I saw a stray dog in the street. I brought it home with me. My mother didn’t want him, but I insisted. I couldn’t give up on that dog,” he said, a twinkle in his eyes.
“What happened?”
He caressed her knuckles. “I bathed him, fed him. He didn’t want anything to do with me.”
She swallowed the lump forming in her throat. “Maybe he’d been on the streets for too long, and didn’t trust humans.”
He looked at nowhere in particular, probably lost in his own memories. “I kept him in my room at night. Every time I tried to pet him, he recoiled. I stopped trying, and talked to him before I went to sleep. I thought I was doing it for him, but now I know I was doing it for me,” he said.
She sucked in a breath, fighting the impulse to reach across the table and give him a hug. She’d always dreamed of having a pet as a child, but didn’t wish any cat or dog the life she had.
Nassor shook his head, then eyed her, determination washing over his expression. “Almost a year later, he climbed on my bed and let me pet him.”
“Must’ve been nice,” she said, emotion welling up in her throat. Why? She barely knew this man, and of all men, he had the power of destroying her if he found out her identity. Forget about revenge, only the fact she existed and knew her stepmother had been killed in his country was enough to make her a liability. She imagined he wanted no scandals as he took charge of his kingdom, especially one capable of causing international repercussions.
Yet…she touched her neck, willing away the frustration.
“My point is, I’m a patient man, Izzy.”
“Are you expecting me to climb on your bed out of my own free will?” she asked, partly joking, partly serious.
He patted her hand, then withdrew his. “I know it’ll happen. We have thirty days. And when it does, it’ll be so much better.” He winked at her, as if they shared some inside joke.
She straightened her shoulders, putting down her fork. Suddenly, her throat tightened and she could no longer eat anything else. Was he playing games with her? Selling her virginity and body for money was one thing. Climbing on his bed of her free will…was far more complicated.
…
“Your mother would like a word with you, Your Highness,” Nassor’s assistant Guban said with a tone of reverence.
Nassor logged out of his account. “Let her in.”
