Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 30269 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30269 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
“You should finish your breakfast.” A dry, fragile note colors his tone. “You have a gown to wrap up, and I have a roomful of donors to disappoint with my dancing.”
A laugh slips out of me. “So you are going to dance with me.”
“Maybe. Either way, I’ll be your bodyguard. I want you to be able to relax and have a good time.”
“That’s very sweet of you.”
He scoffs. “No one’s ever used that word for me, my queen.”
“Maybe people don’t know you well enough to use it.”
A pinkish tint spreads over his cheeks. He clears his throat, and the blush vanishes. “You’ll be late for your instructor.”
“You’re changing the subject.”
“Yes.” He holds my gaze instead of dodging it. “People think they want to know me, but the past is best left where it belongs.” He closes the cereal box, flap pressed down with two fingers. “But thank you for caring.”
Caring is the easy part.
But forgetting the things he said last night…
I wish I could.
16
Today’s lunch comes up the way breakfast did yesterday, and the day before that. I clutch the toilet, knuckles bloodless against cold porcelain, throat scraped raw. Three times in two days now.
It’s nerves.
The gala’s only a couple of hours away. It can’t be a bug.
But what if it’s something I ate? My mind flashes to the fashion show in Los Angeles, when one of my models went down with food poisoning, and I ended up walking my finale gown in her place.
Back then, fate cleared my path. Now I can’t shake the thought that it’s circled back to collect, and this time, I’ll be the one on the sidelines.
My stomach knots, and I heave another mouthful of bile into the bowl.
This can’t be happening. Hugo is counting on me, not to mention the donors who expect a preview of the gown I designed.
My month in the House of Aquarius can’t end like this.
Wait.
Has it really been that long since…?
I lean my forehead against the cool rim and count the weeks, eyes drifting to the closed cupboard under the vanity—the one I haven’t opened since I arrived in Hugo’s house.
I’m late.
Really late.
I’m not sure by how many days. A week, maybe two? It doesn’t matter, because there’s only one man and one night, and that makes the date about as unambiguous as one can get. I settle a hand over my middle, and a sound breaks free, half laugh, half sob.
A baby.
His baby.
Tears spill down my cheeks.
I can’t wait to tell him.
Except he’s an ocean away, hiding out of necessity, and I don’t know when he’ll make it home to me. I’d give anything to take his hand and place it low on my belly, to watch his expression fill with awe, the fierce lion brought to his knees by this miracle that isn’t supposed to exist.
But it does, because we broke the single most forbidden rule of the Brotherhood. A rule that stood for centuries, tangled up in a so-called curse by a vengeful queen.
If this is a curse, I’ll take it.
And I’ll protect this precious secret with my life.
Pushing to my feet, I wipe my mouth with a cloth, then brush my teeth. The girl in the mirror stares back, pale but clear-eyed, those lips wanting to turn up at the edges.
A baby and a ball, all in the same day.
Now I just have to get through it without throwing up again.
I do my makeup heavier than usual, choosing cool tones of frost and slate with a touch of silver to bring out the sapphire of my gown. A French twist leaves my shoulders bare. Only then do I unzip the garment bag to find Midnight Rain waiting for me, done at last.
I step into it feet-first, and the silk pours over my skin. Greta finished the fitting yesterday, but I still hold my breath as I reach for the zipper, almost expecting the magic to fall apart up close.
It doesn’t.
The silver beadwork catches the light, dissolving into the blue exactly the way I envisioned. To date, it’s the best thing I’ve ever designed.
And after tonight, it won’t be mine.
This gown, worn by a queen, will be donated to the foundation’s spring charity auction, where some stranger will bid a fortune for the privilege of hanging it in a closet.
I fasten a delicate chain at my collarbone, the tiny stones hanging like raindrops, then smooth a palm down the silk. For a breath, my hand rests over the secret beneath it.
Mine.
For now.
A knock pulls me from the moment. I open the door to Hugo, and for a second, all I can do is stare. He always favors a tailored image, his morning flannel the exception, but tonight, he warrants a double-take. The tux fits him to perfection, his hair gelled back severe enough to make his green eyes especially vivid.