Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 102166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Finn broke off with a choked sound as he came into the kitchen and his gaze landed on her.
His whole body language had changed.
He’d gone from uncharacteristically relaxed to ramrod straight, his shoulders spread, chest broad, and his pupils blown wide in a blink.
Her own gaze moved down, confused by his reaction.
That was when she remembered what Henry had said about the camisole. That they were for being worn under other tops. To ‘protect her modesty.’
At the time, she hadn’t understood his meaning. But in the freezing apartment, her nipples had hardened into points that pressed against the tight material.
Her gaze flicked back to Finn, finding his lips slightly parted, his breath coming quick and shallow.
When she took a breath, making her breasts press even harder against the material, an almost pained sound escaped him.
For a moment, she was helpless but to follow the urge to track her eyes down his body as well.
Gone was his stuffy suit. In its place was a white T-shirt that hugged his toned body and showed off surprisingly strong arms. His pants were different, too. They were a flowing gray material that showed off his outlines.
One outline in particular.
Surprised by the tightening of need in her core, her gaze shot back up to his face just a second before he forced his to rise as well.
“Iris, my sweet, innocent, adorably naive little mergirl,” Monty—who’d likely witnessed the entire encounter with his sharp eye for details—started. “Remember how we discussed needing another layer of clothing? I’m partial to a flowing evening gown, but I suppose a sweater would suffice.”
“Oh, right. Yes, he did … Henry mentioned that,” Iris said. She was suddenly too aware of her own body, finding herself almost … uncomfortable with it. That was a first. And the swirling sensation in her stomach was not a welcome one. “I forgot. I, uh, I will change …”
“Wait,” Finn said. His voice was choked, making him clear his throat before continuing. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “Don’t change. This is your home now too. You should be in whatever makes you comfortable.”
“For goodness’ sake, Mister Mayor, sir,” Monty said, eyes bugging. “Don’t say that to her. What is most natural to a mermaid is near nothing at all.”
“I’m not a fool, Monty,” Iris said, feelings bruised. “I know humans have to wear clothing.”
“Iris, don’t worry about it. You look … fine.”
Fine?
She looked … fine?
A word so aggressively neutral it might as well have come with a shrug. Was this some sort of political tactic? Downplay her, make her doubt her own beauty? To what end? What purpose would that serve his campaign? To make her more relatable?
Henry’s words from the day before came back to her on a loop. He’d made constant comments about how she was, essentially, ‘too much’ and how they would need to ‘tone her down’ to cater to mass appeal.
Was that what Finn was attempting to do?
Because she had clearly seen the proof of his desire when he’d been looking at her.
So instead of celebrating her beauty that he clearly appreciated, he wanted to make her question it, if not outright start to think less of herself?
The hurt that had started to pool in her chest began to churn and flow until it became a tsunami of rage.
How dare he make her doubt herself?
Him with his salt-slick smile and his manufactured personality.
Iris dropped her mug back down on the counter with a loud click before turning and striding back to the bedroom, slamming the door for good measure, before walking to the closet to pull on one of the many tops Henry had provided.
Not because she felt suddenly less beautiful, but because she no longer wanted Finn to notice it. He had no right.
This was good, she told herself as she buttoned the long-sleeved top. She needed the reminder of why this marriage could not go on.
It wasn’t just the marriage she resented; it was the quiet reshaping of herself she hadn’t even noticed happening.
A little less shimmer. A little less sway in her step. A little more fabric, a little more resilience.
She hadn’t agreed to be edited.
And if she let this go, let them go on correcting her voice, her walk, her wardrobe, she wouldn’t be Iris anymore.
She’d be some shimmering shell of a woman she didn’t even recognize anymore.
She couldn’t allow that to happen.
By the time she made it out of the bedroom, Finn was gone, and Monty was looming over the cat with his beak spread wide.
“Monty!”
The pelican snapped his beak closed, turning with a guilty look. “Pure instinct, I assure you,” he said, lifting his head. “I am far too refined to actually eat a cat.”
“I’m not so sure of that,” she said. She scooped up the cat and hugged it to her chest. His little body started to vibrate, the sensation immediately calming her frayed nerves. “Where did he go?”