She makes a beeline for the bar and pours a double shot. “Would the queen of the tower like one?”
“No, thank you.”
“Suit yourself.” She throws back the clear alcohol—vodka, I’m guessing—and winces from the burn. “Enjoy my suite of rooms while you can.”
“Excuse me?”
“Your quarters. They’re nice, aren’t they?” Bitterness sets her mouth askew. “They used to be mine.”
“I wondered why Landon had the space renovated.” It’s a catty comeback, but I can’t seem to rein in my testiness around this woman.
Letting out a dark laugh, she sets the empty shot glass on the bar with an obvious thunk. “Well, I’m going to retire to my guest room. It was lovely to meet you.”
“You as well.”
If insincerity was an ice-breaker, we’d be the best of friends by now.
She disappears from sight, the quiet click of a door echoing through the semi-dark space, and I glance at the double doors leading to the elevator.
Two floors.
That’s all that separates me from the man who can give me answers. The one man I designed this dress for, and he couldn’t be bothered to notice me wearing it at the ball. During dinner, he only glanced my way once, and after Lilith showed up…to say the evening didn’t go as I’d hoped is an understatement.
I want my dance.
Determination drives my ivory Valentino pumps into action, and I arrive on Sebastian’s floor with a fear of rejection coiling my throat. This time, I ring the doorbell, paying heed to the hard lesson I learned about breaking into houses late at night.
He answers wearing dress pants, mussed hair, and a scowl to put the history of scowling to shame. Faint pink lines mark his bare chest like cat scratches.
Or the manicured hands of a woman.
“I didn’t get my dance.”
With a tilt of his head, he grabs my hand and pulls me inside. We reach his great room, and he brings me flush with his warm chest. The silk tulle of my dress caresses my legs like butter—an exquisite texture against my skin that’s only heightened by his nearness.
It’s too good to be true.
This unresisting closeness. The absence of our usual push and pull. The lack of snide banter that serves as an aphrodisiac. Disquiet rolls off him in waves as he holds me.
Because this isn’t dancing. This is an embrace between two lovers. A raw emotional connection between two people who need each other.
“Who is she to you?” My voice is breathless enough to count as a whisper.
His harsh sigh is the only clue he heard me. “Someone I thought I was done with.”
It’s agonizing honesty, and for once I wish he’d lied.
“Do you love her?”
He pulls back, his bright blue gaze dominating mine. “Does it matter?”
I swallow hard. “Why wouldn’t it matter?” But I know. Deep down, the reason blazes through my soul, leaving behind a graveyard of ash. His words confirm it.
“Because we can’t be together.”
This is it. The reason for his hatred. The demon driving his contempt for the Brotherhood and its institution.
Not because it’s a sick and wrong practice.
Not because he’s an advocate for right versus wrong.
No, it’s because he’s in love with someone tradition says he can’t have.
Instead, he’s supposed to marry me…and he hates me for it.
Blind pain floods my vision as I stumble from the warmth of his arms. Why does this hurt so much? Sebastian Stone is callous and cold and cruel…and he doesn’t deserve me.
But I want him to.
“What am I to you?”
“Innocent, Novalee. That’s what you are.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“What do you want me to say?” He spreads his arms wide. “You have no choice but to marry me. Nothing else matters.”
I shake my head, sending two salty drops trailing down my cheeks. “It’s the other way around. You’re forced to marry me.”
“Like I said…” He closes the distance and palms my cheek, his thumb wiping away a tear. “The mechanics don’t mean shit. It doesn’t change anything.”
Gripping his wrist, I push him away. “I don’t want to marry someone who hates me.”
“I don’t hate you.”
“But you love her.”
“And you have a thing for the chancellor. Do you not realize what knowing that does to me?”
“I didn’t know you cared.”
“Jesus. You should have. The shit going through your mind right now about Lilith? Turn it around, princess. Then maybe you’ll see what I’m talking about. You’re not the only one screwed up in the head over this.”
“You and me…” I look at him through my tears. “We’re a destructive combination.”
“There isn’t much we can do about it.”
“Yes, there is.” I straighten my spine. “Landon needs to pick someone else to win.”
Sebastian scowls. “You want the chancellor.”
“This isn’t about Liam.”
“The hell it’s not.”
“It’s about you.”
“Me?” he says, his voice a deep, accusing gruff. “Am I not good enough for you, princess?”
“I want someone who wants me back.”