I open my closet, and a sense of empowerment comes over me. Each day, I pick out my own clothes. I miss my ladies dearly, but I’ve embraced the strong woman I’ve become; one that can take care of her own needs without assistance from others. As I remove a teal sundress from a hanger, I muse over my upbringing and the various etiquettes that came with being of noble blood.
It feels good to shed some of them, to learn to be something other than a child queen of a nation on the fringes of falling apart. I might be a prisoner within these circular walls, a victim of my uncle’s greed and thirst for power, but at least I’ve found some positives from a horrid situation that was out of my control from the beginning.
Maybe it’s the sunlight pouring through the windows, or the fresh sea breeze wafting in through the French doors, but a hint of optimism rises inside me, and I carry it with me to meet Vance on the main balcony.
He smiles at me, his teeth as bright as the sun as I take a seat across from him. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you.” I let my attention linger on him for a few seconds, taking in his strong, clean-shaven jaw—a feature made more prominent by the way he pulls his hair back.
“I don’t know what your tastes are, so I ordered a bit of everything from the kitchen.” He nods at the impressive spread on the table. “I hope you like it.”
“It all looks delicious, thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me every time you speak, Novalee.”
“I’m just being polite.”
“Politeness is okay, but I also want you to be yourself.”
Taking a few moments to fill a small plate with fruit, yogurt, and a hard boiled egg, I form a reply I hope is diplomatic. “There’ve been a lot of unique personalities so far since I arrived on the island.” I force my gaze to his, warding off any lingering shyness. “I guess I haven’t learned to be myself with any of you yet.”
He nods before taking a sip of orange juice. “Your caution is understandable. I still insist you relax though. I’m not going to bite off your head.” A flirtatious smile steals his lips. “It’s much too pretty.”
“Thank you.”
He chuckles. “I see we have a ways to go.”
“Sorry, it’s a habit.”
“You said you had some questions.” He rests his shoulders against the seat back, food forgotten for the moment. “I’m all ears.”
I push a piece of watermelon around my plate before spearing it with a fork. “Why did you want me to watch last night?”
“Because it turns me on.” There’s no surprise on his face at my question, and I find his blunt answer…surprising. He furrows a dark blond brow, studying me from across the table. “You expected me to say something different?”
“I’m not sure what I expected. No one’s wanted me to watch…so far…in this tower.” Heat creeps up my neck, and I curse myself for being so inept about things of a sexual nature. I bring the piece of watermelon to my lips, and his gaze follows, brightening to pewter.
“I enjoy a woman’s touch. Make no mistake, love. But I’m what you’d call an exhibitionist.”
I blink. Of course, I know the definition of the word.
“If you win the auction,” I say, pausing to nibble on my lip, “will…will people watch us?”
With a secret smile, he pops a grape into his mouth. “You assume I plan to win the auction.”
“Don’t you?”
“Do you want me to?”
He’s stealing my strategy of deflection, and now I’m caught off-guard. “I…I…”
“It’s a simple question.”
Nothing’s simple. I’d choose the doctor over Mr. Bordeaux or Pax, but I can’t say I want him to come out the victor. Needing a few seconds to collect my thoughts, I take a long drink of orange juice. “I don’t know how to answer that.”
“Well,” he hedges, “you chose the chancellor last night. Are you hoping he wins?”
A month ago, before Landon shook the world under my feet, I would have said yes. But even after spending time with Liam and deciding there’s no way he’s out to harm me, Sebastian’s face is the one that flashes in my mind.
My heart skips a treacherous beat.
“If I had my way, none of you would win.”
“But that’s not your reality.”
He has a knack for pointing out the obvious. I return his gaze, refusing to let him derail me. “I have another question.”
“I thought you might.”
“Actually, I asked you last night, but you never answered me.”
His eyes narrow for a long moment, then he nods. “The trade.”
“Yes. What did Sebastian give you?”
The doctor rises to stand at the railing, his broad back facing me in a casual gray shirt as he casts his attention on the sea. Long, slender fingers—fingers belonging to hands that heal the sick—curl around the railing. “Do you know what it’s like to want someone so badly you can’t breathe?” he asks, a wistfulness to his tone, so soft it’s almost lost on the breeze.