I reach for his hand. “It’s not your fault.”
“It is. No one escapes this place, Novalee. If they try, tragedy strikes. I didn’t believe it until I tried shirking my duty. My mother died for it.”
The mention of the word duty makes me think of the one I didn’t choose either—a duty to twelve men. As the thought ferments in my soul, turning my stomach to acid, the reality of what we’ll endure as a couple haunts the space between us.
“You couldn’t have known. You were just a kid.”
“I knew, but I was too goddamn arrogant, even back then.” He turns to face me again, his hand squeezing mine. “I met you for the first time a few weeks later. You were so proper and innocent and fucking perfect. I was drawn to you even as I hated your guts for what you represented.”
His attitude all those years ago—as I kneeled while my uncle agreed to auction me off to the Brotherhood in the next room—clicks into place. For the first time, I understand Sebastian’s behavior, back then and more recently. It doesn’t matter if it was unwarranted and unforgivable because it came from a place of tragedy and pain.
If I relate to nothing else, I can relate to that.
“Everything you went through…is that why you ended up with Lilith?”
He tenses beside me. “She and my sister were close. After Caroline died, we started spending time together.”
“She’s a lot older than you,” I say without blurting out how Lilith took advantage of him. If I thought I hated her before, it’s nothing compared to the fury simmering in my gut for my half-sister.
“If you’re implying I was the innocent one in our relationship, if you could even call it that, you should know that I pursued her. She resisted for over two years.”
“Just because you were of age didn’t make it right.” Jealousy runs thick in my vocal cords, infusing my words with venomous accusation. “Lilith knew what she was doing.”
“She wasn’t the only one. I’ve never been innocent, princess.” His hard-edged tone makes me defensive.
“Are we headed for another five-day standoff?” I ask.
“Hell no.” He reaches for me in the darkness, tucking me against his chest with possessive strength. “The only reason I’m telling you any of this is because I want you to know me, the good, the bad, the ugly. If I win the auction, I’ll be the luckiest asshole on this planet, Novalee. But it won’t be easy. There will always be thirteen people in this marriage.”
I bring his hand to my chest, covering the place where my heartbeat races in fear, awe, and uncontrollable love for this man. “Not in here where it counts. In here, there’s only you and me.”
“I know you believe that,” he says, splaying his fingers, palm warm on my skin.
“You need to believe it too.” I pause, wishing I could see more than the shadow of his face. “Your mother loved the chancellor and cared about your father. For me, it’s the other way around.”
“I think I needed to hear that.” He pauses on a sigh. “But will you still love me when I tell you about our wedding night?”
Another piece of the heavy shit he’s avoided sharing. I brush my thumb over his bottom lip. “The way I feel about you isn’t a choice, so you might as well spill it.”
“When I take your virginity, every member of the Brotherhood will be present.”
His admission paints a scene in my mind that threatens to send me into a dark hole, but I claw my way to the top and cling to the moment, to this bed, to the sexy and warm man who’s experienced his own share of trauma.
“As far as I’m concerned, that night in the cottage was our first time. You made it special. You made me feel special.” I draw him into a slow, open-mouthed kiss that makes talking for the next hour impossible.
Chapter Eleven
On the mornings he has clients, Sebastian accompanies me to my studio before leaving me aching for the taste of his lips. The evenings are filled with lust-filled gazes across the dinner table, followed by foreplay sessions in his bed that test our stamina.
But he hasn’t taken me anally again, and as the time passes, I wish he would. On some levels, it’s a shameful craving—something considered taboo—but now that I’ve had a taste of such intimacy with him, twice, I can’t help but want more.
“Are you okay?” Greta, my production manager, asks the following week. The wedding is fast approaching, and it’s been a grueling few days of last-minute changes and overseeing twelve fittings for the men.
I blink. “Yeah, why?”
“You don’t normally end the day so early. You seem a bit distracted. Are you sure everything’s okay?”
“I’m fine, Greta. Thanks for checking on me though.” I don’t mention how I’m a little sleep-deprived, thanks to Sebastian and his hungry mouth and hands that keep me up half the night. But I’ve never felt so alive, or more excited, because it’s his birthday, and I have something special planned. “Today is Sebastian’s birthday.”
She gives me a knowing smile. “That explains it. If you need to take the day tomorrow, I’m happy to oversee things.” Her grin turns wry. “That is my job, after all.”
“And you’re amazing at what you do. A day off sounds like heaven, but I don’t want to miss anything at this stage. I learn so much just from observing.”
With a nod, she packs up her stuff. “I understand, Miss Van Buren. See you tomorrow.”
I’ve lost count of the times I’ve asked her to use my first name, but she refuses. The rest of the crew follows suit a few minutes later, and I lock up before heading toward the elevator, eager to get home.
Home.
The word sends a warm feeling through my chest. This could be our life, working down the hall from each other, spending the evenings sharing dinner and talking about the day, losing sleep because we can’t keep our hands to ourselves.
The reality of my duty tries to intrude on the fantasy, reminding me that my obligation to another man’s bed will hang over us every month, but I shove the thought into the mental hell hole from which it sprang.
The door to Sebastian’s studio is closed, and for once I’m glad he’s got a late client because it’ll give me time to prepare. An hour later, I’ve got a cake in the oven, made from scratch by following a recipe, and a dinner order put in to the kitchen.
While his birthday dessert bakes, I freshen up and slip on a silky knee-length dress, foregoing undergarments. Moving around the dining room to set the table, pussy bare underneath the flimsy material, gives me a naughty, sinful thrill.
Not long before he’s due home, everything is going according to plan. Candles wait to be lit in the dining room, dinner will arrive just before he does, and the cake is cooling on a rack in the kitchen. His favorite scent wafts off my skin—a unique blend of plumeria from back home. I’m in the middle of putting icing on the cake, and lamenting how lopsided it turned out, when Sebastian walks in.
With a startle, I whirl around to face him. “You’re early!”
“And you’ve been busy, I see.” He glances over my shoulder at the cake, half decorated and looking more than a little sad.