Kissing Miles is like dancing with him. We’re perfectly in sync. Time melts away. I can’t get enough of it, I can’t seem to stop. The wind buffets my paper wings, making a sound like a thousand whispers, lifting me slightly like I might fly away.
Slowly, I realize that we’re out in the open at the base of the Solar. Even in the darkness, anyone looking out their window might spot me in my white gown.
I break away from Miles.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
It was Miles who kissed me, but I shouldn’t have let him. It’s not only dangerous for me to break my contract with Rocco. If anything, it’s even more dangerous for Miles. The Princes could seek retribution.
“I did it,” Miles says, looking at me intently. “And I’m not sorry.”
“We can’t,” I say to him.
We both know we can’t, and yet I allowed myself to pretend otherwise. I enjoyed the fantasy that I could talk to a boy I liked, flirt with him, dance with him. I let myself experience the feeling of actually falling for someone, reveling in that sense of mutual attraction. I had never felt it before. It was intoxicating.
But now I’ve crossed the line. And it felt too good. So good that I’m terrified of what I’ll end up doing if I don’t stop now.
“I can’t see you anymore,” I say to Miles.
He’s looking at me, face impassive, not answering.
I can’t tell what he’s thinking. I can’t read Miles as well as he reads me.
“You’re going to see me tomorrow,” he says.
“I’m not.”
“You will,” he says. His gray eyes are brighter than ever, fixed on mine with an intensity I’ve never seen in Miles before. He acts like he doesn’t care about anything. But I always knew that couldn’t be true, because he’s the furthest thing from lazy. He’s always hustling, always working an angle.
I’m finally seeing what it looks like when Miles is chasing something he wants.
“I can’t kiss you anymore,” I say. “And I can’t be alone with you.”
“I’m not going to argue with you, Zoe,” Miles says, his eyes burning into mine. “I’m also not going to stop.”
Before I can say another word, he turns and strides away from me, across the dark grounds.
I’m staring after him, open-mouthed, my lips still throbbing where he kissed me.
11
Miles
I wake up to Ozzy bursting into our room, his mohawk wildly disheveled and his clothes even worse, the sling missing off his arm and the gauze wrap filthy.
He’s grinning like a madman, practically dancing in place as he shucks off his grass-stained shirt, revealing the stocky, muscular frame beneath, and even more of his awful amateur tattoos.
“Where have you been?” I ask, already suspecting the answer.
“With Chay,” Ozzy says, beaming with joy.
“How was it?”
“Fucking spectacular. Everything I dreamed of and more.”
“Even with your arm all fucked up?”
“Mate, I wasn’t in charge of that ride. She’s insatiable. All I could do is lay back and try to think about binary code so I didn’t nut in two seconds.”
“So how long did you last, then?” I tease him. “Four seconds?”
“First time—maybe a minute. Second time round, I was much more successful. By the third time—”
“Alright,” I say, “I get the picture. I’m very happy for you.”
“Now’s the hard part, though,” Ozzy says.
“What do you mean?”
“She’s gonna try to fuck and chuck me, like she always does. But she’s not gonna get rid of me so easy. I may not have stamina in the sack, but when it comes to chasing Chay . . . I’m fuckin’ Lance Armstrong.”
“Good luck with that,” I say, shaking my head at him.
“You think you’ve got a better chance?”
“With what?”
“The forbidden princess.”
I consider lying to Ozzy, telling him I’m not going to pursue Zoe. But it’s pointless. He’s my best friend. He knew I liked her from the moment she first caught my eye. And right from that moment he started telling me what a terrible idea it was to kick that particular hornet’s nest.
“I might,” I say.
“You’re gonna get yourself killed.”
“A lot of people tell me that. It hasn’t happened yet.”
“Only takes one time.” Ozzy grins.
“That arm feeling better?” I ask him, to change the subject.
“Yeah it is,” he says. “That’s the healing power of Chay.”
I roll my eyes. “I bet.”
I head to the showers before I have to hear more about Chay’s magical pussy powers.
There’s a communal bathroom on each floor of the Octagon Tower. Four floors in total, with all the male Junior Heirs residing on my floor, including Rocco Prince.
So it’s not totally unsurprising when Rocco interrupts my nice hot shower.
I don’t bother to cover up. I’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.
Rocco stands there in his robe, looking me over. There’s something inhuman in the way he cocks his head, his eyes flicking around like some kind of raptor—intelligent, but without the normal range of emotion.
It takes a lot to get under my skin. Still, even I feel a twinge of discomfort, standing vulnerable and naked under the water.
I won’t let Rocco see me squirm, though. Not for a second.
“You keep staring and I’m gonna charge you for an Only Fans membership,” I say.
“Just assessing the competition,” Rocco says. “Wondering what was so alluring to my fiancée last night.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie.
I’d like to rub it in Rocco’s face that I was dancing with Zoe all night, but my desire to protect her is stronger.
“Don’t pretend to be stupid,” Rocco says. “And certainly don’t pretend that I am.”
He strips off his robe, revealing his body—lean, pale, reasonably fit. There’s nothing deformed about him. Yet I feel a wave of revulsion, like I turned over a rock and found him underneath.
“Are you thinking you could beat me in a fight?” Rocco says, turning on his showerhead. “Maybe you could. You’re taller, heavier. But I think you lack a certain viciousness. The willingness to go past the line. Past what you might consider dishonorable, immoral, even disgusting. I have no line, Miles. None at all. There’s nothing I won’t do.”
He stands under the shower spray, the water flattening his dark hair so it plasters against his skull, his waxy flesh making him look more than ever like some sort of white plastic automaton.
“Do you think you’re the first person who’s tried to threaten me?” I say.
“No,” Rocco replies. “You’re a hustler, right Miles? A deal-maker? You think you can manipulate people. Make them do what you want. That’s how you feel a sense of power—not by violence, but by bending men to your will.”