Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 54097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Sharing her is not my idea of a good plan at all…I understand it politically, but the animal inside me simply wants her all to myself.
I see that Vincent is staring too, so I quickly pull out my phone and let him go slack-jawed at the sight of her before I do the same and we look like a pair of idiots.
Marius texted me a few details. I send him back a 100 emoji. Yes, I find those little emojis to be quite useful for quick communication; don't you agree? I’ve slipped my phone back into my pocket before anyone has noticed.
No one knows I’m texting right before the betrothal ceremony progresses, and Marius knows that yes, I am intent on impregnating her with an heir as soon as possible.
I don’t have to admit to anyone that I’m as much excited about the prospect of seeing Isadora’s stomach swelled and full of my child, because it means I planted my seed in her as much, as I am excited about the alliance we’ve made in this political match.
It isn’t a love match. I shouldn’t let myself get distracted from the ideas washing over me right now that threaten to overtake me.
Unlike passionate, brash, alpha bravado Vincent, I maintain control of myself at all times. I’m not so foolish as Vincent to let everything read on my face. No one knows what I’m thinking unless I want them to, and then I design that thought.
So how come I want to look like the alpha male turned into a fucking puppy at Isadora’s feet?
I’m no one’s lap dog.
I take what I want so well that, when it comes to political power, it is willingly ceded to me in a way that people believe all the things that are actually my machinations were, in fact, their ideas.
A smile forms across my lips, and just as a thought occurs to me, Vincent wises up and looks at me after muttering something about how glorious our intended bride is.
I offer the smile to Vincent because I realize now that, while I’m regarded as clever, Vincent is one of the only people to see me as cunning. The man chooses to not offer persuasion up as one of his honed skills like I do, but he has always recognized that I’m playing a game where everyone doesn’t seem to know that they are pieces on the board.
I banter with Vincent but mostly ignore him. I don’t want to waste my breath on him when I could be stealing away Isadora’s and charming her.
“Don’t fuck this up,” Vincent says, all bravado and gritted teeth.
Oh, so Vincent cares as much as I do. Is as drawn to her as I am.
I play the game. I see the players and the facts before me, and right now, I have to figure out how Vincent’s shared lusts and affections for Isadora can be useful for me.
Isadora approaches us, and I see that she’s without any purposely bewitching moves. She’s not unlike Vincent in that she seems intent to play fair, rather than play the games of politics. If she’s to be a good ruler, honestly she’ll want to balance both. But there’s a spunk in her, a fire, that leaves me without doubt that she can and will do both, and very well.
Chapter Four
Isadora
I drink in the sight of these two men, and I could get deliriously drunk at their intoxicating attractiveness. The hostility they obviously bear toward each other is frustrating, and I hate that I’m excited by the energy.
They are barely veiling their insults toward each other now, and it lights a fire in my blood. I want them to be civil, to resolve this. I know they are both well-respected leaders and yet…I daresay they are each losing their cool. I feel powerful to know that not only do I want this bickering to end, but that I will make it.
“Please, don’t burden us with more of your silence, Nathan,” Vincent says, narrowing his eyes and gripping the stein of beer with more force than necessary. “It’s better we hear what shit you’re up to rather than let you simmer in it in your silence.” His words are seething. I can’t ignore what they mean, but I can’t have them. No matter how hushed and separated our position is now, we need to be able to make it through this dinner without the entire betrothal being destroyed before it can totally take off.
“Vincent, I’m sorry, are you worried you simply can’t keep up?” Nathan sneers at Vincent.
I place my wine glass down on the table, softly brushing my thumb over the stem and glancing at both of them sternly, my brow arched disapprovingly. Their ill wills fade from their faces, and I don’t have to say a word. They don’t want to disappoint me. They know they are misbehaving.