CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FOUR

‘I’VENEVERLAID a hand on a woman in my life unless it was to bring pleasure.’

Laia’s brain was fused with white-hot heat at the thought of Dax’s hands on her, bringing her pleasure.

She took a step backwards and said, a little breathlessly, ‘I don’t need to come to my senses. It’s your brother who has to come to terms with the fact that he’ll need to find a new royal bride.’

Dax shrugged. ‘Why don’t we agree to disagree for now?’

Laia didn’t trust this amenability for a second. Maybe he’d decided to play some kind of good cop role so that he could play on her sense of guilt and persuade her she had no option but to agree to the marriage.

No way.

Her resolve firmed, Laia went to walk out of the media room.

She was almost at the door when he said from behind her, ‘If you haven’t already planned something, shall I look at what we can have for dinner?’

She turned around. Dax had his hands in the pockets of his board shorts. They hung low on his narrow hips. Together with the white polo shirt that made his skin look even darker, and his messy, overlong hair, he could have passed for a sexy pro-surfer or athlete—not a royal crown prince.

‘You can cook?’ she asked baldly.

‘I’d hardly suggest it if I couldn’t, would I?’

The man was full of surprises.

‘That would be nice...if you don’t mind. The larder and fridge are well-stocked. I need to take a shower.’ She turned to leave, and then looked back at the last second. ‘I—That is...you don’t have to cook for me. We don’t have to eat together.’

‘You’ve ensured I’m stuck on this island with you for the foreseeable future. I think the least you can do is provide me with some company.’

Laia felt ridiculously gauche all of a sudden. ‘Yes, of course. I meant, I just don’t expect you to spend time with me if you’d prefer not to.’

A look flashed across his face—something that sparked a reaction deep inside her. An intense fluttering.

He said, ‘I think that horse has bolted. Go and have your shower. I’ll have the food ready when you come back.’

When Laia had dried off after her shower she considered her wardrobe, which was largely made up of casual wear, considering the location. She did have formal outfits—as she’d said to Dax, she had to be prepared for every eventuality. Anything could happen. She might be taken on a plane from here straight back to Isla’Rosa to deal with any amount of situations. She even had a funeral outfit. A black shift dress and matching jacket. Simple pearl jewellery.

But she usually veered away from black and thinking about death. She’d always felt as if grief had been embedded in her consciousness from birth, along with that sense of guilt and abandonment. Because it had coincided with the death of her mother.

She spotted a navy silk wrap maxi-dress and reached for it in a bid to divert her mind away from maudlin thoughts. Driven by a compulsion she didn’t want to investigate—to look pretty?—she pulled it on over her underwear, tying the belt around her waist.

She tied her hair back in a loose knot to let the air get to her neck. It was cooler in the evenings, but no less stifling. She was about to put on some make-up, but stopped herself.

What was she doing? Making herself up for her prisoner?

A tiny semi-hysterical giggle rose up and she put a hand over her mouth. Hands down, this was the most outlandish thing she’d ever done in her life.

There was a sound from outside the dressing room and then a deep voice. ‘Laia? Dinner is almost ready.’

She stepped out to see Dax in the doorway of her room. His gaze swept her up and down, from her bare feet to her face. A wave of heat followed his gaze.

‘You look...lovely.’

Laia should be cursing herself, because now he would think she’d done this for him, but she couldn’t seem to drum up the necessary recrimination.

‘It’s nothing special...it’s just light and cool.’

Why did she sound so defensive?

Dax said, ‘Why don’t you go down? I’ve prepared you an aperitif. I’ll have a quick shower and freshen up too.’

Feeling slightly as if she’d stepped into some parallel dimension, Laia watched Dax turn and leave. She locked her own bedroom door and put the key in its hiding place.

She went downstairs, curious as to what she’d find. First she noticed the delicious smell, and saw something simmering on the stove. She lifted the lid. It looked like a beef stew with vegetables and spices.

Then she noticed a glass with clear liquid and ice on the counter. And a slice of cucumber. She lifted it up and smelled it, her nose wrinkling slightly. She wasn’t much of a drinker, and this definitely smelled alcoholic.

She tried it. Gin or vodka—she wasn’t sure which. But it tasted refreshing and light.

She wandered over to the outside deck and looked out over the view. It never failed to take her breath away.

Dusk was falling into night. She could see the lights of the fishermen in their boats. She could see her own security team’s boat. The two men were operating in shifts with another team. They would be quietly coming and going, being delivered to and from the bigger island, every couple of days.

The nights here always reminded her of velvet, because the warm air felt like a caress...

And then she heard a noise behind her and her skin prickled all over. She turned around. Dax had changed into dark trousers and a white shirt, sleeves rolled up, top button open. His hair was damp. Jaw clean-shaven. Feet bare. As were hers. For some reason that made her blood pulse. It felt intimate. When really, in this climate, it was just practical.

He looked very different from the rakish, messily gorgeous man she’d met after that polo match all those years ago, but no less sexy. More sexy, if anything. He was a man now. He’d lived. His body was honed and tightly muscled. Like a prize fighter.

‘Laia, if you stare at me any harder I might explode.’

She blinked, and realised she was gripping the glass tightly. She relaxed. ‘I was a million miles away.’

Dax put a hand to his chest. ‘You weren’t thinking about me?’

Laia fought down the rising flush. She took a sip of her drink and tried to appear nonchalant. ‘Not everything is about you.’

She sat on a stool on the opposite side of the island and watched as Dax moved easily around the kitchen. Clearly at home there.

He said, with an edge to his tone, ‘Oh, don’t worry, I’ve known for a long time that it’s not all about me.’

She knew immediately what he was talking about, and said quietly, ‘You mean because you’re the spare?’

He stopped in the middle of chopping a slice of cucumber for his own drink. Looked at her. ‘You know, you’re probably one of the few people in the world who would get that straight away.’

‘I don’t have a spare. It’s all on me.’

Dax made a face and lifted his drink in her direction as a salute. ‘Having a spare doesn’t necessarily mean all that much difference. I never did the same classes as Ari. In many respects I’m not remotely prepared if something happens. It’s as if just having a spare is enough.’

Laia remembered what it had been like, enduring endless lessons in stuffy rooms when it had been sunny outside.

‘So you were separated at lot as children?’

‘From the age of eight Ari was on a different schedule. There were weeks I hardly saw him. I was six.’

‘You’re obviously close...’

Dax took a sip of his drink. And then he said simply, ‘I’d do anything for Ari.’

Laia felt her heart squeeze when she thought of Maddi and her selflessness. She said, ‘I always wished for a sibling when I was growing up. I used to lie awake, worrying about what would happen if anything happened to me.’

‘And yet here you are. Safe and well and about to be crowned Queen. But you’re choosing not to make the process easier by marrying a man who is already King and who would help you carry the burden you’ve been carrying alone for years.’

Laia bristled. ‘Maybe I don’t want “easier”. Maybe I don’t want to marry a king who will automatically assume that role over a country he knows little about.’

‘That’s hardly his fault,’ Dax pointed out. ‘Even with the marriage agreement, and a thawing of relations between the two kingdoms, it’s not as if things improved overnight. Hence this—’

Laia put up her hand. ‘Don’t say it.’ She stood up from the stool, feeling agitated. ‘I know how it looks for me to be flying in the face of what everyone must think is the logical solution. But I know my father wouldn’t want to see Isla’Rosa become a suburb of Santanger. And with the best will in the world, that’s what would happen.’

‘You would be Queen of Santanger—you would have your own influence.’

Laia looked at Dax. ‘I don’t want to be Queen of Santanger. I just want to be Queen of Isla’Rosa. That’s all I need.’

Dax was stirring the stew. He turned off the heat and turned around. ‘And, according to you, love.’

Laia felt exposed again. ‘Not necessarily love. I’m not that delusional.’

She wasn’t going to admit to this man in a million years that she yearned for a soul-deep connection. He’d laugh his head off.

Laia sat back on the stool and said, ‘I know it’s not something that comes easily for people like us. What my mother and father had was rare and special.’

Dax frowned. ‘They were in love?’

Laia nodded. ‘My father adored my mother. He never married again.’

But he had an affair resulting in your secret half-sister.

Laia avoided Dax’s eye. She could only imagine his cynical response if she told him about that. She didn’t want Dax judging her father for his moment of weakness. A moment he’d never forgiven himself for.

Something about that caught at her, but Dax cut through her thoughts.

‘If he’d married again—as I’m sure he was pressured to do—he might have had more children, given you siblings and some spares, taking some of the burden from you.’

Laia shifted uncomfortably on the stool. It was as if he knew. She felt the urge to blurt out the truth to Dax, in spite of how he might respond, and that made her wary. Very few people made her feel inclined to open up.

She held up her glass. ‘Can I have another?’

Dax raised a brow and took her glass.

Laia saw his look and said defensively, ‘It’s nice, fresh. It doesn’t really feel like drinking. I’ve never been drunk.’

‘It’s really not all it’s cracked up to be.’ Dax expertly and efficiently prepared another gin and tonic with fresh ice and a cucumber slice and handed it to her. ‘Take it easy. I don’t want to be responsible for getting you drunk for the first time. I don’t know if my reputation can handle it.’

He seasoned the stew and then turned back.

‘Speaking of reputations... You’ve managed to carve out quite a one for yourself, considering you’ve never been drunk.’

Laia nearly choked on her drink. She remembered seeing Dax in the club in Monte Carlo, when he’d said to her, ‘We seem to frequent all the same social events and yet you’re as elusive as the Scarlet Pimpernel.’

She looked at him accusingly. ‘You knew, didn’t you?’

He shrugged. ‘I think I realised after that night that something was up. It was the first time I’d seen you in the flesh on the circuit, even though we’d always both appear in the papers the next morning.’

‘It wasn’t the first time you’d seen me in the flesh, though...’ Laia wasn’t even sure where those words had come from. Falling out of her mouth before she could stop them.

Dax frowned. ‘What do you mean? We’d never met before that night. Not face to face, at least.’

Laia felt a dart of hurt. She lifted her chin. ‘It was in Paris...after a charity polo match. I was there with my father.’

He looked at her blankly for a long moment, and then slowly she could see the dawning of recognition. It was almost insulting.

‘That was...years ago. You were a child.’

Obviously she wouldn’t have interested him because she’d still been a teenager.

‘It was eight years ago,’ Laia said, too quickly. She cursed herself. ‘I was sixteen. It’s no wonder you don’t remember.’

Dax grimaced slightly. ‘My early twenties weren’t my finest moments...a lot of that time is blurry. I recall meeting your father briefly...’ He looked at her and his eyes narrowed on her. ‘And, yes, a young girl who looked very shy and—’

‘That’s okay. You don’t have to say any more. That was me.’ Even now Laia could remember the feeling of burning self-consciousness. The huge impact he’d had on her. That he still had on her. Mortifying. Why had she brought this up?

She wanted to drown in her drink and took a big gulp.

‘You were much younger than everyone there. Then I realised who you were—Ari’s fiancée.’

Laia glared at him. ‘I was sixteen. I was no one’s fiancée.’

He had the grace to wince. ‘That does sound a little...weird. I used to tease Ari about being promised in marriage to a complete stranger.’

Dax was taking plates from a shelf and dishing up the stew, which smelled delicious. He was serving it with crusty bread.

He said, ‘I’ve laid the table outside.’

Laia hadn’t even noticed. She brought over the bread and Dax placed down the plates. He picked up a bottle of red wine and two glasses. There was a candle burning.

He sat down and Laia realised she was feeling a nice sensation of being cushioned against everything. Suddenly it didn’t seem to matter that much that he only vaguely remembered her as an awkward teenager from that polo match in Paris.

He poured her some wine. She took a sip and asked, ‘Why are you being so...calm about this? So...amenable?’

He sat down. ‘Do you want to know the truth?’

She nodded and leant forward.

He leant forward too, and whispered. ‘I haven’t had a holiday in years.’

Laia sat back. She would have assumed he was on a permanent holiday—but then she thought of the conversation with his assistant. Montero Holdings. ‘You see this as a holiday?’

‘Why not? It’s a tropical paradise. I have no devices to distract me. No idea what’s going on in the outside world. I don’t know when I’ll have this chance again. I might as well make the most of it.’

Laia speared a morsel of succulent meat. ‘You’re making fun of me.’

‘I swear to you I’m not. I’ve never been so cut off from everything and it’s not that bad.’

Laia tasted the meat and almost closed her eyes. It was tender and tasty, with just the right amount of spiciness.

She put down her fork. ‘Okay, how on earth did you learn to cook like that?’

‘Aren’t you being a little sexist? Where did you learn to cook? Neither of us grew up with expectations on us to cook or be domestic in any way.’

Laia put another forkful of food in her mouth to avoid answering.

When the silence grew taut between them Dax rolled his eyes and said, ‘Okay, I’ll go first. I went to a mixed sex boarding school in Switzerland for the last couple of years of high school. None of the boys took the cooking class because it was full of girls, but once I realised that I knew it was the class I wanted to be in. The guys laughed at me—but they weren’t laughing when they realised I was the one with a girlfriend. And as it happens,’ he went on, ‘I turned out to have something of an affinity for cooking and baking.’

Laia put her fork down. She arched a brow. ‘You bake too?’

‘I make the most decadent chocolate cake.’

Laia couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing—although she could well believe in Dax joining a class full of girls just to seduce them. That made sense.

She took another sip of wine, enjoying the velvety smoothness.

He gestured to her. ‘What’s your excuse?’

Laia was reluctant. This man made her feel so exposed. ‘I feel like a bit of a fraud. I’ve got a very limited repertoire because I’ve only been learning in the last year...a friend has been teaching me.’

Dax raised a brow. ‘A male friend?’

Laia blushed. ‘No. A female friend.’ Her best friend. Maddi. Impulsively she revealed, ‘Apparently my mother was a good cook, so I always wanted to learn... But there never seemed to be the time and it wasn’t considered appropriate.’

‘Your mother died when you were born?’

She nodded, avoiding Dax’s eye. She took another sip of wine. ‘Just a few hours later.’

‘That’s tough...not to have known her.’

Laia felt ridiculously emotional. She forced it down and shrugged. ‘You can’t really miss what you never had.’

Except that was a lie, because she missed what she hadn’t had almost every day.

She said huskily, ‘My father was wonderful...at least I had him.’

Dax leaned over and topped up Laia’s wine. ‘My father was a serial philanderer. At least you didn’t have to see something like that.’

She looked at Dax. She’d heard rumours over the years. Castle gossip. ‘Did your mother know?’

He grimaced. ‘You could say that. My father seemed to do it primarily to humiliate her. You see, she fell in love with him, and expected a relationship that my father had no interest in. So he punished her by showing her how weak she was for falling in love.’

Laia’s mouth opened. She closed it. ‘That’s horrific. She must have been—’

‘He destroyed her.’ Dax cut her off. ‘It destroyed her. Falling in love made her bitter and disappointed.’

Laia thought of Dax’s tattoo. The caged bird.

‘It sounds like your father’s reaction to her loving him made her all those things.’

Laia remembered what people had whispered about Dax being responsible for his mother’s death. Was that why he’d been sent off to boarding school? To get him away from the press and speculation?

‘I’m sorry about your mother. You must have been young when she died.’

Dax took a healthy swallow of wine. ‘Fifteen.’

She wondered if that had been around the time she’d first spied him in the distance at the palace in Santanger. She would have been only nine or ten. She had a vague memory of someone tall and gangly in the shadows. Had he been off the rails then? Was that what had led to his mother’s death?

She didn’t remember meeting the Queen—something about her not being well enough to receive them. She must have died not long afterwards.

Dax sat back and interrupted the buzz of questions in her head. ‘So, why did you cultivate a very comprehensive fake persona of a party girl?’

Laia felt embarrassed now. As if she’d been caught playing dress-up. Reluctantly she admitted, ‘I thought it would put your brother off.’

Dax sat back and made a small whistling noise. He let out a sharp laugh and then shook his head. ‘You know what? I can see your logic... Ari is very straight. He has no time for frivolity.’

Laia made a face as if to say, Right?

But Dax shook his head again. ‘You underestimated his stubbornness. That man is like a mule, and if he’s set on a course of action then he won’t stop until he gets what he wants.’

Laia shivered slightly, thinking of Maddi.

Dax sat forward. ‘Are you cold?’

Laia shook her head. He was solicitous. She hadn’t expected that. He’d been solicitous that night in the club in Monte Carlo... He’d put out his hand and touched her, and his touch had burned so much she’d pulled away like a frightened maiden.

Nothing had changed in the interim. She was still an innocent.

That burden sat like a stone in her gut. Suddenly her lofty ideals about love felt very naive and unattainable. Even if she did hold out for someone more compatible, how likely was it that there’d be the kind of passion she’d always dreamed of? The kind of passion she’d read about in the romance novels she’d hidden between the covers of the classics she’d speed-read in her English classes. The kind of passion that people said was unrealistic but she knew existed, deep in her bones, because she’d seen it. Smelled it. Ached for it.

This man looking at her now had awoken something inside her. A thirst. A hunger. That first face-to-face meeting with him had sparked such a visceral reaction that when he’d told her that one day he would be her brother-in-law she’d felt sick at the thought. Because how could this man who made her feel so many things, possibly ever be her brother? The idea had been horrifying...and so wrong.

Because she wanted him. She’d always wanted him.

Sitting at the table, Laia felt dizzy all of a sudden, as that revelation sank deep into her body, making her go hot and cold and hot again.

Dax was frowning now. ‘Laia...?’

She stood up and swayed slightly, suddenly very aware that she’d reached her limit and gone past it.

Dax cursed and stood too. ‘You’ve drunk too much.’

Laia wanted to laugh, but she was afraid she might be sick, because things were spinning a little.

She put a hand to her head. ‘Maybe I should lie down for a minute.’

Dax came around the table. Before Laia knew what was happening he’d lifted her effortlessly into his arms and was carrying her through the villa.

This was worse. Far worse. Because now she was pressed against all that muscle and sinew. His scent was all around her and infiltrating her blood, making it warm. Her dress was no barrier to his heat and the steely strength of his body. Her breasts were pressed against his chest. Her face was so close to his neck. If she moved her head forward even just a tiny bit she could press her lips against his skin.

They were at her bedroom door. Laia blinked. Had she really drunk that much? Dax put her down, and thankfully she didn’t sway again. The spinning sensation had calmed down.

His voice was tight. ‘Do you have the key to your room?’

Laia nodded. ‘You’ll have to turn around so you don’t know where it’s kept.’

Dax’s jaw clenched, but he turned around. His shoulders looked so broad, and he was so tall. The fuzziness from the alcohol was starting to wear off and she realised she was staring at Dax’s back like a lovestruck groupie.

She turned quickly and took the key from its hiding spot and opened her door, slipping inside.

Dax turned around. ‘Are you going to be okay?’

Laia nodded, but her head swam a bit again so she stopped. ‘Fine. Thank you for dinner. It was really good.’

‘You’re welcome.’

‘Goodnight, Dax.’

She was closing the door when he put a hand on it.

‘I’d feel a lot better if you left your door open tonight.’

Laia had all her devices—phone and laptop—locked away in a safe. So there was no real reason to lock her door.

She stood back and held the door open. ‘Okay, fine.’

After a long few seconds Dax backed away. ‘Call me if you need anything.’

He turned and left and Laia felt very discombobulated. Who was the captor here and who was the captee?

The effects of the alcohol seemed to be fading as quickly as they’d surfaced. Maybe it hadn’t been the alcohol at all, but the massive and unwelcome revelation that she really didn’t want to look at.

So she didn’t.

She changed into her night shorts and tank top and washed her face, and then climbed into bed. The room revolved alarmingly for a moment, but mercifully stopped after a few seconds. And then she fell asleep.

A little later, Dax stopped by Laia’s open bedroom door. The muslin net around her bed was still tied up, so she wasn’t being protected from biting insects.

Telling himself that he was just doing her a favour, and also delivering a big glass of water, Dax went in and put the water down on the bedside table.

Laia didn’t stir. She was on her back. One arm over her chest. Dark hair spread out around her head. It tended towards the wild and wavy. He liked it. It hinted at other depths beneath the largely serene surface she projected—or had been taught to project.

He recognised it from his brother Ari. They would both have been taught at an early age not to show emotion.

And yet when he’d been telling her about his mother, just a short while before—something he avoided talking about at all costs, usually—Laia’s eyes had filled with compassion.

Dax diverted his mind from how that had made him feel. He didn’t ask for an emotional response from anyone.

The light sheet was pushed down to Laia’s waist. One long leg was sticking out. She wore a tank top that did little to hide the firm swells of her breasts.

He could still feel them pressed against his chest as he’d carried her to the bedroom. She’d felt so light in his arms, but strong too. He’d felt her breath on his neck...warm.

By the time he’d put her on her feet his blood had been clamouring for more. To touch her. Explore that lithe body. Feel her under his mouth. Opening to him.

Cursing under his breath now, Dax moved silently around the bed, drawing the protective net down. This woman could not be his. No matter what she said, she was destined to be Queen of Santanger. He knew his brother, and Ari would stop at nothing to have his Queen by his side.

Dax would not betray his trust. But it might kill him in the process.

When Laia woke she was disorientated. She cracked open an eye and all she saw was fuzziness—until she realised it was the mosquito net around the bed. It was dawn outside, so mercifully it wasn’t too hot yet.

She came up on one elbow and winced when her brain collided with her head. Her mouth felt as dry as sandpaper. She spied a glass of water by the bed and pulled back the net to get it.

Had she brought that up to bed? She couldn’t recall. Last night wasn’t a blank but it was a bit blurry. She took a big gulp of water. She recalled talking to Dax for ages. About things that she hadn’t expected at all. Or had that all been a dream?

He’d told her about his parents.

He could cook like a pro.

So unexpected.

Laia got out of bed and went to the bathroom. Her hair was a big tangle around her shoulders. She couldn’t look less like a crown princess right now. The stuffy Privy Council would be horrified.

As she went back towards the bed she passed her open door, leading out to the corridor. Dax’s room was on the other side of the hall. Laia found her feet taking her out of her room and down the hall.

Dax’s door was wide open.

So he would have heard her if she’d felt ill during the night?

She crept closer. His room was dark—it was on the west side of the villa so the sun would hit her room first.

Knowing she was intruding, but unable to stop herself, Laia went further into the room. His net was pulled around the bed, but there was a chink between two ends that was open.

It gave her a perfect view of the man on the bed. And he was naked. Laia’s feet were stuck to the floor. The sheet had been thrown off completely and Dax lay in a sprawl, one leg bent. One hand was on his chest, which rose and fell rhythmically.

He was breathtaking. That was the only word to describe it. Every muscle clearly delineated. Not a spare ounce of flesh. Corded muscles on his legs. His narrow waist. And...

Laia’s breath stopped when her gaze rested on the potent centre of his masculinity.

She’d never seen a naked man in the flesh before. She knew she was transgressing a million boundaries and invading Dax’s space, but she couldn’t look away.

Even at rest he was impressive. Intimidating. Laia wondered what it must be like to lie next to a man like this. To wake up beside him. To have permission to touch him when you wanted because he was yours. To wrap your hand around—

Dax shifted on the bed and Laia froze in terror, her gaze on his face now, imagining his eyes opening. Those too-blue eyes fixing on her. Finding her ogling him. But they didn’t open.

Laia backed away from the bed, the net obscuring her vision again. And then she turned around and fled, straight back to her room, closing the door silently behind her. She was wide awake now. She didn’t think she’d ever get that image of Dax erased from her brain.

And she didn’t want to.

He was beautiful. She couldn’t deny it. She wanted Dax. She’d wanted him from the moment she’d laid eyes on him.

And now he was here.

The moment she left this place she would become Queen of Isla’Rosa and her life would not be hers again. She would have to deal with the fallout of not marrying King Aristedes and, once that had passed, everyone would be preoccupied with who she would be marrying.

She knew that even if she found someone she could consider a soulmate, someone who could be her companion throughout her life as Queen, she might never experience the kind of passion that she’d dreamed of. That she felt instinctively could be experienced with a man like Dax.

An audacious thought occurred to her.

He’s a crown prince...eminently suitable for me to marry.

Laia’s heart thumped.

But no. Crown Prince Dax of Santanger had made it very clear that his destiny was not his brother’s—settling down and begetting heirs. He would be completely unsuitable. How could she even trust a man like that?

No, she didn’t want him for marriage. She wanted him for something else. For something very selfish. For her. She wanted to know what real passion felt like before she had to settle down and live a life of duty and responsibility. Because her people would always come first. They had to.

Dax had haunted her for years. She was only realising how much now, here in this lush paradise, when she could no longer hide from herself and her desires. He didn’t disgust her at all. The opposite.

Seduce him.

No. Ridiculous. Nonsensical. She didn’t have the skills or the wherewithal to seduce an expert connoisseur of women. She wouldn’t even know where to start... She could already feel the humiliation if she made herself vulnerable and he rejected her. He’d probably do it with kindness, which would be so much worse.

Laia started to pace. But the suggestion wouldn’t fade as it should. Because surely there was no way.

If you seduce him then he will know you’re serious about not wanting to marry King Aristedes.

Laia stopped pacing. Could she really be considering this? The prospect of pitting Dax against his brother...by using herself?

It wouldn’t work. She wasn’t so irresistible. She wasn’t even sure if he wanted her. Maybe she was just imagining it when she thought she felt his eyes on her. When she thought she felt something pulse between them, alive and electric... He was a man—he was just reacting to her as a woman.

Well, then, if it won’t work, what have you got to lose?