âSo do we enter into a contract, my king?â
âYou still think you have a choice, donât you?â he said, cocking one brow at her. âAre you always this optimistic?â
âI always have a choice,â she replied.
She sensed rather than heard him as he came and stood behind her. Was it her imagination or did she feel the heat of his breath against her naked skin? A shimmer of awareness crept over her body.
âThen you are indeed fortunate,â he said close to the shell of her ear.
His voice held a whisper of a thousand words left unsaid. Ottavia closed her eyes and concentrated on remaining still. On simply absorbing his nearness and trying to separate out the individual reactions her body clamored with.
âA king does not have many choices,â he said, exposing a surprising insight into his mind.
***
Contract Wedding, Expectant Bride is part of the Courtesan Brides duet: Her pleasure is at his command!
To my Writers in the Wild buddies,
and to Soraya Lane, with grateful thanks for all your support and, at times (yes, Iâm looking at you, Soraya!), goading and bullying, all of which get me to âThe Endâ with a happy sigh.
One
He was here.
She knew it by the way the energy inside the tranquil island castle shifted and switched up a gear. Ottavia smoothed her gown over her curves for the fifteenth time that afternoon and told herself again that she wasnât nervous. Not really. In her profession as a courtesan, she was accustomed to dealing with powerful men. Dealing with a king couldnât truly be that different...could it?
The exquisite French Charles X ormolu clock on the mantelpiece continued to tick quietly, marking the seconds as they dragged by. But thankfully, she didnât have to wait long. The ornate wooden doors leading into the high-ceilinged room swung open. Her stomach clenched in anticipation. A frisson of nerves shimmered down her spine. But, instead of the royal visage sheâd expected to see, one of the kingâs advisersâSonja Novakâstood there instead.
The woman was, as usual, impeccably dressed in a Chanel suit and her iron gray hair was swept into an impossibly neat chignon. Her classically beautiful features were schooled into a bland expression that, as far as Ottavia could tell, was about as close as the senior member of King Roccoâs staff ever came to a smile.
âHis Majesty will see you now.â
âI will see him here,â Ottavia replied as firmly as she could.
She should have known it would earn a particularly scathing look.
âMs. Romolo, the King of Erminia summons you into his presence. Not the other way around.â
âThen His Majesty will be disappointed, wonât he?â
Dredging every last vestige of courage, Ottavia turned her back on the woman and directed her gaze out the window. She counted slowly, regulating her breathing and slowing her rapid heartbeat with each numberâone, two, three... She was at seven before she heard the huff of outrage, closely followed by the brisk click of heels on the parquet floor. Then, blessed silence.
Ottavia allowed a small, triumphant smile to curve her lips. He would come to her. She knew it as certainly as she knew the carefully composed face that greeted her in the mirror each morning. Sheâd seen the expression in his eyes at their first meeting and recognized it immediately. Granted, she hadnât been looking her best. Who did when theyâd been held captive for several days without so much as a change of clothing? But, even dressed in the same traveling outfit sheâd worn for almost a week, her face without makeup, sheâd seen that look. He wanted her. And she had years of experience manipulating that want in the men she encountered.
Besides, he owed her. Not only had his sister kidnapped Ottavia, Princess Mila had had the cheek to steal Ottaviaâs clothing and borrow her identity, pretending to actually be Ottavia as she took on the engagement with the courtesanâs current client. In the meantime, Ottavia had been held captive for several days until sheâd been able to escape. Granted, sheâd been held captive in a luxury suite in one of Erminiaâs best hotels, but that didnât excuse anyone from their part in what had happened. Then, when sheâd rushed to the king to warn him what his sister was up toâin an attempt to muzzle her and keep her from speaking to the press, heâd also ordered her to be held captive. Not that it had helped. The story had gotten out anyway, even though Ottavia had done nothing to spread it. But the scandal had blown over eventually. And her clothing had finally been returned to her two weeks ago. So now only one obstacle remainedâdealing with the king.