Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98496 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98496 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
“Someone like Prince Alexei Lykaios,” he continued casually, like he was discussing the weather and not the end of my existence.
The wine glass slipped from my fingers and shattered against my plate with a crash that perfectly symbolized my life at that moment.
“Flip,” I muttered, staring at the mess of glass and red wine spreading across the white tablecloth like a crime scene.
“Prince Alexei Lykaios?” Mom’s voice had gone up approximately three octaves.
“Let me help you with that,” Nicolo said, immediately rising to grab his napkin. He knelt beside my chair, carefully picking up the larger pieces of glass with the gentle efficiency of someone who cared deeply about my wellbeing and definitely wasn’t planning to use those same dexterous fingers to strangle me later.
“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice barely audible even to my own ears.
He looked up at me, still kneeling, still smiling that perfectly pleasant smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Of course. I’d hate for you to get hurt.”
The way he said it made my skin crawl like it was trying to escape my body entirely.
“It’s not what you think,” I said desperately, addressing the room in general but mostly the man who was giving me serious serial-killer vibes despite looking like he was posing for “Protective Brother Monthly.”
“Oh my stars,” Mom continued, completely oblivious to the fact that her stepson was probably calculating the best way to dispose of my body in the nearby forest preserve. “You’re dating royalty. And not just any royalty. My daughter is dating an Atlantean prince!”
“I am not dating him!”
“How wonderful for you,” Nicolo said, standing and depositing the glass shards on his bread plate with a delicacy that was somehow more threatening than if he’d crushed them in his fist. “Prince Alexei is quite...impressive. I’m sure you two have a lot to talk about.”
“We don’t talk about anything! It was a business meeting!”
“Of course it was,” he agreed pleasantly. “I’m sure it was very...professional.”
I was going to die. Right here, in the dining room, surrounded by asparagus and family bonding. They’d find my body slumped over the table, death by mortification, with “She claimed it was just business” etched on my tombstone.
“This is incredible,” Mom gushed. “Wait until I tell the ladies at book club. They’re never going to believe this!”
“Mom, seriously. Will you listen to me? It’s not—”
“How long has this been going on?” she demanded. “When do we get to meet him? Is it serious? Are you in love?”
“You should definitely invite him for dinner,” Nicolo suggested silkily. “I’d love to meet this mysterious prince who’s captured my little sister’s attention.”
The way he said ‘little sister’ made me want to crawl under the table and hide until the next Blood Moon.
“That’s a wonderful idea!” Mom clapped her hands together like she’d just won free tickets to the Supernatural Bachelor Auction. “Maryah, you simply must invite him!”
“I can’t—”
“Why not?” Nicolo asked, tilting his head with apparently genuine curiosity that made my heart stutter with fear. “Unless there’s some reason you don’t want your family to meet him?”
It was a trap. Everything he said was a trap, and I was walking straight into every single one of them like a horror movie character heading toward the basement with no flashlight.
“It’s complicated,” I said weakly, the lamest excuse in the history of excuses.
“I’m sure we’d all understand,” Nicolo said kindly. “Family dinners can be overwhelming for someone who’s not used to our...dynamics.”
Milano snorted. “I think a stallion shifter prince who sits on the Blood Oval can handle a family dinner, son.”
“Of course,” Nicolo agreed. “Though I suppose it depends on how serious things are between him and Maryah. Some relationships are more...casual than others.”
The word ‘casual’ dripped with implication like honey laced with poison.
“It’s not a relationship!” I burst out, my voice rising with panic. “It was one meeting! That’s it!”
“Well,” Milano said mildly, “that was quite a reaction.”
I realized I was breathing hard, my hands clenched in my lap so tightly my knuckles were white, while three pairs of eyes studied me with varying degrees of amusement and concern.
Well. Two pairs of amusement and concern.
The third pair belonged to Nicolo, and they held something much darker. Something that made my stomach drop like I’d just stepped off a cliff and was now remembering humans couldn’t fly.
“Maybe I should go call it a night,” I said, pushing back from the table and nearly tipping my chair in my haste. “I’m pretty tired from all the...business meeting...stuff.”
“Of course you are,” Mom said sympathetically. “All that excitement with your prince. You probably want to call him and tell him about dinner.”
“He’s not my prince,” I muttered, the words sounding pathetically defensive even to my own ears.
“Sleep well, Maryah,” Nicolo said with perfect brotherly affection. “Sweet dreams.”
The way he said it promised anything but sweet dreams. More like the kind of nightmares that had you waking up in a cold sweat at 3 AM, checking under the bed for monsters wearing the faces of your stepbrothers.