Total pages in book: 34
Estimated words: 34243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
And that’s when it happens.
Because one look into his dark eyes, and everything I walked downstairs carrying—the shock, the mortification, the despair, the rehearsed scripts for how I was going to pretend last night didn’t gut me—all of it just...
Melts.
Because the darkness in his eyes is answering me.
I don’t know how else to explain it. His eyes are telling me I was wrong. About all of it. He didn’t leave because he was finished with me.
And I have no idea why I believe that from a look, but I do.
“Good morning, princess.”
It’s that old joke again. My name is Tiara, and people start calling me princess. I used to hate it because the word can’t be any further from the truth. But for some reason, because it’s someone like Arkane, who’s as princely as they come even without the royal blood—
Why do I really feel like a princess when it’s Arkane who calls me—
Oh!
Wait!
Stop!
But it’s already too late. He’s gently peeled off the plaster I’ve had on the side of my neck even before leaving the jet.
“There.” His voice is soft and gentle. “That’s better.” And so is his touch as he rubs that tiny branded spot on the side of my neck. “It’s not something you’re supposed to hide. You’re mine, after all—”
Icelle raises a brow (no subtitles needed for that one) and Raiden starts snickering again while all I can do is sputter—
“Just like I’m yours.”
Aaaaaaah.
I don’t even have time to process what he’s just said before he’s bending his head close to mine, his voice dropping to a whisper that’s meant for me alone as he guides me gently into the chair.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t around when you woke up. I didn’t want people to know I was—”
I slam my foot on his in panic.
He winces. Barely. The tiniest flinch, so small you’d miss it if you weren’t looking for it, but I see it, and something in my chest goes warm.
“Does that mean you accept my apology?”
“It means shut up and go away," I mutter under my breath.
He chuckles.
“I’ll miss you too, princess.”
Then he kisses the top of my head, gently guides me the rest of the way down into the chair, and straightens.
“I’ll see you later.”
He walks out of the room, and at that time, it didn’t really sink in to me, how Arkane isn’t the type to ever look back. Later, when it’s already too late, I’d find myself wishing it did, because that would’ve made a world of difference.
But because it didn’t...
The rest of the family arrives in quick succession, and I find myself enveloped in this strange, cozy sense of warmth even when everyone starts calling me princess, and I do mean everyone, their very posh and dignified parents included.
The ribbing continues, and I’m just feeling warmer and warmer—
Could this be the difference between a house and a home?
Chapter Eight
“THIS IS TIARA, ICELLE’S best friend, and...just between you and me, she’s Arkane’s girlfriend as well.”
Laugh, laugh, laugh from whoever it is Joy is currently talking to.
Smile, smile, smile, on the other hand, has become my default response because this is, like, the 24th person to hear those exact same lines from Arkane’s mother, and while I’ve done my very best to clear things up earlier—
“I’m not really your son’s girlfriend.”
“Did he tell you that?”
“Well, no—”
“Then trust me, you are.”
“So I’m his girlfriend because he says I’m not his girlfriend?”
“You don’t always have to say something with words, my dear. And you’ll soon know with that son of mine, that’s truer than most.”
Joy’s expression turns rather wistful and nostalgic as she looks out over the sunlit veranda we’re standing on. The luncheon is being hosted by one of her charity friends, at an estate that one of said friends owns, and even though they’re all that type—the type that owns estates, not homes—everyone’s just so casual and nice, and not one of them, like, seriously, not one of them looks at me like I was out of place even though I’m still wearing Mom’s hand-me-down dress.
“Do you know—I never planned to call him Arkane.”
Joy’s voice has softened, pulling me back from my thoughts, and she smiles at me when I look at her.
“His name simply came out, like something from my soul prompted it.”
Is she saying she believes in ghosts and stuff like that?
Joy suddenly laughs. “I love how expressive your face is, and no, my dear. Not a ghost. But I know now it was Someone.”
Oh, she means...God.
And the moment I realized that—she believes in God—my whole world goes still for a moment.
Very arcane, right?
And after the 7th or 8th person she’s talked to, it also started feeling very possible. Not real, not true just yet, but...possible?
Could it be like Joy says?
I mean, the things that son of her says so easily are the things I know I would end up choking on.