toilet and checking my make-up, I left the bathroom. Byron was gazing out over the night sky, his back turned. Timothy had sent up the champagne and two chilled glasses were sitting on the table top. Perfect. With one fluid movement, I dropped the tablets into the one that was furthest away. The tablets fizzed slightly but dissolved to nothing within moments. I gave myself a mental high five.
I cleared my throat. ‘You’re switching to champagne?’
He turned. ‘Like I said, whisky makes me frisky. And I promised you one drink and one drink alone.’ He reached behind me and grabbed the nearest glass by its stem, handing it to me before taking the other – the spiked one ‒ for himself.
‘You’re a true gentleman,’ I murmured, raising my glass up to his then taking a sip. ‘Slainte.’
‘Slainte,’ he replied. Then he drained his glass in one gulp. Hurray!
I smiled and took a sip from mine. ‘This really is good.’
‘I’m glad you approve.’ He leaned towards me and I felt a lurch in the pit of my stomach, sure that he was making a move. Instead, he reached around me again and returned his glass to the table top. Then he pulled back. ‘So, Integrity. I know you like hot pink and you hate violence but I don’t know much else. What do you do for a living?’
‘I’m in security. It’s pretty boring.’
‘Security?’ He glanced up and down my body until I was forced to repress a shiver. ‘Forgive me, but you don’t seem built for that kind of position.’
I needed to get him sitting down. The last thing I wanted was the current Steward’s son keeling over in mid-conversation and banging his head. I didn’t need to be accused of attempted regicide, whether Byron claimed he held no actual title or not.
I put down my own glass and met his eyes. ‘What kind of position do you think I’m built for?’ I asked. There was no mistaking my meaning.
He ran his tongue across his top lip. ‘Well, I can tell from your attitude that you enjoy being on top. Being in control.’
He had that right. I smiled, turned and walked over to the large sofa in the centre of the room. ‘You’re right. I do like being on top.’ I sat down, making zero effort to stop my dress from riding up, and leaned back against the cushions.
Byron stayed where he was. ‘The trouble is,’ he muttered, ‘I like being in charge too.’
I tucked one leg underneath me. It wasn’t easy but it was worth it to see the flare in his eyes. Come on, Byron. Get your arse over here and sit down before you fall down. ‘I suppose that makes us incompatible then,’ I said with a tinge of sadness. ‘Nothing more than ships that pass in the night.’
He still didn’t bloody move. ‘Don’t say that, Integrity,’ he said. ‘I have a feeling that we’re going to know each other for much longer than that.’
‘Really?’ I patted the seat next to me. ‘What makes you say that?’
He seemed to make a decision. He strode over and sat next to me, his thigh dangerously close to mine. I could smell his aftershave again. Delicious.
Byron smirked. ‘What is?’
I started. Had I said that aloud? ‘Er,’ I stuttered, embarrassed. ‘Your scent. It’s delicious.’
His smile grew. ‘Really? Because I think you’re delicious.’
It was the type of comment that would normally have me rolling my eyes. Instead, my chest felt tight and it was like I’d forgotten how to breathe. Byron stared into my eyes, his emerald depths darkening to a deep jade. There was a question lurking there.
My senses swam. Oh, why the hell not? He’d be unconscious before this really got anywhere. I gave the tiniest nod of my head. I’d almost achieved what I’d come here to do; I could allow myself a bit of fun in the process. It would hurt him more tomorrow when he discovered the theft of his sparkly jewel. And he deserved the hurt after the way he’d spoken to me when I was a kid.
Byron didn’t take any further convincing. He gave a faint groan
I cleared my throat. ‘You’re switching to champagne?’
He turned. ‘Like I said, whisky makes me frisky. And I promised you one drink and one drink alone.’ He reached behind me and grabbed the nearest glass by its stem, handing it to me before taking the other – the spiked one ‒ for himself.
‘You’re a true gentleman,’ I murmured, raising my glass up to his then taking a sip. ‘Slainte.’
‘Slainte,’ he replied. Then he drained his glass in one gulp. Hurray!
I smiled and took a sip from mine. ‘This really is good.’
‘I’m glad you approve.’ He leaned towards me and I felt a lurch in the pit of my stomach, sure that he was making a move. Instead, he reached around me again and returned his glass to the table top. Then he pulled back. ‘So, Integrity. I know you like hot pink and you hate violence but I don’t know much else. What do you do for a living?’
‘I’m in security. It’s pretty boring.’
‘Security?’ He glanced up and down my body until I was forced to repress a shiver. ‘Forgive me, but you don’t seem built for that kind of position.’
I needed to get him sitting down. The last thing I wanted was the current Steward’s son keeling over in mid-conversation and banging his head. I didn’t need to be accused of attempted regicide, whether Byron claimed he held no actual title or not.
I put down my own glass and met his eyes. ‘What kind of position do you think I’m built for?’ I asked. There was no mistaking my meaning.
He ran his tongue across his top lip. ‘Well, I can tell from your attitude that you enjoy being on top. Being in control.’
He had that right. I smiled, turned and walked over to the large sofa in the centre of the room. ‘You’re right. I do like being on top.’ I sat down, making zero effort to stop my dress from riding up, and leaned back against the cushions.
Byron stayed where he was. ‘The trouble is,’ he muttered, ‘I like being in charge too.’
I tucked one leg underneath me. It wasn’t easy but it was worth it to see the flare in his eyes. Come on, Byron. Get your arse over here and sit down before you fall down. ‘I suppose that makes us incompatible then,’ I said with a tinge of sadness. ‘Nothing more than ships that pass in the night.’
He still didn’t bloody move. ‘Don’t say that, Integrity,’ he said. ‘I have a feeling that we’re going to know each other for much longer than that.’
‘Really?’ I patted the seat next to me. ‘What makes you say that?’
He seemed to make a decision. He strode over and sat next to me, his thigh dangerously close to mine. I could smell his aftershave again. Delicious.
Byron smirked. ‘What is?’
I started. Had I said that aloud? ‘Er,’ I stuttered, embarrassed. ‘Your scent. It’s delicious.’
His smile grew. ‘Really? Because I think you’re delicious.’
It was the type of comment that would normally have me rolling my eyes. Instead, my chest felt tight and it was like I’d forgotten how to breathe. Byron stared into my eyes, his emerald depths darkening to a deep jade. There was a question lurking there.
My senses swam. Oh, why the hell not? He’d be unconscious before this really got anywhere. I gave the tiniest nod of my head. I’d almost achieved what I’d come here to do; I could allow myself a bit of fun in the process. It would hurt him more tomorrow when he discovered the theft of his sparkly jewel. And he deserved the hurt after the way he’d spoken to me when I was a kid.
Byron didn’t take any further convincing. He gave a faint groan
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