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I blink the image away. Not now. I can’t think of that. I shouldn’t think of that.
No matter how pretty she looks when she’s angry, I can tell she doesn’t get it. Nord. Me. This palace. She doesn’t understand where she is. She doesn’t know Nord’s history.
She’s the wrong person to redesign it.
It doesn’t matter that her grandmother has lived here her whole life. It doesn’t matter that Nordish blood flows in Rowan’s veins. She’s an outsider.
But damn, she looks good standing in front of me. Rowan tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, taking a deep breath. “I didn’t know about those battles.”
“What do you know about this place?”
Her cheeks turn pink, and I like the fire burning in her eyes. A little too much, maybe. My body seems to be forgetting that she doesn’t belong here and that her design is all wrong.
Clearing my throat, I stand up and walk to the corner of the room to fix myself a cup of coffee at the kitchenette. I’m half-hard, and I need to get a grip.
She’s not here for my amusement, and I’m not here to fuck the first available woman who walks through the door. I shouldn’t be thinking about her at all. It shouldn’t turn me on to see her mad, and I definitely shouldn’t be imagining her in a multitude of compromising positions.
Most of all, I shouldn’t feel this burning heat in my chest when I look at her fancy palace design that happens to be totally wrong. Why does it frustrate me so much that she doesn’t see how little she understands about this place?
I want her to get it. I want her to redesign this place in a way that honors our past. That takes us to the future without erasing our history.
I want her to understand me.
Frowning, I shake my head. I don’t give a shit if she gets me or not. She’s not here to be with me.
I’m damaged. I’m a ticking time bomb. A black hole, who can’t help but suck in all the light and life around me into my void. Isn’t that what happened to Abby? Through my status as a prince, I lifted her up to fame, then watched her slip through my fingers.
Someone like Rowan? Soft and graceful, delicate and fragile?
She doesn’t belong here. It’s obvious from her clothes and her designs and her attitude.
But when I turn around to see her sitting down in the desk chair behind the computer, I can’t help but enjoy the anger shooting from her eyes. She looks good when she’s mad.
Rowan lifts her eyes to mine. “Can you elaborate? Tell me what would be more appropriate?” She tilts her head. “Your Highness.” She says my title like an insult, and I can’t quite hide my grin. I stir some sugar into my coffee, listening to the soft clink of the spoon against my mug.
“The glass houses on either end. They look great in a field of grass and flowers like that image you’ve rendered, but what about the winter? What about right now?”
“Well, that’s the beauty of them. It’s new technology that is thermally—”
“Step away from the eco-aspects for a moment. The turrets mean something to the people of Nord. There are school tours that take children through them and teach them of the battles that occurred there. Destroying them would erase that. It’s not right.”
Rowan chews on the inside of her lip. Her freckles look brighter than they did when I found her in the snow, and I catch myself studying each individual one. I shift my gaze back to the screen, taking a sip. “Show me more. What’s going on inside the palace in this design?”
Rowan takes a deep breath. “Well, one of the reasons for my site visit was to get a feel for the current state of the castle. I want to retain as many original features as possible. For example, the flooring—”
“I hate the floors. And they aren’t original, by the way. They were replaced when I was a kid.”
Her lips snap shut. I’m starting to love that glare.
Rowan folds her hand in her lap, taking a deep, cleansing breath. Her chest rises and falls, my eyes lingering on the swell of her breasts. My body feels tight and hot and a little too big for this room. I haven’t felt this on edge in years, but I can’t quite stop myself from staring. From wanting more.
Is it because she’s an outsider that I want her so much? Because she seems familiar and exotic, all at once?
It’s the beast inside me waking up. Opening its eyes and seeing its next meal.
I bet Rowan Reed tastes as sweet as she looks.
Rowan gulps, her graceful throat clenching and releasing. I follow every micro movement of her body, studying her as if she were the most curious creature I’ve ever seen.
