Page 122 of The Royal Art of Revenge

“I would tell you that, if you must do what is objectively a very bad idea, take more than one journalist. Take at least three regardless of their favourability to the Royal Family. Tell Sophia, at the very least, so she knows what’s going to happen.” He rips one of the sweets in half with his teeth. “And for fuck’s sake, tell me, so I don’t have a journalist’s phone shoved in my face mid-engagement asking for my opinion on my fiancée getting slapped by her sister in public.”

Ah.

Yes.

A little preparation could go a long way.

“I’m sorry. I promise I’ll tell you next time.”

He stares. “I was hoping you’d say there wouldn’t be a next time, but of course, there will be.”

“Well, not exactly like this.” I shrug a shoulder. “She isn’t stupid enough to fall for it again. But if I do get another zany idea like this, I promise you’ll know about it. Especially if you have something happening that day.”

“You’ll tell me even if I don’t,” he says flatly. “Because I can come with you and ensure she doesn’t go too far. You have no idea how worried I was when I saw that clip. I was lucky it’s a journalist I’ve worked with several times, and he took me off to the side to quietly show me. Then I couldn’t get in contact with you.”

“Oh. Yeah. My father started blowing up my phone, so I turned it off.”

Irritation flits across Finn’s face. “We’re getting you another phone. With a new number. That you never turn off. Do you understand?”

“That’s a bit overkill.”

“I didn’t ask you what you think. I asked you if you understand.”

The deep, dark authority in his tone sends a shiver dancing across my skin. “Yes, I understand.”

“Good. I don’t trust your family, and I’ll feel better if I can always contact you. You have a great security team in place, but that doesn’t mean you’re always safe. Things happen quickly. Too quickly, sometimes.”

His words make me pause.

With everything I’ve been through, it’s easy for me to forget how we met. Twenty years is nothing in the grand scheme of things, not for a country like Askurg that has a history spanning hundreds of years.

Just because I have fuzzy memories of the revolution that almost killed his father and resulted in Finn escaping his own set of kidnappers doesn’t mean he’s forgotten it at all.

Of course, he knows how quickly things happen.

I put the sweet packet to the side and slide along the sofa towards him. I climb on top of him, sitting on his lap, nestling my knees by his hips. He stares at me, unmoving, and I reach up to his handsome face and brush some of his messy hair from his forehead.

I kiss the spot my fingertips have just brushed. He still doesn’t move, so I keep going, dotting a little path of kisses down over his cheekbones towards his lips. I touch my lips to the corner of his mouth, letting it linger, and he finally responds. He slips his hands up my bare thighs, skirting his thumbs beneath the hem of my dress.

“What are you doing?” he asks, his voice low and tinged with amusement.

“Apologising,” I murmur, cupping his face with my hands. I pepper kisses across his other cheek until my lips arrive back at his, and he kneads his fingertips into my thighs, gradually moving his hands higher until he’s all but cradling my ass. “What are you doing?”

“Wondering how far you’ll go for that apology.” There’s a teasing edge to his tone as he palms my cheeks. “I haven’t decided if I’m accepting it yet.”

He wants to play this game?

Fine.

I’ll bite.

“You’re going to regret ever saying that.” I kiss his jaw, sliding one hand down to the buttons of his shirt. I grip his chin with my other hand and force his head back, exposing his neck to me, and run my nose down the column of his throat.

I toy with his buttons, undoing them slightly awkwardly with one hand as my lips explore his neck. He trembles slightly beneath me, as if he’s struggling to hold back.

I’m uncertain, even as I slide back on his lap and kiss down onto his chest. Even Finn feels a little hesitant beneath me, as if he doesn’t quite know where I’m going with this.

I know where I’m going.