Page 26 of Taken By the Crab King of Atlantis

I scrunch up my face and nod. “I don’t want to stay in Atlantis. But I might want him for more than one night.”

Quan holds out their hands. “Wait. I have something that might help take him off that pedestal.” They scramble off the bed and take their phone from a side drawer.

“Wait, you have reception, too? They won’t let me use my phone here.”

“They don’t want you to run away before the big night. That in itself should take the shine off this situation. But also…” they hand me their screen.

There’s a picture of a woman in lingerie on the phone. She has a similar build to me, and she’s wearing white thigh-high stockings, garters, high heels and a transparent lace bra. My heart leaps into my throat.

“What is?…” I ask, gaze flying to Quan’s.

“Wearing this might remind you why you’re here. For sex, not to take on a city’s worth of baggage. And Mr. Perfect will be a dribbling mess when he sees you in it.”

I put a hand to my mouth, but my gaze is fixed on the image. “I couldn’t…”

“Oh, but you could. I sent him a picture of this already, and he gave me a big fat yes,” Quan says. “Which is great because I already bought it as part of your outfit for the ball.”

My mouth falls open, but nothing comes out. “I…” I haven’t told Quan about Karkinos’ words in his office. Thinking about it now makes my face heat.

Quan reaches out a hand and squeezes mine. “Girl, enjoy yourself tomorrow night. Enjoy the charm the man is dispensing. But don’t worry about whether you can be a queen; focus on the moment. Because it’s going to be fun.”

KARKINOS

I sit in my office and stare at the shell in my hand, rubbing it smooth with my thumb. “I’m sorry,” I say aloud.

There is nobody here to hear it. I’m not even sure what I’m sorry for, but it feels like a goodbye.

Although my late wife is the reason this city exists, and why I keep it closed, I had long forgotten what it was like to have a real woman stir my cocks, and tug at my heart.

My mind wanders to Yen. I wish I could apologize to her too, for my conduct tonight, for the weight of expectations she doesn’t deserve, and for my abrupt departure at the end of the evening. This entire situation is a mess.

My office is quiet now, and I look around as if seeing it for the first time. The weight of responsibility that comes with the office feels lighter than it has for years. One evening with Yen has woken me up to the possibilities of a new life. But what of Marina, and the people who live in Atlantis? I can’t move Yen’s life here, but I can’t abandon my city.

My thoughts whirl as I leave my office, heading down in the lift to reach my private suite. I don’t know where Yen is staying. I ensured I did not, in case I was tempted to visit her.

The air smells like cleaning products and dust in the way only large buildings can, with recycled air circulating in air-conditioning too gentle to feel. It’s comforting and distracting from the disaster of the evening and the uncertainty of my thoughts.

In the mirrored wall of the closed doors, I stare at my reflection and straighten my spine. I didn’t put the jacket back on after dinner, and I rolled my sleeves up again as soon as I left the restaurant. The spot on my right shoulder twinges again. I can never reach the right spot myself.

The lift stops. The doors open, and Yen is standing there. “Oh!” she says, looking unnerved and… guilty? She walks in and presses the button for the eighteenth floor.

I don’t say anything, but step aside to let her stand beside me. The silence around us closes in, uneasy rather than comforting. Where was she coming from? Another man’s room? Jealousy stirs in my stomach, but when would she have met another man in the time she’s had here? The jealousy is the bond making me irrational.

“I was visiting Quan,” she explains with a smile, and my jaw relaxes. Did she notice my discomfort?

Her cheeks are flushed, and in the mirror she shoots me shy glances. The potent scent of jasmine makes me dizzy as she turns to me. “I had a good time tonight.”

“I’m glad.” I’m not ready to be around her.

My muscles tense with the strain of not reaching for her, and my shoulder twinges again. I roll it out and reach for the sore spot.

The lift dings for her floor and my stomach swoops. I’m not sure if it’s disappointment or relief. “Have a good night,” I say stiffly.

“Wait,” she says. She reaches for my arm. Her jasmine scent twines around me, trapping me in place as she meets my gaze.

A heartbeat. Two. I register the wine on her breath, the heady intent in her gaze. I don’t resist as she turns me away from her and slides her hands up to my shoulders. Her touch freezes me in place.

“You have a sore spot, right? I saw you rub it in the office. I can help. My sister used to get knots.” She digs strong thumbs into my shoulder. The lift door starts to close. I put a hand out, forcing them to stay open. But I don’t step away.