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  When she's finally finished, she slides off the piano and picks up the phone. Putting it against her ear, she doesn't speak. I hear her breath, short gasps as she comes down from her orgasm. “You never said it,” I tell her.

  “Said what?”

  "Please."

  “I already told you,” she says. “I’m not going to beg.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Belle

  It’s the big night – the night of my mother and King Leopold’s engagement party. Next week, we’ll head north to the summer estate, where we’ll be shielded from much of the media flurry that will inevitably follow the official engagement announcement.

  We’ll go to the summerhouse.

  Suddenly, I’m including myself in the future royal plans, as if I'm staying for the summer.

  Who am I kidding? Last night, I fingered myself in the music room while Albie watched. Even from where he stood, through a window and an entire floor higher, I could see he was hard as a rock watching me, a very large bulge in his pants.

  Of course I'm going to stay for the summer.

  I'm not thinking clearly right now, obviously. My rational mind is clouded by unruly desire, my ability to think clearly diminished by my lust for my stepbrother. I'm not rational at all, not anymore.

  But that doesn't mean I want to give in to his demand – to beg him to fuck me.

  Even though every part of me is begging for it, lusting for it.

  "You look…well, good enough to eat."

  The voice is deep, sultry, soft – so soft that I'm the only one who can hear. At least, I hope so, anyway. I whirl around, or try to, but Albie’s hand is on my waist, guiding me around the corner, and down a service hallway of outside the main ballroom where the engagement party is being held.

  "Albie, what are you doing?" I hiss, pushing against him, but he holds my arm, his lips near my ears.

  "We only have a second," he whispers from behind me. The service entrance is empty, but anyone could walk through at any moment. I should be terrified of that – terrified of the possible repercussions, of the potential public embarrassment.

  Instead, a surge of adrenaline rushes through me, a secret thrill at Albie's hands on me. The heat from his body radiates onto mine, and every cell in my body is on high-alert, acutely sensitive to him, aware of his every breath.

  "We need to go to the engagement party, Your Highness," I say.

  "Spread your legs."

  "Excuse me?" I must be hallucinating, driven mad with lust. He did not just tell me to spread my legs right here in the hallway within twenty yards of the ballroom where our parents -- the King and Future Queen of Protrovia – together with everyone who's everyone in this country, are celebrating their upcoming nuptials. Because that would be insane.

  "You heard me, luv," he whispers. "Don't think. Just do it."

  But Heaven help me, that's exactly what I do.

  I stand here, in my ridiculously expensive designer cocktail dress, with my stepbrother's arm around my chest, pulling me tightly back against him, and I spread my legs.

  "And?" I ask, provoking him. My heart pounds loudly against his arm, and he fumbles with something.

  "I have a present for you," he says, slipping his hand between my legs from where he stands behind me. A sensation of something cold makes me jump.

  "What the hell, Albie?" I yelp.

  "This is your present," he whispers. "I sent it to you in your box. I borrowed it back."

  The box he sent me with the sex toys.

  "You are not touching me right here, right now, with one of those things," I hiss.

  “It’s unfortunate you say that,” he says. “I guess I’ll have to take it back.” I feel a light vibration flick on, sending a tingle through my core, and then it stops as quickly as it starts.

  He’s teasing me. Taunting me.

  He knows I’m wet, just as soon as he touches me.

  “Don’t,” I say. “Don’t take it back.”

  “Is that a yes?” he asks.

  “I can’t believe I’m considering this,” I whisper.

  "Make your choice, luv. One of the caterers or the staff is going to walk out of that entrance any second now," he whispers, his breath hot on my ear. "You don't want them to see you with your stepbrother's hand up your skirt, do you?"

  I shake my head. "No."

  He flicks the vibrator on again, and the sensation sends arousal rushing through me. "Then spread your legs, Princess," he says. "Because I'm not playing around anymore. Say yes."

  "You're going to send me out there with that inside me?" I ask.

  “Most definitely,” he says. “Say the word, luv. The word is yes.”

  “Hurry,” I whisper. “Do it now.”

  I don’t say yes. Just hurry. It’s the principle of the thing.

  He chuckles, his breath warm on my ear, and I stand motionless with my body pressed against his as he slides the vibrator inside me, aided easily by my wetness. When he finishes, he takes a step back and puts a business-like amount of space between us. It’s just in time, too, as two servers carrying trays bound around the corner and stop sharply in their tracks. "Your Highness," one of the servers says, carefully balancing a tray of champagne flutes while bowing his head.

  "Please," Albie says, waving them past us. "I apologize for being in the way."

  Once they've walked past us, Albie holds up a small remote. "I like to watch you come," he says, slipping the remote into his tuxedo jacket pocket. "And I want to watch you come in a room filled with every important person in this kingdom."

  "You're crazy," I say, except what's crazy is the fact that this is turning me on. "Someone will hear it."

  He smiles, reaching inside his pocket, and I feel the vibration inside me. But I hear nothing. "What were you saying?" he asks. "This was especially-made for me. It's not exactly available on the open market. And yes, it's totally silent. So don't worry -- people will have no idea why you're coming all night. Shall we?"

  He doesn't wait for a response. He walks ahead of me, out the hallway and toward the ballroom, and I'm left to catch up. I take my steps slowly, carefully, and measured, conscious of the vibrator inside me.

  I feel a weird mixture of nervousness and confidence as I walk toward the ballroom, several steps behind Albie. And arousal.

  I definitely feel aroused, even with the vibrator turned off.

  It’s a delicious secret Albie and I share. One among several secrets.

  I push that thought out of my head, squeezing my muscles around the vibrator, assuring myself that it’s not going to slip out and clatter to the floor in the middle of this event.

  Now, that would be a scandal.

  “Darling.” My mother greets me like I’m the prodigal daughter, arms outstretched, her face beaming. She never calls me darling, but I can’t help but smile anyway. She looks happy. Really happy, like I haven’t seen her in years, and despite our differences, that makes me feel good.

  “Mother,” I say, as she draws me in close, giving me two air-kisses. “You look really stunning.”

  She’s breathtaking in a cream-colored chiffon evening gown that trails to the floor, a huge diamond statement necklace lying carefully over the scooped neckline of the dress. Her hair is piled on her head, and she wears a small tiara – not the royal crown, which she’ll wear during the wedding, but gorgeous nonetheless.

  “Thank you, darling,” she says, smiling. As she pulls me close, she whispers softly. “I know you hate these big social things, but please try your best and I promise I'll make it up to you."

  I smile politely, the moment interrupted when King Leopold takes my hand. “Isabella,” he says, his voice warm. “Have I told you how delighted I am that you’ve decided to stay for the summer?”

  “I’m honored to be a guest in your home," I say.

  Leopold laughs, a deep sound that comes from his belly. “My dear, you’re family,” he says. “Please don’t ever call yourself a guest again.”