Page 72 of Kneel Before Me

Her mother set down her needle and motioned for Daphne to come closer. “Are you ready for tonight?” she asked.

It was an impossible question to answer. Daphne opted to grunt in affirmation as her mother worked the buttons.

“He chose you for the first date,” her mother said. “That has to be a good sign.”

“We’ll see how tonight goes.”

“With this dress, it may not go at all.”

Daphne couldn’t help but agree.

“Are you sure you want to wear this?” her mother continued. “I’m sure we could find you something easier to wear.”

She shook her head. Whether or not the restrictive nature of the dress was intentional, Kronos had given it to her, so Daphne wanted to wear it. It wasn’t until the dress was fully fastened that Daphne realized what it did for her figure.

The straps were purposefully placed, following the curves of her body. So much of her skin was showing. Daphne stared at the exposed strips, wondering how Maximus would react to this. She was a walking contradiction: Her body would entice him, while the buttons would prevent him from accessing it. Perhaps that was the point, she realized. To show him what he couldn’t have. Daphne couldn’t think of a pettier thing for Kronos to do. Was this a way to mark his territory, to tell the prince that she belonged to him? Or was she misinterpreting it entirely, and there was no meaning behind it? Daphne had no time for such games. If she wanted someone who communicated through gifts, she would just date Maximus.

Daphne spent the ride to the castle fidgeting with the straps of the dress, trying to arrange them so that less skin was visible—a wholly impossible task. When she entered the foyer a butler ushered her into a large room with a circular table in the middle. On the far end of the room was a doorway, behind which Daphne knew the prince was waiting. The last time she saw him, she’d been naked. Now she would be expected to undress again, only this time he would expect to see every inch of her. She could hardly ask him to close his eyes a second time.

Daphne took a seat at the table. Veronica was already here, sheathed in a see-through dress that was clearly meant to end up on the floor. Constance had on a silk number that was surely an import from one of her father’s shipping businesses.

Before Daphne could wonder how they would determine who went first, a butler appeared and extended his hand toward Constance. She blushed, then took it. The butler led her through the door before closing it firmly behind her and standing before it.

Thus, the Frisky Sixty began.

Daphne sat there for what felt like hours, although in reality mere minutes were passing. She’d hoped to go first in order to get this over with. Instead she watched as girl after girl disappeared through the door, returning with their hair mussed, their faces flushed. With each passing minute, her bad mood deepened. By the time Veronica was the last girl left in front of her, she was downright murderous.

Who did either of these men think they were? Kronos was manipulating her, concealing his feelings, forcing her to reveal her own. Maximus was even worse, acting like he was entitled to her body, sending her gifts as if she could be bought. Daphne had had just about enough of both of their antics. She wanted to take control—to teach them both a lesson.

Veronica departed in a flurry of perfume while Daphne sat with her arms crossed, her foot tapping insistently on the floor. Sixty seconds had never lasted longer. She couldn’t believe Maximus was making her go last; it was an insult to their little ruse. He was supposed to take the women in the order of how interested he was in them. Everyone knew that. Yet here she was—supposedly his top pick—sitting at the table alone, listening to Veronica’s grating giggles. Daphne could imagine exactly what they were doing behind that door. Surely Veronica hadn’t wasted any time ripping her own dress off. If she had her way, she’d probably lock the door and prevent Daphne from ever coming in at all.

Perhaps that wouldn’t be so bad, actually.

Maximus had left her for last, after all. He probably wouldn’t even notice if she slipped out. Daphne was halfway to standing when the door banged open and Veronica emerged looking triumphant. Daphne watched as she flounced by. They didn’t say a word to each other—there was no need. Veronica conveyed everything she wanted to say with only a look: I win.

As soon as she was gone, Daphne turned her gaze to the open door. She had no idea how the next sixty seconds would go. But she knew she was ready for them.

The butler extended his hand. Daphne took it.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Maximus

Maximus spent the afternoon before the Frisky Sixty drinking in his bedroom. By the time he was secluded in the library, he was in no mood for company. At least, not the company of most of the women beyond the door. There was only one woman he wanted to see, and he had already resolved to call her in last. The final spot was special. It was the only spot that offered an opportunity for time beyond the allocated sixty seconds. All the other girls would be forced to leave when the hourglass ran out and the next girl was called in. But not the last girl. There would be no one waiting to come in, no one moving the line along. That spot was reserved for Daphne.

Maximus sighed and poured himself another wine. He had to get this over with.

“Bring me Constance,” he told the butler.

She was wearing a silk slip that fell from her shoulders the moment the butler closed the door. Maximus turned the hourglass over and watched as the flakes began to fall. There was a naked woman before him, yet he was barely interested. The thought of spending sixty seconds with anyone who wasn’t Daphne made him ill. Yet Constance was here, and she was waiting expectantly, and if Maximus didn’t do something it was sure to get back to his father one way or another. So he stepped forward.

Constance’s eyes widened as he crossed to her, took her face in his hands, and kissed her. He did not care how she tasted; he did not care how she felt. He kissed her just enough to make it seem like he cared—just enough to feel her body press against his and her tongue enter his mouth. The moment he couldn’t stand it any longer, he pulled away. She was breathless before him, and he couldn’t have been more bored. He didn’t even bother touching her breasts, which were objectively beautiful, or her ass, which was the same.

Instead, he said, “We are nearly out of time.”

Constance nodded, pulling on her dress eagerly. Had they even said a word to each other besides when they’d been introduced? Maximus had no idea, and he couldn’t have cared less.

“Your Highness.” She curtseyed, then left.