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He raised a brow as though he expected me to argue. When I didn’t, he moved his hand to the small of my back and guided me out of the confessional.
On the other side of the purple velvet curtain, a priest was rushing down the aisle with a stern expression on his ghost-white face.
My cheeks were flushed. I felt it. My hair was a mess. I knew it. And my panties were soaked with a combination of our cum, although most of it coated my inner thighs. Not to mention the fact that we didn’t even try to be quiet.
Shit.
Caspian’s face lit up in an unashamed, boyish grin as he grabbed my hand and nodded at the priest. “We just got engaged,” he said, as though the words were grounds for absolution.
The priest’s mouth thinned in a firm line. “Get. Out.” His words were clipped as he pointed toward the door.
I wanted to die.
I couldn’t move. I felt like I needed to fall to my knees and ask for forgiveness.
Caspian tugged on my hand, and I snapped out of it long enough to follow him out the door.
***
We left my car at the theater where I’d parked it earlier and took Caspian’s. Guilt weighed heavily in the pit of my stomach as the elevator door opened into his new apartment. I’d almost forgotten the other reason we were supposed to celebrate today.
“You moved in,” I said, noticing the fully furnished and decorated penthouse.
He let go of my hand and moved past me toward the open kitchen. “Three days ago.”
He must have closed early.
I followed him. “Why didn’t you say something?”
He grabbed a bottle of wine from a wine refrigerator and an opener from a nearby drawer. “You had other things to focus on.” He twisted the cork off the wine, then winked. “I knew we had time.”
I leaned my butt against the kitchen island in front of him. “I like it.”
The countertops were a polished stainless steel. The bottom cabinets were a dark espresso, and the top cabinets had glass doors. The floors were a slate gray that looked like hardwood but felt like tile. The kitchen opened up into the living room, where there was a massive U-shaped sectional on top of a fluffy white rug and a row of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. At the far end of the living room, in front of the windows, there was a beautiful, white grand piano. His home was as pristine and sophisticated as the man who owned it.
Caspian set two glasses on the counter, poured them half full, and handed me one. He placed the open bottle on the counter. “I’ll leave this out. You’re going to need it.”
I brought the wine to my lips. “That bad, huh?”
He took a drink, then went still. His eyes closed while he took in a deep breath. When he opened them again, his stare was almost apologetic.
Anxiety twisted and pulled inside me. “Since when does Caspian Donahue wait for permission?” I tried to laugh it off, but my voice was weak.
He set his glass down. “The man who sat next to you at the party—”
“Prince Khalid,” I interjected.
He clenched his jaw. “Yes. Khalid.”
I noticed he left off the title, probably intentionally.
“He wasn’t just a guest. His presence wasn’t random. Neither was the fact that he sat at your table—at yourfamily’stable.”
I remembered his hand on my thigh, and the acidic taste of bile rose in my throat. I swallowed it back down.
I put my glass down and straightened my posture. “And I suppose you know why.”
I had my suspicions, and none of them were good. It wasn’t the first time one of Dad’s political allies had made a move on me, and I doubted it would be the last. I’d always spurned them off. This guy wasn’t any different. I’d met my fair share of creeps and could hold my own against them.
