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He looked out of the window, wondering why it felt a little hollow.
We’re here for your date.
It had been the only reason he could think of to explain why they had left Milan and now Lykos was taking Marit on a date. Which was very complicated. He clenched his jaw as he called himself every single kind of fool. He could tell that Marit was upset by his withdrawal, but his intention to break the connection forming between them had been for her own good. And then he’d gone and told her he was taking her on a date.
The car pulled up outside the black iron railings that fronted the Regency terrace townhouse he’d bought after a year in London. He had wanted it on first sight. It was everything that he’d not been, everything that he’d not had growing up: money, history, permanence, sophistication. It wasn’t quite a castle, but it wasn’t far off.
Beside him, Marit was staring up at the townhouse with a frown.
‘This is yours?’
‘Yes,’ he said, pride and satisfaction infusing his tone. ‘You don’t like it?’
‘I do,’ she said, peering through the car window, still taking in the perfect façade. ‘It just doesn’t feel like you.’ With that she exited the car, closing the door behind her and leaving him feeling...confused.
He got out. ‘What do you mean?’ he called over the roof of the car, but she was through the gate and had followed the driver with their luggage to the front door.
Unlike his properties in Europe, this purchase had nothing to do with convenience. He’d had a large amount of work done restoring or recreating as much of the original fixtures and mouldings as possible because, while it was everything his childhood hadn’t been, it was exactly what he wanted in his future. It was why he’d teased Theron with his desire to buy the Soames estate, which was as close to a castle as one could get. Lykos had always wanted that grandeur, something that wouldendure, a level of class that would protect him from the harm done to him in the past. At least that was how it had felt to him until Marit had taken one look and seen right through it.
When he reached her at the front door she turned to him, the security light turning her hair even more golden and her eyes glistening. ‘It is perfect for the financial genius that stalks international stock exchanges,’ she assured him.
He opened the door with the press of his thumb to the security pad, realising that her final observation didn’t make him feel much better, and ushered her through to the hallway. He picked up their luggage and brought it across the threshold to find her standing there, hands held to her chest, something else clearly on her mind.
He put down their bags as her lips quivered into a reluctant smile. ‘I’ve never been on a date before.’
Theé mou, she was too innocent even to be in his company. That he was taking her on her first date...she deserved so much better. She deserved—
‘I’m glad it’s you,’ she said, looking up at him, the truth of her words shining in her eyes. ‘Don’t get me wrong,’ she rushed to say. ‘I know that this is because of my list, that this isn’t real. Not really,’ she said with a shrug of her shoulder that made him want to argue with her, to disagree wholeheartedly. ‘But it’s not and I think it would have been worse if it had been.’
‘Why?’ Curiosity meant the question sprang from his lips before he could call it back.
‘Because...’ She frowned, little lines marring her forehead as she sought the right words. ‘Because if I had to return to Svardia and marry a man of my brother’s choosing after feeling...more for someone else, I think that would have been a tragedy.’
It was as if she’d struck him with a knife and twisted, all the while smiling prettily as if nothing were horrifying about what she’d just said. She hadn’t meant ‘more’, she’d meant love. And in that one sentence, Lykos realised what itreallymeant for her to return to Svardia and marry a man appropriate for the second in line to the throne.
An hour later Marit stood before the mirror in the guest room and turned, watching the way the sequins flashed and flickered in beautiful lines running down the front of the dress like streams of water. As the only dress she had with her, there hadn’t even been a choice, for which she was thankful as she might not have had the courage to wear it otherwise. Against the oyster-coloured silk, the cream sequins were only visible when they caught the light and were more breathtaking for it.
Marit looked at a reflection that she had never seen before. The dress clung to curves that were womanly, elegant and beautiful. She didn’t feel like a child playing dress-up. She felt...likeher. Like how she was supposed to be seen. The silk fell from low on her hips and rippled into fluted waves that looked nothing short of luxurious and the deep V at her breast was short of indecent but long past conservative.
She leaned into the mirror to put the last sweep of mascara to her eyelashes, and if she had to blink a little to press back the desire for this entire evening to be real then that was what she had to do. The little antique bronze clock on the table beside the large bed clicked over to seven, chiming prettily seven times, announcing the hour Lykos had told her the car would arrive to take them on their date.
But in her heart it rang for something else. This was her third night and she was just over halfway through the time she had left. Pressing a hand to her sternum to soothe her heart, she realised that it wasn’t the return to Svardia that was feeding the sense of urgency in her breast. Actually, she was beginning to hope that she could show her parents, her siblings that she could do it, that shecouldbe trusted in Freya’s role.
But she was painfully aware of the experiences she would miss when she did. And her list—the seemingly simple experiences she’d given to Lykos to complete—to have those without the judgemental eyes of the press or public on her...they would have to be enough to leave her with memories in a future of confinement. Like tonight. A last freedom. With that determination steeling her backbone, she left the room ready to face whatever the evening held.
The town car pulled up outside what looked to Marit like another row of stunning English townhouses. Residential, she thought, wondering if they were to visit a friend of Lykos, which felt a little peculiar for a date, but who was she to know? Then she noticed two men in dark suits standing, as if to attention, either side of a door with such slick black gloss it looked as if it had been raining.
She looked across the dark interior of the town car to where Lykos was once again watching her, the hairs on the back of her neck riffled by the feel of his eyes on her.
‘You look incredible,’ he said again. He’d said it the first time she’d come down the stairs to find him waiting for her. She hadn’t wanted to hear it, didn’t want his false flattery, but there had been a tone in his voice, a subtle bass chord beneath an arcing tremble of treble notes, and she’d felt it. She’d wanted to believe him then, just as she did now. And, just like before, she nodded, before looking back to the strange place they’d come to.
Lykos exited the car and stood on the pavement as the driver opened her door. Placing one hand in the driver’s and picking up her skirts in the other, she stepped out of the car and onto the pavement. She tried to ignore him, but her skin was scorched by Lykos’s gaze and she felt it everywhere. The driver presented her to Lykos like a prize, something to be cherished, and when Lykos held his arm out for her to take she wondered if it would be so bad to just pretend. Just for tonight. That he was a devastatingly handsome man unable to keep his eyes from her because he wanted her just as much as she wanted him. She so desperately wanted him to want her, not because she was needed, not because she was a means to an end, like the shares, or the role she was about to step into, but for who she was.
Her breath caught in her lungs and came out in a sigh the moment she gave in to the fantasy and went to stand, arm tucked in his, beside him. He looked down at her, his face half hidden in the shadows of the fast-approaching night. ‘Nervous?’ he asked, concern rather than his usual tease striking a discordant note.
‘Not with you,’ she answered honestly, and the shadows cleared in his gaze for just a heartbeat before he turned to face their destination, pulling once at each cufflink before leading them to the door.
‘Mr Livas,’ said one of the men, a small but deferential bow accompanying his words, while the other man pushed open the door. ‘Welcome to Victoriana, Princess Marit.’
