Page 71 of RAKEish

He nodded. Thoughts of never seeing Doc again, of her marrying her professor, of her spending a lazy Sunday afternoon knitting with anyone other than him caused a wave of emotion to well inside of him. Emotions he had no idea how to handle.

Was this what love felt like? This had to be love. Not just soul love but mind and body as well. But how could that be? The cookie hadn’t worked. If it had worked, he’d not love Doc. It would be her, not Rose he felt an emptiness toward. Unless—

Claustrophobia grabbed him by the throat, making it hard to breathe. He frantically glanced around as his brain spun what-ifs.

What if the curse was defective?

What if it had mutated over the years?

What if what they thought they knew about the curse was wrong?

What if the one who loved and gave the antidote was the one who would become free of love? Lux had given him the antidote, thus she’d quit loving him.

And what if the one under the curse would be able to love, but in doing so would lose the one they loved forever, and thus, giving the wicked witch her ultimate revenge? That would be him. He’d been under the curse. He was the one who could now love the one who would never love him in return.

A revenge with no antidote.

It wasn’t like a wicked witch could be trusted to tell the truth.

CHAPTER 24

One month ago, Lux had said her forever goodbye to Scott.

Since then, she’d completed the Win a Rake in Eight Days challenge by going on dates with guys from the Flirtation Gala, without Scott there to coach her.

The first date had been with the idiot who had asked her to be his mistress.

The second with John. Or, as Scott called him, Corduroy.

The first date had lasted all of one hour before Lux had left him sitting in a bar cleaning up the Bloody Mary she’d poured over his head—that, after he’d reached out and pinched her nipple on a whim because that’s what filthy rich guys do. Asshole.

On the second date, instead of leaning in for a goodnight kiss, John had pulled out his phone and shared with her his latest Instagram post. In it, he’d declared his official love for Dr. Luxury Stone.

Thus, Frankie had claimed victory for Naked Runway, and the fashion magazine had spun the story, painting Lux’s new beau as a rake in sheep’s clothing. A rake who’d approached her as a fumbling professor in order to win her over.

It was a narrative that Lux had found both amusing and frustrating.

Date three with John had happened only after he’d promised to tone down the whole insta-love thing.

Much to Lux’s delight, John had not only kept his word on that, but he’d also thrown himself into getting to know her. Hell, he’d slowed things down so much, he’d yet to even pressure her for sex.

Tonight was date eleven with John. He’d brought her to a small Italian bistro.

“Have I mentioned how lovely you look tonight?” He topped off her wine.

“A couple of times,” Lux responded, her fingers tracing the stem of her wine glass, pulling her thoughts back to the present.

The light from the candle flickered across her date’s thoughtful expression, highlighting the premature gray in his hair. John, a renowned figure in academia, exuded a kindness she’d always sought in the man of her forever romance.

She reached out and placed her hand on his. “I get the feeling you want to say something but aren’t sure if you should.”

“You’re not wrong,” he said ruefully.

“I promise not to overreact.” The night he’d shown her the Instagram post, she’d slammed her door in his face and refused to return any of his calls for three days. Then she’d realized it wasn’t him she was mad at. It was herself, and she’d answered his next call. They’d talked, she’d set her terms about premature declarations of love, he’d agreed, and they’d made up. “And I won’t stomp out in a temper.”

He sat back and chuckled good-naturedly.

She liked that about him. It was one of the many things she liked about him. Sure, he wasn’t anywhere near as handsome as Scott, and his body—what she could feel of it when he hugged her good night—was softer than the rake’s. And his kisses didn’t produce butterflies in her stomach. But those things didn’t matter. What mattered was he was safe.

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