Page 111 of Their Princess

Fuck, why’d she have to remind me of who was in the center of our sandwich a few nights ago? I was perfectly happy imagining it was someone else. Someone younger. Prettier. Curvier.

Duchess, who was doing a far better job of ignoring the exchange than me, slipped off my bike and asked, “Want anything, Graff?”

I shook my head and watched her walk away with Kaos.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” I said when they were away from earshot.

Sas cut me a sideways glance. “Because there are others around?”

“Because you’re engaged, and you should’ve taken Adelina with you.”

“Fuck her.”

Our VP was an idiot. After gaping at him for a few seconds, I stood, swinging my leg off my ride to stretch. Next to him, I gritted out, “What is your goddamn problem?”

Sas raised his head. Still sitting on his bike, he was a fucking giant with his one leg kicked out onto the highway bar. “She’s a goddamn virgin, Graff.”

“Wha—” I blinked. Then it registered, and my blood rushed south. “Adelina’s a virgin? Damn.”

“Don’t look so starry-eyed, fucker.”

I shuddered and refocused on Sas. “So what if she is?”

“Virgins get clingy, Graff.”

“So? She’ll be your wife. Clingy goes with the fucking territory.” But somehow, I didn’t see Adelina as someone who would ever define herself by one man.

Sas dropped his head back and rolled it to one side. A rip sounded from the crack of his spine. “I’ve been someone’s first once. Never again.”

“That’s the stupidest bullshit I’ve ever heard,” I said.

The VP pinned me with his hazel stare then. “What have you failed to understand about this situation, Graff?”

“Not a motherfucking thing. It’s an arranged marriage, sure, but you could’ve been handed someone ugly or worse.”

“Ugly I can handle. Young. Dumb. Scared. Needy. Those are all red flags.”

I laughed. “From what I’ve seen, that woman is anything but dumb, scared, or needy.”

“You didn’t see her yesterday in my room.”

That made my vision pulse and turn red. “What did you do to her?”

“Fuck, Graff! Nothing. Didn’t you hear me tell you she’s a virgin?”

My shoulders relaxed. “Then what’s the problem?”

“The motherfucking Mafia, Graff. That’s the problem. What if her dear old daddy—the new Mafia Don, in case you forgot—wants a bloody sheet on the wedding night?”

I shrugged. “She’s twenty-two. Even if she is a virgin, she probably won’t bleed.”

“Even worse for me, then.”

“Jesus fuck, Sas. That’s ancient shit you’re worried about.” I swiped my hand through some knots already forming in my hair from the wind. “Or... you’re looking for excuses.”

“Arranged marriage is ancient, Graff. And nothing will excuse this fuckery”

“So slice open your finger so there’s blood and fuck her with it.” I shrugged. “Easy peasy. Problem solved.”

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