Page 49 of Tower of Tempest
She trailed her own finger along them. “I don’t know. No one’s ever touched them like that. I’ve read a few romance novels where...” Her cheeks flushed and she snapped her mouth closed.
“Oho.” Ilaughed. “You’re going to have to finish that sentence. What exactly happened in these romances you read?”
She swatted me, liquid sloshing from her glass and splattering against the white marble floor. “We should really clean that.”
She made to move, but I grabbed her arm, and she froze, looking down at my hand and back up to me.
“Not a chance,” I said. “Not until I hear more about these romance books. I’m very intrigued, Poppy.”
I let go of her arm, the simple contact making me feel dizzy. Or maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe both. I leaned down on my elbow, propping my head up with my hand, waiting to hear more.
Poppy set her glass down, glaring at me. “You’re relentless.”
“I think you meant to say handsome, charming, a pleasure to be around.”
She shoved me but laughed. The sound tinkled through the air like bells. I reached for another bottle behind me and poured a glass. I might’ve ordered too much, drunk too much, but we were having such a good time, I didn’t care.
I hadn’t heard from Driscoll or Leoni, and I wondered if they’d update us sometime soon about their findings. Hopefully they’d gotten some information, anything that could help us. I took another sip of the wine.
I didn’t want to think about that tonight.
Poppy sighed and pushed a hand through her brown hair. It spilled over her shoulders, framing her face. “Okay, fine. I’ll tell you about one of the books I read.” She held up a finger. “If you tell me how you became the playboy prince.”
“Ugh.” I rolled over onto my back. “You’re a real killjoy, you know that?”
“Well, someone has to balance you out.”
I stared up at the ceiling, moving my hands behind my head. “It’s not like it happened overnight.” I’d actually never thought about how it happened, how the nickname spread, how I’d become this famous bachelor who refused to settle down. “I’ve never been good at relationships,” I said slowly.
“But everyone likes you,” Poppy said, disbelief in her voice.
“I didn’t say I wasn’t likable.” I scratched the back of my neck. “It’strue, everyone likes me because I’m easy to like. I get along with everybody.”
“You know, not all fighting is bad. It can lead to growth, to stronger relationships.”
I snorted. “That’s the idealistic version. The fighting I saw between my sister and parents, between my brother and mother—it caused nothing but destruction. Almost tore our family apart.”
“I’m sorry.” Poppy looked down into her glass. “I didn’t know it was that bad.”
“One time, when I was fourteen, my sister decided to steal our father’s ship. Sailed it right into the rocky cliffs of Apolis. I’d never seen my father so angry, and my sister was even angrier. She’d told him if he’d taught her how to sail like she’d repeatedly asked, that wouldn’t have happened.”
“That probably didn’t go over well with your father,” Poppy said.
“No, it didn’t. They didn’t speak for weeks. We stopped dining together as a family like we’d always done. My mother was a wreck, no idea how to fix any of it. So I stepped in. I brought them together, I listed out all the amazing things about both of them, reminded them how much they respected and loved each other. Then I made some silly joke about how now my father had an excuse to buy a new ship, a Water Festival present for him. It broke the tension. Gabby and Father laughed, and everything was okay.” I remembered the relief that had swept over me in that moment, how I’d marched to the kitchens and announced we’d all be dining together that night. And we did. “That same thing just kept happening. Over and over and over. Every fight, I was there. It almost became an expectation. Somewhere along the way, I realized I didn’t want that kind of trouble for myself, so I just avoided relationships. Bedded women and ran. For some reason, that made me even more appealing to them.”
“They were trying to tie you up—down.” Her face flushed scarlet. “I meant down.”
Spirits below. Now that was an image. “I have absolutely no qualms with being tied up.” As long as I could still slip out in the morning. “That’s it. That’s my story.”
My gaze flicked to her as she tucked her legs under her bottom. Her brows furrowed as I sat up, roping an arm around my bent knee. Sheopened her mouth to speak, but I cut her off. “We’re getting off track. I promised I’d tell you how I became the playboy prince.” I waggled my eyebrows. “Now it’s your turn.”
“Fine.” She leaned forward, her cheeks a lovely rosy pink, her hair a shimmering waterfall. I wondered what it would be like to run my hands through that hair, to pull it aside and set my mouth on the delicate skin of her neck.No, Loch. None of that.I’d just finished telling her why I avoided getting too close, for fuck’s sake.
“I read a romance book that had a pretty... spicy scene in it.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere.” I lifted my glass in a cheers before taking a sip. “Don’t skimp on the details.”
She shoved me. “Prince Lochlan!”
