Page 120 of Tarnished Queen

“What kind of dessert?”

“Cinnamon caramel cheesecake.”

“Damn him,” I hiss. “That sounds incredible.”

“Well, you can thank me for that. I need to get rid of some of it before I eat the entire thing myself.”

“I’ll happily take it off your hands,” I promise. “Especially if I’m nursing the sting of canceled plans and can’t have a glass of wine.”

We eat in silence for a few minutes, stopping only so I can moan incoherently about how good my pasta is. Maybe it’s a carb-induced mania, or maybe the pasta has given me strength, I can’t be sure. But without any preamble, I turn to Francesca and ask, “So how many women have you done this for?”

Francesca, to her credit, slowly chews her bite before she turns to me. “Excuse me?”

“This,” I say, gesturing to the pasta. “How many women have you cooked for after Nikolai canceled plans? Or how many women that he’s been with have you cooked for, period?”

She sets down her fork, and I am starting to feel like I crossed a serious line. “Well, I’d say that is a conversation you should probably have with Nik—”

“You’re right,” I interrupt, blushing so hard it’s a miracle that there’s any blood left elsewhere in my body. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t put you in that position. It’s uncomfortable and unacceptable. Please let’s just forget—”

“But,” she continues, “I don’t mind telling you the truth. And the truth is… none.”

I blink, letting her words sink in. “None?”

“None. You are the only woman Nikolai has ever asked me to cook for, both in this specific scenario and in general. In fact, I don’t know if I’ve ever even seen him bring a woman home before.”

“That cannot possibly be true.”

She shrugs. “I only know what I’ve seen. But I’ve always made his meals in one-size portions… until you came along. Then he started asking for enough for three people. I secretly thought he had a harem living with him, if you want to know the truth.”

“I’d believe that long before I’d believe he was celibate.”

“Okay, let’s be clear. I don’t think Nikolai was celibate,” she says in a near-whisper. “But he never had anyone staying over for breakfast, I can tell you that.”

“Good. Or, well—Fine. Whatever,” I sputter. “I just mean, thanks for telling me.”

She waves me away dismissively. “Yeah, yeah. I know how this kind of thing goes. It’s hard to ask him this kind of thing yourself, and it’s not like there are many people in Nikolai’s life to ask.”

“He keeps a small circle,” I agree.

Francesca elbows me gently and winks. “Quality over quantity.”

I smile back.

It shouldn’t matter to me. I mean, we met by having sex in an airplane bathroom. It’s not like we had some storybook meet-cute. And I certainly didn’t think Nikolai was a virgin. But still, hearing that I might be special in some way, it eases the sting of him standing me up tonight.

Just a little.

“I’m definitely still going to need that cheesecake,” I announce.

Francesca laughs and grabs both of our plates. “Coming right up.”

We chat a bit more while I eat my cheesecake, but soon after, Francesca needs to get home. I thank her for the food and the conversation, walk her to the door, and then head back to my room.

Passing by Nikolai’s room causes a physical ache in my chest. It’s late enough that we probably would be done with dinner and headed back to the house by now. It’s not hard to imagine where the evening would have taken us.

Instead, I’m plodding back to my room alone.

Outside my door, I glance down the hall at Elise’s room, but the fact that it’s empty, too, is too depressing to contemplate right now. So I hurry into my room and change into a pair of lounge pants and a matching tank top.

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