Page 34 of Twelve Nights In The Prince's Bed

‘I always wanted to practise law. I wasn’t sure until I started studying what I’d specialise in, but the truth is human rights are so important and as we make our way through the twenty-first century, I’m shocked by the erosion of rights in so many parts of the world. It makes my skin crawl to think how some people live.’

‘So you’re driven by a desire to fix the world?’ he asked, voice light, even when his eyes were stripping away her layers, peeling right into the centre of her being.

‘It’s sure not the salary,’ she said with a wry grimace.

He lifted a brow.

‘I’m employed by a not-for-profit organisation. If I was looking to make my fortune, I’d have gone into commercial litigation, but working for oligarchs who want to make themselves richer by selling boats to other billionaires isn’t how I see myself spending my days.’

‘And you work long hours,’ he said, neatly bringing the conversation back to what she suspected he really wanted to discuss—her lack of a sex life.

She sipped her champagne. ‘Yes.’ She did. Not because she always had to, but because it was one way to avoid entanglements. ‘I like to be good at what I do.’

‘Why do I suspect you’re excellent at it?’

Her eyes widened. ‘I don’t know,’ she said with a shake of her head.

‘Poppy?’

She stared at him; she was drowning.

‘There must be a reason,’ he said after a beat, his meaning clear despite the apparent change of subject. ‘Someone broke your heart?’

She took another sip of her champagne, almost choking. ‘No. Never. Really, I’m very boring, Adrastos.’

He bit back whatever he’d been about to say. ‘That’s not how I would describe you.’

Beneath the table, she pressed a hand to his thigh. ‘Really, you don’t have to do this.’

‘Do what?’

‘Flatter me.’ She blinked away from him, chagrined by this conversation. ‘Pretend, when it’s just the two of us.’

‘Didn’t we agree we’d both pretend tonight?’

‘Yes, but the flattery, it’s just not necessary. I know the kind of women you’re usually with. I know I’m not like them.’

His eyes skimmed her face. ‘You’re interested in the women I date?’

She rolled her eyes and hoped her demurral would sound convincing. ‘No.’ She ignored his sceptical look. ‘I just mean I’ve seen stuff. Stories. Over the years. I know you date a certain type of woman, and I’m not it.’

‘In what way?’

She shook her head. ‘We shouldn’t do this.’

‘Why not? I’m interested in what you think of my love life.’

‘Well, for a start, I wouldn’t call it a love life so much as a sex life,’ she responded quickly, then wished she hadn’t when she felt him pull back a little.

‘Don’t stop,’ he said, reaching for his beer and having a drink.

His eyes narrowed, and he moved closer, so their bodies were touching beneath the table and Poppy was grateful for the linen cloth, because if any guest did decide to take a photo with their phone, the image would be every bit as intimate as the photos taken on the night of her birthday, if not more so.

‘Not that I give this matter much thought,’ she said a little unevenly, her body surging with attraction so she was far too aware of him on a cellular level to think clearly.

‘Too busy saving the world?’

‘Something like that,’ she lied. Of course she’d thought about his hectic sex life—how could she not, when she knew it was a source of pain for Eleanor and Clementine? Loyalty had made her cross with Adrastos. She went to pull her legs away from him, but beneath the table, his hand curved over her thigh, holding her still.

---