Don't Promise (Don't 3)

“Not much,” I admitted. “I’ve gone to the beach with my friend a few times. I did a vineyard tour.”

“Not much, is correct.” He frowned.

“Well, I don’t have a lot of free time.” It might sound better if I explained I wasn’t uninterested in his country. I was up to my eyeballs in my dissertation research. “I will explore the country. I just need a little time.”

His eyes narrowed. “And what is it that takes up so much of your time?” His voice was cold, icy.

“My dissertation.”

He arched his eyebrows. “You’re at the Conservatory?” It seemed to change his tone.

I nodded. “I’m here on a scholarship. Sometimes I feel like I’ll never be done, and then other times I don’t want it to be over. But for now, it’s time consuming. I keep telling myself I’ll travel when the writing is complete. At least it brought me here.” I smiled. I rattled on longer than I intended.

He leaned against the table, his heavy arms shifting the weight of the surface. “The burning question is what do you study, Miss Washington? Should I guess?” His smile was devilish. In the sunlight, I could see flecks of amber in his dark eyes. They were subtle, but they were there. “You seem to be an avid learner.”

Holy shit. My cheeks flushed with embarrassment. What happened between us last night and this morning was not me. It was alternate me. The me who wanted to try something wild and naughty. The me who needed a break from the notecards.

“I-I. Literature,” I sputtered. Contrary to what he thought, I wasn’t schooled in stripper or hooker activity. Last night was a first.

“Maybe you’d be interested in the royal library.”

“The royal library?” I knew there was a special collection in the city that hadn’t been archived for public use. I had no idea it was housed here. Like The Titan, I thought it was an urban legend. Just a much nerdier one.

“Collected for centuries. It’s downstairs.”

“It’s here? In the palace?”

He nodded lazily. “Would you like to see it?”

“I would love to see it.” The smile quickly dropped from my face.

I wasn’t supposed to stay. I had been given explicit instructions to get the hell out of the fantasy as soon as the sun came up. The contract was clear. No loitering. No stalling. No segue way to the next part of the day. The Titan created a one-night binding contract.

“Something wrong?” He poured a second cup of coffee for me. The china mugs were small.

I looked down at his T-shirt, covering my breasts. The shorts tied around my waist. “I need to leave. I can’t overstay my welcome.” I started to rise from the table. My clothes had to be around here somewhere.

“Sit,” he commanded.

My skin bristled. “But I know I should leave.” The truth was I didn’t want to wait around to be kicked out. I could leave with some shred of dignity if I collected my things and left of my own accord.

“Do you see anyone from The Titan here?”

I shook my head. “No.”

He pulled his expensive watch into the sunlight. He tapped it. “The fucking contract has expired, Molly.”

“What does that mean?” I could feel something in the air changing. “What are you saying?”

“It means, you’re staying.”

I blinked. “But I have…I can’t. Can I?” My head was spinning. This wasn’t part of the plan. It was strictly forbidden.

&nb

sp; “You can and you will.” He seemed confident whatever he said was law. Maybe it was.

He rose from the table. “I’ll have some clothes delivered.”