Orient Fevre

“As the captain of the ship, can you divorce us, sir?” I pleaded. “You can marry people. Do you have the power to divorce a couple, too?”

“You’re shitting me, right? Divorcing you while we’re heading to the D’Keghan system?” Captain Hawk’s eyes bulged from their sockets. “We would never get out of D’Keghan territory alive. Find a solution to your problem yourself, Cross. We’re a transport company. Not a divorce court.”

I felt bummed. Indefinite leave? But I loved my job. It was the best job I’d ever had.

“If I may suggest something, you should start looking for a lawyer once you arrive in D’Keghan. Find someone who can give you advice on your marital status.”

“Will it work, sir?”

“Highly unlikely. You married their crown prince.” Captain Hawk gave me a hearty roar as if this whole ordeal was nothing but a funny joke. My captain had a strange sense of humour. “Dismissed, Cross.”

“Yes, sir.”

God damn it.

Yule Ball, Chereshaz-X. Three days later…

Each time I thought my life was under control, something always came out and bit me in the ass—like Levy Frye for instance. Or my ex-fiancé, Mac. Both men hounded me while we were on our three-standard-day’s journey to Chereshaz-X. Mac wanted to amend things between us, while Levy…well, he was very persistent about the soul mate thingy. I didn’t feel like talking to Mac, other than about work-related matters. I also didn’t feel like socialising with Levy because I was afraid I’d lose my panties. That man, God in heaven, had a special power that could make a proper woman lose her inhabitations like a tavern whore. I did my best not to accommodate them, especially Levy. But when Orient Fevre docked in the Chereshaz-X space statio

n for the Yule Ball, I knew that the dragon prince had some dirty tricks under his sleeves.

It was day three on the job with me playing as his bodyguard, and so far, I’d survived his seduction. I didn’t know how much longer I could keep my panties intact when he was near. As pathetic as I was, my body rebelled to what my logic advised me. As I’d said before, Levy Frye was like an irresistible piece of over-priced gourmet chocolate that you drooled on when you were dieting, only now that you’d had a bite, you were addicted to its chocolaty goodness, making you want more. He was a delicious evil—a sexy delicious evil.

“Too bad you aren’t pregnant.” Levy furrowed his eyebrows. He wasn’t joking either. He looked dead serious. “We should try, at least a couple more times. It’ll do the trick.”

“Don’t. Touch. Me.” I took a step away when he was about to pull me into his arms. “It’s bad enough you forced me to wear this stupid outfit.” I scowled. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m your bodyguard. I should be wearing more flexible clothes instead of this stupid gown.” My mood hadn’t improved since I’d found out he wanted me to wear a gown. I hated gowns. How did women wear these deadly contraptions and still manage to walk? I found myself almost tripping every five feet. I hoped I could survive the night without embarrassing myself.

“People would notice you’re my bodyguard if you wore your uniform,” Levy mocked me.

“You don’t need me as your bodyguard anyway. You have your own. In fact, you have three.”

“True. But how can I seduce you if you’re not around?”

I snorted. “I can’t win an argument with you, can I?”

“No.”

“Did I tell you I have an ex-fiancé who I planned to get back with?” I ventured, gauging his reaction. Maybe then he’d leave me alone.

“The one you caught with his pants down, banging his own assistant? I don’t think so. You’re not the sweet, forgiving type of girl.”

“Who told you that?”

“I know everything about you, kitten.”

“You snooped on me?”

“It’s only natural. I must know everything about my wife.”

“I’m not your freaking wife!”

Levy tsked. “I don’t want to argue about this right now. I’m going to introduce you to the Ambassador of Chereshaz-X. But I know something that’ll cheer up your mood.” He dragged me into a dark corner, and pushed me against the wall. “Sssh, pretend we’re having a serious discussion.”

His interpretation of a serious discussion involved French-style kissing. He suffocated me with his mouth while one of his hands sneakily slipped under my gown and found its way to my panties. He cupped my mound before I could register what had happened.

But there was more to come. He hooked my panties down and before I knew it, I felt his fingers on my pussy lips, as well as something cold. He pushed the small, cylindrical, metal object into me and withdrew his hand as fast as a magician performing a trick. I tried to undo what he’d done, but he snatched both my wrists and gripped them hard. The edge of my gown fell back on my four-inches stilettos.

“What was it?” I was ready to strangle him. “I swear to God, I—”