Chapter 1
King Victor
“With all due respect, Your Highness, I don’t think it would go over very well if we took her from her home and demanded she marry you.”
I clenched my teeth and turned around, staring at Frederick, who looked at me like he should have kept his mouth shut. He should have. Hell, I was about to go over there myself and tell Willow that she was mine, that she had been mine for the last year.
From the moment I saw her in the market a year ago, standing behind her flower stall, the scent of the fresh flora not masking the fact that she smelled the sweetest, I knew what I had to do. All I’d wanted to do was throw her over my shoulder and take her back to my bed, parting those sweet thighs and claiming her as mine.
I hadn’t been with a woman for years, well before I saw Willow and wanted her in my bed, my life, and by my side. Years I’d been celibate, focusing on ruling my kingdom, making it grow, protecting it.
But now it was time for me to be happy, have a family. I wanted all of that with Willow. Only her.
But I’d bided my time, waiting until I had everything secure, could make sure when she was brought to me that everything would go according to plan. She wouldn’t deny me, her king, her ruler, but I wanted her to desire me the way I did her. I didn’t want to keep her as a prisoner; even though I would because letting her go was not an option. I’d waited long enough to make her mine, had been more patient than I ever had before.
What I wanted I took. But the only thing I wanted in this fucking world was Willow. Crown be damned, she’d be mine.
The time had finally come for me to take a wife—Willow—and put my heir inside of her.
* * *
Willow
I didn’t know what I was doing here—amongst these lavish, grand items. This was the first time I’d ever been inside the palace and it was just as magical as I’d envisioned. I was a simple shopkeeper, selling fresh cut flowers in the village center, barely making ends meet to support my mother and myself. With her ailing heath, working the flower shop—one she’d built herself from the ground up—was the only thing keeping the meds in stock and my mother staying comfortable.
I couldn’t be away, even for this short amount of time. I was losing money, but then again, it wasn’t like I could deny the king.
What he wanted he got. Always.
So when the king’s men came to my stall and demanded I come with them, I was smart enough not to ask any questions.
And so here I was, a twenty-two-year-old florist, afraid of what would happen next, worried about my mother, but more nervous as to why King Victor wanted to see me … a nobody.
And amongst the uncertainty of what was going to happen I couldn’t help but think about King Victor. Big and strong, powerful and brutal, he was a force to be reckoned with. Arrogant and demanding, no one dared come up against him for fear of losing. And they always did.
But what would he want with me? I had nothing to offer, which made this whole situation even more confusing and concerning.
I heard footsteps and turned around to face the massive wooden double doors. My heart started beating this frantic rhythm and I clasped my hands behind my back, trying to appear calm even though I was anything but. And then I watched as the door handle turned, the large slab of wood being pushed open to reveal one of the servants. He was dressed in black and white attire, his head bowed as he stepped aside and showed respect for the man who entered.
Everything in my body stilled, tightened as I stared at King Victor. He was an imposing man, easily over six feet tall, with broad shoulders and narrow hips. He was muscular, the white button-down shirt and slacks he wore not hiding the kind of raw power he held.
And his silver crown glinted under the light, a show of his authority.
I swallowed, this lump in my throat forming and refusing to go down. I knew I probably looked like a deer caught in headlights; wide-eyed and frightened. He stepped farther into the room, his strong, powerful arms at his sides, his focus trained right on me.
“Leave us,” he said to the servant without breaking eye contact with me. Once the door was shut and we were locked in together I breathed out slowly.
Could he see how afraid I was, how nervous his very presence made me? Still he said nothing directly to me and instead walked over to a cabinet. He opened it and proceeded to pour himself a glass of scotch. Turning around, he lifted the bottle toward me, lifting a brow, asking me without saying anything if I wanted some. When the king offered you something you didn’t deny it.