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When I turn back, Lex is glaring daggers at Verity’s image on the screen. “A large Americano. Enough caffeine to wake the dead, am I right?”

The knot at the back of Lex’s jaw twitches. “She knows that’s not allowed.”

“Not in East End,” I remind him. “But she’s in West End now, and how would we know if she fudged the rules a bit, huh?”

I can see the moment he breaks, nose flaring with a curt huff. “I want a nightly report,” he grinds out, eyes never leaving the screen. “Anything she eats, drinks, or comes into contact with. If it’s going into her body, I want to know about it.”

“Done,” I say, already pulling up a spreadsheet. Verity Sinclaire might not like belonging to me.

But she’s about to find out that belonging to Lex is so much worse.

5

Verity

“Why dothey call it morning sickness if you feel awful all the time?” I’m on my knees in front of the toilet, neck coated in a sheen of sweat. I haven't been on my knees this long since Pace made me suck him off under the table during the PNZ meeting that one time. “And what’s the point of the prenatal vitamins if I’m just going to barf them up?”

“Poor thing,” Stella says, laying a cool cloth over my neck. “Are you sure you don’t want—”

“Iwantto die,” I snap. Nothing I’ve eaten in the last forty-eight hours has stayed down. Not crackers. Not bread. Not the chocolate donut Remy brought me in an attempt to make me feel better. Which… it did make me feel better until it rushed back up. “But not here. A little help?”

Stella’s slim arms come around my waist, helping me get on my feet.

“Bed?” she asks, angling me back to the bedroom.

“No.” I shake my head. “Couch.”

The entire bedroom suite at the loft is new, and it should be comfortable, but as much as I hate to admit it, the mattress on the massive Princess bed in my room at the palace was way more comfortable. I only lived there for a couple of months, but I’ve somehow grown disturbingly familiar with the plush sea of silks. The mattress here feels too small, and the pillows too firm. I’ve spent the last three nights tossing and turning, cursed with a twinge in my neck.

The oversized couch in the living room is a different story. I could spend days here under the chenille blanket Lavinia brought me. Leaning back on the soft pillows, I close my eyes and struggle against another wave of nausea. “I think if I just sit here and not move… I’ll be okay.”

Stella wrings her hands as she watches me, but I catch the way her eyes flick over her shoulder. She’s been incredibly attentive, even more so than she was in East End, and that’s saying a lot. But I can tell she has somewhere she’d rather be. Unlike at the Purple Palace, the Dukes allow her freedom here in West End. But no matter how many times I tell her she can go, she refuses.

“I’ll just be in the kitchen,” she says.

My eyes flutter open. “Thank you, Stella. I’m sorry I’m being such a bitch.”

“You’re not being a bitch!” she answers a little too quickly. “You’re creating a life, and that’s hard work.”

“Maybe, but you’re a lifesaver.” They’re all lifesavers: the Dukes, Lavinia, Stella, even my mother. I can’t imagine how hellacious it would be to go through this in the chilly tension of the palace.

I keep my eyes shut and try to keep the nausea at bay while Stella quietly moves around the kitchen. I’ve been to campus every day, fulfilling my duty as Princess and attending classes. I refuse to let this situation stop me from getting my degree. Plenty of other women have managed to survive a pregnancy and go to college. I’m determined to be one of them.

“Try this,” Stella says, and I open my eyes to see her approaching with a cup, steam wisping off the top. “It may help.”

Glancing skeptically at the contents—tea,gross—I take a sip, tasting the sharp edge of ginger. I wait for the instantaneous urge to puke, but after a moment, it seems like it isn’t going to come. I wrap my palms around the mug, warming one before using it to massage my own neck. “Where did you get this?”

Her eyes dart over to the big box on the counter. “Well… you see…”

“Seriously?” Sneering, I sniff the drink with a little more suspicion. “I thought I told you I don’t want anything from him.”

“My god, you can be stubborn!” It doesn’t happen often, but sometimes Stella gets these flashes of steely resolve, and right now, she’s propping her hands on her hips, mouth pressed into a tense line. “You haven’t been able to keep anything down all day, and I’m not going to leave here until I’m sure you’re alright.” She marches over to the box, removes a package, and aggressively inspects it. “Prince Lex sent all kinds of things that may help. These are ginger candies, which will help settle your stomach. If you won’t take them for yourself, then at least try it for me?”

I deflate at the pleading look in her eyes.

The box from the palace was delivered to the gym yesterday. By the time Ballsack dropped it off, it had been completely rummaged through and thoroughly checked for anything compromising, like bugs or recording devices.

Fucking hell,I think after taking a few more sips. The tea isn’t just the first thing I’ve been able to keep down today, but my nausea actually abates. Groaning in defeat, I hold out my hand. “Let me see that candy.”