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Tonight I’m glad there’s someone with enough energy to steer this shipwreck.

“You don’t want to know, Red.”

She’s quiet for a minute, fingers playing with the fine hair below my navel. “Is what you said true? That you were ten?”

The exhaustion is so heavy I barely feel the regret slamming into me. Turning to look out the window, I say, “Some dads take their sons to the Hideaway…let Augustine pick out a good match, but not Father.” I laugh darkly. “God, no. Everything, including virginity, is an opportunity.”

“What happened?”

I look at her, giving in to the urge to sweep the wet hair off her cheek. “It’s not a story for a Princess’ ears.” That’s what Lex would say. Pace–he’d say it’s not a story foranyone’sears. That I should keep it all locked up tight with those meager parts of myself I’ve managed to salvage over the years–wind it around them like a ball of yarn.

But when I look into her eyes, there’s no disgust or judgment. She’s just staring at me with knitted brows, waiting.

Waiting for me to give.

Taking in a deep breath, I begin, “We were in boarding school at the time. It was a Friday, and Father came to sign me out for the weekend.” Sliding her a dark glance, I stress, “Justme. I really wanted to stay in the dorms. Play video games with Lex and Pace. Practice my shot in the parking garage. But Father said he wanted me to perform at an event. Kind of like the one tonight, actually.” Her hand stills on my stomach, but she doesn’t remove it. “I’d done it before. Playing cello, getting praise and encouragement afterwards. No big deal. So I went with him, all dressed up in my tuxedo, and I played the song I knew best: Air from the 3rdSuite. Father has always approved of Bach.” My mouth ticks up into a cutting smirk. “When I finished, they announced dessert, but Father kept me on the performance platform.” Despite being cold as fuck outside and only wearing a towel, a sheen of sweat coats my skin. “That’s when the bidding started.”

She freezes, mouth parting in shock. “Theybidon you?”

Shrugging, I offer, “I went for twenty-five thousand.” But despite my casual, cocky tone, I find my fingers linking with hers on my stomach.

An anchor.

Her face pales. “Dollars?!”

I nod, tipping my head back against the seat. The exhaustion pushes down on me. “I rode home in the back of a car a lot like this one.”

Flicking my eyes downward, I catch the flash of anguish in her eyes. “Oh, god, Wick—”

I shake my head. “Don’t.Do notfeel sorry for me. Father tapped me for my skill set. Just like Pace. Just like Lex.” I look down at the bandage. “Just like you.”

It’s nearingmidnight when we finally get home. Verity’s handmaiden is already waiting for her at her bedroom doorway, eyes wide when she spots the wet clothes in Verity’s hand and the soggy towel clutched to her chest.

“Princess! What–” Her gaze darts from Verity’s disheveled state to my own. She looks panicked as she snatches the clothes from her, like she thinks she should have anticipated this situation. “I’ll start you a bath!”

“Twitchy little thing,” I say, as she vanishes in the room.

A gentle smile touches Verity’s mouth. “You have no idea.” A moment later, I hear the sound of water rushing out of the faucet, her smile falling. “Wicker?” she says, looking up into my eyes. “If–whenI get pregnant…” Her hands clutch the towel to her stomach, eyes flicking nervously down the hallway. “Should I be worried? That it’ll be… an Ashby?”

Christ.

There are fewer things I hate more than the consequences of my own actions, and going by the dread in her eyes, this moment is one of them. All I did was give her the smallest, faintest glimpse of what my father is capable of, and now I have to… what, exactly? Allay her fears? Assure her that whatever pops out of there is going to have the best childhood possible? Try to present my father in a more flattering, fatherly light?

Fuck that.

“Probably,” I say, a touch too flippant as her face falls. The truth is, Verity hasn’t taken anything from me tonight. Maybe that’s why I go on. “And if it’s mine you should be twice as worried. Because it won’t be an Ashby at all.” Holding her gaze, I confess, “It’ll be a Kayes.”

Her head snaps back, confusion furrowing her brow. “Kayes?” But then it clears, comprehension slackening her features. “Your father was a Royal,” she realizes, her green eyes looking me up and down, calculating. “You’re the Baron bloodline?”

“Not,” I add, voice hard, “as far as anyone else is concerned.”

She gives a heavy, stunned nod. “Yeah, I–I understand.”

“Good.”

“Well…” She gives me a tight smile. “Good night.”

She turns to leave and I grab her by the wrist, pulling her against me. We’re skin to skin, towel to towel, and my cock prods hard against her lower belly.