Page 33 of An Heir to Blood and Power

So there literallyweremore colors of corn than people, so maybe that wasn’t the best metric for me to use, whether I was a corn-fed Nebraska girl or not.

I stared at my glass, now empty.

How strong was this champagne? I was looping aboutcorn.

But corn distraction aside, I was standing in the center of a circle of magnificently beautiful men.

My skin felt every stitch of the dress I was wearing, and the bustline seemed tight all of a sudden.

My horizons were expanding like a nuclear blast front.

The women were right there, so close they were almost rubbing up against me.

One astoundingly beautiful woman in an aqua-beaded gown ran her finger over my hand that held my champagne glass and looked me in the eyes, her dark eyes limpid as she watched me. “You’re Nicolai’s wife, are you?”

“Yeah,” I said, entranced.

“Pity,” and she moved into the crowd.

I didn’t know whether it was a pity that he was married or I was, but I was kind of hoping it was the latter.

There were a lot of stunningly gorgeous guys standing around me, Nicolai’s friends from school.

Awhy-choosenumber of men.

Okay, I wouldnever.I’d never eventhoughtaboutguys,multipleguys,at one time. Or even serially, like dating a gaggle of boyfriends.

Preferably, who were also boyfriends.

I read a lot of spicy books. Like, alotof them. Sometimes my brain pattern-matched those spicy books with circumstances in the real world, but that was silly.

Jimmy had asked me out for the first time when I’d beenfifteen.

That had been the end of my choices.

And my spicy times.

But Nicolai had every intention of divorcing and annulling me within a year.

Why shouldn’t I look around for another relationship in this cohort of extraordinarily wealthy people? My mother had always told me it was just as easy to fall in love with a rich man as it was a poor one.

Not that she’d ever been in a relationship with a rich man, just my deadbeat dad and then Gerry, who at least had a job.

There was no reason that I shouldn’t look around and examine my options.

My fake marriage to Nicolai didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered.

Nicolai reached over and gently placed his hand on my lower back, steadying me, because I hadn’t even realized that I had begun to sway on the tan-leather high-heeled sandals squeezing my toes.

I settled like a dove ceasing its fluttering.

His hand warmed my back, holding me, and a soft smile curved his lips higher on one side, like he had a secret. His shoulders relaxed as his fingertips touchedthe silk of my dress, caressing my skin through the material. His posture was casual, yet he turned toward me, as if something about me drew him in.

When he glanced down at me, his smile lifted just a little more.

Nicolai was more relaxed than when he’d been arguing with his brother or the security guys, but he still wasn’t the buoyant man who’d locked his eyes on mine last night in the church. His steely posture was still wary, a rigidity deep in his muscles.