Quincy was too busy chugging his second glass of wine to notice. “Apparently, Parliament, in their infinite wisdom, has decided I am not fit to rule once my father retires, and guess who is next in line for the throne?”
“Gigi? No—you’re serious?” Her gut twisted again.
“Gigi. The damn Pentacrafts are next in line, and this arranged marriage is a test! If I don’t pick a wife and get married one month after my father’s wedding, I will lose my crown!”
His hand curled tightly around the wine bottle, and Olivia saw the glint of rage in his eyes as he raised his arm. “Don’t! Don’t… Someone will hear,” she hissed and rushed over to lower his arm. “Calm down, alright? Just take a deep breath and give me the damn wine before you drown yourself.”
Quincy let her take the bottle and his glass, his brow furrowed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.”
“It’s fine. I understand,” she said. “You don’t have much of a choice now, do you?”
“What do you mean?”
Tears stung her eyes. She didn’t let him see as she stiffened her shoulders and said, “You have to find a wife, and I’m assuming your dad is pushing you towards Gigi. It’s a smart choice and she’s very beautiful, so you might as well just get it over with.”
Silence fell in the room, lingering for so long she honestly thought he’d snuck out the balcony doors so she could be miserable in peace. Her shoulders sagged in relief, but two hands closed around her arms and turned her around. Quincy’s eyes searched her face, frowning as he leaned down so they were level.
“What are you talking about?”
“You have to let me go so you can marry,” she whispered. “It’s obvious. We can’t have this, Quincy. We can’t.”
“Why not? Who says we can’t be together?”
“We’re going to be siblings!”
“Step-siblings, no blood relation whatsoever,” he reminded her, and she could hear the desperation in his words. “I am not going to lose you. Not like this.”
“It will be a scandal, and your dad will kill you.”
“Then I’ll die happy.” He pulled her close for a kiss.
Olivia melted against him, pressing her body against his, needing to feel that connection, but this couldn’t happen. She pulled back, shaking her head. “You know this won’t work.”
He bit his lip and nodded once. “For now, though, we have time, and I will find a way for us to be together, Olivia. There has to be a way.”
“Are you sure you want to do this? We’ve been lucky so far, but eventually, someone’s going to notice,” she said. This particular concern had been eating at her for the last couple weeks. Allete eyed her strangely some mornings, and Olivia knew she smelled like Quincy. Pascal was sure to notice things were different with the prince, too. They were playing a very dangerous game, and she did not want to think about what would happen if they were caught.
“I’ve never been surer of anything in my life.”
There was something more he wanted to say, she saw it flash in his eyes, but the words never came. Instead, he ran his fingers through her hair, undoing the pins as he went, and let it fall down her back. She sighed at the relief of having it loosened, closing her eyes as his hands shook out her hair and moved to her neck. He kissed her, slow and deep, letting his tongue play against hers as his hand wrapped around her waist.
But her dress got in the way, and he grunted. “Turn around.”
Olivia did as he asked, laughing as his hands went to work quickly on the ties at the back. He nuzzled her neck, kissing her bare shoulders as each tie came loose and she could breathe more easily. The dress finally came free, and she slipped out of it. As the heavy dress fell away, Quincy sucked in a harsh breath and she glanced down at herself.
“Oh, I forgot what I wore under this,” she said with a laugh.
“You are seriously going to kill me,” Quincy whispered. “One of these days, it’s going to happen.”
Olivia put her hands on her hips and sauntered to him. She wore red lace panties and a corset top that had given her the cleavage she needed to pull off the dress. The top was satin, but the rest was sheer, and from the look in Quincy’s eyes, red was his new favorite color.
“You’re wearing too many clothes,” she whispered against his ear and nibbled it. “Take them off.”