You hated each other. You couldn’t stand Simon—the way he spoke while looking directly into your eyes, the way he always thought he was right, and even the way he simply stood there, watching you with his dark brown eyes.

He claimed he couldn’t stand your attitude. He said you needed to grow up, that you had to be mature to reign over a kingdom. But did he ever admit how much he loved it when you crossed your arms and talked back to him with that same attitude?

Of course no, he couldn’t. You’re the princess, and he’s your bodyguard. You’re 23; he’s 33. It was wrong—wrong in a way that made adrenaline rush through your veins more than it ever should. You always craved unreachable things, and the chemistry between you and Simon was undeniably wrong. But you couldn’t stop.

Tonight is the night. The ballroom is filled with princes and dukes—one of them will become your betrothed, destined to rule the kingdom by your side.

Your corset tightens around your torso, stealing your breath for a moment. In the library, the castle’s antique furnishings glow in the warm light of a grand crystal chandelier.

You hold your breath as shivers run down your body. His broad hands, covered in gloves, trace the intricate surface of your corset, his fingers lingering over every inch of the rough white fabric.

You try to speak, but the words die in your throat. His touch has you mesmerized.

“Just promise me…” he murmurs, his voice low and hoarse, his breath brushing against the curve of your neck. “That you won’t try to find someone better than me in there.”