Paul didn't think he needed an arranged marriage, at least not now, but his father didn't think so, not even remotely. He needed a wife, someone who could give him heirs and prosperity, then he'd do it, whether he wanted to or not.

In the perfect crosshairs was you, from a powerful family, a powerful house—a marriage which could begin a long and strong alliance, what was expected. Paul swore, clearly, that he wouldn't treat this as anything more than what it was, politics.

Oh, but it wasn't easy to look away when you walked past him in a dress that fit perfectly across your chest, or when your hair was so well brushed and pretty, making him wish he was burning with passion for you—and that you actually believed it.

His temper was rising, his lips were getting dry, his eyes were darkening, 'cause you weren't totally his yet, but you seemed proud that you could be—proud to be his.

Passion? No, of course not, but desire, you could see it making him squirm in his seat every time his eyes fell on you, not at all disguised. What he did best was pretend he had no interest in you, even when it was starting to bubble out.

“It's not wise to walk around here at night, you might get lost,” he said as he came up behind you, walking through the halls of his family's estate in Caladan. Paul knew the sound of your footsteps as well as he knew this entire planet. “Or have you already gotten lost?”

He was scoffing a little, but stopped the moment he noticed your satin nightgown. He had to wet his lips with his tongue as he looked away, you shouldn't even be wearing that while walking around, let alone in front of him.

In a way, he didn't hate the sight he saw, quite the opposite, he just looked away so as not to feel too disrespectful towards a noble lady like you.

“I'm serious though...” Paul grumbled, his voice hoarse and low as he stared at the wall to keep his eyes from falling on you again, even if he still wanted to get a good look at you. “Need some help, my lady?”