The Heir's Bargain (Of Fire and Lies)

Chapter 20

We satatop the hill until the sun had vanished, leaving only the stars and the moon to light the sky.

Outside, Fynn and I had fallen into a comfortable silence. Together, there was never a need to fill the space with small talk or other nonsense. Atop the hill, all the worries plaguing my mind were pushed to the wayside. For a moment, it was as if we weren”t pretending to court each other, as if he hadn”t kissed me, as if old feelings hadn”t been rekindled despite years of shoving them down. As if nothing had changed between us at all in the past few months.

Until we walked into my room.

Or what I thought was my room.

”Wait, this can”t be right,” I said, twirling around as the door clicked shut.

My lungs were in my stomach as I stared at the luggage by the wall—more specifically, at the extra luggage sitting beside mine. This was most certainly wrong.

”I told them to bring my bags to my room.”

”Are you missing something?” Fynn asked, placing a gentle hand on my back as he scanned the bags. ”I can go ask?—”

I quickly stepped away and cut him off, ”No, Fynn. I am not missing something. Don”t you see what the issue is?”

Confusion twisted his facial features as he surveyed the room. Was he purposely being ignorant? Did he truly not see the problem?

Groaning, I waved to his belongings sitting beside mine. ”Why is your stuff in here?”

”Because—” Then his eyes fell onto the bed. The single bed that occupied the space. ”Oh.”

”Oh,” I repeated, rolling my eyes far back into my head. ”Why would they put us in the same room?”

Fynn scratched the back of his head. ”Well, we are courting.”

”Courting but not married!” I pressed the heels of my palms to the side of my head.

Even though Fynn was right, that wasn”t the problem. We were the problem. I couldn”t possibly stay in a room with him.

Fynn chuckled. ”Dani, it”s not a hundred years ago. Times have changed. No one cares if two people bed each other before?—”

My eyes sprung open. ”Bed each other? We”re not?—”

”Wait,” Fynn said, stumbling back and waving his hands. ”That”s not what I meant.”

”Of course you didn”t! But now I can”t stop thinking that everyone else is thinking we”re bedding each other in here. I couldn”t possibly bed you. I mean, look at you,” I sputtered, pointing at him.

”What about me?” Fynn arched a brow as he leaned against the wall. His arms were crossed over his chest, sleeves rolled up, and the veins running across his forearms were on full display.

By the gods.

Veins simply pumped one”s blood. There was nothing attractive about them, and yet. . .

My cheeks flushed as I snapped my gaze up to meet his, and Fynn stared back at me, that smug mouth cocking up.

He was absolutely, positively infuriating.

”You”re. . .you!” I finally spat.

”I”m me? Would you rather me be someone else?”

Yes, I wanted to shout. But every part of me inside screamed, no.

I shook my hand in frustration, more annoyed with myself than the situation. ”We can”t possibly sleep in the same bed together. That”s crossing a line, isn”t it?”

”We have shared beds before,” he said with a shrug.

”When we were children!”

”And what”s the big deal?”

I snapped my mouth shut and bit my tongue. How could he not be reacting the same way as me? How could he ask that with a straight face? Was I the one making it a bigger deal than it needed to be?

I twisted my hands together and said, ”Nothing. I just. . .I don”t like the idea of people thinking we”re sleeping together. We”re friends, Fynn.”

He quirked a brow.

Internally, I screamed.

Why did even that tiny movement send heat rising all the way from my toes to my cheeks?

”Friends who are pretending to court each other,” he said.

Sweat dampened my neck, the bottom layer of my curls sticking to my skin.

When I still hadn’t moved, Fynn shook his head with an exasperated sigh. ”I can see that this bothers you. I”ll ask one of the staff members if another room is available.”

I nodded but then froze once I recalled what the doorman had said when I arrived.

”There”s no point,” I said with a groan. ”There are no rooms left.”

Fynn”s hand fell from the door. ”I”ll sleep on the floor then.”

Placing a hand on my hip, I asked, gaze narrowed at his back, ”Have you ever slept on the floor, Fynn?”

He turned. ”No, but?—”

”But,” I said, interrupting, ”it”s not comfortable. I am not going to make you sleep on the floor. I will.”

Fynn snorted, folding his arms over his chest and stepping forward. ”Over my dead body, Ferrios.”

”Fine,” I said, nibbling on my nails as I stared at the bed. It was just one night. ”We”ll share the bed.”

”Are you sure?”

”Yes.” I shifted on my feet, unsure if I was sure or not about it. But either way, it was too late. A decision had been made.

Fynn took several steps forward, his shoes light on the floor yet heavy in my mind. ”But I”m so me,” he whispered, his words sweeping across my skin like a breeze.

A small smile cracked through the panic.

I quickly shook it away.

”We”re both tired. Let”s just get some rest,” I said.

More steps.

”If you insist.”

The click of the lock ripped through the room, and suddenly, the room felt too small to breathe despite its grandeur size.

”Do you want to change first?” Fynn asked.

”No.” I waved him off. ”You can. I”m going to open some windows. It”s rather stuffy in here.”

Fynn nodded. He removed his shoes, scuffing the toes as he did so. He tossed them out of the way of the door, and they landed with a thunk. Grabbing his bag, he headed into the adjoined bathing chambers. The door clicked shut behind him.

Through the door, I could hear the soft patter of his feet against the tile floor. Then, the thud of clothes hitting the ground.

Sweat licked my skin.

It might have been the shortest night of the year, but tonight was going to feel like the longest.

I pushed open a window, letting the night breeze rush in.

The Cunningway”s manor was on the west side of the kingdom. In the distance, waves crashed against the cliffs surrounding Pontia.

I dug my fingers through my hair and lifted the curls off my neck. Yet, despite the mist in the air, the breeze did little to cool my skin.

”What are we doing?” I whispered as I stared out the window. The sea sparkled with the stars, and the full moon’s reflection spilled across the water”s surface. ”This is insane. This is a?—”

”Did you say something?” Fynn asked, the door creaking open.

I spun around, releasing my hair. My back hit the windowsill, and the curtain rod rattled above me. ”I was admiring the view.”

But the better view was standing in front of me. The button-downs and suit jackets Fynn wore hid his muscular build well—too well. As Fynn stood shirtless, leaning against the doorframe, his pectorals flexed beneath his crossed arms.

Had he always leaned on things so much?

”The view, huh?” Fynn asked, forcing my gaze up.

And there was that stupid, cocky smirk on his face again, as if he knew he was attractive and knew I was ogling him. He must have overheard the thoughts of countless women commenting on how good-looking he was over the years.

I refused to be another one on that list, though.

”Are you done in there, princess?” I asked.

Fynn held out a hand, ushering me forward. ”All yours, Ferrios.”

I hurried into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me.

I quickly dipped my hands into the water basin and splashed the water onto my face, spreading it across the back of my neck. Gripping the sides of the bowl, I leaned over the basin and glared at myself in the mirror.

What am I doing?

Nothing good would come from gawking at Fynn. Yet I couldn”t deny that I was, on some level, attracted to him.

Objectively speaking, Fynn was attractive. He was tall, muscular, smart.

And the way he kissed me? My legs still trembled.

But that kiss was only for show,I reminded myself again.

It might have felt real, but Fynn had plenty of practice over the years to be able to fake a kiss decently.

I grabbed a clean towel on the counter and dabbed the water off my face. The summer heat had turned my curls into a frizzy mess. After detangling them with wet fingers, I twisted my hair into a simple plait and let it hang loose down my back. Quickly stripping out of my dress, I changed. For once, I was thankful for my expensive taste in sleepwear. After wearing a uniform most days, loungewear was one of the few luxuries I allowed myself to indulge in. Slipping the simple black slip on, I inspected my reflection.

I groaned.

Good taste or not, if I had known I would share a room with Fynn, I would have picked something that offered more coverage. The slip’s neckline barely covered the tops of my breasts, and the hem barely reached the middle of my thighs.

My nails bit into my palms.

Then, something in the corner of the mirror caught my eye. Fynn”s clothes were piled in the corner, discarded. I rushed over and picked up his shirt, holding it up. I rubbed the fabric between my fingertips.

With a groan, I dropped.

The fabric was too thick. At least the slip was light enough for the stifling summer heat. His shirt would be suffocating.

Andhis shirt smelled too much like him.

”Get it together, Dani. It”s just one night,” I whispered. ”I can do one night.”

With one final nod at myself, I picked up my belongings and left the bathing chambers.

A lit lantern sat on the bedside table, casting a golden hue across Fynn”s features as he lay on the bed. His head was propped up on one of his hands as he held a book in his other hand.

”You brought a book?” I asked.

”You didn”t?” Fynn asked, his attention glued to the book. His brows were scrunched together, and his eyes were slightly narrowed.

”I didn”t expect to do any light reading,” I said, fidgeting with the hem of my dress that kissed my thighs. If Fynn’s current behavior was any indication, I shouldn’t have been nervous. When it came to him, it didn”t matter what I wore. And yet. . .

”What did you expect to do then?” Fynn asked, quirking a brow. He flipped to the next page, the page rubbing against his fingers.

Despite myself, my cheeks heated, and I rolled my eyes, hoping to cover it up. ”I don”t know. Sleep?”

”If only it were that easy for some of us,” he mumbled. However, his comment seemed directed more at himself than in response to my statement.

”So, you read to sleep?” I asked, walking forward.

He tilted his head. ”Sometimes it helps. Sometimes it doesn”t. If I”m interested in the book, the story keeps me up late into the night instead. Either way, the books do what they need to do.”

I was at the edge of the bed when I asked, ”Which is?”

”Distract me from the thoughts spinning in my head.” He finally looked up, and an emotion I couldn”t quite place flashed across his brown eyes. But before I could identify it, it vanished. He shifted, folding up a leg and returning his gaze to his book. Clearing his throat, he asked, ”Are you going to stand there all night, or are you going to get into bed?”

I blinked.

Did his?—

No, I was definitely imagining it. Fynn”s voice didn’t wobble.

Yet, I still could not move forward, as if a line had been drawn in the sand, one I was unsure I wanted to cross.

Fynn sighed as he flipped the page. ”We”re friends, Dani. Sharing a bed means nothing.”

Rolling my shoulders back, I tried to relax my jaw. I cleared my throat and walked to my side of the bed, my feet a soft patter against the wood.

Growing up, I had seen the twins shirtless countless times when we used to train together in the castle”s private training grounds on hot summer days. As a soldier, I never gave a second thought to the men in the battalion when they stripped off their shirts.

This should have been no different.

But then why did my fingers tremble as I grabbed the duvet and flipped it over? As the cotton rubbed against my overly sensitive skin when I slipped between the sheets?

Why was I cognizant of how loud my breathing was?

Or how loud each turn of the page of that damned book was?

I took a quiet breath and exhaled softly.

Friends. Just friends.