Chapter 3
CHAPTER 3
Kash came awake and sat up in bed. Something was wrong. Different. Definitely different. He was also dressed. He was wearing a pair of pajama pants because he’d sat up for the longest time with Day, talking about old times. They’d started out drinking Scotch, but when she’d switched to tea, he’d gone along with her. They’d called down to the kitchens and had tea and sandwiches and tiny cakes sent up.
He’d been sad to leave her.
“I feel odd.”
“That’s what it feels like when you don’t wake up with a hangover, Your Majesty,” Simon Weston said as he strode into the bedchamber. “I know it’s terribly odd to realize you remember the evening before, but that’s how it goes. I need to talk to you about security for tonight’s official engagement announcement and celebration. I’m afraid things are going to move quickly over the course of the next two weeks.”
Yes, he did remember. He was getting married to Day. His mother had set it all up, but then it had been his mother who had kept Day from him in the first place. “I need to talk to my mother.”
“She’ll be here in a few moments.” Weston nodded toward the door and the flood of servants began. “She’s coming in with the lord chamberlain. I’ve had breakfast brought in.”
Yes, Kash could see that. His normal breakfast was usually coffee and a protein bar, but this was a full breakfast. Full English. He hadn’t had a full English since his college days. Mostly because it was absolutely terrible for him. He smiled, the memories wafting over him as he smelled the sausages and fried eggs, baked beans and bacon. There was toast and hash browns and tomatoes. “Did you order this? I don’t think my mother’s ever had a fry-up.”
Weston shook his head. “This is for you. I’ve gotten to be too American to possibly handle that breakfast. I’ve got an omelet and some fruit. Your fiancée ordered for you. She’s attempting to take over some of the queen’s duties.”
His stomach grumbled and he couldn’t help but smile. Day remembered. They’d often had breakfast together and he would always order a full English breakfast. She would wrinkle her nose as she ate some tiny thing and drank an enormous cup of coffee. He’d never had a woman other than his mother order breakfast for him.
There were only four plates. He hoped Hanin was sitting off to the side somewhere and he could ignore him, but somehow he doubted the world would be so kind to him. That meant there wasn’t a place for Day.
“Should we invite my…?” He’d almost called her his wife. It was weird. He would have a wife in two weeks’ time. “Should we invite the future queen? She might have something to say about her schedule.”
Weston took a cup of coffee from the young woman serving breakfast. “Ms. Samar is also indisposed. She’s having a spa day. I hope you don’t mind, but my Chelsea and Jesse’s wife, Phoebe, offered to join her. Apparently Ms. Samar doesn’t have many close girlfriends, and spa days are much more fun when shared. I also think we should talk about a few specific threats that could be rather stressful for your bride-to-be. I thought I would talk about those before your mother gets here.”
“Threats?” He smiled at the maid, who handed him a perfectly brewed cup of coffee. Usually he gulped it down, desperately needing the caffeine. It was nice to savor it, to truly taste the unique flavor. He’d missed this coffee. Loa Mali coffee was unlike anything else he’d ever tried. “Are you talking about the antimonarchists? They love to threaten me. They never do anything at all about it.”
All talk. Blah. Blah. Kill the king. Blah. Blah something boring and political. Death to the Kamdars. Blah. So typical and yet they never even tried to murder him.
“I think there’s something different now,” Weston said.
“Why now?”
“Because up until now you’ve shown no signs of any chance that you would marry soon. Without marriage there was always the possibility that the monarchy would end with you.”
“I’m not the last Kamdar. My cousin could take the throne if something happened to me.”
“Chapal?”
“Yes, he is obnoxious but quite intelligent.” After all, he was a Kamdar.
“He’s also gay.”
Kash waved that thought off. “Yes, though he is a terrible dresser. No style at all. What his husband sees in him I will never know.”
“By constitutional law, he can take the throne, but unless he is willing to procreate, the line would end with him.”
Ah, he hadn’t thought of that. He’d always thought that Chapal would carry on and be the absolute worst-dressed homosexual king in the world. His husband, Ben, would have to do all the hard work of making things livable in the palace. Chapal was too attached to his bloody computer.
But after Kash, Chapal was the last Kamdar. “I’ll start the wheels to change that. The world is not where it was two hundred years ago. If Chapal adopts, his child should not be punished. We’re not in the Dark Ages, though the antimonarchists would have you believe it. So you think they’re serious this time because I’m getting married?”
“You’ve gotten threats?” His mother walked into the room, her voice strong but her body seemingly so frail.
Kash stood and walked to her, offering her his hand to steady her. He ignored Hanin, who walked in behind her. Hanin would be gone soon enough. He would allow the man to stay around because his mother favored him, but the minute she was gone so was Hanin.
His stomach turned. Had he really just thought about his mother being dead?
“Are you all right?” His mother stared up at him.
“I’m fine. I’m adjusting.” And not well. He was floundering. “Come along. We have much to talk about and your breakfast is ready.”
She waved him off but found her chair. “I’ll have some tea, please.”
“Your son’s fiancée ordered you tea and toast,” Weston said.
“I told the cook the queen wasn’t interested in food.” Hanin sat down to his own breakfast, setting aside his ever-present planner.
“And my daughter-in-law-to-be wished to give me the choice.” His mother picked up a knife and began to butter her toast. “I think this should be quite nice. My stomach can’t handle much right now, but this looks good.”
Day was getting his mother to eat even when she wasn’t here. Still, he was angry with her. Oddly, not as angry as he’d been the night before. He’d wanted to rage at her, but hours in Day’s company had defused the anger and what that hadn’t calmed, seeing his mother’s frail figure had. He settled himself into his chair, his appetite coming back. “Mr. Weston was talking about the antimonarchists.”
Hanin’s mouth curled in obvious distaste. “Animals, all of them.”
“I’m sure they would say they’re fighting for democracy,” Weston replied.
“They’re threatening my son?” His mother carefully scooped out the jam Dayita had sent with the toast. “They do this all the time. I’m sure they’re particularly nasty now that the wedding has been called and they know the monarchy shall persevere.”
“They’re threatening to stop the wedding.” Weston sat back. “I’ve sent each of you my plans for security. It will be very tight, and everyone will be vetted by my firm. I suggest allowing in one sanctioned photographer and one reporter. The queen-to-be would like to auction off the photos, with all proceeds going to a charitable fund for education.”
The future queen was practically a saint. “Whatever she would like. I don’t think I want to do a ton of press though. How are we framing this? Does the world know this is an arranged marriage?”
“Of course not,” his mother replied. “As far as anyone knows, you and Dayita met in England and drifted apart but now you’ve gotten close again. Everyone knows you’re a bit on the reckless side. They will assume Day is pregnant and that is the reason for the hasty wedding. If you could make that happen on the honeymoon, it would be wonderful.”
Ah, there was his irritation. Not even the lovely eggs could get rid of it. “My procreation will be my choice, Mother. You’ve interfered enough.”
Hanin sat straight up. “You can’t talk to the queen mother that way.”
“Bah,” his mother replied. “I’m happy he’s talking to me at all. If I have one thing to be grateful to the cancer for, it’s the guilt that’s kept my son from running away to be with loose women. He always runs for the loose ones.”
“Or the spies,” Weston added helpfully. “When I first met him he was entertaining several hookers and a couple of undercover spies.”
Ah, the beautiful Kayla. Yes, he’d called her his Asian lily, and she’d been an American double agent. She’d quite scared him at times. Brutal girl, but lovely. “Could we forego hashing through ancient history? Well, not entirely. I would like to know why you chose Day as my bride when you did everything you could to keep us apart fifteen years ago.”
His mother flushed but remained steady as a rock. “Because I figured out I was wrong all those years ago. You have to understand that everything was crazy after your father and Shray died. You came home and all you would talk about was some young lady I’d never met before. I needed you focused on taking the crown. We were desperate at the time. I was desperate at the time.”
She’d been alone, her whole world washed out from under her. Perhaps a few years before he wouldn’t have been able to see things in such a fashion, but he could now. Still. “I only wanted to see her. I wanted something that was mine.”
“And I needed you to see the crown as yours. I needed you focused on the country.” His mother reached out, sliding her hand over his. “I was wrong, but at the time I thought I was right. I thought the feelings you had for Dayita were nothing more than a childish crush on a girl who likely reminded you of home. You didn’t fight hard. You sent her a single invitation and then we heard nothing more. She sent years of letters. I thought it was one sided.”
Had that really been it? At the time he’d felt so crushed. She hadn’t answered a single request and he’d given up, moved on. Day had written him letter after letter. She’d flown a thousand miles to see him.
He’d been the faithless one.
“You read the letters? Are they still around?”
Hanin put his fork down. “I kept them for history’s sake. Your mother asked me to keep them from you, but I always worried she would change her mind. So I kept them instead of trashing them. Three years ago she asked about the young woman, asked me if I knew her. I said no, but I did know a way her majesty could get to know her. And I gave her the letters.”
“And I fell in love with Day,” his mother said quietly. “I found out she was here in Loa Mali and I did everything I could to bring her into my sphere so I could watch over her. When the time came, I made my move to bring her back to you. I don’t know if I was wrong to do what I did in the beginning. I don’t know if she would have been a steadying hand or a distraction, but I do know you need her now.”
“You had no right to keep those letters from me.” But he kept his tone calm. He hated the fact that he couldn’t let his rage fly. And he truly loathed the reason why he couldn’t. How could he be angry with his dying mother? There was someone he could deal with. “Hanin, you became my employee the day my father and brother died. I consider following my mother’s orders in this case tantamount to treason. Would you like me to have your head cut off?”
The man had gone a nice shade of gray.
His mother gasped. “Kashmir!”
Weston merely chuckled. “You have the right, Your Majesty. Still, I think a public execution might overshadow the wedding.”
Hanin stood. “I did my job. I serve this country and the palace. Do you have any idea how hard you make my job? She was right to do what she did. Getting you to focus is like being forced to work with an untrained monkey.”
“Hanin!” At least his mother was shocked by all of them. “Please don’t refer to his majesty in such a fashion or he’ll be right to fire you.”
“He’s planning on firing me anyway.” Hanin stepped back. “The minute you’re gone, I’ll be gone, too, and he’ll probably get rid of his bride as well. A man like him doesn’t change. I feel sorry for your poor bride. She’ll either find herself divorced in a year or the object of everyone’s pity because there’s no chance that you don’t go back to your partying ways within weeks of your mother’s death. Perhaps before. After all, it’s not like you ever cared what she and the world thought of you anyway. Her majesty is trying to save the country, but you won’t care. You’ll ruin us all in the end. I always saw that.”
“Hanin, please,” his mother began.
“Oh, no, Hanin, you continue on.” It was good to see his lord chamberlain for who he really was. “Let me know exactly how you feel.”
Tears had started in his mother’s eyes. “I can’t plan this without him.”
Damn it. She shouldn’t be planning anything at all. She should be resting, trying to maintain her strength.
Fucking fuck and fuck fuck.
Kash stood and attempted to moderate his tone and his expression. All the sweet words in the world wouldn’t mean a thing if he looked like he felt—like he wanted to murder someone. He had to be the king, and the king remained calm and made reasonable decisions. “Hanin, please accept my apologies. It is true that I believe my bride and I will be happier with a new lord chamberlain after we’re wed and I am in the palace most of the time. I would like to do things in a modern way, and you have always emphasized the traditional. Perhaps that is why we seem like we’re at cross purposes. I do, however, promise to make your retirement a lucrative one. And I certainly won’t ever speak of beheading you again. That wasn’t well done of me.”
Hanin turned and walked back to the table. “I will stay for your mother’s sake.”
His mother reached over and patted his hand as though he was a child and had done something well for the first time.
“Shall we talk about the guest list? I’ve got it down to seven hundred.” Hanin opened his notebook.
“I’ll need all those names. Every single person will have to be vetted,” Weston replied. “We’ve got almost no time so I need a finalized list by this afternoon.”
“Seven hundred.” It horrified Kash. The one good thing he could think of about his two-week engagement was going to be the smallness of the wedding. No one could put together a true royal wedding in two weeks. “No. We have so little time and there are no plans. We should keep it small. No more than twenty.”
His mother’s face lit up, and for a brief moment he saw the woman who had raised him, youthful and full of joy and strength. “No plans? I’ve been planning for years. Everything is already in place. It will be the grandest wedding, Kashmir. I’ve already found someone who will release a hundred doves as you and Day are pronounced husband and wife. And, of course, we must be seen observing all the rituals.”
He shook his head. “Absolutely not.”
Weston was watching his mother. “Rituals?”
“Yes, Loa Mali has many beautiful rituals for the bride and groom.” His mother put her hand over her heart. “The Palm Ritual is lovely. I have many pictures from your father’s and mine.”
“Mother, it’s the twenty-first century. I’m not hiding in a group of palm trees getting my arse cut up so I can steal a woman who has already agreed to marry me. Nor will I allow my best friends to tie me up and beat my feet with fish.”
What Loa Mali had was a group of crazy antiquated and downright ridiculous rituals meant to ward off evil spirits and generally make everyone getting married think twice about doing it in the first place.
He saw the glint in his mother’s eyes and knew he was in trouble.
Day sat back with a smile, the steam from the spa deliciously warm. “It’s supposed to ward off bad spirits and build the groom’s strength for the wedding night.”
Phoebe Murdoch’s lips curled up as she laughed. “Fish? They’re going to beat Kash’s feet with fish and that will give him virility?”
It was silly, but she suspected the queen mother was going all out with this wedding. “I suspect the practice was created by fish merchants. One of our main industries is fishing, but we have a problem with bycatch. These are the unwanted fish that are caught by our commercial fishermen. Several of our local fish are quite horrible to eat, but legend has it those fish are imbued with the potency of our ancient sea god, so they’re prized for wedding and fertility rituals. Not only will Kashmir have his friends beat him with the fish, he’ll have to eat a good portion of one raw in order to ensure our wedding night is productive. And since we haven’t yet agreed to have relations on our wedding night, I fear it will be for nothing.”
“You’re not sleeping with Kash?” Chelsea Weston sat on the bench to Day’s left. “I would love to have seen the look on his face when you told him. That man thinks he’s God’s gift to women. Not that I don’t like Kash. He’s fun to be around, but he does think a whole lot of that face of his.”
Did he? Day wondered about that. “I think a lot of it is armor. I knew Kash before he became the king. In some ways he did everything he did to differentiate himself from his older brother. He became the playboy because Shray was so serious. But you have to understand that playboy prince was studying theoretical physics at Oxford when I met him, and he didn’t get in because of his name. Kash is incredibly smart.”
“Oh, I know that,” Phoebe replied. “When Jesse first met him, he was close to a working prototype of a car that ran on water.”
Day had been grateful for the company when she’d been told Chelsea and Phoebe would accompany her. Normally this day would be spent with Day’s sisters and her female in-laws-to-be. She had some cousins, but they had mostly moved to Europe or the States. She’d been unable to see herself spending this time with the little mice who worked with her at the department. They were sweet women, but her two assistants were mostly biding their time until they could find husbands. She liked these two women. They were smart and strong of opinion.
It was interesting that she also thought they would be quite submissive when it came to sex. But then she had started to wonder the same thing about Kashmir.
“I’d heard a rumor that the explosion in the Arabian Sea wasn’t an accident.” She hadn’t talked to him about it the night before. They’d sat together and drank and talked about their old friends. She hadn’t wanted to bring up anything that might make him sad or angry. He’d been in a good place, and she’d been the one to take him there. She wasn’t one to undo her own work.
How would he feel if he knew she was looking at him as if he was a potential sub to top?
Chelsea shook her head. “Not an accident at all. It was all the work of a group of major douchebags known as The Collective.”
Phoebe stared at her friend. “You are the worst CIA employee in the world. You know that’s probably classified.”
Chelsea shrugged. “It’s also good gossip, and I don’t work for them anymore. Right now, I’m a happy housewife. Well, a housewife who works ten hours a day writing code for the new business. And let me tell you, dealing with Adam is not a picnic. He thinks he’s way smarter than he is. Satan’s right about him.”
Chelsea talked a lot about Satan. Day was fairly certain it was an oddly affectionate nickname for someone, and not that Chelsea had a weird religious bent. Still, she wanted to shift the flow of conversation back to the important stuff. “Why would this Collective come after Kashmir?”
Phoebe and Chelsea seemed to have an entire conversation through frowns and the narrowing of eyes.
Finally, Phoebe gave in. “Fine. It is good gossip and I don’t work for the Agency anymore either. Also, you’re about to become like the head of the country and stuff, so I think you could probably find this out on your own. The Collective was a group of the world’s biggest companies and they basically Star Chambered the rest of the world. They helped each other out, you know. Some business needed to sell their firearms, so The Collective helped out by starting a civil war somewhere. They manipulated stock prices, practiced all the worst things humanity can do. Kash’s experiments would have cost the oil industry everything, so they sent an agent to blow the lab up.”
“They were also supposed to kill Kash,” Chelsea explained. “But my Simon jumped off a cliff and saved him.”
“I think Big Tag would say that’s a gross oversimplification of that story,” Phoebe continued. “But Jesse does say it was pretty cool. It was actually Kayla who got the king out.”
Chelsea shook her head. “Don’t.”
Phoebe had flushed. “Yeah, uhm, but mostly Si. It was a team effort.”
Day could guess what they were covering up. She hadn’t been blind for fifteen years. His womanizer reputation had been the reason she’d held back during college. Until that moment when he’d allowed her to take control, when she’d realized she might truly have something to give him that no one else could. Of course, at the time she hadn’t understood that there was a word for what she needed.
Dominance.
“I know what he used that boat for. He kept his harem out there. So did he seduce her after she saved him? Did he offer to pay her off with his body?” That sounded like Kashmir, the manwhore.
Chelsea winced. “She might have been a spy at the time, and he thought she was a supermodel.”
Day let her head fall back as she laughed. It was a good play by the Agency or whoever had hired this Kayla person. Going at Kash through his cock was the only way to go. “I pray his cousin found out about that. Chapal runs the country’s technology and security. I believe most of his migraines come from Kashmir’s many women. I’m afraid your husbands taking over security even for a brief period of time will be difficult for them. Kash acts out when he’s angry. I expect him to misbehave a lot before this wedding actually occurs.”
“And after?” Phoebe was studying her.
It was easy to forget these two lovely women were both former CIA. Of course, that was likely exactly why they’d been so good at their jobs. “After, we will find our way. I suspect we will be friends and try to get along as much as possible. He’ll have his life and I’ll have mine.”
“That sounds terrible,” Chelsea shot back.
But Day had come to some terms with it. She hadn’t expected to marry at all. Now she had the prospect of children. Oh, they might be implanted with the medical equivalent of a turkey baster, but they would have two loving parents. “I never thought I would marry when I made the decision to stay here on Loa Mali and work.”
“You’re beautiful,” Phoebe remarked. “You’re intelligent and kind. Why would you think you wouldn’t marry?”
“There aren’t a lot of prospects on this small island, and despite all of our wealth and our freedoms, we’re still quite old fashioned in some ways. The king has done a good job by steering parliament away from laws that would curb a woman’s freedom, but there are still many who believe a wife’s place is at home. I’m not that woman. It would have been difficult to find a man here who wouldn’t want me at home. Home is a place I go to after work. It’s not that I look down on women who do stay home. My mother did and I loved her very much. I simply am not built that way. I wouldn’t find the same satisfaction that she did. As I believe she would have hated working the way I do. We need choices. We need to be free to be who we are.”
“A queen isn’t free,” Chelsea said.
She’d thought about this, too. “But a queen makes a contract with her people. She knows what she will do and what is not acceptable. I quite like a contract. My marriage to Kash will be contracted. We will have our roles, agreed upon between both of us.”
“There is nothing wrong with a good contract, but don’t write out spontaneity.” Phoebe adjusted her towel. “You cared about Kash once. Why not see if you can again? Some men like Kash settle down after marriage and make lovely husbands.”
“She should know. Her brother was the only person I’ve met who was worse than Kash. Well, I mean he didn’t have a harem boat or anything, but Ten tore through some women, if you know what I mean,” Chelsea confided. “And now he’s faithful to his wife. Whose name is Faith. Yeah, that’s terrible. Sorry about that.”
“Faith is wonderful,” Phoebe replied. “And Chelsea’s right about my brother. He was a horrible manwhore. Kashmir is actually a nice man. I’ve always thought the right woman could settle him down. All the women I’ve ever seen around him are too superficial. They’re flighty things. I think he picks them because he never has to get serious with any of them. At least that’s what my husband thinks.”
“Si thinks he’s…” Chelsea bit her bottom lip and sighed. “Sorry. New friends.”
“Thinks he’s what?” Day was intrigued. She’d heard a bit of gossip concerning these friends of Kash’s. She wasn’t sure how to ask without embarrassing anyone, but perhaps direct was the best bet. “Does your husband, who I would guess is the top, think Kashmir would be happier as a bottom?”
Phoebe’s jaw dropped.
Chelsea merely laughed. “Yes. Yes, that’s exactly what he thinks. A lot of us do, but we wouldn’t say it. He’s a little sensitive. He’s been to Sanctum, but he just played around. I’ve heard he’s gone to several clubs around Europe and plays, but at least outside the actual bedroom he tops.”
That was what she’d been a bit afraid of. Yet last night when she’d taken control of the situation, when she’d seen to his comfort and given him direction, he’d responded beautifully. He’d been happier at the end of that night, though she would have bet he hadn’t realized what she was doing.
Phoebe curled her legs underneath her. “So, how long have you been in the lifestyle, Mistress?”
Well, that hadn’t taken her long. “Ten years. I met a man in graduate school. He was lovely and he had certain needs that I found I enjoyed indulging. We broke up because I came home to Loa Mali. Not much of the lifestyle here. I go on retreats two or three times a year. I have Mistress rights at some clubs in Europe. I find it relaxing, but I worry my husband-to-be will prove very traditional in this sense.”
“How will you know until you try?” Chelsea asked. “I doubt anyone has ever offered to top him before. Not in a serious way. You don’t have to pull out a whip.”
“You want me to be the sneaky top.” What she’d been so far.
“I think some subs need to be eased into what they need,” Phoebe explained. “I know I did. I thought it was distasteful until someone convinced me to try. And I probably still wouldn’t have found myself if I hadn’t been with a man I truly connected with. I can certainly see how Kash might need it. Submission for some of us is relaxing. It’s a way to find a place where we don’t have to think. For all his playboyness, he still has an enormous amount of pressure on him.”
“He did back then, too. I can see now it was why we worked. I was different than the other girls. I thought he liked to talk to me because we came from the same place, that he merely missed home. Now I look back and realize he liked it when I would take charge. I didn’t force him to make all the decisions. It’s hard to make all the choices. And I wouldn’t want a sub who needed me to direct him in his daily life. But sexually, I prefer to be in control. Again, it’s the way I’m built, but it can be hard to be different.”
It could be impossible. Lately, the trips to her clubs had been unsatisfying. She needed a permanent partner, someone she could connect with for more than a weekend or a few weeks. Someone who needed her.
She was coming up on a time in her life when she would have to decide if she would suppress that need for the rest of it. Perhaps that was why she’d given in to the queen mother so easily. Being the queen meant having a nation that needed her, a whole island of people she could fight for.
Or perhaps she’d done it because for years she’d dreamed of Kash kneeling for her, asking her for discipline, his face peaceful when she gave it to him.
That one kiss had changed her life in ways he couldn’t have dreamed of.
Should she give her marriage an actual shot?
“He might surprise you,” Phoebe said. “Ease him into it. Like I said, it really worked for me. He’s already comfortable in the lifestyle. It doesn’t scare him or make him squeamish. I know the few times he’s visited Sanctum, he tends to like to watch some of the heavier scenes. But when it comes time to play at anything beyond spanking or light scenes, he won’t participate even when there are other Doms to supervise and teach him.”
“Because he’s not truly interested in being the one holding the crop,” Chelsea said with a smile. “He likes to watch and fantasize about those heavy scenes, but I would bet real money he’s not the Dom in his head.”
Day breathed in the steam of the room, letting it relax her. “I could run a test, I suppose. If I know my future mother-in-law, she’s going to want all the bells and whistles a Loa Malian wedding can have. One of those is the Palm Ceremony.”
“Do you get hit in the face with palm fronds?” Phoebe asked. “That’s still better than fish.”
She had to chuckle at the thought. It was obvious Phoebe had never been hit with one. They could be sharp. “No, it’s a ritual to honor the first king of Loa Mali. Supposedly, he found his bride wandering on a beach. He would hide and watch her from a copse of palm trees. He asked her father for her hand in marriage, but he refused because she was from another island. The king decided to steal his bride. He rode onto the beach and scooped her up on his stallion and whisked her to the palace, where he made love to her for the first time. Her father, seeing how happy he’d made the daughter, acquiesced and the couple was married one week later. So you see, the whole fish ceremony is silly because most married couples get it on after the Palm Ceremony. We might be one of the only cultures in the world that actively tell engaged couples to take a test drive.”
“I like it.” Chelsea stood. “I’ve got a massage in five. I think we should help the Mistress plan.”
Phoebe winked her way. “You know I’m always up for a good plan.”
It was probably a horrible idea, but sometimes a woman had to take a chance. Perhaps when her king stole her away, he would find he was the one who was claimed.
Yes, she liked the sound of that.