CHAPTER THIRTEEN #2
“If it were me, I’d make him get naked,” Ella said cheerfully. “Why should he be the only one who knows what you’re working with?”
Daphne smiled. It was a typical Ella suggestion. “I doubt he would do that.”
“For you, he might.”
Ella didn’t know the extent of what the prince had already done for Daphne. Daphne hadn’t told her about their arrangement, nor had she told her what had happened in his bathroom nor the gifts he sent her. For some reason, those things felt private.
“What if he has a tiny cock?”
“He doesn’t,” Daphne said.
Ella raised an eyebrow. “How do you know?”
Daphne shrugged. She hadn’t seen Maximus’s cock, but she’d seen the bulge in his trousers when she was naked in his bathtub, and there was no way he was tiny. “I just…know.”
“Maybe you’ll find out for sure tomorrow.”
“Maybe.”
Ella took a sip of her beer. Daphne merely stared at hers.
She wished she were seeing Kronos tonight. Would it be so wrong to go to the caves? They hadn’t expressly agreed to meet tonight, but Daphne couldn’t imagine he would kick her out. Surely he wanted to see her just as much as she wanted to see him.
“Daph?”
She blinked. Ella was staring at her. “What?”
“I said, do you want another round?”
“Oh. Sure.”
Ella left to retrieve a couple of beers from Steve. When she returned, Daphne said, “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course. Anything.”
“How did you know you loved Nathan?”
Ella tilted her head. “I don’t know. It was just a feeling.”
“Yes, but”—Daphne turned to face her—“what kind of feeling?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean… Did it feel good? Or…scary?”
Ella tilted her head, thinking. “A little bit of both, probably. But mostly good.”
Daphne nodded. The way she felt about Kronos did not feel good.
It wasn’t that she thought she might be in love with him—their circumstances prevented that anyway—but she couldn’t deny that she felt something for the basilisk.
If she knew for a fact that she was never going to see him again, she would be devastated.
The thought alone made her want to throw herself off the nearest cliff.
“Why do you ask?”
She shook her head. “No reason.”
But of course there was a reason. If Daphne loved Kronos, it would be worth it to take her clothes off for Maximus. If she loved him, she would win the competition for him.
“Are you in love with the prince?” Ella asked.
Daphne let out a snort. “He’s not looking for love.”
“That’s usually when you find it.”
Daphne said nothing and downed the rest of her beer.
The next day passed in a blur of chores and tasks, and by the time it was evening, a package had appeared at the foot of her bed.
It was wrapped the same way as the first—in black paper tied with a black ribbon.
The dress inside was black too, although it took Daphne a moment to realize it even was a dress.
It looked more like an elaborate tangle of straps.
They crisscrossed every which way, over the shoulders and along the back, trailing in overlapping patterns that exposed the skin underneath.
Long slits ran up either side. The back had a long trail of buttons so tiny and numerous they were barely visible.
It would be hell trying to get it on, much less off.
Daphne stared at the dress in disbelief.
There was no physical way to remove such a complicated piece of clothing in less than sixty seconds, and Kronos knew it.
Was it some sort of message? Most girls would be wearing simple dresses tonight, slips that could be removed with a purposeful twitch of the shoulder.
Daphne would look completely out of place in this.
The conversation in the cave had made her think Kronos wanted her to take off her clothes for the prince.
But this dress would make that impossible.
Was he trying to tell her that she shouldn’t undress for the prince?
Or was she reading into it too deeply? There was no time to decide; the footman was already waiting in the carriage outside.
She had to put it on. And after several difficult minutes, she managed everything but the buttons.
“Mother?” she said as she emerged into the kitchen. “Can you button me in?”
Her mother looked up from her sewing, raising her eyebrows. “Goodness, child. That dress is…”
“I know. Will you just button me up? I’m already late.”
Her mother set down her needle and motioned for Daphne to come closer. “Are you ready for tonight?” she asked.
It was an impossible question to answer. Daphne opted to grunt in affirmation as her mother worked the buttons.
“He chose you for the first date,” her mother said. “That has to be a good sign.”
“We’ll see how tonight goes.”
“With this dress, it may not go at all.”
Daphne couldn’t help but agree.
“Are you sure you want to wear this?” her mother continued. “I’m sure we could find you something easier to wear.”
She shook her head. Whether or not the restrictive nature of the dress was intentional, Kronos had given it to her, so Daphne wanted to wear it. It wasn’t until the dress was fully fastened that Daphne realized what it did for her figure.
The straps were purposefully placed, following the curves of her body.
So much of her skin was showing. Daphne stared at the exposed strips, wondering how Maximus would react to this.
She was a walking contradiction: Her body would entice him, while the buttons would prevent him from accessing it.
Perhaps that was the point, she realized.
To show him what he couldn’t have. Daphne couldn’t think of a pettier thing for Kronos to do.
Was this a way to mark his territory, to tell the prince that she belonged to him?
Or was she misinterpreting it entirely, and there was no meaning behind it?
Daphne had no time for such games. If she wanted someone who communicated through gifts, she would just date Maximus.
Daphne spent the ride to the castle fidgeting with the straps of the dress, trying to arrange them so that less skin was visible—a wholly impossible task.
When she entered the foyer a butler ushered her into a large room with a circular table in the middle.
On the far end of the room was a doorway, behind which Daphne knew the prince was waiting.
The last time she saw him, she’d been naked.
Now she would be expected to undress again, only this time he would expect to see every inch of her.
She could hardly ask him to close his eyes a second time.
Daphne took a seat at the table. Veronica was already here, sheathed in a see-through dress that was clearly meant to end up on the floor. Constance had on a silk number that was surely an import from one of her father’s shipping businesses.
Before Daphne could wonder how they would determine who went first, a butler appeared and extended his hand toward Constance. She blushed, then took it. The butler led her through the door before closing it firmly behind her and standing before it.
Thus, the Frisky Sixty began.
Daphne sat there for what felt like hours, although in reality mere minutes were passing.
She’d hoped to go first in order to get this over with.
Instead she watched as girl after girl disappeared through the door, returning with their hair mussed, their faces flushed.
With each passing minute, her bad mood deepened.
By the time Veronica was the last girl left in front of her, she was downright murderous.
Who did either of these men think they were?
Kronos was manipulating her, concealing his feelings, forcing her to reveal her own.
Maximus was even worse, acting like he was entitled to her body, sending her gifts as if she could be bought.
Daphne had had just about enough of both of their antics.
She wanted to take control—to teach them both a lesson.
Veronica departed in a flurry of perfume while Daphne sat with her arms crossed, her foot tapping insistently on the floor.
Sixty seconds had never lasted longer. She couldn’t believe Maximus was making her go last; it was an insult to their little ruse.
He was supposed to take the women in the order of how interested he was in them.
Everyone knew that. Yet here she was—supposedly his top pick—sitting at the table alone, listening to Veronica’s grating giggles.
Daphne could imagine exactly what they were doing behind that door.
Surely Veronica hadn’t wasted any time ripping her own dress off.
If she had her way, she’d probably lock the door and prevent Daphne from ever coming in at all.
Perhaps that wouldn’t be so bad, actually.
Maximus had left her for last, after all.
He probably wouldn’t even notice if she slipped out.
Daphne was halfway to standing when the door banged open and Veronica emerged looking triumphant.
Daphne watched as she flounced by. They didn’t say a word to each other—there was no need.
Veronica conveyed everything she wanted to say with only a look: I win.
As soon as she was gone, Daphne turned her gaze to the open door. She had no idea how the next sixty seconds would go. But she knew she was ready for them.
The butler extended his hand. Daphne took it.