10. What She Saw #2
Francesca doesn’t gasp, doesn’t even flinch, just stills.
She takes it all in: the theatrics, the sweat, the moaning, and the rhythm.
Time crawls by alongside the slapping of skin.
And then she moves on, her eyes shifting to me like she’s more interested in my reaction.
Her cheeks are violently flushed now, and I can’t stop staring at the red blooming up her neck.
It makes her look real, with blood waking up in her veins for the first time since she was born.
There’s a hint of surprise in her eyes, as if she expected to catch me off guard eventually, but just never expected it to come this early. I hate that she looks vaguely satisfied that I’ve cracked first. I should speak, should explain what happened, maybe even lie. I’m good at lies.
But instead, I just look at her.
I can’t stop.
The world punishes me for not speaking first by giving that honour to the fucking toad still seated on the remote.
“Cultural research,” he says.
Cultural. Fucking. Research.
I hear him swallow, and if I looked away from Francesca, I’m sure I would’ve seen him nervously scratch his chin.
He points at the TV. “This one has good rhythm. Hip movement.”
Francesca blinks. Just once. Her breath catches, an aborted laugh maybe, and she glances briefly at Kai as though acknowledging his presence before she’s looking at me again. I’ve spent days reading her files.
Every photograph of her that my father’s team managed to find looked like it was taken in a mausoleum. Restrained. Cold. Tragic. Even the write-ups spoke of her like she were already dead, with one journalist describing her as being ‘ghostly in her grace’ .
But now, her breathing’s just a touch faster, her cheeks blooming, and her eyes crinkling slightly. Then her mouth curves, and her grin slips free, pulling at the cut. It’s the realest thing I’ve seen on her, and the worst part is I can’t shake the knowledge that my humiliation caused it.
“This isn’t—” I try to save face, my voice lower than I want it to be. I clear my throat. “This isn’t what it looks like.”
Francesca lifts her chin towards the painting of Lady Athena.
That poor woman forced to watch my brother’s unhinged choice of entertainment.
“Seems a great time to tell you that the woman in that portrait was excommunicated for adultery and indecency.” A breathy chuckle leaves her. “You’ll fit right in with her, then.”
Kai bursts into laughter, the sound choked and uncontained.
He laughs even louder than the porn, and I take his distraction as an opportunity to shove him and free the remote.
The TV clicks off, and all we’re left with is Kai’s wheezing and Francesca watching him like he’s the most entertaining thing she’s ever seen.
“You’re not going to pretend you didn’t see that and walk away?” My question pulls her attention back to me, and something in my gut clenches.
She wrinkles her nose, scanning the room and checking if I’ve already made changes. I don’t know what she was expecting, perhaps graffiti on the portraits? I’d like to think I’m better than all of the headlines.
Then again, she just walked in while porn was playing on my bloody TV.
“I’ve lived through worse, as you well may know.
I’ll thank you for the visuals, though.” As if she didn’t just reference her tragic past, she steps further into the room.
“Hm, like I was saying, I only came to inform you that this corridor connects both rooms. It used to be a shared sitting chamber for a duchess and her… consort .” The way she emphasises the word makes Kai smirk.
“I can ask for the panel to be sealed for the duration of your stay. That is, if you prefer more privacy.”
At first, her words sound like a joke, one that pushes Kai to snicker to himself, but I was never one for surface-level conversations. For that reason, I let the offer hang in the air.
Francesca lifts one brow at my muteness. “Sometimes it opens on its own, even,” she adds, almost in warning. “The stone swells in the heat.”
So does my humiliation, apparently.
“So does his cock,” supplies Kai lowly through a snort. Francesca pretends not to hear, but her ears flush.
My sigh comes heavy.
I could nod. I could ask for the panel to be sealed, but that would mean admitting that I need it. That her presence has shaken me, that two people fucking on the screen is enough to cut through my composure. She’s giving me control, which means she knows I lost it.
And I would never admit to that.
“Leave it open.” A low command. Almost careless. Her head tilts a fraction. Just the smallest of movements, but it’s the way her eyes brighten that truly gets me—that flicker of interest, of curiosity.
“As you wish,” she says softly, then claps her hands together and gives us that practised polite smile.
Us . Because she looks at Kai, too. “Another reason for my intrusion is that I wanted to know if there’s anything you’d like to do before my grandparents return?
Tour the grounds? Or should I leave you to your, ah, research ? ”
“I’ve never been one for studying anyway,” Kai is quick to say, giving her his full attention. He does that thing with his lips that he accuses me of, that supposed repressed horniness, and it takes a moment for me to realise he’s doing it on purpose.
To piss me off.
I open my mouth. Nothing comes out. Francesca laughs in that same tone of politeness that she speaks in. She turns her head just enough to look at the portrait. “Would you like to see the letter she’s holding? The record’s still in the archives.”
I frown. “You kept it?”
A single dimple pops from her left cheek.
“Of course,” she murmurs. “Lady Athena Sheffolk, she wrote to a bishop who asked her to repent. She declined, evidently, and told him she’d never apologise for being touched by somebody who makes her feel like a woman.
” Her eyes flick to mine. “The letter’s very moving. ”
My jaw clenches. “And your family put it on display?”
“Athena earned it, didn’t she?” She moves towards the hidden panel, pulls on one of the books, and the stone seals quietly as though it obeys her every move. Then she’s at the main door of my room. “Coming?”
Her choice of words has my teeth grinding.
And I follow.
Of course I do.
Because what else is there to do when a prissy little duchess offers to show you erotic family artefacts?
Kai gets up with exaggerated effort and stretches his long limbs. “Great stuff, I love a good field trip. Shall we get going then?”
I stop. Look over my shoulder. Dead stare. “Sit.”
He freezes, then slowly sinks back into the chair.
When I turn back to the door, Francesca’s already in the corridor, analysing my expression. It takes me longer than I care to admit to realise it isn’t amusement I’m seeing when her lips quirk; it’s approval.
I don’t ask what it means; neither does she.
She walks away, and I steal just a nanosecond to peek back into the room and glare at my brother, warning him with my eyes alone to behave.
“Tell her I love the family values around here,” he says with a thumbs up. I shut the door, but still hear him through it. “And if the ‘letter’ is code, I want details!”
His voice echoes behind me as I make my way to where she waits. We fall into step with each other, and she doesn’t say anything, but I notice a flicker of movement at her mouth. She’s pretending not to, but she heard Kai’s crass words.
She definitely fucking heard.