Page 7 of His Queen

I take a bite from the croissant, swallowing the delicious buttery goodness.

The Carrington-Winslow wedding is my first paying project, and Nicoli will burst an artery if he finds out I took it on after he explicitly told me I can’t.

“I can’t have you protected when you’re floundering around town.”

“It’s too dangerous.

“Imagine the wedding planner having more security detail around her than the bride.”

“No.”

“Read my lips, Hummingbird. Nnnnnn-oooooo. Now, bend over so I can fuck that syllable into you.”

I can’t believe he bought it when I accepted his refusal so easily. As if he actually believed I would obey his command without zero resistance. And does he really think the pink fabric is for redecorating the dining room? Pink? A dining room?

There’s a knock on the door, and I almost swallow my tongue. “Jesus,” I mutter. “Who is it?”

“It’s me.” Leandra’s voice floats in.

“Um…I’d love to let you in, but you’ll be an accomplice if I do.”

“Oh, no. Mirabella Del Rossa, what are you up to? Does this have to do with the pink fabric that’s been delivered for the dining room renovation?”

“Yes…No…Maybe.”

“What is it, then? Yes, no, or maybe?”

“Well…that depends.” I shove the rest of my croissant in my mouth, then start grabbing silk samples off the floor.

“On what?”

“Whether you can keep a secret, and if you’ll be able to continue the secret even while your husband tries to choke it out of you with his dick.”

“Mira!”

“Okay, fine.” I shove the samples under my arms as I unlock the door, swinging it open and straightening as I pin Leandra with an iron stare. “You have to swear you won’t tell anyone.”

She wrinkles her nose, narrowing her green eyes at me. “You accepted the Carrington-Winslow project, didn’t you?”

“Ugh,” I say, tapping my heel. “How did you know?”

She cocks a brow. “A pink dining room?”

“Yeah.” I open the door wider for her to step in. “I can’t believe the guys fell for it either.”

“Seriously?” She glances at the silk samples under my arms. “How long do you think you can hide this from him? Sooner or later, he’s going to find out.”

“I’m hoping later.”

Leandra frowns, and I can practically feel her disapproval slither down my spine.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I say, stomping across the floor while stepping over rolls of fabric. “I want to do this. For the first time, I can do something that’s just for me, something that doesn’t have the Dark Sovereign crest on it.”

“And you’re sure Abigail Winslow didn’t pick you as her wedding planner because of your last name?”

“What? No.” I drop the samples from under my arm and onto my desk. “Of course not. Why would me being a Del Rossa influence her decision? Oh!”

“Yeah.”

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