Slowly Misty nodded, a grateful smile breaking over her lips. She squeezed his arm, as if thanking her again, and that simple touch inflamed him. He dared not move after, knowing if he did it would be possible that Domenico’s heightened Lyccan senses would pick up on his arousal.
Misty turned to Domenico, and he followed suit. Lysander snapped his fan open once more, the sound drawing more than one pair of gaze towards him.
He was impressed at how not even a flicker of expression crossed Domenico’s face to reveal what he thought of Lysander. But Lysander knew the other man was on his guard now, more so than before. This man before him was not to be underestimated at all costs, might even be as cunning as he was.
Domenico didn’t allow himself another glance at Misty. If he did – hell would break loose. He didn’t look at the younger man either since the same outcome could also ensure. Domenico couldn’t yet read Lysander Allard clearly, but one thing was for sure – for whatever reason, he wanted to take Misty away from Domenico. Worse, this Lysander-what-the-fuck had not made the same mistakes Domenico had done. Misty did not trust Domenico, but she might trust this man.
As Lysander slowly fanned himself, Domenico locked gazes with him once more. He smiled at the older man for the sole purpose of confusing the Moretti prince.
Oh, this will be so much fun.
~~~
Domenico followed the girl Magenta had assigned to walk him to his chamber in brooding silence. Never had he thought he would have a rival for Misty’s heart. His chest tightened at the thought. Was it why she had been able to cut ties with him?
Domenico knew with every fiber of his being that Misty still wanted him as desperately as he wanted her, but want did not equate with love or even need. Even so, he was not going to give up without a goddamn fight.
The girl in front of him, Ivory, stopped next to a two-door suite at the end of the hallway. “Here we are.” She was dark-haired and doe-eyed. This early he could see she was infatuated with him. Once, Domenico would have no qualms using her infatuation to his advantage, to send her to spy on Misty.
But he was different now. Misty had changed him, weakening him in some aspects but greatly strengthening him in others. Unfortunately, it also blinded him, his normally vigilant ability to sense ulterior motives in other people not as accurate as before. Misty’s kindness had melted the cynicism he had once worn as a cloak. It made him more approachable---and more vulnerable, too.
And the girl before him, appearing like a shy little thing, knew it. The great Domenico Moretti was not so great anymore. He was ripe for the taking, and she definitely wanted him. For years, she had hungered for his touch from afar, envious of all the stories about how he was this magnificent stallion in bed, rutting nonstop until a woman had to beg off with the orgasms he could give her.
Domenico was completely unaware of the violent, lust-filled thoughts of the girl. He gave her a brief smile of thanks, gesturing for her to precede him. He saw Ivory’s eyes widen, obviously surprised at the honor. She hurried inside.
“Mistress Magenta chose this chamber as it is closest to the courtyard, where our soldiers train. Across this is the Main Hall, where those belonging to the High Circle reside.”
“And Misty?”
“She lives next to Sir Milo. I can accompany you…” Her face fell when he shook his head.
“I do not want to inconvenience you further. But if you would give me directions instead?”
“Of course, Your Highness.”
He listened carefully and nodded his thanks afterwards.
“Would it be all right if I come back in an hour to take you to the dining hall, Your Highness? A ball is being held in your honor.”
He was badly tempted to refuse the honor. The last ball he had attended had ruined his life. “It would be my pleasure,” he finally said, uttering the lie with ease. Domenico paused, a thought occurring to him when he remembered the old-fashioned attire that the man next to Misty had been wearing.
He asked uneasily, “How do you dress for a ball in your realm, Ivory? Shall I have to request for clothing similar to Lysander’s?”
She surprised him by giggling. “Oh, no, that is unnecessary. Most of the elder members of the High Circle dress like that, but Sir Lysander is the only one from the younger set who takes after tradition. His family line is one of the oldest in our race.” Her smile faded. “He is also the last one of the Allards.”
Domenico understood the rest of what she hadn’t said. No non-human was unaware of the Great War that had nearly sent the Faeries to extinction. “I am sorry to hear that.”
Ivory bowed her head. “Sir Lysander is a hero among our kind despite his age, Your Highness. As he has no kin left, he has devoted all his life to serving the High Circle.”
A f**king paragon, Domenico thought. He had a f**king paragon as his rival. This just kept getting better and better.
Ivory curtsied, drawing his attention back to her. “In an hour then, Your Highness?”
“Yes, thank you.” He turned his back on the girl, his mind already focusing on Misty and the unknown man standing in his way. As he did, he completely missed the malicious gleam in the girl’s eyes.
It has started, Master, Ivory whispered the words in her mind.
A smooth, ageless voice answered. And so it has. You may proceed as planned.
~~~
“Your prince is a truly beautiful man,” Lysander murmured in aside as they watched Domenico stride into the dining hall, dressed completely in black. Even the couples on the dance floor stopped to stare at him as he walked past. His commanding and innately sexual presence, combined with the power he kept on a careful leash, had almost every woman in the room swallowing at the way desire licked their skins at the mere sight of him.
Misty swallowed herself even though she hadn’t yet raised her gaze again to see where Domenico was. It was just impossible to be indifferent to Domenico when he went all out like this. Usually, Domenico kept his Lyccan side under wraps, preferring to use his billionaire persona to intimidate people. But tonight it was as if he wanted to be stared at, and Misty felt like he was challenging her – daring her not to look at him.
I’m not going to look, she told herself. She had already realized the seats across them were reserved for the two. She would look at them then but not now, not when she still had a choice to pretend Domenico wasn’t back to wreck her life all over again.
“Your prince is approaching.”
“He’s not my prince,” Misty mumbled, busying herself by stuffing her mouth with salad.