Scratch, scratch, scratch. My charcoal pencil deepens the lines on the wide vee neckline, accentuating a hint of cleavage on the likeness of Elise in the sketch. The dress sports a wrap-style bodice and a romantic A-line skirt that flows to the floor in gentle waves of tulle. Subtle embellishments add decoration, ensuring a simple yet elegant design. Out of the six sketches I’ve completed, bringing to life on paper various styles from ballroom to mermaid gowns, I think Elise will choose this one.
Something about the design speaks to me in her language, as if her warmhearted aura jumps off the page. I pause from my work long enough to glance at the clock. Elise should be here anytime now, and my stomach tightens at the thought her husband-to-be might be in tow.
I know he’ll want to talk about what happened with Liam last night, but my mind’s still tangled from what Vance told me this morning.
Because if what he said is true, it means Sebastian traded the woman he loves to his friend for my anal virginity, and I have no idea how to process that. I don’t have the mental energy to find the hidden meaning in such an astonishing discovery.
I go back to sketching, comforted by the sound of charcoal meeting paper. The room is unnervingly quiet without my team present, but with the changeover from Gemini to Cancer, I gave them a few days off. They’re due to arrive back the day after tomorrow to help me with Elise’s prototype.
The telltale click of heels breaks the silence, and I look up in time to watch Elise enter my studio. She’s wearing a halter pantsuit designed for comfort instead of power, her blond hair drifting over bare, sun-kissed shoulders. Pregnancy looks good on her, with her glowing skin and perpetual smile. Landon makes her delirious with joy, and that’s all that matters right now.
I set the pencil down and gather the sketches. “Perfect timing. I just finished the last one.” Leaving the drafting table, I gesture for her to follow me to the seating area. Excitement vibrates off her as we settle next to each other.
“I can’t wait to see what you came up with.”
“I hope you like them, but if you don’t, I can make changes or start from scratch if you want me to.” I hand her the sketches and wait while she oohs and aahs over the designs. She sets each drawing on the table with reverence, as if they’re made with the delicacy of butterfly wings. When she comes to the last one, her blue eyes widen.
“This one.” Certainty paints her tone as she glances at me. “It’s perfect, Novalee. It’s like you reached into my head and created my dream gown.”
Something inside me beams at her compliment, a sense of awe and hope and rightness. I can do this—design beautiful clothes to dress up the world. It’s a gift, a calling, a rightness I’ve never felt inside my soul until this moment.
Because seeing the joy on her face is the best thing ever. Before I know it, I’ve thrown my arms around her, blinking back tears. “I’m so happy for you,” I whisper, my lashes fluttering to keep hot drops of happiness from escaping.
Someone clears their throat, and when Elise and I part, I find Landon watching us, green eyes full of curiosity. Before he spies her chosen design, she places the drawing facedown on the table.
“Sorry to interrupt, ladies.”
A surreptitious swipe under her eyes tells me she’s as emotional as I am over our shared moment. “Novalee was just showing me some sketches.”
Landon grins. “I can’t wait to see you walking down the aisle next month.”
They planned their wedding on the quick, since they want to be married before her baby bump starts showing. A dark cloud suddenly casts shade onto my mood. I’ll be planning my own wedding soon, only I don’t know who my groom will be. On the tail end of that disturbing thought is the realization I might not have a say in my wedding.
I don’t have a choice in my groom, so what makes me think I’ll have a choice in wedding gowns and cakes and color schemes?
Elise gets up and throws herself into Landon’s arms. “I can’t wait to marry you, either.” Their display of affection warms my heart and breaks it all at once, illuminating the ache in my chest that yearns for that same type of love and loyalty.
But as a queen caught between twelve men, I worry I’ll never find it.
“Do you mind giving us a few minutes?” he asks Elise, pressing his lips to her forehead. “I need to speak to Novalee.”
“Not at all. I have a meeting soon with the wedding planner.” Elise hugs me before she leaves the room, closing the door behind her and giving us privacy.
“If you’re here to berate me again about my choice last night, please don’t.”
“I didn’t come here to argue,” he says, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers.
“Did you tell her about your suspicions of Liam?” I nod to the door where Elise just made her exit.
“Not yet. I will after we marry. She’s got enough to worry about right now, between the wedding, the baby, and…”
“And?”
“Jerome. I’m going to take him down. Elise is trying to put up a brave front, but I know it’s weighing on her mind.”
“What are you planning to do?”
Landon takes a seat across from me. “I know where his interests lie. I can’t put him in jail, but I can destroy his life in other ways.” He lets a beat pass. “I can run him off the island so Elise never has to see his face again.”
I clench my hands against my thighs. “It’s not enough.”
“It’ll have to be, and by the time I’m done with him, it will be.”
I want to object, to argue and rage against the injustice, but the conviction in his voice stops me. Besides, deep down I know going public about her assault is the last thing Elise needs. The fact that Jerome is allowed power over her if he finds out he fathered her child is a disgusting reality I can’t ignore.
“I didn’t come here to talk about Jerome,” my brother says, leaning forward, hands clasped between his knees. “What happened with Liam last night?”
“Nothing happened.”
He shoots me a look of disbelief. “Novalee.” My name is a warning on his lips, three little syllables that tell me to tread carefully.
“I didn’t tell him anything specific—only that someone told me not to trust him. I didn’t say why.”
“And what was his response to that?”
“He told me I shouldn’t trust anyone in this tower.”
Landon scoffs. “Sound advice.”
“It’s nothing he hasn’t said before.”
“You should listen to him.”
“I did listen to him, Landon. He told me he loves me, and I believe him. There’s no doubt in my heart that he’ll die before he hurts me.”
Landon springs to his feet, his expression tight with helpless frustration. “Have you ever had such a powerful feeling in your gut that it made you sick?”
I blink. “When I first came here.” And the beginning of each month since.
“Well my gut is screaming at me, Novalee. Over the years, I’ve learned not to ignore it. The chancellor is dirty.”
“Your gut feeling doesn’t discount mine.” I rise and lift my chin, meeting his eyes and staking even ground on this playing field. “Until you bring me proof, I’m going with my gut feeling.”
He shakes his head, refusing to let go of his stubborn grasp on my will. “Even if the chancellor isn’t dirty, you’re still marrying Sebastian.”
“Who I marry is out of my control,” I say, crossing my arms as I stare at his feet.
“It’s not out of mine.”
“If Liam’s innocent, why not him? Why are you so insistent on Sebastian?”
“Because he’s my best friend. I trust him above anyone, and…” He lets out a breath, his fingers streaking through his thick, dark locks. “After everything he’s been through, he deserves to find happiness.”
“He doesn’t want this!”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do know, and besides…” My voice cracks, because I shouldn’t have to ask him this, but I do anyway. “What about my happiness?”
“Jesus, Novalee. You’re as blind as he is.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’ve seen the way you look at each other. I know you care about Liam—he was the first to get to know you—but I think you also know, deep down, there’s something stronger between you and Sebastian.”
A lump forms in my throat, and I try to swallow it but fail.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” he challenges in a soft tone.
I can’t, and that only heightens this burden of betrayal on my soul even more. “I think you should go.”
“Novalee…”
“Please, Landon. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
He’s quiet for a few moments, contemplation lining his features. I know him well enough by now to sense when he’s about to dig his heels in and argue further.
“I have work to do,” I say with a pointed look at the sketches Elise set on the table.
“Okay, we’ll shelve this for now.” With a resigned nod, he leaves.
But I lied. I don’t have work, and I don’t have a clue what to do with this festering divide in my chest.