“What happens in ninety-seven days, Princess?” I ask Justine for the second time.

She’s staring at me with wide eyes. The color has drained from her face. She knows something I don’t—something bad, or she wouldn’t be looking at me like she wants to sink into the floor.

I step closer to her, closing the distance between us again. “You said we only have to deal with this for ninety-seven days. What happens in ninety-seven days?” I try to keep the impatience out of my voice, but I’m not sure I’m successful. What the hell isn’t she telling me?

She blinks and shakes her head, snapping herself out of her daze. “Nothing happens in ninety-seven days. I misspoke.”

“I’m not an idiot, Princess.”

“I’m just…exhausted. I’ve ordered us breakfast. It should be here soon.”

“Deflection isn’t going to work.”

“Neither is an interrogation.” She starts to turn away from me, but as she does, I reach out and pluck her journal from beneath her arm.

“Hey!” she says, spinning back around and grabbing for it. “Give that back!”

I hold it over my head, high enough that she can’t reach it unless she tries to climb up my body. “I’ll give it back when you tell me what you’re hiding from me.”

“I have nothing to tell you. And—”

“Maybe I should make this more interesting, then,” I say, turning around. She makes another leap for the journal, but I manage to keep it out of her grasp. I flip it open, using my thumb to keep the pages back as I continue to hold it over my head. I clear my throat before beginning to read. “March third. He came by my place this morning and—”

Justine jumps, leaping on my back and making another grab for the small book. The sudden weight on my back throws me off balance, and I stumble, her journal slipping out of my grasp. I grab desperately for it, and Justine lunges for it, too. We both fall forward, trying to push each other out of the way.

My hand hits the journal, accidentally knocking it even further away. But it’s too late to stop myself from falling. I hit the ground hard, knocking the air out of me. Justine lands beside me.

For a moment, both of us are too stunned to move. My eyes find the journal—it’s only a few feet away on the carpet. Before I can even push myself to my knees, Justine springs toward it.

I grab her by the waist, holding her back. She tries to push me off, but somehow I end up falling on top of her.

We both freeze. She’s on her back beneath me. I can feel almost the entire length of her against my body—her legs, her hips, the softness of her stomach, the roundness of her breasts. I can feel the rise and fall of her chest as she breathes, and the rapid thump of her heat against her ribs. My face is so close to hers I can feel her breath on my lips.

God, I want her…

I expect her to push me off, but she doesn’t. She seems to be as paralyzed as I am, breathlessly waiting for whatever comes next.

What comes next?

The smell of her fills my nostrils—it’s soft and floral, like luxury soap, but there’s something deeper there, too. Something rich and wild and intoxicating. I tilt my head a little closer, trying to take it in. Her heartbeat speeds up beneath me.

Still, she doesn’t move. Doesn’t push me off.

She wants me to kiss her.

And if my wife wants something…I would be a fool not to oblige her.

Slowly, I lower my head, closing the final space between us. Her breathing has become uneven.

My lips brush against hers, so lightly it can hardly be counted as a kiss. Still, she doesn’t move, but I can feel her heart racing against her chest.

I dip my head again. This time, I’m slow and deliberate, sliding my mouth across hers, pressing her lips open with mine. She gasps softly against me, and I take the invitation to kiss her deeper. Her gasp becomes a quiet moan.

Heat flares through me, hot and hard, and my body aches with the desire it’s built up over the past twenty-four hours. I press against her, flicking my tongue against hers, drinking her in.

Fuck, what is this woman doing to me?

But in spite of the yearning coursing through me, I haven’t forgotten our conversation. She’s hiding something from me. And I intend to find out exactly what.

As my tongue pushes deeper into her mouth, I slide my hand across the carpet past her head, fumbling for her journal.

Instead, my fingers brush against her hand. She’s reaching for the journal herself!

And she grabs it first, snatching it before I can. In one fluid motion, she tears her mouth away from mine, shoves me off her, and leaps to her feet. I’m left sitting on my ass, staring up at her, both impressed and pissed at the same time.

She tucks the journal behind her and backs toward the door. “I’m putting this somewhere you’ll never find it.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“It’s a promise.”

I laugh as I climb to my feet. “I don’t believe I can trust your word, Princess. Not when you’re obviously hiding something very important from me.”

She continues to back toward the door. “Then I guess we’re even. Neither of us trusts the other.”

“Good thing we only have to deal with this marriage for ninety-seven more days then, huh?”

I know my words hit home because her step falters and her mouth tightens. Her face is flushed, and I try to ignore the throb of need in my groin.

Before either of us can say a word, though, there’s a knock at the door. “Your Highness? Your breakfast is ready.”

Justine strides to the door and opens it.

“You can set it up over by the window,” she says to the servant pushing the breakfast cart. “My husband will be taking his breakfast there.” Then she brushes past and goes down the corridor, her journal still in hand.

I consider going after her, but the servant is looking at me expectantly, and I know that causing a scene will probably backfire on me.

If Justine wants to keep me from exploring, hiding her journal out there definitely isn’t going to help. I step aside so that the breakfast tray might be set up. And then I get an idea.

“Forgive me,” I say to the man as he lays out the food. “But I’m wondering if you might help me with something.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” he says with a bow. “What might I do for you?”

“Do you happen to know of anything important happening ninety-seven days from now?”

The man considers this. “Not that I’m aware of, Your Highness.”

“Ah.” I clasp my hands behind my back. “Then perhaps you can help me with something else. I’m finding it rather challenging to learn my way around the palace—I don’t suppose someone might be able to provide me with a map?”

The servant’s nose wrinkles slightly in thought. “I could certainly check for you, Your Highness.”

“Wonderful.” I settle down in the chair next to the breakfast spread. “And one more thing—might you tell me the quickest way to the western wing? Apparently it’s the only place I’m allowed to go, and I intend to do some exploring today.”