Page 29 of Outcast’s Vow

“Yes. A two-way street.”

“Fine. You keep to yourself, and I’ll keep to myself, and we’ll both get along nicely.”

Sylvie juts her chin forward, defiant.

“Good,” she says.

“Good.”

We wait each other out, mouths hovering a hair’s width apart. My pulse is traitorously, irritatingly fast.

I hate this. I hate how close I am to losing control.

I exhale slowly and bury it down deep.

“So,” Sylvie asks, “where are you taking me on our honeymoon? I haven’t heard a thing.”

I lean back. Teasing’s done. I won’t allow her the satisfaction of breaking me with her pretty face and those full lips. She can’t have me give in that easily.

“And let’s keep it that way,” I reply. “It’s a surprise. For you.”

Sylvie tuts.

“It’s not something boyishly stupid, is it? I don’t care for surprises, Baptiste.”

“Yes, I’m sure a professional, independent woman like you loves to plan things down to the tiniest detail.”

“I most certainly do,” she replies.

“And that’s why I’m going to handle the honeymoon,” I say. “I want you out of your comfort zone. I want to take charge. I want to give you a taste of how I do things.”

“So you want to keep me in the dark even when you can already guess I hate that? Do you have some vendetta against me, Baptiste?”

“Vendetta? Sure. Getting one up on you is all I think about.”

“Do you like toying with me?”

“Only as much as you like toying with me, Highness.”

“Stop calling me that,” Sylvie snaps back.

“I’m only calling you that because you are one,” I remark coolly.

“Keep calling me that and I’ll have you treated like staff.”

“You wear a crown well,” I retort. “You’re so privileged you don’t know what it means to live in the real world.”

“I’ll have you know…”

“I’ve watched you, Highness. You think you’re superior to everyone because of your last name. You think you’re above marrying me.”

Sylvie scoffs and takes a long look around the chamber.

“Do you know what you mean to me?” she questions, her voice a whisper. “Do you know what this entire ceremony today means to me?”

“I don’t,” I reply, “but I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”

“It symbolizes a loss of freedom. My freedom.”