Chapter 55
“Excuse me?” I spit at him, my frustration evident in my tone.
He glances at me, confused by my hostility, and then responds, “My parents always stay in my quarters. They’ll think it is odd if we don’t share a room.” His eyes widen as he notices my sudden change in demeanor.
I blink rapidly, trying to regain my composure. “I understand, but it’s just… I never imagined I’d be put in this position. No, I draw a line at Nanny and wipe boogers. I am not wiping yours, too,” I tell him sternly.
He looks taken aback by my candidness but holds my gaze unflinchingly as he says, “I know you may not like this, but it’s just how it has to be. We need to make it seem like we love each other to keep up appearances.”
“What’s that got to do with sharing a room?” I retort. He raises an eyebrow at me like the answer is obvious. To me, it’s not, but then again, Rhett and I shared a room despite not sleeping together.
I growl in frustration, my patience wearing thin, but I let out a breath and concede, “Fine, but on our fake break up, you’re the one that cheated, not me!” I snap; Soren lets out a breath, dropping his head on my shoulder.
“Thank you. I promise I will be the best fake fiancé you’ve ever had,” he promises. I laugh at his words; though I’d rather him be horrid, I don’t think my heart can handle comparing him to Rhett.
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“Can’t be worse than my last one,” I laugh, and he pulls away
to look at me.
“You’ve been engaged before?” he asks, and my eyes widen in horror at my word vomit. I swallow, looking away.
“That is none of your business, my king. Now I want to go to bed, but I also need to grab some things from my room,” I tell him.
“I will send the staff,” he says, watching me curiously. I can tell he wants to ask more questions, but he thinks better of it. Instead, he laces his fingers through mine; I stare down at his hand holding mine when his other hand grips my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze.
“Anyone that refuses to marry you is a fool,” he whispers.
“So now you’re saying that you do want to marry me?” I ask. He frowns.
“And if I did?” he asks. I roll my eyes and slap his hand away.
“You’re a king, and I’m a werewolf. Don’t fuck with me, King Soren. This is already difficult enough. Let’s not pretend this is anything but a lie. Blurred lines end in broken hearts,” I tell him, turning to leave when I remember he still has my hand.
“But that wasn’t a no, had I been serious.”
“I also never said yes, as I said. Let’s not pretend,” I repeat, and he nods slowly in agreement.
“Except around my parents,” he adds, and I nod, wondering how the heck we will pull this off. “Thank you, Bree. I seriously owe you for this,” he adds, leading me to the door and to his
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room.
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The tension in the room is palpable as we step into his lavish quarters. King Soren’s quarters are homely, unlike the stark and colder impression you’d get from the rest of the castle. Elegant pieces of art hang on the walls, a grand piano sits in one corner, and books are scattered around in a disorderly fashion.
It’s nothing like the opulent chambers one would expect from a king. Instead, it’s merely comfortable and homely and has a lived–in vibe with books scattered on tables and clothes strewn about. A few of Max’s toys are also scattered in the room, and I know Max has a habit of sneaking into his father’s bed at night when he has nightmares.
“Make yourself comfortable,” he says as he quickly rushes around his room, trying to clean up the mess. I watch his flustered state; he seems embarrassed. “Sorry, I rarely let the maids in here; I don’t like them in my personal space,” he mutters, scooping up toys.
“It’s fine,” I wave him off, looking around his room. It makes me wonder how uncomfortable I will make him in it.
walk over to a nearby window and stare out at the expansive grounds of the castle. The moonlight seems to highlight the quiet serenity outside, while inside, my mind is in a frenzy. Soren moves toward the huge double door off to the side, which I realize is a walk–in robe that is as big as the room I was staying in.
“I’ll make space for your stuff,” Soren says, entering his walk- in closet, which is already filled to the brim with his clothes.
“Thanks,” I say as he disappears further into the closet. I take
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that as an opportunity to explore his quarters more closely. His room is a warm sanctuary, lit with a soft glow from the scattered lamps, and despite everything, I feel a sense of comfort wash over me. I hear the sound of hangers scraping against metal as Soren tries to make room for my clothes.
I spot a photo frame on his bedside table. It’s a picture of him and Max, both of them grinning widely at the camera. His arm is wrapped around Max’s shoulders, and he holds the boy close to his side.
I can’t help but smile at the sight. Despite everything, Soren is a remarkable father, always ensuring that Max feels loved and protected. I reach out to touch the frame lightly, tracing the contours of their faces.
I hear footsteps approaching and quickly pull my hand back. All around me are the little details that make the King who he is – a man of power, yes, but also a man with a gentle heart that continues to surprise me. The room feels like him · strong yet sensitive, rugged yet refined.
–
After a while, I hear his voice echoing from within the closet. “Are there any specific items you need?”
“Just my pajamas and toiletries for now,” I reply, turning around. He has an armful of clothes, and he dumps them in a basket before turning to look at me. I take a second to really look at him. His hair is more tousled than usual, and his eyes hold an unspoken tension that wasn’t there before–proof that this situation is affecting him just as much as it is me.
Suddenly, there’s an awkward silence between us, fraught with uncertainty and something else – something deeper and far more intimate. It’s then Soren’s eyes wander to the king-
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sized bed at the center of the room, and he swallows visibly before muttering, “We have to figure out sleeping arrangements.”
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