Virgo (The Zodiac Queen Book 6)

by Gemma James

  As we approach the open doors, he comes to a halt. “I want you to know I didn’t intend to start the month like this.” His grip on my arm loosens, allowing me enough slack to pull away.

  “That would make two of us.” I stride into the dining room ahead of him, chin raised and jaw clenched, focusing every ounce of attention on the seat two spaces down from where Sebastian sits.

  The lion’s arctic gaze burns through me as I pass, as intense and tangible as my mortification, and I can only imagine the multitude of reactions on his face.

  Because I can’t bring myself to look at him.

  Several seats remain empty, including the chancellor’s. The early arrivals fall quiet, their baritone voices fading as my nudity captures their intrigue. I settle into my chair and cross my legs as Miles slides in next to me. That’s when Landon, Elise, and Lilith enter.

  My world shakes under my feet, and my heart drops. I’ve never fallen victim to jealousy as intensely as I do now, knowing the drop-dead-gorgeous woman who shares my blood is carrying the baby of the man I love.

  A maroon floor-length dress hugs Lilith’s body in all the right places, and there isn’t a sign on her bones that she’s carrying Sebastian’s child. Does she ever have a bad hair day, even in pregnancy? She’s the epitome of class compared to my humiliating presence, considering my pink-tinged skin from too much sun.

  But my real issue with Lilith Astor has nothing to do with her impeccable style. No, my rancor stems from the fact she’s not accompanying Vance tonight. Everyone might think she’s visiting the estate to become better acquainted with Landon’s new bride, but I know better. My half-sister is here for other reasons.

  Without thinking, my attention lands on Sebastian, and for the first time since I stepped into this room, I come face-to-face with his reaction to my nudity. His jaw is rigid, brows furrowed over turbulent eyes.

  Gorgeous blue eyes locked on my own.

  Resting his chin on a fisted hand, his shoulders grow tense. He leans forward as if he’s a moment away from launching out of his seat and choking the life out of Miles. Just as I think he’s going to instigate a fight, undoubtedly a bloody one, the rest of the Brotherhood file in, one by one. Liam enters last, decked out in one of his suits, and commands everyone’s attention.

  Even Sebastian’s.

  But while all eyes are on the chancellor, he only sees me.

  “Why is the queen naked?” He shoots Miles a look dark enough to blot out the sun.

  “The queen’s attire is not your concern, Chancellor.”

  “Novalee concerns us all, which is one of the reasons we hold these monthly dinners.” Liam dips into his seat next to Mr. Bordeaux, displeasure notable between his brows. “Do you think this is an appropriate way to treat the queen?”

  “Yes, I believe taking away privileges is an appropriate response to disobedience.”

  “Clothing at a formal dinner is a privilege?”

  “In my house, it certainly is.”

  Sebastian slams his fist on the table. “Maybe clothing shouldn’t be a privilege but a goddamn right, especially when in the company of twelve men.”

  Miles whips his head around, and the two men engage in a standoff of murderous glares. “You have a lot of audacity to lecture me on how to run my house. You didn’t even show up to dinner last month.”

  Sebastian’s gaze lands on me again, and that look—full of longing and sadness and helpless frustration—punches me in the gut. We’re both reliving that day.

  The wind in our hair as excitement overflowed.

  The warm sand that welcomed my body for his touch.

  The breathless union of two bodies in the glow of candlelight.

  “You’re in love with the queen,” Miles says, jolting us out of the memory. My keeper lets out an amused laugh. “I didn’t see that one coming, considering your disdain for the institution of marriage.”

  Sebastian clenches his jaw but doesn’t give a verbal response.

  It’s not enough for Miles. “Do you deny you’re in love with Novalee?”

  “Who wouldn’t love her?” Sebastian’s implied declaration echoes in my mind, thawing the ice of betrayal by a degree. He meets my gaze again, and those eyes—usually on guarded lockdown—relay so much.

  How sorry he is.

  How much he misses me, already.

  How he’s dying to trap me in his arms and never let go.

  Lilith clears her throat, dragging his attention away from me. “Gentlemen, I’m famished.” Shooting a barely concealed glare at Sebastian, she shifts in her seat. “Some of us have more pressing matters to worry about than what the queen does or does not wear to dinner.” Her ruby-painted lips purse in something akin to jealousy, and for once I’m thankful for her need to be the focus of attention.

  If the men are looking at her, then they aren’t looking at me.

  Except for Liam. He gestures to the team of servers on standby as he aims an apologetic glance my way. “Let’s not prolong this any further, shall we?”

  “Agreed,” Miles says, reaching into his jacket pocket. “But before we begin, I’d like to present the queen with my gift.” He sets a small box on the table in front of me, his expectant smile as bright as the white packaging, intricate bow and all.

  After everything he put me through since I entered his house, or even the minutes before in Vance’s office, he’s delusional if he thinks a gift will make up for his behavior.

  “Open it,” he prompts, a rare amount of impatience entering his tone.

  I lift the lid to reveal a delicate key on a white gold chain, the bow adorned with the glyph for Virgo etched in a circle of diamonds.

  “How lovely,” I say dryly. “Another key.” Landon gave me a key to a fashion studio, but I don’t expect the same type of selfless gift from Miles. “This better open a wardrobe.”

  He’s not impressed with my haughty demand. Eyes narrowed, he lifts the key from its resting place in the box. “The key opens me. On our wedding night, you’ll do the honors.”

  “You’re assuming there will be a wedding night.”

  “Of course there’ll be a wedding night. If I’m not the winner of your virginity, then you’ll return the gift to me.” As he drapes the chain over my head, I bite my tongue to keep from asking if I can return it now.

  “Thank you is an appropriate response when a man presents you with a gift.”

  I parrot my fake gratitude as the key nestles between my breasts, the weight of it as heavy as the ring on my left hand.

  “The symbol of my virginity looks good on you, my queen.”

  Saving me from the obligation of a reply, the servers begin setting dishes on the table, and for a while, I can almost forget that I’m naked—that I’m not the center of attention as lustful gazes dart over my rosy nipples.

  I can almost forget the infuriation on Liam’s face, or the unconcealed hatred Sebastian aims at Miles every few seconds. If I try hard enough, I’m able to cast aside Elise’s pity, or Landon’s shame upon the sight of his nude half-sister. For a blessed few minutes, the various conversations around the table make this event appear like any other I’ve attended.

  As if Lilith isn’t sitting next to my former lady while Sebastian’s child grows in her womb. As if I don’t want to launch myself into his arms, regardless of his betrayal.

  “Why haven’t you touched your dinner?” Miles’ question jerks me to awareness, and I realize I have no idea what’s on my plate, nor do I care.

  I raise my chin. “You won’t afford me the dignity of clothing tonight, so I won’t eat.”

  With a laugh, he sets his fork down. “I’m tiring of these games, Novalee. You haven’t eaten since you entered my house.”

  “Whose fault is that?” I cross my arms, further goading him.

  “Enough!” His voice thunders through the room.

  Out of self-preservation, I shrink away, and Sebastian’s white-knuckled grip on the table draws my focus. He’s on edge, same
as me.

  A lion with his claws out.

  Miles snaps his fingers in front of my face, demanding my attention. “Don’t make me punish you again.” A second later, he shutters his eyes as if he regrets his loss of temper. “I don’t enjoy disciplining you.”

  “What are you going to do that hasn’t already been done?” I push my chair back and stand. “The chancellor broke me in.” I glance at Liam before swerving to the man beside him.

  “Mr. Bordeaux broke my will.” A shudder goes through me, and unable to face the stoic bastard for another second, I turn to my brother and the doctor. “Landon broke my spirit, while Vance broke my control. And Sebastian—” My voice cracks. “He broke me worst of all.”

  Palpable tension spreads among the men, the opposite of a standing ovation in response to such a heartfelt speech, but no less disarming.

  Miles clears his throat. “Please sit back down, my queen.” There’s a sadness to his tone, almost an inflection of apology.

  I step away from the table and regard him with my head held high. “I will not sit down. You can punish me all you want, but I guarantee it won’t break me.” I turn on my heel and leave the room as the weight of every eye in the room burns into my naked backside.

  7

  I awake with a start, blankets clutched in trembling hands as I lurch upright in bed. The first hint of daylight streams through the windows, promising another beautiful day free of rain. Like the morning before, the other side of the bed is empty, though his pillow has a noticeable imprint, indicating Miles slept beside me last night.

  He must have come in after I fell asleep, and I find it bewildering that he didn’t wake me. The door stands open, as it did yesterday, and I breathe a sigh of relief. After my behavior last night, no matter how justified, I expected him to lock me in for the day.

  I hurry through my morning routine in the bathroom, noting the first aid kit on the counter. A glance at the trashcan reveals bloody gauze.

  What in the world happened last night?

  There’s only one way to find out, and that involves walking through the door and facing Miles. I stare at the sheet with longing but discard the idea, not wanting a repeat of yesterday morning. Somehow, we’ll have to find a slice of common ground for the remainder of the month, and I already took my bold stand at dinner.

  Now my protective instincts tell me it’s time for a little diplomacy.

  A search of the kitchen, dining room, and shared living areas reveal empty spaces. He’s not in the gym or his study, either. Maybe he went for his morning run. The sky brightens to a baby blue by the time I return to the kitchen to make a quick bite to eat. After warming a skillet on the stove, I crack four eggs open over the pan. They sizzle while I pop bread into the toaster. It’s not the feast Miles made yesterday, but it’s a peace offering, nonetheless, and it’ll go a long way toward easing the dull hunger pangs in my belly.

  Ten minutes later, I carry two plates to the dining room and take a seat. I’m halfway through my breakfast when footsteps sound from the other room. Miles appears in the archway, sweat dripping down his temples as he unzips a grey hoodie.

  I gape at him, and it’s not his casual appearance that slackens my jaw. His left eye is swollen, horrendous bruising discoloring the bridge of his nose, and that wide mouth—so often home to a spectrum of smiles—turns down at the corners, bottom lip abused like the rest of his face.

  “You didn’t rinse your dishes,” he says, a flat and emotionless tone underlying the criticism.

  “I’m sorry.” Trying not to show my shock at his busted-up face, I keep my attention on his chest. “I’ll do better next time.”

  “See that you do.” As his gaze lands on the second plate, his expression softens. “I’ll join you after I clean up.” Turning on his heel, he disappears the way he came, and I set my fork down, suddenly too sick to eat more.

  Someone did that to him. Was it Liam? My brother? The obvious answer is Sebastian, especially after the fury I witnessed in his mannerisms last night.

  Miles returns minutes later, his blond hair combed back from showering. A citrus clean scent wafts off his naked body as he takes a seat at the head of the table. By now, the meager offering I cooked is cold, but he digs in without complaint, and that surprises me.

  “Are you finished eating?” He gestures toward my abandoned plate of half-eaten eggs and toast.

  I push the food away by a couple of inches. “I’m full.”

  He nods, as if he understands, then returns to chewing and swallowing. But his mouth is a distraction, with that cut slashing through his bottom lip, and my curiosity gets the best of me.

  “What happened to your face?”

  “I went for a run last night to clear my head, and somehow, I ran nose-first into a pissed-off fist.”

  Laughter bursts free, and I cover my mouth, mortified. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” The start of a smile pulls at his lips. “In the light of day, it’s easier to find humor in it.”

  “Who did the pissed-off fist belong to?”

  He raises a brow. “I’ll give you one guess.”

  “Sebastian did this to you?”

  “Can’t fault a man for defending a queen’s honor.” Apparently finished with breakfast, he leans back in his chair. “How about you and I call a truce?”

  “A truce?”

  “Yes. I’d rather not spend the whole month fighting with you. Believe it or not, I’d rather enjoy your company.”

  “What will this truce involve?”

  “If you agree to abide by the nudity rule while in the house, I won’t publicly humiliate you again.”

  “That’s your idea of a truce?” I tilt my head, brow raised with incredulity. “What part of that benefits me?”

  “You benefit from my mercy. If you obey me, I’ll reward you. I understand you have a daily routine in your studio you’d like to continue?”

  I’m tempted to lie and claim my work is just a hobby—a pastime that isn’t my obsession and escape from the house of whatever man I’m obligated to for the month. But instinct warns he’d see through the lie.

  “I’m in the middle of preparing for the Fashion Festival this fall.”

  He nods, as if he’s already been debriefed on my daily activities. It would be ludicrous to think otherwise. For a group of men that spend so much time alone and isolated within their own houses, they have an uncanny ability to operate in sync.

  “Then you should continue that work,” he says.

  “Thank you.”

  He dips his head in a display of graceful acknowledgement. “It’s still a privilege, my queen. An exchange, if you will.”

  “An exchange for what?”

  Letting several moments pass, he rubs his chin as he regards me. “For your cooperation.”

  I gesture to my naked body. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I left the sheet in the bedroom.”

  “I noticed, and your obedience is appreciated.”

  “What more do you want?” As soon as the question leaves my mouth, I mentally kick myself for the implied invitation.

  He smiles, interpreting my frustrated slip-up as I feared he would. “I want permission to touch you.”

  I shift, crossing my legs even though he can’t see them from his position at the table. It takes everything in me not to palm my breasts. “I was under the impression you didn’t need my permission.”

  “Intimacy is only pure and true when consent is given. We each have a duty here, Novalee. Yours is to obey. Mine rests on earning your consent.”

  “What happens if I don’t give it?”

  “Then you lose studio time.”

  “How is that fair?”

  “Life is messy, and rarely fair. Those are my terms.”

  “You’re manipulating me, Mr. Sinclair, and resorting to blackmail. How is that consent?”

  “You still have a choice. It’s up to you to decide.” He stands, picking up his plate and stacking mine on top.
“Take the week to think about it. I expect an answer by my birthday.”

  “When’s your birthday?”

  “Six days from now.” He exits the kitchen, and my last vestige of hope for an uncomplicated month in the House of Virgo leaves with him.

  8

  “How are you holding up?” Elise sends me a glance full of curiosity as we meander down my favorite path that winds alongside the cliffs. There isn’t a cloud in sight—not even threatening on the horizon. Despite the mild weather, a breeze stirs the cotton skirt around my legs.

  “I’m okay,” I reply, relishing the sensation of clothing on my skin. It’s a decadent feeling I took for granted until now.

  “I can’t believe he made you attend dinner naked.” Elise chews on her lip, and I sense the nervousness hovering underneath her outer calm, as if she’s preparing herself for a harrowing account of my time spent in the House of Virgo since the incident at dinner.

  “Things started off rocky with Miles.” The breeze picks up, and I meet her baby blues as a tiny braid grazes my lashes. “But these last few days have been uneventful.”

  Uneventful, boring, and frustrating. Each day, I resist Miles’ advances, and each day I watch another sunrise and sunset pass without spending a minute inside my studio.

  “I’d rather talk about you,” I say, glancing at the subtle swell of her belly. “How’s the pregnancy going?”

  She rests a hand on her stomach, and something about the gesture brings an ache to my throat. Despite living with the horrendous assault that created the life growing inside of her, she covers her belly with a protective hand.

  “I think I felt him move yesterday.”

  “Him?”

  With a smile, she shrugs. “Just a feeling.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy.”

  Her grin slips a little. “I am, for the most part.” She gives me a sheepish look. “I just miss the honeymoon. We barely got back, but Landon’s already left on a business trip.”

  “He cares about you, Elise. I know it’s hard to be apart, but he’s devoted to you and the baby.”