Sylvia had made a lot of questionable decisions in her short life as a twenty-year-old beta woman, but sleeping with Tom seemed to be one of the right ones.
Until the man insisted on taking her to the imperial palace in his own car.
Well, he was not driving. That would have been somehow less overwhelming.
He sat in the back with her, one arm securely wrapped around her waist, as if she might be kidnapped by upholstery, palace traffic, or her own second thoughts if he let go for more than three seconds.
Sylvia was beginning to understand the loving irritation Dean had for Arion.
Dominant men in love were not subtle.
Tom was not even pretending.
"You do know I can enter the palace by myself," Sylvia said.
"Yes."
"And I have done so many times."
"Mhm…"
"And the palace gates are not an active battlefield."
"Not today."
Sylvia turned her head slowly. "That answer did not comfort me."
Tom smiled. "It was not meant to alarm you."
"It failed."
