Shayla shifted uncomfortably, struggling to find a reply. “Umm… I will see to it, Your Grace,” she said, her flush turning deep as she forced a smile.
“Well, you can leave now,” Julian said flatly, already turning his attention to Eliz, who now stood silently behind him.
Shayla blinked, surprised by the sudden dismissal. She hesitated for a moment, her lips parting slightly as if to say something, but she didn’t.
Vigg, however, felt a surge of relief at Julian’s dismissal. He toys with everyone, he thought bitterly, watching as Julian openly flirted with Eliz, not even bothering to wait until they had left.
Shayla’s fingers tightened briefly on her gown as she masked her frustration with a graceful nod. “Of course, Your Grace,” she said, turning and walking off in disappointment.
Vigg bowed as well. “Your Grace,” he whispered, before turning to follow his mother.
Julian’s gaze didn’t follow them. Instead, it was locked on Eliz. “You look pretty today, Eliz,” he said, his tone soft and laced with a genuine charm that caught her by surprise.
Eliz blushed, a rare flush creeping up her cheeks. “Thank you, my lord,” she replied, her eyes lowering to the floor.
Shayla, now a short distance away, paused her steps. She glanced back briefly, just in time to see Julian smiling faintly at Eliz. She had thought to get closer to the Archduke, to curry favor with the young man who had made even her hardened husband bend the knee, but it had all gone down the drain.
And who was to blame for it? Her own son, Vigg.
Shayla’s eyes burned as she glanced at him. That damned smile was still etched on his face, helpless and clueless.
If not for him, she thought bitterly, I would’ve had the time and space to get closer to the Archduke. But no, he had to cling to me like a child, ruin the atmosphere, and make it awkward.
Her fingers curled slightly at her sides as she walked, every step growing her irritation. She had played this game before with powerful men, and she knew how and when to move—but Vigg’s possessiveness had spoiled everything.
“You’re supposed to protect your mother’s ambitions, not sabotage them,” she thought coldly.
Vigg caught Shayla’s glare from the corner of his eye and tilted his head slightly.
“What’s the problem, Mother? Are you fine?” he asked.
Shayla blinked once, quickly masking her irritation with a soft smile. “Nothing, dear. Just a little tired. Let’s go,” she said, her voice smooth and warm, as if nothing had ever been wrong.
Without waiting for his reply, she turned and walked ahead. Vigg narrowed his eyes for a moment, sensing something off, but said nothing. He quickly followed behind her, still wearing that same clueless smile she now hated more than ever.
**
The hours slipped by quickly, and an unusual silence lingered over the marquis’s castle the entire time. Julian sat comfortably on the sofa, a collection of architectural designs and blueprints spread across the table before him.
The Marquis had left him that present an hour ago, and Julian had been studying it intently for the past thirty minutes.
Ting. Ting. Ting.
Just then, a soft bell rang through the hall.
Julian glanced at the clock on the wall—it was already 5 p.m. “I better stop now or I’ll end up missing this little secret celebration the Marquis has planned,” he muttered, closing the last page and setting it aside.
He stood, stretching his limbs. His eyes then drifted toward the balcony—and there stood Eliz.
She was gazing out across the Ravenswood estate, arms resting lightly on the rail, her hair fluttering in the breeze. The setting sun cast a golden hue over her skin, highlighting the curve of her waist and that perfectly shaped ass.
Julian’s lips curled into a slow smirk. Maybe it was the air of a foreign land, or maybe Eliz had simply decided to let herself shine today—either way, she looked dangerously fuckable.
He walked slowly behind her, his eyes locked on the curves he already knew by touch. His hand reached out, sliding down until it grabbed a handful of her ass.
Smack.
He slapped it—hard but playful—watching the soft flesh jiggle beneath the dress.
“Ahh!” Eliz gasped, startled to the core. She quickly turned her head, her breath caught in her throat—only to sigh with relief the moment she saw his smirk.
“My lord… that scared me,” she whispered, her voice trembling with fear.
“Oh, Eliz… You look so fuckable today,” Julian murmured, his voice a low growl as his hands gripped both her ass cheeks and gave them a squeeze.
Eliz blushed hard, frozen for a moment, unsure whether to feel flattered, flustered, or offended.
“Umm… but I’m just how I was yesterday…” She whispered, her voice fragile, caught between innocence and heat.
Julian leaned in closer, his chest pressing against her back as he bit gently at her ear.
“Mhh…” Eliz moaned softly, her breath hitching. Her fingers curled tighter around the railing, knuckles paling as her body instinctively braced itself.
The way his teeth grazed her skin, the scent of him so close—it sent a tremble down her spine.
He growled low in his throat, lips brushing her jaw. “No,” he whispered, voice thick with lust, “you look like you’re begging to be used today.”
With one hand still squeezing her ass, he guided himself between her ass cheeks, grinding his thick cock slowly along the tight space, letting her feel every inch of him.
Her dress offered no protection—just flimsy cloth pulled tightly around her skin, barely separating his heat from hers. She gasped again, this time remembering their past intimate encounter.
The ache from the last time he took her still lingered, and now it was rising again, raw and real.
“Eliz,” he muttered, thrusting his hips forward. “Do you want to be fucked?”
“Mmh….” Eliz moaned, her legs trembling as she felt the full hardness of him pressing against her.
“Yes… my lord,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “Please… I want it.”
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