Meant to Be My Balance

Chapter 39

The tailor laid out each of the dresses in front of me, imploring me to pick one. Tonight, there would be a ball to welcome the ambassadors that had travelled for the wedding. And I needed a gown.

"None of them... feel right," I said, chewing my lip. Once upon a time, anything of velvet and silk would have been more than enough to impress me. Now, I knew that my very clothing was indicative of my position. My dress would be the way I presented myself, and that was crucial for tonight.

The tailor lowered her head in a small nod. "I will acquire more for you, sol koroleva."

"That's all right. I'll take a look for myself," I said dismissing her.

"One more thing... the king mentioned that your kefta's sizing was wrong? Too tight, I believe?"

I looked over my shoulder at Aleksander, who was sitting at his desk as always, pretending that he couldn't hear us from five feet away. "Did he?" A small smile curled up my lips. "Well, I think it's the perfect size."

He gave up his ruse immediately, his head jerking up so fast I thought it would roll right off his shoulders. "Alina."

"You're dismissed," I told the tailor, my eyes right on Aleksander. She scurried out, and we were left alone, just the heat of Aleksander's stare as it bored into me.

"You little devil," he murmured, his eyes tracing the curve of my cheek—lower.

"I'll have you know, I prefer tight-fitting keftas." Not true.

"And I prefer maintaining a semblance of self-control during my meetings."

"Too bad."

Aleksander stood, slowly, powerfully. Every step was shadow-kissed, every look pure darkness. "What am I going to do with you, my queen?"

"Kiss me," I said, the words out of my lips before I could think twice.

"Oh, but I want to do so much more than that, Alina. I want every inch of you." A step closer. "I want to ruin you."

"I'm not a thing that can be ruined. Not anymore."

His pink lips curved into a smile. Saints, he was so close now. Close enough to reach up and—

"It makes me want you all the more." Then his lips were on mine. I could get used to a husband like this. A life like this. Dark, powerful kisses. Soft, desperate touches.

***

"GENYA!"

"WHAT?"

"DRESS."

"WHAT?"

"THE DRESS."

"WHAT DRESS?"

I pounded against Genya's door, my fists half-tempted to break it down. I only had an hour left until the ball, and I needed to get ready. Quickly. But of course, at the last second, I realized why none of the dresses were working. There was only one that could fit an occasion like this.

Genya opened the door in a fluster, her hand on her hip, frowning. Of course she was already in a beautiful green gown, her hair half-styled. "What is it now, moya tsaritsa," she mocked.

"The dress you showed me. The golden one, with the black flourishes. I need it for tonight."

"Oh. Oh. Well, why didn't you just say so?" she grinned, opening the door wider to let me in. "Right in there. Do you know how difficult it is to force David to wear a tie? He told me it wasn't comfortable to work in a suit, and I told him he wouldn't be working! The silly thing." She shook her head, but she was smiling.