“It’s sexy as hell, Novalee.” He runs a finger down the chest of the prototype where the appliqué embellished material forms a deep V-neckline that stops above the naval. I’ll need strips of fashion tape under my breasts to avoid a wardrobe malfunction. I’ve never designed anything as provocative as the dress Sebastian’s fondling as if it’s an extension of me.

I’ve never worn anything so risqué either, and now I question my motives, my choice of color, even the way I plan to wear my hair—unhindered by pins or clips and flowing over my bare shoulders.

He’s invaded my subconscious like a brain tumor.

He turns to face me with a burning need in his eyes that sucks the breath from my soul.

“Tell me I’ll get to see you in this.”

Blunt and straight to the point. So like Sebastian.

“I’m wearing it to the ball.”

“Ah, yes. The Astor Birthday Bash of the Year.” His infamous mocking tone permeates the air between us. “Are you wearing it for me, or for the chancellor?” The way he’s looking at me, expectation in his gaze, demands an answer.

“For you.” I force the confession out as I saunter over to him. “Does that make you happy?” We’re only inches apart now, and the heat of his nearness makes me weak. Still, I stand my ground.

“You don’t want to know what makes me happy.” He grabs me by the shoulders. “But here’s a clue—it has nothing to do with a dress.”

False bravado is my only defense against him, and I force myself to hold his challenging gaze, even though his hands burn through me like fire. My heart thumps at a furious pace. I’m sure he hears it.

“What do you want then?” Strength colors my tone, words falling from my lips with a deceitful, steady cadence. If he notices the tremor in my limbs, he doesn’t call me on it.

“What I want has never mattered. We’re all victims to the tyranny of tradition and fucking superstition.”

“Why don’t you leave? Break the cycle for the House of Leo.” Maybe the entire tower would crumble from the missing link that is Sebastian Stone.

“Don’t you think I want to?” He pushes forward two steps, turning me toward the wall to the right of us.

“Do you?”

“This place has a way of keeping its prisoners here.”

His raw vulnerability digs under my defenses, and before I second-guess myself, I let instinct guide my mouth. At the first touch of my lips on his, he freezes. Three agonizing beats of my heart pass before he lets out a warm breath against my mouth.

“Novalee.” My name is a tortured whisper on his breath. He grips me by the hair, but still, he doesn’t take the kiss beyond an aching tease.