Selma knocks three times. A deep male voice calls for us to come in, and Selma allows us entry into the room where it all began. It’s a light and airy space, despite the masculine bookcases that surround the comfortable seating arrangements inviting meetings among leaders.

And the passing-around of queens.

Heath Bordeaux is waiting by the south-facing windows. His back is to me, but I recognize him by his rigid stature. His black hair sheens silvery in the late morning rays pouring through the arched glass in front of him. A blond man I’ve never seen before stands at attention near him, his posture as rigid as the man who will have dominion over me for the next month.

Mr. Bordeaux turns, and those hazel eyes shoot ice through me. They’re beautiful eyes set in a traditionally handsome face, but something about him is…

Cold.

Vacant.

To make matters worse, he’s glaring at me.

“Your ladies may return to their quarters. You won’t need their services while you’re a guest in my house.”

His statement hits me like a sneak attack—a wave that rises from nowhere and knocks me down—and I drop to my knees.

“Please, Mr. Bordeaux. Don’t send my ladies away. I beg of you.”

They’re all I have in this place. The only two people keeping me sane.

“That isn’t for you to decide.” He nods toward his silent companion, who steps forward upon command. “My manservant will escort your ladies back to where they belong.”

Faye takes a brave step toward Mr. Bordeaux. “This isn’t right. I’m not—”

Cutting her off, I jump to my feet and hug her tight enough to silence her objection. Elise dabs at her eyes in my peripheral. “Shh, it’s okay,” I tell her in a whisper. “Go, please.”

Mr. Bordeaux is not Liam, with his gentle authority and quiet leniency. I don’t know who the man from the House of Taurus is, but he’s not someone you disobey or argue with, and it would wreck me to watch him punish Faye because of her loyalty to me.

“He can’t keep us away from you for a whole month.”

I pull back and meet her sable eyes. “Yes, he can, Faye.”

With the exception of taking my virginity, he can do whatever he wants.

“But you’re my queen.” Faye blinks rapidly, and it’s enough to harden my heart against the man forcing us apart because she doesn’t get emotional. She gets angry, indignant, righteous.

She doesn’t do tears, but she’s holding them back now.

“As your queen, I’m ordering you to go. I’ll be okay. I promise.”

“Faye,” Elise says in a soft lilt, “we have to do what’s best for Novalee.” She grabs Faye’s hand, giving it a subtle tug, and wordlessly, they follow Mr. Bordeaux’s manservant out of the library.