The cold, isolating space, and the endless burn in my knees as I waited for Pax and Mr. Bordeaux to release me from purgatory. The endless loop of insanity as I prayed for hell to spit me back into a semblance of normalcy. But hell only returned me to the stoic, watchful eye of Heath Bordeaux, and that hasn’t been much of an improvement.

Sebastian studies me, the brilliance of his azure gaze touching on every inch of my face until I’m flushed with heat.

“I’m not buying it.” A slow, cruel smile curves his lips. “Just last month you showed me a taste of that fire on the examination table. That spitfire of a princess is still in there somewhere.”

“Queen,” I say through gritted teeth.

Letting go of me, he raises an amused brow. “I rest my case.” He turns and tugs at the back of his T-shirt, yanking it over his tousled blond hair, and I can’t help but admire his backside. All of that smooth skin stretched over hard muscle shoots a bolt of desire between my legs. I don’t know what it is about Sebastian, but I lose my head whenever he’s near.

“You need to take your clothes off for this.” He stalks out of sight then returns with a black jewelry case.

“What’s that?” I ask, rising to my feet and nodding at the sleek box in his hands.

“It’s the Heart of the Queen. Heath finally got his greedy hands on it. I don’t know how, but he did.” He cracks open the lid. “And he wants me to paint you wearing it.” His eyes flick up to meet mine. “Time’s ticking. Lose the clothes.”

I cross my arms, suddenly unhindered by the training Mr. Bordeaux instilled in me over the last three weeks. “Do you need me naked for the portrait, or for your payment?” The word bleeds from my lips, drenched in feigned disgust.

“Both.” His grin is rakish, unguarded, and downright sexy. “And since I’ve only got three hours with you, how about we speed things up?”

He removes the necklace from the box then drapes it around my neck. The teardrop-shaped diamond is a deep scarlet, and the weight of it hangs between my cleavage. I’m gaping at the stone in a state of awe, all too aware that Liam sold this priceless family heirloom because of me, when Sebastian slips a spaghetti strap over my shoulder. He does the same to the other side, followed by a determined tug to the bodice, and the dress falls to the floor.

“No undergarments,” he says, voice deepening to an appreciative rasp as his gaze roams my bare skin. “You came prepared.”

“Mr. Bordeaux instructed me not to wear any.” The words come out shaky, and I can’t bring myself to meet his blue eyes when he looks at me like that.