The Guardian’s gaze dragged over my face, lingering so long I fought the urge to squirm. “You look tired. Long night? I hope you weren’t up late saying farewell to your fiancé.” “Also none of your business.” “Isn’t it? You’re married to the heir to the Turan throne. Your children will be of his line. I’d say that I have every right to be concerned with the seed you allow between your legs.” My face flamed, my jaw dropping as I stepped away like I’d been struck. “You did not say that to me.” He lifted a shoulder. This. Asshole. “Who do you think you are?”
