Still Prince Harad's POV

Herod barely has his fist on the door before it swings open.

In front of us stands Taylor, wearing prudish pajamas and smiling so broadly that I almost burst out laughing. But as I look closer, I notice that the first buttons are undone, revealing much of her creamy breasts.

Nausea rises within me. This is a far cry from the pathetic victim of violence I brought here yesterday.

“Sir,” she greeted us as she fixed her eyes on me. Her lips held a sensual smile, and she pushed her breasts forward, which seemed to hold a promise. I scowled, what is this now?

But finally...