“Not… not that,” I rasp, my cheeks burning hot. “I’ve never… I’m not offering that. But anything else.”

And Victor, the vicious bastard, rolls his eyes and looks away. “Bold of you to assume you have anything else to offer, princess.”

His words lodge an arrow of hurt in my chest, the point slipping between my ribs to jab at my squishy bits. I puff out a pained breath. And it’s ridiculous to be so hurt by a man who I know hates me, yet for a moment, I’m light-headed with misery.

What would I give for Victor to respect me, to admire me—hell, to like me, to think of...