43. Alastair

Alastair

Closing the door behind me, I turned to face Ryle, who wore an expression of disbelief mixed with curiosity. "Woman, your highness?" he questioned, his tone laden with amusement.

I stuffed my hands into my pockets, a smirk tugging at the corners of my lips. "A slave, to be exact," I replied, my words dripping with mischief.

Ryle's smile grew as he shifted his focus to the clock on the wall, the seconds ticking away relentlessly. "It's time, your highness," he remarked, his voice a low murmur. "We can do it in my room, or..."

The offer hung in the air, but I shook my head firmly, my resolve unwavering. "No," I asserted, retrieving a water bottle from the nightstand and tossing it to Ryle. It was the same bottle I had offered to Chelsea in the car. "I want it done here. Summon her to my bedroom."

Ryle caught the bottle deftly, examining it closely before raising an eyebrow at me. "In your bedroom?" he inquired, a hint of surprise coloring his tone.

I nodded, my lips curling into