11

Titania

It feels like weeks before I hear Kristoff's firm footfalls as he approaches my designated room. After the guard left, I'd taken a cursory glance around, my skin crawling at how horribly effeminate everything looked. The bedroom was essentially pink-themed, which gave me a hint that Kristoff must've been preparing for this visit since the moment he struck the deal.

Before the door creaks open, I straighten, reaching for my coat quickly and wrapping it around me. I glance up at him, his hard, smoky gaze that was unreadable. He's the epitome of power; strong like an inferno. His beautiful black suit is gone and is now replaced with blue beach shorts and a white T-shirt with all the buttons popped open, displaying the dark, inked tattoos on his broad, hairless chest. His forearms were covered in tattoos as well, and now as he flexes them, I can't seem to look away.

This is it. What I've been mentally preparing myself ever since we got here. I try to convince myself that I'm not a