The-Sinful-King-By-Claire-Contreras-PDF

king of France and rule over a nation that bows to your
bidding.”
“You’ve never bowed for me.” He sipped his wine and
leaned back in his seat again. “What am I to do with you?”
“Behead me.” I shrugged. “I don’t know. What do you do
with people who don’t bow to you?”
“It would be a shame to behead you.” His gaze dragged
over me lazily. “I’d find other ways to torture you.”
“Like what?” My grip tightened on the stem of the glass.
“I don’t know that I’m cut out for torture.”
“Torture can be delicious.” He licked his lips after taking
another sip of wine and when his eyes sparkled, I was sure
he knew he was torturing me as he spoke.
“What are your marriage requirements?” I asked
suddenly, because I needed to remind myself I couldn’t
entertain this thing, whatever it was.
We both continued eating again, and when I set down my
utensils this time, I was finished for good. He refilled our
wine glasses before speaking.
“Marriage requirements,” he said, as if remembering my
question and the fact that he had an impending marriage. “I
don’t have any.”
“You must have some. I mean, we all have requirements
when it comes to a partner, and a life-long partner has to be
even more daunting.”
“What are your requirements?”
“He has to be kind, funny, smart, well-informed with
current events, give me at least one compliment a day, good
in bed, have a nice smile, treat people with respect—and by
people, I mean waiters and anyone we encounter in the
street—he can’t be cheap, I’m okay with frugal or men who
don’t splurge all the time but I don’t like cheap. I also have a
thing for tall men with dark hair and a nice jawline, but