Exported [Book 3 in the Expiring Series]

41 The Chapter in Which Iris Steals My Clothes

Jonas~~

I'm in what would have been Iris's shower had I not switched rooms with her when I hear the bedroom door open. After Alix stressed we'd be in separate rooms, Iris asked to switch with me.

I'd hoped he wouldn't show up until after I was out of the shower. I'd prayed he wouldn't show up at all.

Shutting off the shower, I grab the towel draped over the rail at the end of the shower and dry off with it before wrapping it around my waist. I step out of the shower's alcove and onto the heated tile.

Perched on the sink counter, Iris lets her eyes linger at my towel line. In her lap are my clothes.

"Mademoiselle?" Alix calls from the other side of the bathroom door. My stomach tightens painfully with the confirmation it's him in the bedroom. We've been friends since birth. How could he try to sleep with her?

Iris gives me a smile so tantalizing I feel the urge to kiss her. Kissing would make for a very fine distraction. She drags her finger across her lips in a vow of silence.

I move toward her, my hand outstretched for my clothes. She thrusts them behind her back and shakes her head.

I tilt my head to the side, eyes narrowing. Maybe she does belong in the Society. I didn't know she could be this devious.

Maybe she wants to show me off to Alix. That's ridiculous. Two years ago, he was voted the most attractive royal by an international women's magazine. No one in the Society was included. Eli, my Epsilon, still swears it was a deliberate snub.

Iris, I mouth.

She flicks the faucet on.

"You wouldn't," I whisper.

Her expression seems to say try me as she brings my clothes close to the stream of water. I'm limited on clothes while in France, and these are the only ones I have in this bathroom.

I reach for them, and she brings them closer to the water.

I draw back and make sure my towel is fastened securely. "You'll pay for this."

I can't wait, she mouths. I want to stay in here with her and have her yell at Alix to get the hell out, but I need to confront him. Perhaps he's merely bringing her a friendly cup of chamomile tea to help her sleep, and then he'll be a proper wingman and sing my praises to her.

Wishful thinking won't change the truth.

I know that.

He isn't here as a friend.

I open the door, stepping out into the bedroom. The sight I'm presented with shocks me so entirely that I nearly forget to shut the bathroom door to keep Iris hidden.

Alix lounges on the bed, his arm propped up on a silk throw pillow. His thin robe is untied and has slipped down his stomach, showcasing his tanned abs. He wears a pair of lounge pants so at least he wasn't waiting stark naked for my fiancée.

Seeing me, his eyes widen, and he hastily fumbles with his robe to pull it closed, clutching it together in one of his hands. "Jonas?"

"Alix." I cross my arms and then realize that may not be the best idea if my towel suddenly decides to drop.

"I—I can explain," he says in French, sitting up.

"Can you?" I respond in his language. "Because you're in my fiancée's bed, and I know we locked the door."