Chapter 71 Seventy-one

• Anna
• Without waiting for an answer, Viktor steers me away from the slack-jawed senator. He finds a chair against a nearby wall just as the lights dim. I yelp when he pulls me into his lap, but his hands clamped on my waist say he's not letting me go anytime soon.
• And honestly, I'm not upset about it. My old etiquette teacher would have a heart attack if she could see me now—I'm pretty sure "Don't sit in your date's lap while his massive dick gets harder and harder beneath you" is on, like, page one of the cotillion rulebook—but after that shiver-inducing interaction with the senator, I don't mind if Viktor's wandering hands help me forget being called a "pregnant whore."