I spotted him by the bar, still talking with Pepper, but now he was frowning. Her hand was draped over his and she spoke passionately. Something twisted in my chest, but I pushed it back, unwilling to allow jealousy to prevent me from being with Alexander. But I stopped when I saw his frown deepen. He began to speak, the wildness in his eyes visible even from a distance, before finally pulling away from Pepper and stalking off.
By the time I maneuvered through the crowd, I’d lost track of him again. Slumping against a column, I considered giving up. Why was I looking out for him when he’d abandoned me in the first place? What had he been discussing with Pepper? Whatever it was had upset him. Of course, he’d been on edge since we arrived. Releasing another long sigh, I struggled with the idea that Alexander was always going to raise more questions that he would give answers. Which raised the biggest question of all: could I handle that?
I was debating this when a strong hand caught mine and pulled me away from the party. Alexander’s lips were over mine, his body pressing mine into a marble arch before I could process what was happening. I pushed against him at first, but then I weakened, melting into the kiss, craving physical contact with him as I wrestled with the enigma of a man who seemed to be constantly slipping through my fingers. His cock was hard through his pants and my body responded with trembles. We were only steps away from his father’s birthday party and he was going to take me. I wouldn’t stop him. I couldn’t. But as quickly as the embrace began, it ended. Alexander stepped away and straightened his bow tie.
“I needed that,” he said.
The kiss had rendered me speechless, struck dumb by the mixed signals of the last hour. One moment Alexander was open and bold, and the next closed and suspicious—and tonight I’d been passed between his two sides so often that I was developing whiplash.
He crooked his arm and offered it to me as I dabbed at the corners of my mouth, hoping my lipstick wasn’t all over my face.
“You look beautiful,” he said, but the lust that usually accompanied his compliments was absent from his voice. His words were even, carefully measured, and far too polite. I longed for his dirty mouth and wicked smile.
I took his arm and allowed him to lead me back to the party. We reentered the ballroom, and I immediately felt eyes on me. Nearly everyone had arrived, and they were all eager to get a peek at the girl behind the latest royal scandal. I tried to remember what Alexander has said in the limo. They were judging him and not me, but it was hard to think that when eyes narrowed as they met yours and tongues wagged behind hands everywhere you turned.
“Your Highness.” A man approached us, bowing to Alexander and then giving me a stiff nod. “Your father requests that you join the family for the toast.”
“I showed up,” Alexander said with a grimace. “That should be enough.”
“I’m afraid he’s quite insistent,” the man continued. “I suspect he’ll just call you up in front of everyone if you don’t—”
“Fine!” Alexander threw his hands up, dropping mine. I could feel the barely controlled fury rolling off of him and I stood stock-still, afraid to add fuel to his rage.
“I’ll see the young lady to a table,” the man offered.
“She stays with me.”
“But sir—”
“She stays with me,” he repeated in a firm voice that left no room for further questioning. Alexander grabbed my arm and strode quickly toward the front of the ballroom. He moved so quickly that I was practically running to keep up with his pace as he dragged me along.
His family was clustered together, taking turns speaking and ignoring one another, and I inhaled sharply, knowing this was the moment of truth. Alexander’s father had chosen a tuxedo for the festivities as well, but it didn’t help him blend in. He was undeniably handsome, despite his age, which was only apparent in the hair graying at his temples. The lines around his sharp eyes and mouth only served to make him look more distinguished. He was simply in a class by himself.
But he wasn’t the most untouchable man in this room. That I knew.
Next to the King, a man who looked like a lankier version of Alexander gave him a funny look. It looked like a warning. But Alexander kept going, stopping just short so that I could catch my breath.
“Remember, this is about me, Clara,” he whispered.
I nodded, but my eyes were glued to the group of people in front of me. The blood pounding in my ears made it hard to process what he was saying. Alexander cupped my chin and turned me to face him. His eyes were cold—distant and dead–but I felt his control radiating out from him. It was as though he’d compartmentalized all his emotions in order to deal with tonight. I nodded again, this time giving him the eye contact that he so obviously desired.
“Good girl,” he said, brushing a soft kiss over my lips.
“Alexander,” a voice boomed, startling me away from him. “You’ve kept us waiting long enough.”
“I’m sorry, Father,” Alexander said stiffly. He ran his hand down my bare arm before he turned away from me. “I lost track of my date.”
“How careless.” The King gestured for him to approach. “May I speak with you?”
The implication was clear—the King wanted to speak with him alone—and Alexander moved to join his father.
Their conversation grew heated, voices raising high enough to be heard by those of us waiting in the vicinity. I did my best not to listen, but there was no mistaking the words “slut” and “shame.” Holding my head up, I tried not to wince as the accusations flew between father and son.
The younger version of Alexander approached me, extending his hand. “I’m Edward.”
Of course he was. Edward wore his dark hair longer and it curled past his ears, making him look boyish in comparison to his older brother. But he wore a tux well and he was almost as handsome as Alexander. He grinned at me, and I noted he was quicker with a smile. I shook his hand weakly, unable to speak for fear I would start to cry in front of him.
“Father’s in an awful mood, which is unfortunately quite common.” Edward clasped my hand tightly, searching my face as though he was looking for a clue as to how to make the poor girl he’d just met feel better. I wanted to tell him there was no use, but I knew I would never get it out. “Come over here.”
Edward led me toward a nearby table. “Everyone please allow me to introduce Clara Bishop, my brother’s girlfriend.”
“Oh, I—” My protest was silenced with a warning squeeze.
A tall, sandy-haired man rose, buttoning his dinner jacket and offered his hand. I recognized him at once and fought the urge to check the party for Belle.
“It’s nice to see you, Clara,” Jonathan said as I took his hand. Rather than shaking it, he raised it to his lips.
“You know her, Jonathan?” a petite redhead dressed in ivory asked him. Most girls with such a fair complexion couldn’t have pulled off her gown, but it only made her pale skin seem delicate and elegantly fragile. Her eyes traveled down my body calculatingly before she folded her hands primly on the table.
“Clara and I went to school together,” Jonathan said, but when he raked his gaze across me, he didn’t bother to hide his conclusions. His eyes sparkled like a man who’d discovered he’d been invited to sport.
If Jonathan Thompson thought I was going to play with him, he had another thing coming. My skin crawled where he had touched me, and as soon as I had the chance, I planned to scrub it with soap under scalding hot water.
“This is Amelia,” Edward said, when the girl didn’t introduce herself.
“Princess Amelia,” she said flippantly.
Seriously?
“It’s nice to meet you, Your Highness,” I hissed. Everyone here had been born with a silver spoon in their mouth and a stick up their ass.
“Perhaps you’d care to dance,” Jonathan suggested, gesturing to the nearly deserted dance floor.
I did want to dance with Alexander. There was no way I was going to risk being seen
with Jonathan, especially since I suspected he saw me as a bit of a challenge. “I’d rather wait for Alexander.”
“Of course,” he said with a nod, averting his eyes from me. “Alexander doesn’t like to share.”
There was a story here. I could feel it, but the last person I was going to ask to share it with me was Jonathan.
“Amelia?” Jonathan held out his hand and the sulky redhead took it, allowing him to sweep her toward the dance floor.
“Then let’s get you a drink,” Edward suggested as we watched them waltz. He looked over my shoulder to the other man at the table. “David?”
“I’ll look after her,” he said stiffly.
Edward pulled a chair out for me and I took it, grateful to be off my feet even if the company was less than welcoming. I glanced at David and realized we were in the same boat.
“You look like you’re enjoying this as much as I am,” I said, not bothering to hide my sarcasm.
A corner of his mouth tugged up, but he only shrugged. “My friends and I have different ideas on how to spend a Friday night.”
“Maybe you should get new friends.” My eyes caught Jonathan’s as he spun Amelia on the dance floor, and he winked at me.
David snorted at me. I turned to face him, finding upon closer inspection that he was very handsome. His ebony skin and closely cropped hair showed off the strong lines of his face, and despite his sullen appearance, his coffee-brown eyes were warm. He was exactly Stella’s type—quiet, brooding, and hot. “Actually,” I said, “I have a friend here that you should meet. You’d like her.”
Guys always do, I added silently.
“Are we setting David up?” Edward asked with a smile, returning with drinks in hand.
“I think he’d hit it off with my friend, Stella.” Taking my drink, I raised an eyebrow. “What do you think?”
Edward debated for a moment longer, but when he opened his mouth, he was interrupted by the appearance of an older woman that I immediately recognized. The Queen Mother carried herself with the grace and bearing of a woman who bore kings. Age had touched her, turning her dainty curls silver, but there was nothing frail about her. Sweeping up to us in a modest, beaded gown, she stood nearly a foot shorter than her younger grandson. Although the contemptuous look she wore made her seem much larger.
Her eyes narrowed as she assessed me, and her nose pinched as though she’d caught a whiff of something rotten. “So Alexander brought his little tart to ruin his father’s birthday.”
My mouth fell open and I tugged my hand away from Edward, who appeared nearly as shocked as I was.
“Grandmother!” Edward’s tone admonished her, but I didn’t wait around to hear what else she had to say about me. It was bad enough that half the UK was reading my private messages right now. I didn’t have to stand around being insulted by people who thought they were superior to me. Pushing through the crowd, I escaped as quickly as possible. I’d hide out in the loo until Alexander finally came looking for me.
He’d warned me, but he hadn’t prepared me.
Tears stung my eyes, spilling over before I finally risked turning around. Edward was nowhere to be seen, but his grandmother had joined the argument that was still going strong between Alexander and his father.
He hadn’t even noticed I was gone.
I felt foolish for coming here—for thinking things couldn’t get more complicated between us.
But I was stuck here with no money and now my feet were killing me. I wasn’t used to the sky-high heels Belle had insisted on.
Belle.
She was here, and therein lay my lifeline if I could just find her. Philip was boring but he could be counted on for chivalry, and right now I needed someone to rescue me. I had friends here, and I had to remember that. I could make it through this evening.
Turning to look for her, I bumped into Pepper.
I opened my mouth to apologize again, but she beat me to it.
“Stupid bitch,” she hissed. “Are you purposefully trying to destroy this dress?”
The urge to cry vanished, replaced by shock, and I gaped at her.
“Oh, you’re as stupid as I assumed,” she continued, her green eyes flickering like a snake’s tongue around the room in disinterest before they came back to glare at me. “Did you really think I wouldn’t mind you ruining my Ralph Lauren?”
“I’m sorry,” I said dumbly, my mind not quite caught up to the surprise, even as my heart began to pound like a war drum in my chest.
“So am I. Sorry that you’re about to get dumped,” she said with a smirk, tossing her blond waves over her shoulder. “Don’t look so surprised. I could smell sex on you the second we met. Do you think Alexander is the kind that keeps girls around for second helpings? Where is he anyway? Or did he already drop you like the rubbish you are?”
My hands clenched at my side, forming fists that I was dying to use even as I fought the urge. “Alexander isn’t the one calling the shots here, and don’t concern yourself with our sex life. We’re both very fulfilled.”
My rage simmered as I neared my boiling point, and I wasn’t sure how long I could contain it. In the last ten minutes, I’d been called a slut, a tart, and now trash.
“All of England is concerned with your sex life,” she said. “Tell me,” she lowered her voice, a wicked gleam in her eyes, “did you give them that story? Did you sell those texts to make a buck or two while you can?”
I didn’t need money or fame or influence. A fact which was obviously lost on her. Pepper might have ties to the Royal Family, but from the way she was pouting over her dress, she didn’t have my trust fund. What would be the point of showing her up? Now I understood Belle’s look earlier. She’d been warning me. Trust Belle to spot a snake in the grass a mile away when I had to step on its tail and get bitten first.
“If you’re done,” I said, shoving past her, “I was leaving.”
“Running away?” she asked in a mocking voice. “Make sure you drop your glass slipper on the way out, but don’t count on Alexander coming to find you.”
I swallowed on that and shot back. “I don’t want him to.”
And I didn’t. This wasn’t a fairytale and Alexander was no Prince Charming. More than ever, I wanted to go home and transform back into simple, loner Clara. I didn’t bother looking for Belle. All I wanted to do was get out of there, but Pepper’s words lodged in my brain. This was the end of my story. There’d be time to cry about it later. For now, I just wanted to escape.
16
The marble columns of the ballroom loomed over me like the bars of a cage, and the crowd of partygoers crushed against me. Panic overtook me, and I struggled toward the entrance. Turning one last time to look for Alexander, I caught Pepper watching me. She raised her drink in farewell, not bothering to hide her smug smile of satisfaction. Ignoring her, my gaze swept the room for Alexander, but he was lost in the crowd, and I didn’t want to search him out. I wanted to get away from here as quickly as possible. I grabbed my clutch from our table, thinking I might catch a cab, but as soon as I was outside, I decided to walk. I needed to clear my head.
The spring air was cool on my skin, which felt feverish and flushed after my confrontation with Pepper. Just the thought of her made my fingers curl tightly over my embellished clutch, so tightly that the beads dug painfully into my flesh. The pain actually felt good after feeling totally numb for the last ten minutes.
What was I thinking? I’d learned to avoid people like that after watching my parents be burned many times by so-called friends. What was the point of friends who tore you down or competed with you? I’d done a fantastic job of being my own worst enemy for long enough. I really didn’t need any help.
This whole night had been a mistake. Not because I felt inferior to Alexander’s family and friends, but because I had no interest in playing into their delusions. Part of me wanted to go back and tell them what I really thought of them, but I resisted the urge. There was no cure for being an assho
le.
By the time I got back to the flat, my feet ached from the effort of hiking halfway across London in four-inch Jimmy Choos. Aunt Jane’s flat was dark when I entered, which was just as well, because I didn’t really feel like talking. Rather, I felt like I should talk, a throwback reaction from my therapy days. But I was more than happy not to. Slipping off my heels, I took the stairwell up the three flights to our floor, rummaging through my purse for my keys as I came around the corner.
“Clara.”
I jumped at the sound of his voice, dropping my shoes. But my momentary surprise quickly shifted to white-hot awareness. Taking a deep breath, I cursed my traitorous body for its reaction to Alexander’s presence.
“Where have you been?” Alexander demanded, cornering me against the door as I neared him. His tuxedo jacket was gone and the sleeves of his button-down were rolled up. If Alexander in a tuxedo was impossibly sexy, Alexander half out of a tuxedo was devastating. A pang of longing shot through me, but I resisted the impulse to touch him, knowing what would happen if I did. Anger flickered in his cobalt eyes, and I felt barely controlled rage seething from him like steam from boiling water.
“Walking,” I said, too tired for playing games or being witty.
“You leave without a word and then you walk home?” Alexander ran a hand through his black hair, and I noticed that it was already mussed, as though he’d done this a lot this evening.
“You pushed me away,” I whispered, but my words weren’t timid. I wanted him to hear me. I wanted him to stop and listen, so that he would know that I hadn’t run tonight. “I didn’t run. I made the choice to leave.”
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