X: Command Me through Alexander's Eyes (Royals Saga)

by Geneva Lee

  “From the nineteenth-century?” I tease.

  “I like old, beautiful things,” she says, pretending to be offended. “Antiques have better stories, I guess.”

  “You’re going to love my house,” I mutter absently.

  Clara blows a stream of air from her lips and pulls me toward another stall. I can’t blame her for wanting to avoid my family after the disastrous party. That’s not going to make what I’m planning to ask her later any easier.

  We wander down the streets, slipping into an easy conversation. As twilight deepens, Clara begins to check her watch, then fidget. Finally, we find ourselves in front of a cozy bistro.

  “You’re quiet,” I say, after a few minutes of silence stretch between us.

  She looks at me, a flame burning in her eyes. She blinks, and it extinguishes, but the ember remains. “Actually, I’m tired.”

  That’s my fault.

  “I feel like I should apologize for keeping you up half the night,” I say, pulling her to me and kissing the top of her head, “but I’m not sorry.”

  She smiles at my blatant cockiness. “And I won’t be getting any sleep tonight either.”

  “Hot date?” I ask.

  “The hottest.”

  “Anyone I know?” My palm skims from the small of her back to her hips.

  “I would say you’re on intimate terms.” She blows me a kiss that’s more provocation than affection.

  “You need to rest.” I resist the siren call of that innocent gesture. “I’m sending you home alone tonight.”

  Her throat slides. “But I owe you sexual favors.”

  “And what did I do to deserve that, poppet?” What did I do to deserve her? “Tell me so I can do it again.”

  “You might not be saying that after dinner.” There’s resignation in her voice as she reaches for the restaurant door. I grab her hand and pull her back to me.

  I trace a line down her profile, over her lips, and pause there. “Have a little faith. I can be quite charming when the situation requires it. I am a prince, after all.”

  “Prince Charming, huh? I don’t remember him having a dirty mouth and an insatiable sex drive.”

  “He kissed the wrong girl,” I whisper, angling my face for one last kiss before we face her family. “Or maybe ‘happily ever after’ is only code for multiple orgasms.”

  “The Brothers Grimm have nothing on you.” Her tone is playful, but there’s something thick hiding behind her words.

  I feel it, too. That’s why I play along and wink at her. “Wait until I tell you my theories about riding off into the sunset.”

  “Behave.” She smacks my shoulder lightly.

  “I love it when you get riled up. It makes me think of spanking your pretty, little ass.” It’s out of my mouth before I can stop it. I’d told her I wouldn’t—that I didn’t need to possess her like that. Before I can gauge her response, an amused voice interrupts us.

  “Well, well, well. Can I get in before he mounts you on the spot?”

  Clara looks over my shoulder, going slightly rigid in my arms. She pulls free as a woman with dark hair strides over and sticks out her hand.

  I look from her to Clara, unable to miss the obvious resemblance.

  “Alexander, this is my sister, Lola.” Clara forces a smile. “Lola, allow me to introduce—”

  “Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary.” Lola doesn’t shake my hand. She holds it for a moment as if taking a measure of me. “It’s lovely to meet you. Clara has told me absolutely nothing about you.”

  I resist the urge to tell her Clara hasn’t spoken of her either. I know she has a sister. That’s come up in my research. Charlotte Bishop. Lola, it seems. But despite their similar features, there’s something feline about Clara’s sister. She looks not only prepared to pounce, but I suspect she might have claws.

  Before she can show them, I step toward the door. “Ladies first.”

  “Ohh. A gentleman.” Lola steps through first without hesitation. Her eyes skate over me, assessing. There’s something abrasively American about her, despite having been here from an earlier age than Clara.

  “She seems like a…handful,” I mutter as I take Clara’s hand.

  “Mmhmm.” Her hand tightens over mine, and I realize I’m not the only one with family drama. Glancing down at Clara, I realize with surprise that she’s not nervous.

  She’s protective.

  I start to tell her that I’m not worried about facing the Bishops when a seating host beckons us to follow her to our table. Why tell her? I’ll show her. I fall into step behind her, one hand on the small of her back.

  By five till eight, we’re on the second round of cocktails and no food. I know the time because the entire bloody restaurant is decorated with hundreds of clocks, all of which are slightly slower or faster than the others. The result is a constant ticking that scratches at my nerves. I calm myself by stroking a hand down Clara’s thigh. I resist the urge to order Clara something to eat. I don’t want to overstep, but I’ll be forced to once the hour strikes.

  “I don’t know what could be keeping him,” Madeline Bishop looks at her silent phone, which has neither rang nor lit up with a text since we arrived.

  I might be forced to intervene, but I could be polite about it. “I’m in no hurry.”

  “We should order,” Clara declares when the clocks strike eight.

  “Let’s give him a few more minutes,” her sister says, sipping her drink. “Tell us how you two met.”

  Clara shoots her a scathing look. “Pick up the Daily Star.”

  “I want to hear it from the source.” Lola won’t be put off so easily.

  I can’t risk Clara stabbing her with the fork she’s clutching, so I jump in. “I was stuck at another boring party, trying to hide out, and then this beautiful girl showed up and started telling me off.”

  I lift her hand to my lips, my eyes meeting hers. I don’t miss the amusement dancing there from my interpretation of events.

  “Clara!” Madeline sounds absolutely horrified, but I only chuckle.

  “No, I deserved it.”

  “So why did you kiss her?” Lola asks.

  “Now that is a long story,” I say, my grin widening as I recalled that day, “and seeing as it didn’t make the papers, I’m going to keep it to myself. But I will tell you that I spent the rest of the day trying to find out who your sister was. She kept a low profile at Oxford.”

  Her mother sighs as though she disapproves of this fact. “She’s not very social. I did my best, but sometimes nature has other plans.”

  “I find her company intoxicating.” I’m speaking directly to Clara now. I want to shield her from the tiny slings and arrows being hurled by her mother and sister. I need her to know that she is perfect just as she is. “I want her all to myself anyway.”

  “Aren’t you coy?” Lola says, still nursing her drink.

  I shrug, not bothering to give her any more fuel to burn. Instead, I catch the waiter peeking in and wave him over.

  “Are you ready?” he asks, looking at everyone but me. I’d abandoned my disguise in the private dining room. My hat was hooked on the back of my chair, and my sunglasses were shoved in Clara’s bag.

  “Can you bring us this evening’s appetizers?” I ask. “We have another guest coming, but I can’t allow these ladies to wait any longer.”

  Gratitude shines in Clara’s eyes, and I wish I’d done it sooner. It had been polite to wait for a few minutes, but I wouldn’t allow her to wait longer. Now I realize she hadn’t wanted to defy her mother.

  But her mother would never argue with me.

  I can’t help kissing Clara, hoping she’ll remember that I’m doing my best to protect her. Her mother clears her throat in irritation, and I straighten, picking up my bourbon.

  “I read up a little on your company, Mrs. Bishop,” I say.

  “Former company,” she says. “Let’s not talk business.”

  “She gets enough of
that from Dad,” Clara adds.

  “That’s true.” Her tight smile calls out the lie before she does. “At least, it used to be.”

  Lola, who’s cheeks are now slightly flush from alcohol and no food, leans forward. “Tell us about growing up in a palace!”

  “Don’t they have books devoted to that?” I ask.

  “They do,” she admits, “but I hear that the reality is quite different. Although I am a sucker for happily-ever-afters.”

  She looks from me to Clara. The sisters share some unspoken communication before Clara giggles.

  “It’s not as exciting as it sounds.” I continue, wondering what’s funny.

  “Bollocks!” she cries, sounding more British now that she’s drunk. “I bet you’ve been all over the world and that you grew up riding horses and hunting foxes.”

  I grin at the shift in her polished exterior. “I suppose I did. It’s rather boring, really. Dinners with foreign dignitaries. Riding lessons. Although I’ve never enjoyed hunting.”

  “I’m a member of PETA,” she says. “I don’t approve of hunting.”

  Clara’s lips turn down.

  “Unfortunately, it’s a tradition in our family. I’m not particularly interested in it either.” That wouldn’t get me out of it this weekend. Nothing would. I’d learned that lesson the hard way. “Actually, when I was eight, my father told me I was going on the hunt for the first time. I was incredibly excited. I’d had riding lessons before then, but I’d never been allowed to go with the men.”

  “I couldn’t sleep the night before,” I continue, glad to have found something that they all seem interested in, “so I crept to the stables to brush my Arabian in preparation. Anyway, I’m in there with my horse, and I see this red fox locked in a cage. I couldn’t believe it. The second I saw him, I remembered all the hunts I’d watched begin at my family estates, and I realized we were going to hunt him.”

  “So I did what any eight-year-old kid would do. I hid him.”

  “Oh my god!” Lola giggles. “Where did you put him?”

  “I didn’t really think it through,” I admit, still feeling a little stupid after all these years, “so I took him to my bedroom.”

  “I bet your parents loved that,” Madeline says dryly.

  Her interjection knocks me off course for a minute. Of course, I can’t expect her to remember my mother had already died. “My mother would have, I think, but my father did not. In fairness, though, I did make one tiny mistake when I brought him inside.”

  “Which was?” Lola asks.

  “My sister let him out of the cage.” I still remember how brilliant Sarah thought that move was. “It took the staff two days to trap him, but the hunt was canceled!”

  “So you were the hero,” Clara says.

  “That’s one way of looking at it.” I sink back against my chair, glad that my youthful idiocy amused them. “I doubt the staff thought so.”

  I couldn’t help joining their laughter. Turning, I caught Clara staring at me, her eyes full of an emotion that I hadn’t seen reflected toward me since long before I saved that fox.

  “I apologize,” a voice breaks in. “Last minute call and Tube delays.”

  I rise to meet Harold Bishop. We shake hands, his grip as firm as mine. Remarkably, he seems nonplussed by me. Perhaps, he lets his wife worry about matters like his daughter’s love life.

  “Again, I am sorry,” he says, sitting next to Madeline. “Have you been waiting for me? You should have ordered!”

  “I called you,” she says coldly.

  “I got caught up at the office,” he repeats. “We get such terrible mobile service there, but I should have found a phone and called you.”

  I don’t have to look at Clara for confirmation of what I’m seeing. I do anyway, and it’s there, written all over her face:

  Her father is lying.

  But why?

  Clara’s quiet when we leave dinner. I wonder if her mind is on her parents and the tension that lingered between them throughout the meal. It seems I’m not the only one with family issues to deal with. I slide a hand between her legs, squeezing her thigh to draw her attention to me. “Clara?”

  “Sorry, X.” She shakes her head as if clearing it and climbs into my lap.

  “Something’s on your mind.” I have no idea if she wants to talk about it. Lately, every moment we spend together seems heavy, reality weighing down our stolen moments. Part of me misses how this started when I could push aside my life and focus on burying myself deep inside her. But I can’t look back. The strangest part is that I don’t want to.

  She sighs. “I was thinking about my parents. They barely spoke to one another.”

  “And that’s not usually the case?” I wonder if I’m prying.

  “My mom tends to be a little high maintenance. She was definitely giving my dad the cold shoulder.”

  She shrugs, something shifting in her face as she turns to wrap her arms around my neck. Her face angles to mine, sending a clear message that she’s done talking. She wants to be distracted, and I’m more than willing to oblige. I trail a finger over the rounded line of her cleavage. It’s far from innocent, but I’m surprised by her reaction. Clara rocks into me, and I hook a hand around her neck, pulling her mouth to mine hungrily. I’d behaved myself during dinner. Now I’m ready to appreciate dessert.

  “I owe you sexual favors,” she murmurs, her hand reaching to my belt buckle.

  I can already imagine her soft hands on my cock, but I can’t put off talking to her about my plans any longer. I cup her face with my hands, hoping that I can seduce her into agreeing to deal with my family again. “Come to the country with me this weekend.”

  Her eyebrows ratchet up, but she gives me a pleased smile. “Do you even have to ask?”

  “I’m not asking,” I tell her, knowing she won’t be as thrilled when she hears the rest. “I already told them you would be there.”

  She stills, zeroing in on the most loaded word. “Them?”

  “My family.” There’s no way around it.

  “You want me to spend a weekend in the country with your family?”

  “There will be some friends there as well. Edward has invited a group.” I think she likes my brother—or she will when she gets to know him. I know he’ll be kind to her. With his help, the weekend might not turn into a disaster.

  “X—” she starts

  “You said anything,” I remind her. “I said that I wasn’t asking. I expect you to be there with me.”

  “Don’t you want to spend some private time with them?” Her voice is impossibly small because she knows how ridiculous the question is.

  There’s a reason I’m taking her because if not, I might murder half of them in their beds after the first evening. But also because they need to understand that Clara is part of my life now. “The only person I want private time with is you. Three days apart is too long. I need to know you’re being taken care of.”

  “I can take care of myself.” She swallows, and I regret saying it. I don’t want her to think I see her as fragile, but I can’t imagine not worrying about her being stuck in London to deal with paparazzi—or her mother, for that matter.

  “You can get dressed.” I realize I’m going to have to play dirty. “You can eat and drink and sleep, but you won’t have everything you need.”

  I press my erection against her ass to tempt her.

  “You raise a good point,” she says breathlessly.

  “Do I?” I have her. I know it. But it won’t hurt to give her a preview of why she’ll be glad she came.

  “Mmhmm.” She circles against my cock. “You owe me.”

  “I thought you owed me sexual favors.” I smirk.

  “I promised that before I found out I’d be dealing with your family for a whole weekend. Let’s call it a draw, X, or you’ll end up repaying me for a long time.”

  “Oh, poppet.” My hand creeps under her skirt as I kissed her neck, her collarbone, reminding h
er that I would make it worth it. “I am more than happy to be in your debt.”

  It’s a debt I’d start repaying now. My fingers find the thin elastic of her thong, and I rip it off her. I toss its remains on the seat, Clara looking like she might come if the wind changes.

  “You know there are finite resources in the world. You might spare a few pairs of panties,” she says in a saucy voice that has me dreaming of putting her over my knee.

  Later. Right now, I need to sink inside her and remind us both that no matter what’s coming, there’s one thing that always makes sense. I have her on her back in a second, her thighs opening like a flower bud. “I’d love to hear more about your panties. Later.”

  “But—” she starts to object, but I cut her off with a kiss and a quick thrust of my hips.

  Clara gasps against my mouth, her body clenching around my cock as she shatters. Her head lolls back as her fingers clutch my shoulder blades, holding onto me as she unravels. As much as I love watching her come, I’m not satisfied.

  Still, I can’t deny that I enjoy the tight heat clamping my shaft. I piston inside her, rolling my hips to put as much pressure on her tender clit as I can.

  “Oh fuck,” she moans, panting. “I can’t—”

  “Yes, you can, poppet,” I coax, continuing to work her towards her next orgasm. “For me. Consider that a command.”

  There’s a warm gush of arousal around my cock. She loves being dominated, told what to do, freed to give in to her every desire. Someday she’ll see that. Someday she’ll trust me enough to hand me total control—after I earn that trust. Not before. For now, I’m more than happy to relish the subtle gifts her body gives me. I hammer into her, taking another moment of rapture from her, this one claiming me with it.

  “You win,” she says between pants as I gather her into my arms. “I’ll go to the country.”

  I tip her chin up with my index finger and kiss the tip of her nose. “Of course, you will.”

  She never had a choice.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  I’ve lost my bloody mind.