by J. J. McAvoy
“Yes, of course. Goodnight, my dear,” my mother whispered, her eyes wide and glossed over as she watched her.
Sophia turned to me and nodded before rushing out of the room. The door already held open by the butler.
“I should go check—”
“Go.” Odette nodded, letting go of my hand.
Rising from the piano, I rushed out as well, quickly down both halls, seeing her lift the bottom of her dress and running up the stairs.
“Sophia,” I called out, going after her, but she just kept running, and just as she got to the top of the stairs, she tripped forward.
“Sophia!” I hollered, going two, three stairs at a time until I got to her.
She didn’t move, just stayed kneeling, sobbing.
“Are you all right—”
“Do not touch me!” she screamed, smacking away my hands, and I pulled back, not sure what to do. “How could you bring her here?”
“What?”
“How could you bring that woman here today! Today, was my—was our introduction day! Arthur and me. May eight! None of you remembered? No one spoke about him today! He hasn’t been gone a year!” she screamed in my face, and I could only stare at her in horror because I did forget. She pushed herself off the ground, wiping her eyes harshly. Lifting her head high and standing straighter, she composed herself.
“Arthur remembered everything about you. He would never speak of anything else if anything important were happening to you. Your birthdays, your graduations, your honors, your scandals, and stupid mistakes he spent days fixing! ‘Gale needs my help. Gale is more sensitive than you think. I have to be there for him. Yes, he did something stupid, Sophia, but what can I do? He is my brother. It is harder to be the spare than the heir’ is what he would say. Over and over again.”
The tears slipped from her eyes, and she did not bother stopping them.
“And now, here you are, the new heir, and you are still selfish! Because you are still Gale. And you have never thought or cared about helping Arthur! Now he is dead! He is gone forever, and the least you could bloody do is honor his damn memory! But still, you refuse! It has to still be about you! Your fiancée is here, so we must all leap for joy with you. If Arthur was going to die young, he should have at least been given a better brother than you so he could have spent more of his time enjoying his life!”
I said nothing.
I could not even breathe.
It was only when she marched past me that I took air in again, lifting my eyes to keep the tears from falling. But I could feel myself losing that battle quickly. I tried to escape the openness of the hall, the view of the cameras. I kept walking until I made it to my room, slamming the door behind me and falling back against it. My throat was on fire. I tried to calm myself, but air came in short, deep gasps as I slid onto the floor. I covered my face in shame because she was right.
Arthur deserved a much better brother than me.
I was selfish, and I never did help him.
Not once.
In fact, I tried to give him more to do. The small responsibilities I had, I’d neglected, and he would cover up and do them for me.
Now, I was in his shoes, the Adelaar, barely able to keep my neck up, wondering how the hell he managed to do this.
And who the hell was I for even trying?
If I could trade my life for his, I would, for the sake of the country, the House of Monterey, and for him. I would have happily taken his place in that.
It was better than everyone knowing the wrong prince had died.
Her yells were loud enough that we had all heard them—Elspeth, Eliza, the doormen, the butlers, and me. I guess that was one of the downsides to the centuries-old palaces; voices echoed, especially when empty at night.
All of them hung their heads, all on the verge of tears. Yes, even the butlers’ eyes were glazed over. I was not sure if it was because they loved Arthur, too, or if it was because Sophia’s pain was so heavy and raw, it tore at their hearts. I had only had one conversation with Arthur. I did not know him beyond Gale’s stories and memories of him. But even my eyes ached, and I felt shame. I was not trying to trample over her grief or their mourning. I was just trying to...I don’t know, get them to like me? Be happy? I wasn’t sure. All I knew was if I felt this bad, then Gale must have been in hell. The memory of him in the airport came to mind, the sound of him wailing in my arms, begging me to tell him it was not real. But it was. And he came back to others mourning—his mother, his sister, his ill father who was searching for Gale’s brother. He was forced to take over, to manage this. How could any twenty-eight-year-old do that? No wonder he never thought to call me. Did he even have time to think?
The more I realized and came to understand what the last six months had been like for him, the more I wished I had come sooner so he wouldn’t have been alone. Rising from the bench, I turned to Elspeth, who still sat frozen in place, staring at one spot on the carpet.
“Your Majesty, I should—”
“Going to him now is only going to make him feel worse,” she whispered, her eyes still glazed over. “If you truly want to help him, remember our conversation.”
Follow the rules.
Do not be a burden.
Even still, I wanted to go to him. But I did not want to go against her, either. It seemed like everything was going to be complicated here.
“I understand,” I managed to get out.
She nodded, rising from her seat.
Eliza got up, hugging the dog to her chest for dear life, and followed her mother out, not saying a word, either.
“Please show Miss Wyntor back to her room,” was the last thing Elspeth said, speaking to the butler before she left.
Alone, I sat back on the piano bench, looking at my hands and to the ring I wore now, remembering the poem I was sure Gale had written. One moment, it felt like we were screaming, “I love you,” and then the next minute, everyone was hurting in different corners of the palace.
So much happened in a minute, no matter where you were in the world.
I guess that was why we had to treasure them so much.
Chapter 12
I couldn’t just go to sleep, not when I knew he was upset. But I didn’t want to disobey the queen outright, either. So, I stood at my door, debating what to do for far too long before finally opening it only to find him sitting right outside the door, a glass of brandy in one hand and the bottle in the other. Still dressed in his dinner attire, hearing the door open, he looked up at me like I was out of place, not him.
“You are still up?” he questioned, looking up at me.
“Yeah, what are you doing?”
He glanced around at where he was sitting and then back at me, a sheepish grin on his face. “Drinking outside your door?”
“I see that, but why?”
“I thought you would be sleeping, and I did not wish to disturb you. You’ve had a long day.”
“Gale...” I didn’t know what to say. All I knew was seeing him like this made my heart ache and leap and do all sorts of things a heart shouldn’t be doing. I knelt beside him. “Would you like to come in since I am not sleeping?”
“Yes, I would. However, I do not think I am good company right now,” he muttered, lifting the glass to his lips.
“You on your worst day is still better than no you at all. And believe me, I would know,” I said, gently offering him my hand.
He looked at it then turned to me before the corner of his lips turned up, and he took my hand, rising from the ground, following me back inside. When the door closed, he wrapped his arms around me from behind, holding on to me tightly.
“Why am I always showing you the weaker sides of myself?” he whispered. “Ask everyone here. This time last year, I was the cool prince, the fun prince, the troublemaker.”
I chuckled, leaning back into him. “I think you still might be a troublemaker.”
“Maybe, but it’s different now. Before, people would just wav
e me off, and so I just went on my way. I was strong. I did not care what others thought or what they said.”
“Not caring about how you affect others is not strength—”
“Hmm.” He groaned, shaking me slightly, the liquid still in his glass nearly spilling out. “Do not offer wisdom right now, Odette. I want to complain. Support me in my pity party.”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it; he was cute. “Fine. What do you want me to do? Stomp my feet?”
“No.” His arms dropped, and when they did, I could finally turn to him. His eyes looked all over my face before stopping at my lips. “Kiss me.”
I hesitated for only a second before reaching up, taking his face into my hands, and kissing him. The next thing I heard was the sound of glass shattering as it hit the floor, and his arms wrapped around me, his hand grabbing hold of me and lifting me.
“Gale...”
“Keep kissing,” he demanded, walking us over to the bed.
I did what he asked, this time feeling his tongue run over my bottom lip until I opened for him. His hands undid the robe I wore and let it fall before he reached under my top, cupping my breast through my nightgown. Shivers ran through me.
I moaned, falling back onto the bed with him.
Pinning me underneath him, he kissed from my lips to my cheeks, to my neck, all while his body pressed into me. Closing my eyes, I remembered how many nights I wished to be back here—back in his arms—how I dreamed of his kisses. And now, after months, here he was. My heart couldn’t take it. My throat ached, and I don’t know what sound I made, but he stopped, his head rising. I didn’t know what face I had made or was making until I saw the concern in his eyes and felt the moisture in mine. He opened his mouth to speak, but I spoke first.
“I missed you a lot,” I confessed. “I don’t remember if I said it already. But I really missed you.”
Slowly, his mouth closed, and he bit his bottom lip. It took him a second before he spoke. “Odette, you cannot say things like that to me now.”
“Why?”
“Because it makes my heart shake,” he whispered, resting his forehead on mine. “I am sorry—”
“I learned today that royals do not say I am sorry.”
“They do to people they love.” He cupped my face, his thumb gently tapping my lips. “And I love you, Odette.”
“Ditto,” I managed with the largest grin plastered to my face.
He groaned. “Would it kill you to say the actual words?”
“I think I have been cheesy enough for one night. You already got tears, Gale,” I teased.
His response was to sit up. “See, this is what I get for stopping for conversation.”
Sitting up, I placed my hands on his face and my forehead against his. “I love you, Gale. I love you deeply.”
He kissed my lips slowly, and when he kissed my neck, I gripped his hair, closing my eyes.
“Does that mean you are not holding back anymore?”
“Having you here was exactly what I was holding back for,” he whispered, and before I could reply, his lips were back on mine. I wanted to ask something or, at the very least, say something witty in return, but with each kiss, a thousand words vanished from my mind until I had no words at all. Only moans.
Quickly, between heated kisses, between our tongues desperately interlocking, I was able to get him out of his shirt.
With the clothes gone and both of us naked, pressed up against each other, Gale reached between my thighs, stroking me gently at first before inserting his fingers in me.
“By God, you are beautiful,” he replied, his cock hard, long, and eagerly waiting to take over from his hands.
I wanted to touch him too.
“I want you,” I whispered, then kissed his shoulder and the base of his neck.
“Fuck, I can’t wait anymore...” He pulled his hands from me and spread my thighs. I held on to him, trying to brace myself, but even still, the force in which he thrust himself inside of me made my back arch.
“Oh, Gale.” My mouth dropped open, and pain and pleasure—but mostly pleasure—ran through me.
He gave me only a moment to adjust before once more slamming deep inside me. My toes curled, and feeling him in me left me shaking.
Oh, God...it felt too good. “Gale.”
I was in love with her.
Which was why there was a small part of me that felt guilty for taking her this way—slightly drunk and upset, burying my pain in her body. But a much bigger part of me was intoxicated by her...by the pleasure of feeling her holding me tightly, pulling me, daring me to go harder, to go deep inside of her.
When she somehow managed to flip us over to now be on top of me, her breasts bouncing before me, there was no doubt in my mind I was in heaven. Reaching up, I held on to her breast, pinching her nipples, wanting them in my mouth.
“Gale...” She moaned out my name, and it was enough to drive me mad.
Siting up, holding on to her thighs, I brought her down as I slammed up into her.
“Gale, I...I...”
I silenced her moans and words, taking her mouth into mine.
“Ah!” She moaned, trembling as she came.
“Fuck.” I hissed. I held on to her as I thrust harder and harder until my vision blurred, all of me stilled as I came inside her.
We stayed there for a moment, covered in sweat and holding each other, catching our breath for a moment before our eyes met. There was so much I wanted to say, but I was too captivated by the sight of her to form words.
As if she knew, she kissed my lips. Gently, we lay back onto the bed, and I brushed the curls from her face, smiling.
“Odette.”
“Yes?”
“Nothing, I cannot think. I simply wished to say your name.”
“Good,” she whispered as she slowly pulled off me, resting beside me on the bed. It was so close, but not close enough. I missed the feel of her. Pulling her back to my body, I kissed her shoulder blade. We stayed in silence, gently touching and kissing one another. I waited for sleep to come, but I was far too aware of her.
And the more time that passed, the more I found myself wanting her again. How had I managed to go so long without sex?
Was it grief?
If so, she stole almost all of it out of me.
I want her.
I need her.
“Gale?”
“Hmm?” I glanced over to meet her gaze, but I shouldn’t have. Those eyes of hers could bring me to my knees.
“Are you okay?”
“No,” I replied, cupping her face.
“What’s wrong?”
“You stopped moaning,” I replied, kissing her once more, rolling over on top of her.
“Then make me moan again,” she said when our lips parted.
“Happily,” I whispered, kissing down her body.
I felt so much better now.
I felt more at peace now with her in my arms than I ever thought possible. Even the sound of her breathing was comforting. Was that normal? I did not know. That was the reason why I sat outside her door, to begin with. When my mother found out, I was sure she would lecture me till kingdom come on why a prince could not be seen sitting in passageways, drinking. I knew that, too, but at that moment, I was simply looking for comfort, and when Odette opened the door and gave it to me, Sophia’s words faded to the back of my mind. And even now, I was too tired to think. Closing my eyes, I let the sleep come.
Beep.
Beep.
Ugh. I sighed, reaching to the side table for my phone, but I felt nothing.
Beep.
Beep.
“Umm...”
It was only at her grumble that my eyes opened fully to her curls in my face. However, as the beep continued, she slid off me, rolling to the other side of the bed. Immediately, I wanted to pull her body back to me, missing the warmth of her skin on mine.
Beep.
Beep.
Sitting up, I grabbed my pants
off the floor and pulled my phone out before sitting against the headboard, rubbing my eyes. The sun was not even up yet, and this had been the most rest I had gotten in the months. The last thing I wanted to do was see why in the hell I was being paged. If it were that important, someone would have come and woken me. So why could this not wait?
The moment I opened the message, I understood.
“Today’s morning headlines,” the message from Ambrose read. When that man slept, I had no idea.
I was expecting most of the headlines to be of the introduction or a profile of Odette. Most of them were except for the Morning Eagle. They had gone in a completely different direction, their headline reading, “I Am the Adelina Now.” Underneath it, a split photo of Sophia at Arthur’s funeral, in full mourning, juxtaposed with Odette, dressed up as Cinderella, speaking into a microphone from what I could only believe was the ball she had gone to last year. A crown already on her head and smile on her face, which normally would have looked innocent had it not been for their so-called “news.”
“Her first day within the palace, American singer and socialite Odette Wyntor tells Her Highness, Sophia De Loutherbergh, the Dowager Duchess of Elmburgh, to call her Adelina, causing Her Highness to burst out in tears.”
I did not think it could be worse; however, the following sentences proved me utterly incorrect. “Our sources close to the palace tell us that Odette Wyntor wasted no time in asserting her position within the palace, demanding her staff be given to her. She even went as far as to demand the secretary of Princess Eliza.”
I could not bear to read anymore.
The smearing and misinformation had already begun?
Glancing over at her, I watched as she buried her head into the pillow, her chest rising, a smile on her face. This was what she was going to have to wake up to? Frowning, I sent a message back to him. “No newspapers in the palace today, and no one is to mention it. Also, find out who this source close to the palace is.”
Though their “news” was utter trash, there was still a hint of truth. Had it just been of Sophia crying, I would have thought it was just luck. However, the news of Wolfgang being her personal secretary meant someone had spoken to someone.