Or maybe it was finally too much, holding her tongue and keeping things private. Of all the ways to finally break her silence, and come back as Prynesse’s prime source of information on the nobility, this was the worst way she could have done it.
As if on cue, he could hear the sound of a key at the door. A pit formed in his stomach when he thought of how eager he’d been to give her such easy access to his space. She walked in and set her bag on the table next to the door the way he’d seen her do a thousand times. Seeing her do it now, with the keys he’d given her, made his vision go red.
“Anton, I just saw the photos,” she said, sounding out of breath. “Are you okay? Who could have done this?”
She removed her jacket and tossed it over the back of a chair. Anton’s pulse quickened at the casual movement. She has no shame, does she? Treating everything like it belongs to her.
“Like you don’t know who took the pictures.” He glared at her, his eyes narrowed, his voice a low growl.
Stella blinked a few times.
“You think I did this?” She drew her eyebrows together and frowned. “Why would I do that? When would I have done that? I’ve only been to your studio once!”
“Yes, the same day I gave you keys to it. And then suddenly, somehow, just days later, pictures are everywhere!” He was shouting now, pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace.
“What about Marcella?” Her face was starting to flush. “Hasn’t she seen it?”
Anton rolled his eyes. The pettiness was just embarrassing.
“Don’t make this about her! She’d never do that. She’s worked in galleries her whole life. She knows about these things.”
“So just because you think I know nothing about art, I took tons of photos and sent them to the press?”
“You don’t understand my work. You don’t want to understand it.”
He thought of her face that morning in the studio. The anger, the confusion. He’d been an idiot to think that she could understand it—understand him.
“I understand enough.” She narrowed her eyes, her hands tightening into tight fists at her sides. “I don’t need a PhD in art history to understand all you care about are my tits and ass. I’m nothing but a toy for you to play with and paint.”
“Do you know how many women would love to inspire me the way you do?”
“Like Marcella?”
“Would you shut up about her? Yeah, so what if her tits are bigger than yours? She’s not the one who spent most of her life talking shit about other nobles. I know I can trust her.”
Stella closed her eyes and took a shaky breath, her hands clenched at her sides.
“It’s been over two years, Anton. You know I’ve never breathed a word of anything, ever. Why would that change now?”
He shrugged, a jerky and violent motion. He continued to pace the room while Stella simply stood by the door, clearly afraid to venture further into the room. He was glad she was staying put. He was so angry at her, he felt so betrayed, he could barely see straight.
“You tell me. You’re the one who was so eager to see my studio all this time. Is this what you’ve been planning? Couldn’t stand all the attention being on me?”
“Of course not! I wanted to see it so I could get to know you better. To see past the immature dickhead most people see.”
“I’m immature? You still live with your parents for god’s sake!”
“What does that have to do with anything?” She placed her hands on her hips and lifted her chin, eyes blazing.
“You made such a big deal about needing more from me, seeing everything in my life, and I’ve been to your room maybe once in two years? How is that normal?”
“So that’s your big argument?” Her eyes were cold, but shimmering with moisture. “I’m still that gossiping teenager you used to know just because I still live with my parents?”
He stopped pacing and turned to approach her. With each slow step, he could hear her breath start to quicken. In any other situation, it would have been from excitement and anticipation. He could see in her eyes that, for the first time, it was from fear. He kept going, her betrayal making him heartless and eager to hurt her. He wanted her to feel what she’d done to him.
“I thought you could change. I wanted you to be different. You made me think maybe I could be, too. But this is unforgivable, Stella. There is no way to explain or justify this.”
“How about by saying I didn’t do it and you believing me?” she said. He scoffed.
“No one else could have done it,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re the only one I’ve ever trusted so much. Thank you for showing me how stupid I was to do so. I won’t make that mistake again.”
The tears that had been pooling in her eyes finally started to fall. Her chest rose in shaky breaths.
“If this is how you treat me after everything I’ve been through with you, then I’m the one who should be saying thank you. To whoever really did this, for showing me who you really are.”
She stalked over to grab her jacket then turned to throw her keys at him. They struck his chest with an unexpected force. He looked down to catch them, and by the time he glanced up, she was already out the door.
Chapter 17
It had been one of the most miserable weeks of Stella’s life, and that was saying a lot. Worse than the time she’d broken her foot when she was twelve and couldn’t dance for months. Worse than the time she caught the married headmaster making out with a teacher and he threatened to suspend her for being on school property after hours. It was infinitely worse than the first time Anton had disappeared for months into his studio.
His studio. If she’d known all the drama seeing it would bring into her life, would she have still wanted to see it? The more she thought about, the more tangled her emotions became.
She missed him.
She hated him.
He was amazing.
He was the biggest asshole in Prynesse.
Back and forth it went in her mind every day. Even her work at the bank had started to suffer. And forget yoga. She was lucky if she managed to eat something before falling into bed every night into a fitful, restless sleep.
The only ray of hope in her dreary life was that Alix was finally here for her party. Stella was on her way to see her in person for the first time in what felt like years, though it had barely been a month. Stella had managed to arrange everything by phone this week with Katarina thus avoiding any run-ins with Anton at the palace. But the party was fast approaching, and she’d need to be there on site to help get things in place. To say she was dreading seeing him again would be an understatement.
How could he have thought that she’d do such a thing? When had she ever given him a reason to doubt her? She racked her brain trying to understand why he might still see her as that gossipy girl known in the best circles for having the worst news to share.
It was like the past two years didn’t mean anything to him. She felt like a total idiot for thinking they’d actually been heading towards love. He was just like he’d always been, like every guy before him, seeing what he wanted in her and taking what he wanted.
So she inspired him. Great. Was that supposed to make her drop her panties every time she saw him? She’d been kidding herself thinking that he’d wanted something more from her.
It made her crazy that Marcella totally could have taken the pictures and Anton didn’t realize it. He’d been so quick to distrust her. That’s what hurt more than anything else.
She sighed and shook her head, almost walking past the dressmaker’s shop where she was meeting Alix for her final fitting. Stella was going to try on few bridesmaid dresses as well, but she hoped she could talk her out of it. She wasn’t really in the mood to play dress up.
When she walked in, she was led towards the private dressing rooms in the back. She nearly turned around and left when she saw Helena sitting next to Alix on the chairs inside the antechamber to the rooms. But Helena didn’t l
ook mad the way Stella had expected. She looked like she always did, an amused half-smile on her lips.
“Your Highness.” Stella tried not to let her voice falter as she tilted her head. Helena’s amused smile deepened.
“Helena’s here to try on bridesmaid dresses, too,” Alix said quickly. Her hands were folded neatly in her lap with one ankle crossed over the other and her knees tilted to the side. Helena was in the same formal posture next to her, but they both looked relaxed. Stella felt some of the tension leave her shoulders, and she sat down, crossing her ankles as well.
A woman arrived moments later with several lavender and blue monstrosities over her arm.
“Shall we begin with the bridesmaids?”
Alix nodded, a wide smile on her face.
Stella was grateful for the time to be able to think about what to say to Helena. Does she know what happened? What did Anton tell her?
Coming out of the dressing room, she blurted out “Anton and I had a fight” before anyone could say anything about the dresses they were in. They were pink organza and completely the wrong shade for Helena’s complexion, and the wrong cut for Stella, so there was no need to even discuss them.
Alix and Helena both turned to look at Stella. The saleswoman cleared her throat and excused herself.
“I know,” said Helena, turning from side to side in the mirror. The amused half-smile was still on her face. Stella was a little hurt.
Did she think this was funny?
“I think it’s really over,” Stella said, her head down. “He’s so mad.”
“Why?”
“He thinks I took those pictures.” Stella felt a tear start to fall and brushed it away. If she hadn’t cried to Helena about her brother in the past two years, she wasn’t about to start now.
“That’s ridiculous.”
Stella looked up, surprised at how quickly she’d responded.
“So you believe me? Just like that?”
Helena nodded.
“Why?”
“Because I know you,” she said simply. “It’s obvious you care more about Anton than attention. There’s no reason you would have done something like that.”
Stella let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding in.
“Can’t you tell him that?”
Helena shrugged her shoulders.
“Despite what Anton probably says about me, I usually try to stay out of my brothers’ lives,” Helena said. She glanced at Alix and winked. “Unless they’re being really dumb about something really important.”
Stella’s face fell. So Helena didn’t think this was important enough to warrant a sisterly intervention. She wasn’t worth fighting for. She was only a friend, after all. Not family.
Stella turned quickly to head back into the dressing room before either of them could see the tears forming in her eyes. She suddenly ached at the thought that Alix would get to have Helena as a sister; that she’d never also find herself part of that family. It had nothing to do with the titles and everything to do with the close family unit she craved.
She’d never admit it to anyone, but that’s why she’d never moved out. With all of their different charity events and her busy work schedule, she saw her parents so little already. She’d never see them if she didn’t live at home. She’d even taken the job at her father’s bank in order to see him more.
It was time to look for her own place, she realized as she slipped on the next dress. Not because Anton had mocked her for it. He’d been right. She’d never shown him much of herself either. It was entirely possible she was even more closed off than he was. She thought it was showing him how discrete she could be, but it had just made her seem untrustworthy. Unlovable.
Coming out of the dressing room in a much more flattering green chiffon gown, Stella had made up her mind. She was moving out and moving on.
Chapter 18
“Don’t you look nice?”
Anton held back a grimace at the sound of his sister’s voice. He turned to see her dressed in a deep chocolate one-shouldered dress which, he had to admit, looked very nice with her dark hair and eyes. He let her adjust his champagne colored tie, a slight v forming in between her eyebrows.
“You look nice, too,” he said. He wasn’t sure she’d heard him. She continued to frown.
“You look thinner. Are you sleeping? Eating?” Her maternal tone annoyed him just as much today as it had any number of the countless times he’d heard it before.
She was right though. He’d been without a decent meal or a full night’s sleep ever since Stella had thrown his keys back at him and stormed out. It had been the second time in as many months that she’d left him. While the first time hadn’t seemed like a big deal, this one definitely was. His initial anger had abated somewhat, but a white hot flash went through him every time he thought about her.
He had tried thinking of anything or anyone else all week, but everywhere he looked in his studio—there she was. He’d covered what he could with sheets, not able to work in there anymore. He felt so exposed in his studio now, almost unsafe. He’d tried working at the penthouse, and that was a little better, but it still felt wrong.
The funny thing was the press had gone crazy for the inside look at his studio. Marcella said there was already excellent buzz and offers on several of the pieces. And the show wasn’t for another week. Normally, this close to an opening, he’d be taking a break and having some fun. With Stella.
Dammit, stop thinking about her.
He felt a mix of longing and fury in his chest every time she crossed his mind. It was his fault, really. He’d known what she was from the beginning. He’d really thought she’d changed, and that he was starting to as well. It hadn’t felt like he was giving anything up by only being with one girl for so long. It had felt... right. Like things were starting to line up in his life. The more he was with her, the better his work was getting. He was getting more exposure for his art.
Yeah, too much exposure.
Helena was still standing in front of him, frowning at him as the emotions on his face went from thoughtful to angry and back.
“You look like you have gas,” she said.
He rolled his eyes and tugged at his tie, messing up Helena’s careful work. She observed him through narrowed eyes, her head tilted slightly.
“You know it wasn’t Stella who took those pictures, right?”
If they had been anywhere else, even any other room in the palace, he would have exploded. But they were standing in the middle of the main ballroom surrounded by waiters with Katarina and their parents on the other side of the room. He bit his tongue and took a deep breath through his nose. He tasted blood.
“What do you know about it?” he said, his eyes narrowed. The room was getting hot from the flurry of activity around them. He tugged his tie again. “Stay out of my life, Helena. I’m not your little lapdog Duncan that does whatever you tell him. My life is fine without your help.”
She let out a frustrated grunt and pulled him by the arm into the hall. She shoved him into a side room full of stacked chairs.
“I know a lot more than you think,” she said, turning to face him as she slammed the door shut and locked it. “And have you noticed how happy Duncan is? What are we doing today? Celebrating his funeral?
“You’re not the center of everyone’s universe, Anton, but you were for Stella. Do you have any idea how she changed her life around the past few years for you?”
“Big sacrifice, keeping her mouth shut. I knew it couldn’t last.” He crossed his arms.
“It wasn’t her, you idiot!”
“Then who was it?”
“I don’t know! But if you’re going to trust someone then do it for everything, not just when it suits you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She crossed her arms and gave him her patented ‘Helena knows best’ look.
“You needed her to stay so you could finish the show, and you knew showing her the st
udio would do that. You showed her the trust you knew she wanted.”
He shifted under her glare. That wasn’t the whole reason he’d wanted her to stay, but it was too painful to think about that now.
“Then the second that trust is tested,” she continued. “You turn your back on her.”
“Yeah, because she can’t be trusted.”
“No, you can’t be trusted, Anton. You don’t even trust yourself.” She was stabbing him in the chest with her finger now.
He rolled his eyes.
“You made the right choice with Stella. You know you did. You finally started letting yourself feel something real for a change, and it scared you.”
He twisted his mouth into a frown. This pseudo-psychoanalysis had been amusing when Helena did it with Duncan over the years, but it was exceptionally unpleasant to be on the receiving end.
Why had it been easier to believe Stella had betrayed him than that she hadn’t? It had been insanely scary showing her so much of himself. Maybe he hadn’t been ready yet. Maybe he’d been trying to find a way to push her away.
“Look,” Helena said, holding onto his shoulders and staring straight into his eyes. “I saw her this week with Alix. And she didn’t say anything about you two other than you had a fight. She was in tears when she said you thought she took the pictures.”
He shifted his feet back and forth. He was surprisingly upset at the thought that she was crying.
“She could have bitched and moaned about you, but she was really aware of everyone in the store and didn’t get into it there. That would have been a perfect place to do something public, and she didn’t.”
Anton remained silent. Even more annoying than her maternal tone was when she was right about something and she knew it.
Still, he hesitated. If she didn’t do it, who could have?
He grunted in what might have been agreement, and Helena seemed satisfied.
“I’m not saying you have to talk to her or anything tonight if you’re still hurting. But just think about it, okay?”
A Royal Decision (Princes of Prynesse Book 2) Page 8