Complete Me (Royals Saga Book 7)

by Geneva Lee

  “I'll need to arrange it with Smith,” Belle said. “But of course we can come early.”

  “And Clara will need Alexander's permission.” Edward teased.

  “No, I won't.” Clara said defensively, earning an awkward silence from both of her friends. It stretched across the phone lines until Edward finally broke it.

  “Then it's settled. Call me when as you've cleared everything up.” As soon as they hung up, Clara threw her arms around Belle in a tight hug, and the two began to laugh.

  “You are an emotional roller coaster,” she accused.

  Clara pulled back, her eyes bright. She’d been dreading spending the holidays cooped up with her unrepentant husband. Instead, she’d be distracted in the best possible way. “I can't help it. It looks like Christmas is coming early this year.”

  9

  Belle blustered into the house in a flurry of activity. She dropped her bags at the foot of the couch before she spotted him. Smith watched with amusement as his wife's cheeks turned pink. It was a lovely shade, and it reminded him of how easy it was to turn her other set of cheeks pink, as well. Her hand fell to her chest as if he'd scared her, but it was what was in his hand that caught her attention. A glass of bourbon. She didn't say anything and he didn't feel the need to offer explanations. One drink with Georgia this afternoon had not been quite enough—not after what she had told him. His prudence in sharing his quest for sobriety now seemed well considered, because today's events required more than a single drink to swallow down.

  “Shopping?” he asked. She nudged one of the bags behind the sofa with her foot and nodded, playing the part of the innocent. “Something for me?”

  “Something for me to wear for you,” she purred. The innocent act disappeared, replaced by a full-fledged vixen.

  “Do I have to wait for Christmas?” Right now nothing sounded better than burying himself deep inside his wife. Judging by the way she sauntered towards him, she had the same idea. But when she crawled onto his lap, she bit her lip. Something was on her mind. “Out with it, beautiful.”

  Belle didn't have to play coy often. They had money, so she never had to ask to spend it. He was obsessed with her, which meant that damn near everything she requested, he found a way to give her. But he didn't mind being in the position of power at the moment. Power was something he rather liked, especially when he could exercise it over his wife.

  She hooked an arm around his neck and nuzzled against his jaw and whispered, “I have a favor to ask.”

  His dick was growing harder in his pants. She could ask for the moon right now and he'd find a way to lasso it. “Anything.”

  “I need to leave for Scotland in the morning.”

  That request was unexpected. Now he understood why she was tantalizing him. He popped a lazy eye open and looked at her. “I can't leave for Scotland in the morning.”

  She knew that already, which was what had brought on her seduction. Although he'd largely retired from legal work, at her provocation he had decided to take on pro bono work. He had a meeting with a client a few days from now. She kept well-informed on his cases, so she knew when he would be home late.

  “But I need to go to Scotland,” she continued to brush her lips against his jawline.

  While it took considerable effort, he managed to grab her by the hips and break away from her spell. Smith wasn't fond of his wife being apart from him. The thought of her being in another country was unbearable, even if it was a neighboring one. However, after what Georgia had told him this afternoon, perhaps it was a good idea.

  She took his hesitation as denial and began to pout. “Edward's decided to elope. You can't tell anyone.” She rushed to say, as though Smith was about to get on the phone and call the tabloids.

  “I was about to phone the press,” he said in a flat voice. She stuck her tongue out at him, which only made her look more adorable. This was exactly how the little blonde vixen on his lap had wormed her way into his heart. She'd been wild and uncontrollable and all too eager to sink to her knees for him. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to ignore the steady uptick of interest in his pants at the thought.

  “He wants Clara and I to come and help. Clara has already gotten permission.”

  That was a lie. Smith knew it. Alexander's obsession with his wife made Smith look like a sensitive twenty-first century male.

  “Why do you need to go?” he asked. “Doesn't he have a whole staff who could put this together?”

  “Because we're his best friends.” Belle explained. “And we'll need to plan a bachelorette party or a stag night. I'm not really sure which he'd prefer.”

  “If you think the idea of you running around town, hopping from pub to pub is going to sell me on this idea, beautiful, you're mistaken.”

  The flirtatiousness slipped from her face and she began to glare. “If you think you can order me to stay home instead of going to celebrate with my best friend before he gets married, then you're mistaken, Sir.”

  She added the last bit with emphasis.

  “I ought to take you over my knee for being so petulant,” he warned. “But you'd like that, wouldn't you?” Belle always enjoyed a little fight before her submissive side came out to play.

  “Or,” she suggested, leaning forward to employ her feminine wiles again, “I could make it worth your while.”

  “Beautiful, you make everything worth my while,” he assured her. Her hand slipped down and found the rock-hard bulge, he was doing his best to ignore. In actuality, she didn't have to work so hard. He had made up his mind, almost as soon as she'd asked. If Smith was going to follow-up on this information from Georgia, it would be better if Belle was safely out of the way. He had no idea whether Jacobson was in London or in his country home. Not for the first time, Smith was relieved that they wouldn't be spending Christmas with Belle's mother and brother on the family estate. He had helped his wife sell her interest in Stuart Hall to her half-brother earlier this year. That was a decision that was paying off in spades, because it meant that Belle felt no inclination to return there. Now that Smith knew Jacobson had been behind the attacks, she wouldn't be allowed to return; not until Jacobson was dealt with. Sending Belle to Scotland, where there were already armed guards, seemed like a smart move.

  Belle pressed her index finger to his chin and drew his attention to her. “What's on your mind?”

  “How many hours I'll need to fuck you before I'll be able to let you out of my sight,” he said gruffly. She believed him because it wasn't a lie. He just left out some of the other important bits. It made him sick to think that the entire time they'd sought sanctuary from Hammond and his men at her family home, that they'd been in danger.

  Jacobson had chosen not to act and Smith didn't understand why. He could have killed Smith that day in the forest, returned to Stuart Hall, and finished the job. Mary Stuart had welcomed Jacobson into her home without batting an eye. Smith couldn't help but wonder how much of the politician’s decision to buy the adjoining estate had to do with his wife. It was another matter he'd have to look into.

  “Seriously, Price,” Belle demanded his attention. “You are in la-la land.”

  “Do you want me to show you what I'm thinking about?” he asked.

  “Yes, Sir.” She bit her lip again, but this time it was followed by a shy nod. He loved how her eagerness mixed with vulnerability whenever he shared his plans to take her to bed.

  “You can go to Scotland,” he said in a husky voice.

  “And you'll come next week, right?” she asked, her eyes widening.

  “Yes,” he promised.

  But it was a lie. He had no right to make such promises. Not with what he had to do. Despite that, his responsibilities would wait until morning. “Do you want to go to the bedroom, beautiful?”

  She nodded again, a little quicker this time.

  “Then show me the way.”

  Belle needed no further encouragement. Sliding from his lap, she found her way to the floor and began
to crawl on her hands and knees toward the staircase. Smith watched appreciatively. It wouldn't be the last time tonight that he enjoyed the sight of his wife on all fours. He licked his lips as she paused at the foot of the stairs and popped back onto her heels. She was such a natural submissive—absolutely breathtaking in her willingness to please.

  He stood and removed his belt in one swift motion. Walking toward her he slid it through his open palm. She tensed a little, but he knew she was simply preparing. Pain wasn't what Smith needed tonight, even if she might deserve a little spanking for her games. Instead, he looped it loosely around her throat and tugged.

  “Come, beautiful,” he commanded. Tonight he needed to possess her. He needed to claim her. No matter what happened in the coming days, he would leave Belle Price with no doubt that she belonged to him.

  10

  A week. I’d rarely spent this long outside Clara’s good graces save for the dark periods when we were apart—after we’d first met and in the aftermath of my father’s assassination. My wife had been angry with me since, and often. This time she was avoiding me. No doubt owing to the number of arranged and political marriages the monarchy had seen in the past, we both had our own bed chambers. It was a technicality since we took residence. I slept with my wife, and I would have it no other way. Since our fight, Clara had locked the door, forcing me to sleep in my own room. Her bedroom—our bedroom—connected with the nursery, so it was fair. But the dismissal meant that I found myself missing both the comfort of her body pressed against mine and waking to care for Elizabeth in the night. Without the nearness of both of my beloveds, I couldn’t sleep. As such I’d found myself taking up temporary residence in my office. Throughout the day, I’d catch myself dozing off in my chair, my naps interrupted by staff members delivering paperwork or afternoon tea.

  The more time I spent in the office, the more it felt like it belonged to me rather than my father. It was an unwelcome sensation. I didn’t want to belong here. I’d accepted my role as King because it meant I could protect Clara and our children. Without her presence, I’d begun to question if I had become what I’d once hated. Was I my father? A man more obsessed with his own power than his own family?

  A fire had been lit in the hearth and its heat warmed the air like a sedative. Abandoning my desk, I took the leather wingback next to it. I was a man who lived for his work. I was a man who bound himself to duty. What further proof did I need but the desire to take a nap in my private study? I clutched the worn, but recently oiled armrests and willed my eyes to open. I stared at the cream, brocade wall-coverings until my irises burned from the effort.

  She’d gone shopping this afternoon without telling me. It was a perfectly normal thing for an average wife to do, but Clara was not your average wife. Norris had gone with her, and he had told me. I’d been informed, but it didn’t change the fact that Clara was living life as she saw fit. Despite the fact that my information came from others, I was receiving her message loud and clear. She would not be ordered about. It would be a wonder if she didn’t bring the whole monarchy to a crashing halt on her own. But her going out wasn’t what bothered me, it was that she believed she shouldn’t tell me. Not only was I concerned that I was becoming my father, now it seemed my wife was, too.

  “You can choose the sort of man you become,” I said to no one in particular. Even alone, I couldn’t bring myself to believe it. It was something Clara might say to me. Would I believe it if she had spoken those words? I closed my eyes and tried to hear them coming from her voice.

  A soft knock startled me and I snapped. “Enter.”

  Norris stepped inside and I relaxed. I couldn’t handle the appearance of a timid staffer sent to delivery sandwiches on a silver tray. Not right now. My longtime bodyguard, and if I was being honest the man I considered a true father, didn't look at all ruffled by my tone. He eyed me appraisingly, and although his face betrayed nothing, I knew what he saw. I also knew he disapproved of it.

  He looked nothing like what one might imagine a personal security officer looked like. Instead, he looked average with a medium build and a forgettable, if kind, face. In actuality, that made him a formidable presence. It would be unwise to go against him. The last man that had gotten around the security perimeters in place had met his end at Norris’s hands. While my old friend considered it a failing that Daniel, Clara’s ex-boyfriend, had tricked his way into our wedding, I knew that my wife was alive because Norris had been there that day.

  “Might I have a moment?” he asked.

  I waved him inside, bracing myself for a lecture. Norris was one of the few men who could get away with chastising a king. Mostly due to the fact that he’d been gently correcting my behavior since I was a child. But also, because I owed Clara’s life to him. It was a debt I could never repay given that I held her life in far more regard than my own.

  He shut the door behind him before he came to take the seat across from mine. He didn’t wait for further permission.

  “Please sit,” I said dryly. Regardless of his standing within my life, I was in no mood today.

  His eyes narrowed at my petulant comment. He took a moment to adjust his cuff links. He would reward my sullen attitude with making me wait even longer for his rebuke.

  “Her Majesty plans to depart early for Scotland. She wishes me to pass along the information,” he informed me.

  “For fuck’s sake!” I smashed my fist against the armrest. “Can she tell me nothing herself?”

  Norris remained silent, but it was obvious he felt that was answer enough.

  I forced myself to regain my composure. “Am I expected to come?”

  “I assume that you’ll want to discuss that with her, Sir.” I didn’t miss the insinuation in his words. He was calling me to action. If Clara wouldn’t come to speak with me, he would send me to speak with her.

  “I doubt it,” I grumbled.

  “You’re not sleeping,” he pointed out. There was a time when he would have noticed this much earlier on, but his orders had changed since my marriage. Norris’s primary concern was Clara’s safety. As Clara refused to be near me, I hadn’t seen much of him over the last week.

  “I’ve had a lot on my mind.” I folded my hands in my lap. “Why aren’t you with Clara?”

  “She’s in the nursery with your daughter,” he said as he settled into his seat. Stroking a hand along his jaw, he studied me for a moment. “In truth, she needs very little by means of protection at the moment. She hasn’t left her private chambers for days. She refuses company. And if you will pardon the intrusion of your privacy, she sleeps alone.”

  “My wife’s sleeping arrangements aren’t your concern,” I bit out. I didn’t need a reminder that she was sleeping alone. Not when I was well aware that I was sleeping alone, too.

  “Alexander,” he said my name firmly. “Do not presume to speak to me like one of the hired help.”

  “Aren’t you?” I asked. But even as I said it, I looked toward the fire.

  “I am not.” His voice shifted into a softer tone. “I don’t need to tell you that. I consider Clara and your child as more than a duty. They are my family, because I think of you as my son.”

  My eyes flickered to the oil portrait that still hung over the fireplace. Sooner or later I would be forced to replace it with my own. For now, my father looked down at me with disapproval. “Am I as big of a disappointment to you as I was to him?”

  “Only when you act like a proper brat,” he said. “And you only act that way when you are unhappy in love. Thankfully, that is not very often.”

  “I regret to inform you then that there is no end in sight to this particular bout of petulance.”

  “I suspected as much given Clara’s behavior.”

  I wanted to ask him what he meant by that. Had she been crying? Was she still angry? Depressed? I kept the questions to myself. In truth, I thought of Norris as the father I’d chosen rather than the one of my blood. While he knew more about my personal life
than most parents might choose, I felt far too possessive of my wife at the moment to share even my thoughts with him.

  “I’m not in the mood to discuss my marriage,” I warned him.

  “That’s fine.” He shifted in his seat but he didn’t rise. “I’ll talk. You listen. No discussion.”

  I might be the King of England but I knew there was no point to refusing him.

  “You and Clara have weathered some trying storms since you’ve met. Often the trouble came from those around you,” he began.

  It was like a father to overlook my poor behavior when I first met Clara. Norris seemed to sense what I was thinking as he continued.

  “You acted in her own interest. I’ve watched you reject your birthright since you were a child. I know that you wanted to protect her from this life and that you were willing to give her up despite your love for her if it meant giving her the freedom you’ve never had.”

  My mouth grew dry and I struggled to maintain my calm. I had tried to give her up. It was what was best for her then, and as Norris spoke, I knew it was what was best for her now. The reality of that realization didn’t make it any easier to consider.

  “But you can’t give her up,” he said gently. “Nor can she give you up. You are bound to Clara by more than just a marriage vow. Your souls are bound to one another. Still the two of you fight for control.”

  “I only want what is best for her,” I interjected. How could he accuse me of being power hungry when he knew my true intentions? Norris understood the dangers associated with being a member of this family better than anyone.

  “And she you,” he said. “But you must learn to give yourself to her.”

  “I’ve given myself to her completely.” A dangerous anger rippled through me at his insinuation. He should know me better than this, and if he didn’t and she didn’t, who ever would?

  “Have you?” he asked in a soft voice.

  “I’ve given up everything to protect her,” I roared. “My freedom. My choices. She is the only thing I care about. Her safety—her life—is my number one concern.”