by SE Reign
He wipes his mouth and sits back. I assess he’s at a loss for words.
I feel sick. “Is that why you wanted an extension to our deal, to make sure you had time to knock me up?”
“No.”
“Did you do something to sabotage my birth control? Or tell Maya or the pharmacy not to refill it?” My body is shaking, and the tears in my eyes are those of fury and fear.
Of all the things I expected of Elijah, this isn’t one of them. I expected him to fuck me over during the course of our false relationship but also that, when it’s over, I’m free of him. Forever.
That wouldn’t be the case if a kid were involved. I’ve been taking my pills religiously to prevent that possibility.
“I did not,” he says slowly. “Whoever this stranger is, I need to shut him down fast. He’s got to have someone inside our home to know this level of detail.”
“I don’t care about him!” I cry. “Was he right about any of it?”
He’s evaluating me. “Yes and no. My father hasn’t issued an edict. I’m aware that he’s considering putting my cousin on the throne, since my cousin will have an heir by the end of the year. My father made his opinion clear to me, but there are a lot of hurdles between him removing me from being next in line and appointing my cousin the crown prince.”
“But you would consider it, wouldn’t you? You did consider it! You would fuck up my life like that?”
“Calm down, Natalie,” he says softly. “I did nothing to your birth control. If it went missing, then you can go to the pharmacy personally for replacements, if you don’t believe me.”
“I’ve been trying to get refills for a week, Elijah! Maya says they keep losing it. Are you doing this?”
“No, I’m not,” he states. “There are very compelling reasons I will never father an heir.”
“Like what?”
“Nothing I will tell an outsider.”
“Nothing you’ll tell an outsider you considered knocking up?” I’m beyond furious. This … terrifies me. I’m already an emotional mess from my menstrual cycle and the confrontation with the mystery texter, but the idea of raising a child in this situation …
My god. No. Never.
“This is politics. This is how my family operates.”
“What if he does issue an edict?” I challenge. “What then, EJ?”
His jaw tightens and he gazes out the window for a moment. He doesn’t have to tell me his answer. I already know it. Elijah always gets what he wants – no matter what the cost.
You know this about him already, Natty. I struggle to calm down. Have I been trusting the wrong person? Are the veiled threats from the texter a warning to help me avoid getting permanently pulled into EJ’s twisted world?
“I chose not to act on his opinion. That should be enough,” Elijah says.
“It’s not! How can I ever trust you to follow through with the Tenley project if I can’t trust you with my own body? There’s not a hundred million on the line!” I fire back.
“There’s a trillion on the line for an heir,” he replies.
“So you’ll ditch a hundred million like it’s nothing but not a trillion.”
He’s a fucking billionaire prince. He was raised with no capacity for respect or morals or empathy.
He has potential. I’ve seen it. But I just …
“I didn’t do anything to jeopardize your birth control,” he says carefully through clenched teeth. “Yes, I thought about it, but I didn’t act.”
“Yet. You didn’t act yet, EJ.”
He sits back, and I can see by the look on his face that I’m right.
We’re too different. This will never work, no matter what I feel for him.
“You have no respect for anyone,” I whisper, overwhelmed.
“So I take it you won’t agree to an extension.”
Is he even listening? “EJ, the only way I’ll ever spend one more day than I have to with you is if you learn to respect me, which will never happen, because you’re incapable of putting someone else’s needs or wants above yours.”
Elijah is studying me again, as if I asked him something he doesn’t want to give up.
“What exactly does that entail?” he asks cautiously.
Jesus, Elijah! “It means you don’t treat me like a possession,” I say clearly. “You respect my decisions, my privacy, my opinion, my body, everything.”
“Have I not done that?” he asks with some frustration.
“Honestly?”
He waits.
My anger seeps out. “You are selfish, self-absorbed and totally insensitive to anyone else’s feelings. You treat people like they’re servants or they’re only for you to use to get your way. You are, in every way, a complete and total asshole,” I say. “No, Elijah, you don’t respect me.”
“Even after I paid for your father’s surgeries?”
“Outsiders don’t get to take care of my family, EJ,” I say, unable to help throwing that word back in his face after his comment earlier. “That includes you respecting our decisions about an issue that does not concern you.”
He’s staring at me.
“I am grateful for your help. But I’d rather have your respect than your money any day of the week,” I add, calming. “Do you understand that? Can you understand that?”
Fury crosses his features. “It would be easier to replace you!” he retorts.
“Then do that. But it’s about to become a very long two months, with no chance of extension, if you can’t do it.”
He says nothing.
The footman opens the door, revealing the interior of the parking garage beneath the hotel where we are living. I don’t wait for Elijah but get out and go to the elevator.
He doesn’t follow. I’m almost surprised that the man who never backs down from a challenge isn’t arguing or pursuing or threatening me. But at the moment, I’m too upset to care.
I get in the elevator and ride it up to our place. I feel nauseated for more reasons than one. I don’t trust him at all. If I’m late for my period at any point during the next few weeks, I’m going to get tested. God help me, if I end up pregnant, I’m going to ask Alisha to help me disappear in a way that even Elijah can’t find me. Fear is churning in my belly, fear that he’ll toss me out and renege on our original deal and toss my family out on the streets.
That’s what I’d do if I was him. Beautiful women are a dime a dozen in his world.
This thought makes the tears spill down my cheeks. By the time the elevator door opens, I’m sobbing.
What is wrong with me? How can I feel something for someone like him? Or am I just scared about what he’s going to do next?
I hurry to our bedroom and throw myself down across the bed, hating that I couldn’t keep my mouth shut but also hating even more the fact that he’d do something like secretly knock me up to win a stupid prize.
Because, at the end of the day, that’s all the crown is. A trophy. He’s got the money and the title and the prestige he needs. But he wants that shiny trophy to show up his father and to place on his mantle, and he’ll destroy me, his impoverished people and everyone else to get it.
By this time tomorrow, I’ll be back at my apartment trying to pick up the pieces of my life.
I cry until I’m too tired to cry anymore then check my phone. It’s been buzzing with text messages. I’m almost afraid to look.
The first is from the stranger. Nice to meet you.
Fury fills me and I respond quickly. Stay the fuck away from us!!!!
“Don’t cry anymore, Natty,” I tell myself in a choked voice. “EJ’s not worth it.” My eyes blur but I swipe the moisture away then move onto the next text.
Don’t kill me – but something in your fridge smells awful. The superintendent wants it cleaned up, and I’m allergic to everything.
Alisha’s colorful text makes me laugh so hard and fast, it hurts. I’ve missed her off the wall personality so much the past few weeks. My laughter turns
to tears. I don’t know why I’m so upset at the idea of being kicked out of EJ’s life. It’s more than the potential impact to my family, though, even if I’m not ready to admit it to myself.
Chapter Four: Elijah
There’s no doubt in my mind I’m everything Natalie has said. I just have no fucking clue where her meltdown came from.
I remain in the limo, angry and more concerned than I expect to be after someone calls me an asshole. I don’t think anyone has ever spoken to me like that, and I certainly never thought I’d hear it from her, my submissive, perfect princess.
I’d rather have your respect than your money any day of the week.
Respect. I’m thinking we have different definitions of what it means. I’m shutting down a one hundred million dollar deal out of respect for our arrangement. I paid out half a million for her father’s surgeries, eliminated her debt and didn’t take the easy way out and toss her pills to knock her up.
If this isn’t respect …
Then I don’t know what it is she’s asking me for. It’s nothing tangible. Tangible things I can buy with money I understand.
Rubbing my face, I hold my fingers to my nose and breathe in her scent deeply. It’s everywhere: in my skin, hair, fingernails. I love it, love fucking her and how new it feels every time.
I don’t love this stage we’ve gotten to, where there are emotions I can’t control and fear I don’t understand working its way through me. What the fuck do I have to be afraid of? She can’t leave before three months is up. So why do I feel like I’m about to lose her?
“No update on the idiot from the show,” George reports, ducking his head into the back of the limo. “Why you sitting here, mate?”
“Hop in. I need to go for a ride.”
He does and closes the door. I text the driver to take us out. I don’t care where we go; I just want to be away. It’s a rare day when I don’t know what to do, but today is one of those days. I need to look at this like a business deal. Someone has thrown a wrench in my plan, and I need to adjust.
Except I’ve never had a business deal make my heart feel like it’s stopping or drop a pound of lead into my belly.
We leave the basement, and the driver takes us into town. Within half an hour, I’ve calmed down enough to review the conversation mentally. In truth, I’m feeling taken aback by Natalie’s blow up. I let myself get too comfortable with her, to trust that she is the person I assumed she was.
I didn’t realize she was unhappy. If I’d been paying attention, I would. How did I miss it?
Why does it matter? When did our deal become more than a business arrangement?
The night of the gala.
Deep in thought, I lose track of time. I can’t get her words out of my head. They’re on a repetitive loop. We don’t see eye-to-eye on many things, and I’m not accustomed to feeling inadequate or out of control.
I shouldn’t feel anything. I shouldn’t care what she thinks of me. After all, she’s temporary, a tool to get me what I want.
Those thoughts don’t help.
“We gonna drive around all day?” George asks.
I’ve all but forgotten he’s in the limo with me. Glancing at him, I don’t speak.
“Your condo is ready,” he reminds me. “You sure you prefer a hotel to a seventy million dollar condo custom renovated for you?”
“Fuck.” I shake my head. “What’s seventy million?” I’m having an issue with the condo already, and it has nothing to do with the six months of renovations. It has to do with Natalie.
I’ve never taken a woman I was fucking back to my place. Ever. I’ve got an affinity for luxury hotels and usually use those as rendezvous points for the women I’m fucking. It seems too personal to bring someone to my own refuge, to my home.
Except, I planned on taking Natalie this week. The emotions I don’t want to admit to myself are behind the sudden change in philosophy.
She’s not just a girl I’m fucking.
And then she had her meltdown, and I’m at a loss as to whether or not I take her home.
“Do I respect people?” I ask George.
“Not really, mate,” he replies, glancing up at me from his iPad. “You don’t need to. You’re rich enough to buy them.”
It’s not a problem with everyone else in my life. It’s just become one with her.
“You and Natalie having a spat?” he asks.
“Something like that. She says I have no respect for people, including her.”
“You do control everything about her life.”
“For a reason. A good one.” Her insistence about letting her parents make their own shitty decisions returns to me. I’ve never asked her opinion on anything, because it doesn’t really matter.
Our deal was my absolute control of her life in exchange for sparing her family. If it was a business deal, and I had to modify it, how would I do that?
How would I return us to where we were before? When she became my moment of peace at the end of every day?
My phone rings. Irritated, I answer.
“Your Highness,” my aunt Malika says.
“Not a great time, Malika,” I reply.
“I thought you’d be interested in a proposal of sorts.”
I refocus my attention. Since the gala, I haven’t been myself. I’ve been conflicted, torn by emotions that I’d rather never feel. It’s taken more effort than usual to concentrate on business.
I need to get control over myself.
“Of course. Continue,” I reply smoothly.
“How do you feel about a constitutional monarchy?”
It’s not the question I’m expecting to hear.
“Your brother and I were in discussions about changing Nijala from the inside out before his untimely death,” she adds in a hushed voice. “He was like a son to me, Elijah. I think your father found out.”
Car accidents are the death of choice for Nijalan royalty and others who step out of sync with my father. It’s another of the royalty’s dirty little secrets, one the family knows, while the rest of Nijala just suspects. It’s one of the few conspiracies I’ve discovered in life that’s true.
“Why are you telling me this?” I ask quietly. “You’re his number one advisor. If you’re trying to set me up, Malika, God help you, I’ll –”
“Haven’t you wondered why I haven’t set foot in Nijala in five years?” she interjects. “Whatever I was before your brother’s death, I am now regarded little better than you by your father. Somehow, he found out, and within the past month.”
“So you want to out him.”
“I want what’s best for Nijala. Your brother understood that. I never thought you had a chance, until I met your little American princess.”
My head is starting to hurt. I wasn’t groomed to govern like Nassir, my deceased brother was. I’m not a politician and will definitely never be mistaken for a diplomat. That won’t stop me from taking my rightful place on the throne, but the learning curve is going to be brutal.
“You choosing an American gives the international community hope for reform.”
“I don’t give a fuck about the international community,” I snap and lean back. “Or about your agenda, Malika.”
“Some part of you must wonder why the perfect heir was killed.”
“Maybe it was a real accident for once.”
“What a foolish thing to say, Elijah.”
It was, I admit to myself. There are no real accidental deaths with royalty in Nijala. They’re all planned by the madman who is my father.
She continues, and I half-listen, my thoughts going in a different direction. I’m starting to think it’s a good idea for Natalie never to visit Nijala, whether we last three months or a year. Not that I’d believe Malika blindly, but if my father killed his own son over the form of government, he wouldn’t hesitate to do the same to the American princess I want to put on the throne.
Or to me. The string of accidents over the past decade began af
ter I’d left the house, first for Eton then for Oxford. In the States, he can’t do what he can in Nijala.
Thank god he has no reach here. It’s probably the only reason why I’m still alive.
We pass a Starbucks, and an idea flickers through my thoughts.
“… I’ll talk to you later, Malika.” I cut her off. My patience is too thin for her nonsense. There’s no way for me ever to know why my father would’ve gotten rid of his preferred heir. I’m inclined to think he didn’t, and this is some sort of morbid test by Malika. Maybe she’s recording the conversation to help my father disinherit me.
I trust no one in my family and never will. I lower the phone.
“That did not sound good,” George observes.
“We need to go back to the Starbucks,” I reply. I’ve got an idea on how to keep … repair things with Natalie.
Malika has unknowingly given me a source of inspiration as well.
Reform. Change. An adjustment to the business deal I have with Natalie. Malika’s conspiracies can wait. If she’s serious about anything she said, she’ll reach out to me again. If not, I’ll know it was some ploy by my twisted father and his top advisor to try to trip me up.
Though this story is more elaborate then I’d usually give Malika credit for. She’s got me thinking about my brother’s accident and why my father might’ve had his prized heir killed. What is my father hiding? What does he have to lose? Has he gone that mad over the years?
There’s too much on my mind today. Whatever game my father and Malika are playing, I’m not going to be drawn in, not when I’ve got something far more pressing weighing on my emotions.
Chapter Five: Natalie
A couple of hours later, I’m in the bathtub. I figure that – since this might be my last day as a princess – I’m going to try out the luxurious tub in the master suite’s bathroom. I have candles, bubbles and the lighting dimmed. The hot bath soothes me enough that I can finally stop crying and relax. My muscles melt in the water, and I lean back against the headrest.
I really wish my apartment had a bathtub. Even if small, it’d be nice. I have all of six hundred square feet to live in, and there’s no room for a full-sized couch let alone a bath.