by T L Swan
I pull out my box of letters and begin to read.
* * *
My beloved Princess.
Knock, knock.
Its 12.05am and he is finally here. The princess tries to calm her nerves as she opens the heavy door as quietly as she can. The guards are stationed at the front door and Alchron has snuck in the secret entrance to her room; one that only he and the king know about. He is bathed, smelling divine, and wearing civilian clothing. The Princess has never seen him dressed like this before and her senses begin to go into overdrive.
“Hello.” He smiles softly.
The Princess places her hand on her stomach nervously. What is she doing? This is dangerous for them both.
“Please, come in,” she whispers as she stands to the side to let him enter.
He walks in and looks around her opulent bedroom until his eyes meet hers again.
She swallows the lump in her throat. “Please don’t tell anyone I asked for you to come here.”
He shakes his head. “Never.” He hesitates. “Whatever happens between us will stay between the two of us.”
She stands still, not sure what to say next. Sensing her trepidation, he asks a question to ease her nerves. “Why did you ask me to come here?”
She turns her back to him, unable to face him as she answers. “I see the way you look at me,” she breathes.
“Yes…” he replies quickly.
She turns to face him in a rush. “You don’t deny it?” She frowns.
“No, and I’m sorry if I make you feel uncomfortable. It was not my intention.”
She frowns in confusion. “What do you think of when you look at me like that?”
His face softens. ‘” I am wondering how you would smell.”
Her eyes widen.
“Among other things.” He smiles softly.
She frowns. “What other things?”
His eyes drop to the floor. “I shouldn’t speak of such thoughts to you. I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”
“I want to know what other things you think about,” she whispers.
His wild eyes rise back up to hers, and unable to control himself, he decides to tell her the truth. “I wonder how you would taste.”
Her hand goes to her neck as she is taunted by the visual of him tasting her skin.
“You are attracted to me?” she asks.
He stays silent.
“Please. Speak freely. This conversation will never leave this room.”
“My attraction to you runs deep and is carnal. I cannot deny,” he replies.
“Oh,” she whispers, unable to articulate an intelligent reply.
He watches her for a moment. “Dare I ask if you ever think of me?”
“I do,” she replies.
“Are your thoughts as prohibited as mine?” he asks in a breath.
“I would not know of such things. And I am sure I would not be able to please you,” she whispers.
He frowns and she turns her back to him one again, and begins to pace.
“What do you mean?” He frowns.
“I am inexperienced with love.”
“And?”
She swallows her nerves. “And I hear from the chamber maids that you are not, that your conquests in the bedroom are plentiful.”
“Conquests mean nothing,” he replies softly. “You have never...”
“I am untouched.” She cuts him off.
Arousal flashes in his eyes. “That is no deterrent to me,” he whispers as he picks up her hand and kisses the back of it.
“It’s not?” she breathes as she watches him kiss her hand. The sight should not incite such feelings as this. She feels her skin flutter under his touch.
“I care for you.” He kisses her hand softly and his loving eyes hold hers. “I don’t care for anyone else.”
A trace of a smile crosses her face and her eyebrows rise in question.
“Can I give you your first kiss?” he dares himself to ask as he pulls her close.
Her heart is hammering out of control as his lips gently dust hers, his eyes closing with pleasure. His tongue slides gently into her mouth and she puts her arms nervously around his neck. “How do I taste?” she whispers into his lips.
He smiles. “Sweeter than I ever imagined.”
* * *
Brielle sits back in her seat and frowns. “Hang on, go back. I’m lost.”
I blow out a breath. I haven’t seen Brielle to tell her that I had even seen Alastar, let alone been sleeping with him. Last thing she knew was the fight we had at the pub last weekend about Thomas texting him in the middle of the night. We are in a restaurant now having coffee, and it’s Saturday morning.
I sigh as I rest my cheek on my hand. “He turned up at work on Wednesday and marched into my office.”
She frowns. “He just turned up?”
“No. Actually, he rang first and demanded I come downstairs, but when I wouldn’t, he came up and caused a scene.”
Her eyes widen and she sips her coffee. “Oh.”
Our breakfast arrives. “Thank you.” We both smile.
Brielle cuts into her eggs benedict. “Then what?’
I bite into my toast. “This sounds so lame, even to my ears. He told me that he wasn’t married and he couldn’t see me because he had things going on and—”
“Wait, why did Thomas text him then?” She cuts me off.
I shrug. “Apparently they were going away and Thomas didn’t know where he was.” I continue to chew my toast. “And then I did something stupid.”
“What?”
“I told him I was looking for casual sex.” She smirks as she chews. “Since when are you looking for casual anything?”
I shake my head as I cut into my breakfast. “I don’t know. I guess it sounded cool at the time.”
“What did he say?”
“What do you think?”
She laughs. “Yeah, right. What guy knocks back casual sex?”
I chew my bacon in disgust at myself. “So, anyway...” I frown. Shit, this really is ridiculous when I hear myself say it. “We spent every night together since then.”
She screws up her face. “That’s not very casual.”
“I know.”
“What’s he like?”
I shake my head. “Gorgeous.”
She raises her brow in question.
“I’m not even joking. Like, gorgeous, sexy, gorgeous.”
She purses her lips as she thinks. “Hmm, okay. Go on.”
“So, last night I went out to dinner with Mark to tell him that we as a couple are a no go.”
“Yes.”
“And his parents came.”
She frowns. “Why?”
I shake my head. “‘Cause he’s an idiot. Anyway, they were really nice and halfway through the meal a waiter comes over with a tray of tequila and cream.”
She stops eating as she stares at me.
“It was sent by Alastar. The smartass was saying that the Emmaline cream was unavailable for purchase, so he sent an alternative.”
“I don’t get it.”
“Tequila with a cream chaser?” I widen my eyes. “To signify the tequila sex drinking game… and the cream chaser is what he was rewarded with for going down on me?”
Brielle chokes on her coffee and it flies all over the table as she coughs. “Holy fuck!” she splutters.
“I know, right?”
“He was there?” she asks.
“Sitting at the bar watching us.”
Her eyes widen.
“So, I go to the toilet and he just barges in. Then we fight and I tell him that I need three hours to tell Mark it’s not happening between us.”
She nods as she eats.
“Then Alastar sits at the bar chatting up some hot red head for the whole time and I get, like, fuming mad.”
She smiles broadly and shakes her head.
“Then finally Marks parents leave and Mark instantly picks up my hand and starts f
rigging kissing it. Alastar storms over to the table like the Hulk and goes all caveman, telling Mark to get his fucking hands off of his girlfriend.”
Her eyes widen in horror. “But I thought you said it was casual.”
“It’s supposed to be!” I snap. “Oh, and that’s not the worst of it. He told Mark I was handing in my resignation.”
“What?” she gasps as she puts her hand over her mouth in horror.
“I know. So, I leave, Alastar follows me, then I lose my shit.”
“Understandably.”
“And we have this huge yelling match in the street which makes him go all weird, and he turns around and tells me that it’s probably better this way because he had to let me go anyway.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t fucking know.” I bite into my breakfast with renewed vigor. “And then he said something to me and I got the weirdest sense of déjà vu which weirded me out.”
She frowns. “That’s still happening?”
I nod. “Worse than ever.”
“God, this is like The Vampire Diaries on crack,” she mutters into her coffee.
I nod. “Then he more or less told me to go back to Mark because he was giving me my freedom back.”
She frowns as she chews. “Didn’t he just go ape and demand Mark get his hands off his girlfriend?”
“Yep.”
“Fucking hell. I’m confused.”
“Join the club.”
“What are you going to do?”
I shrug. “Go to work and beg for my job back.”
“Fuck.”
“And that stupid bitch from reception who busted me with Alastar is just being a grade A cow.”
She laughs out loud. “Seriously, that is the story of this whole trip. Emerson Mathews, good girl extraordinaire, gets busted jacking off a guy in a closet at her first work function.”
I cringe and shiver. “I will never live that down. I’m going to need therapy to recover.”
She sips her coffee as she watches me. “In all seriousness, what are you going to do?”
I sit back in my seat. “Nothing. That’s it.”
She shrugs. “It was fun while it lasted, huh?”
I smile regretfully. “It was. He was the perfect guy in every sense.”
“And crazy as a coconut,” she mutters dryly.
I nod. “Yes. Unfortunately, that, too.”
* * *
The acid in my stomach is sky high. I don’t think I have ever been so nervous. I’m probably going to get a stomach ulcer over this. It’s pouring with rain and it’s dark, just like my mood.
It’s all his bloody fault.
I am on the bus on my way to work. It’s Monday morning and I’m about to face the music that the ridiculous Irish fiasco has caused me. Since I met that twat my whole life has become one big mess.
I went out with the gang on Operation Hump Hank on Saturday night, and we had fun, but the night was marred by my thoughts of Alastar, wondering where he was and what was he doing. On the upside, though, Hank did get a girl’s phone number.
What must this look like from the outside?
I jack him off in a closet and get busted by a vengeful bitch from reception. I avoid Mark for three weeks, and then, in the middle of dumping him, my knight in shining armor comes to defend my honor in what is, quite possibly, the most absurd display of affection I have ever witnessed from a man. Oh, lets not forget the smartass delivering tequila and cream to Mark’s parents. What a fuck up.
To make matters worse, I have spent the whole weekend pining for him, checking my phone constantly. Hoping, even praying, that he calls me. Of course, he hasn’t. He was obviously serious when he told me I had my freedom. But now that I have it, I don’t bloody want it. I want to feel his big, strong arms around me. I want to hear the velvety, deep voice, and that beautiful accent of his.
I hate to admit it, but I’m missing him. I’m missing the thrill I felt when he called me Emmaline—the ecstasy I felt when we made love, and the safety I felt when I slept in his arms. I’m not supposed to feel anything, I know. We were casual. I close my eyes in regret. The thing is, I know he felt more, too. He showed his true emotions when he became jealous on Friday night.
What does he feel, though? Does he feel this connection between us or is it just an ownership, competitive guy thing? He must feel something. You don’t go all crazy if you don’t feel anything at all. Who am I kidding? Of course he feels something. I can feel it in the way he kisses me and holds me. Is he feeling shitty this morning, too?
What a mess.
I get off the bus and trudge through the rain with my piss ant umbrella. This shitty thing does nothing at all and my pants are wet from the horizontal wind. Just stop raining, I don’t have time for this shit.
I walk through reception and put my wet umbrella into the pot next to the door then make my way over to the lift. “Excuse me?” Stephanie calls from behind.
I turn. “Yes.” What does she want now?
“You can’t leave that umbrella there.” She points to my umbrella.
I frown. “Why not? It’s an umbrella stand and that’s what it’s for.”
“It’s for client’s umbrellas. Not staff.”
I glare at her. I swear, this bitch is going down today. I am so not in the mood for her bullshit. “Well, Stephanie.” I fake a smile. “I don’t have an umbrella stand next to my desk and, since there isn’t a single umbrella in this stand...” I widen my eyes as a silent challenge. “I’m using it.”
Her eyes hold mine in defiance. “I’m going to have to report this to the management.”
I fake a smile once again. “I look forward to it.” I turn to walk out but my inner bitch can’t help herself, so I turn back. “Stephanie?”
“Yes.”
“When you tell management, make sure it’s Mark you report to.”
She glares at me.
“I just really feel like spending some time in his office this morning being reprimanded.”
She narrows her eyes in contempt.
“Or maybe he can tell me off in a cupboard.” I wink sarcastically.
She glares in fury and I smirk.
“Maybe you could come looking for us. It’s way more fun if you think you might get caught.”
Her mouth nearly drops to the floor.
“Have a nice day, Stephanie.”
I breeze into the lift and give her a little wave.
“Fucking bitch,” she whispers under her breath.
* * *
My eyes glance over to Mark’s office door for the tenth time today. It’s 11am and I haven’t seen him properly, other than when he walked in this morning and refused to look at me. I need to address this whole mess urgently.
“I’m just going to discuss this project with Mark,” I murmur to Travis.
“Sure.”
I tentatively knock on the door. “Knock, knock.”
“Yes,” he calls.
I open the door. “Have you got five minutes?” I ask.
He glances up and then his eyes drop back to his computer. “Not really.”
He continues to type.
My heart drops. His ego is hurt. It’s not like we had a great love affair going on or anything, but he is disappointed in me. Hell, I’m disappointed in me.
I walk in and close the door behind me. “I just wanted to apologize for Friday night.”
He keeps typing but doesn’t look up. “Okay.”
“I didn’t mean to meet Star.”
He keeps typing.
“It just happened and I didn’t know how to tell you.”
“That’s fine, Emerson.” He still doesn’t look up.
I pause, I don’t know what to say next. “Can we remain friends?”
“Sure.” He keeps typing.
“Can you at least look at me?” I ask.
He drags his eyes from the computer as if annoyed. “I’m very busy, Emerson.”
&
nbsp; I nod. “I know.” I hesitate. Maybe now is the time to tell him about my suspicions on the stolen art? It would break the ice, I suppose.
I swallow the nervous lump in my throat. Hmm, after contemplating this for weeks, maybe now is the time. It’s my duty to bring this art theft to someone’s attention and Mark is my first port of call. I know he’s not a thief—at least I hope he’s not.
“I want to talk to you about the good news stories,” I murmur.
“Take a seat.” He gestures to the chair with a sigh.
I sit down dejected. This business between us is a mess. After an extended time, he looks up at me impatiently. “Yes, what is it?”
My stomach drops.
I place my folder on his desk. “I’m not sure if you are the right person to discuss this with, but I trust you and I wanted to come to you first.”
He looks at me without expression.
Here goes. “It has come to my attention that twenty-two people who have bought art from us have had that same art stolen from their properties within three days of it being delivered.”
He frowns. “What do you mean?”
“People are having their artwork stolen… and I happen to think it’s someone from here.” I lean into the desk and look around. “An inside job,” I whisper.
He frowns, picks up the folder and begins to read.
“It’s too much of a coincidence and the pieces are all pictures of women which are being stolen.”
He frowns as he flicks through the files with the names and relevant information inside them. I have been working on this for weeks. I know it’s not a coincidence. This is a calculated hit.
“All of the robberies have been reported to police individually, but the police haven’t joined the dots and connected them back to us. It was only when I started contacting people for the good news stories that this information has become obvious to me.”
He swings his chair from side to side deep in thought as he reads the reports.
“I’m not sure what to do with it. I think we should call the police,” I whisper.
He holds his hand up as he reads. “Hold up. Don’t jump to any conclusions. It may be just a coincidence,” he murmurs.
My eyes widen. Oh no. It’s him. The art thief is Mark. “I want to call the police,” I say quietly.