by Geneva Lee
“Miss Bishop, how long have you been involved with the Prince?”
“Miss Bishop, is it true that the King has condemned your relationship?”
“Were you secretly married in Oxford?”
It was like that childhood game telephone. From one silly picture they’d managed to spin an entire love affair. The truth had been entirely distorted in favor of headlines. Something twanged in my chest as I thought of how Alexander had to deal with this every day. No wonder he’d been so hot and cold. It was a coping mechanism to help him survive. And now these leeches had their hooks in me, waiting for the next juicy moment they could exploit in the name of news.
Stopping in front of the crowd and pushing my shoulders back in an effort to look serious, which was quite difficult considering my ensemble, I addressed the crowd.
“I’m sorry to inform you all that I have no relationship with Prince Alexander. Someone has made a dreadful mistake. I do not know the Prince. I am not in love with him. And I highly doubt the King gives two figs about me.” The words rushed out of me, even as I tried to stay calm and collected. I was running on adrenaline now, which meant I was lucky that I was even coherent right at the moment.
I didn’t expect them to stop taking photos or run away or even apologize, but I certainly didn’t expect the reporters to cluster closer to me after I’d explained that I was a dead end. They didn’t seem willing to believe that. A few jostled against me, screaming questions in my ear. I was nearly blinded by the flash of their cameras. They all spoke so quickly that I wouldn’t have been able to answer one of them if I wanted to. I wished I’d let Norris take me home as the crowd pressed closer and closer. Club-goers had joined the chaos. A few men attempted to fight the reporters in the name of chivalry, which would have been laughable any other night. And a few others were simply trying to take photos with their mobiles. They probably didn’t even know who I was. It only mattered that there was news of some sort. No doubt the whole scene would be spread all over Facebook by the morning.
I fought against the crowd, pushing my way past one group, only to have another wave surge on top of me. Bodies pressed in on every side of me, drowning me, until I couldn’t breathe. The air squeezed from my chest and I gasped, trying to inhale but choking as the mass pushing against me prevented me from catching my breath. Panic trembled down my arms and legs, rolling through me in tiny quivers as my eyes darted around, looking for a means of escape. I had to get away. I had to breathe. I had to protect myself. But with each passing second, I grew more terrified, more desperate, until I tripped over someone’s legs.
The crowd parted only far enough for me to stumble to my hands and knees before the frenzy set in once more. Dozens of flashes popped and sparked around me. My arms wrapped around my head reflexively, trying to block out the gawkers and their shouts.
“Enough!” The command bellowed so loudly over the crowd that even I lifted my eyes to see who had called out.
Alexander stood a few paces away, his face contorted with barely controlled rage. He’d pushed his sleeves up to his elbows, making him look like a man eager to get down to business. Fury blazed in his eyes as his gaze traveled from person to person as though he was silently daring any of them to defy his order. He took a few steps forward, and as he came closer, the anger radiated from him like a heat wave. The crowd around me backed away, unable to tear their eyes from him. It might have been because he was the Prince of England, but I knew there was something more primal to this scene. Even I responded to it, my heartbeat racing faster instead of calming until he dropped down and pushed my hands from over my head.
“Are you okay, Clara?” he asked quietly.
I managed a nod. Behind me, a few of the girls with cameras had started filming again.
Alexander took my hand and helped me to my feet, but as soon I was standing up again, the questions began.
“Alexander, is this your girlfriend?”
“Alexander, is it true that your father doesn’t approve of your relationship with a commoner?”
I winced at that one. True, I wasn’t royalty, but it felt a bit hypocritical to call me out as a commoner. It was meant to be an insult, I could feel it as I could feel the daggers being cast at me from many of the women nearby. I had to get out of here. My throat constricted even though no one was shoving against me now. I forced myself to breathe, but the result was the quick, shallow pants of another panic attack. Alexander fell into step beside me. Ignoring the reporters, he glanced down at me, concern shining through his fiery eyes. He shifted closer, placing his hand on the small of my back. It lingered there, scorching through the thin fabric of my t-shirt, as he guided me past the reporters and onlookers. His touch steadied my nerves, and warmth spread through my body from the spot where his hand rested possessively, settling in my chest.
Without a word, he calmed me.
Norris overtook us, rushing to the car to open the door, even as the crowd followed us. Alexander’s hand dropped away as soon as I bent to enter the backseat, but to my surprise, he ducked inside himself. The door slammed shut behind us, and Norris slid into the driver’s seat moments later. It felt like an eternity had passed since Alexander had lifted me to my feet in front of Brimstone. Time had slowed under his protection, but in the silent car, it sped back up as cameras clicked outside the tinted windows. My eyes found the ground, and I became heavily invested in a snag on the mat at my feet until a confident arm slung over my shoulder and pulled me close, encouraging me to bury my face in his shoulder. I inhaled the indescribable scent of him: cloves and soap and bourbon. It sank into me until the world around us faded away and I relaxed in his embrace.
Without a word, he claimed me.

We rode silently through the crowds back to my flat as I tried to keep it together. I wouldn’t cry in front of Alexander. I wouldn’t show him my weaknesses now that I’d glimpsed his brutal strength, because I didn’t want him to see me as vulnerable. Peering up at him, I felt his power rolling over me. He was powerful and commanding—he was unlike any man I’d ever met and I didn’t want him to see how much that scared—and excited—me.
“Clara.” My name rolled off his lips with ease and I savored how it sounded. “Are you okay?”
I nodded, a lump stuck in my throat. Did he sense the shift in our connection? The thread that had drawn me to him had been invisible—inexplicable—when we’d met. I’d felt it when I saw him again in Brimstone. But now that tenuous, elusive connection was gone, replaced by a firm, unyielding bond of trust. He had stood by me. I had to give him credit for that even though he’d gotten me into this mess in the first place. Was he thinking the same thing? Did he feel it, too?
“I’m sorry you had to go through that. I should have known better than to kiss you.” The arm he had casually draped around my shoulder withdrew and he ran a hand through his messy black hair.
I was torn between wanting it to be my hand tangling in his hair and disappointment. I had misread everything. I imagined the link between us. And did he mean the first time he kissed me or when we had kissed at Brimstone? Somehow, despite the terror I’d already experienced, I didn’t regret either kiss. In fact, more than ever, I wanted more. I wanted his lips on mine, and his body pressed so hard against me that I could feel his arousal jabbing into the soft flesh of my belly.
But that was never going to happen. I couldn’t let it. I couldn’t let whatever was happening between us go on. I straightened up and took a deep breath, twisting to meet his eyes. “I’m fine,” I lied. “Things got out of hand. I’m afraid you’re more experienced with this sort of thing than I am.”
“Unfortunately, you’re right.” He paused, watching me so intensely that I squirmed in my seat. “I know I should be sorry that I kissed you, but I’m not. In fact, I’d like to do it again.”
My doubt washed from me when he spoke, and I found myself powerless against his suggestions.
“I’m not stopping you,” I said in a soft vo
ice, surprising even myself.
Alexander sucked in a breath and tore his gaze from mine to look out the window. “You said no.”
I had said no, and I could no longer remember why. “I didn’t mean it.”
“What mixed signals you give me, Miss Bishop. That’s a risqué thing to do with a man like me.”
“And what kind of man is that?” I asked even though I already knew the answer—a dangerous man. A dangerous but beautiful man. Not just because of who he was or the life he lived. I’d seen glimpses of what he hid beneath the mask of control he wore—glimpses of something wild and untamed.
“A man who takes what he wants,” he answered ominously. He paused, regarding me as if to ascertain if he’d scared me.
But what I felt was far from fear. I pressed my legs together as the heat between them increased, a tiny pulse beginning to tick anxiously. Even his words were sexy, and I wanted more. “You haven’t taken me.”
“We met under unusual circumstances,” he pointed out, dropping a hand to rest on my knee. The contact sent a shudder of desire up my thigh, ratcheting up the throb in my clit.
“You weren’t looking to pick anyone up?” I asked, doing my best to ignore his touch and completely failing. “Not your usual scene?”
His mouth twitched into a bemused smile. “I rarely find such exciting company at the Oxford and Cambridge Club.”
“Why were you there?” I asked, my rational side getting the better of my flirtatious one.
“My friend Jonathan received his degree. He conned me into coming,” he said.
“I have a hard time imagining you being conned by anyone.”
“Then you must not know Jonathan.”
“Wait,” I said, a realization dawning on me, “do you mean Jonathan Thompson?”
“The one and the only. Do you know him…well?” The question was strained, as though he dreaded the answer.
“By reputation only,” I assured him. Jonathan had also taken a degree in social studies, but we’d had little contact outside of a few shared courses. I only knew more about him because Belle had slept with him in our second year. She wasn’t the type to kiss and tell, but Jonathan had turned out to be a major asshole. I’d steered clear of him socially after she’d warned me about him. Not that I’d had much of a social life at university. Without the old family connections, my focus had been on my studies. I couldn’t count on landing a respectable position any other way, even with my parents’ money. People like Jonathan didn’t have to concern themselves with such things.
“Jonathan claims he bedded every girl in his class,” Alexander said. “I’m glad to see you had higher standards.”
“Says his good friend,” I added.
“Some people you should keep close,” he advised, darkness flickering through his eyes as he spoke, reminding me how much I wanted to unravel his mystery.
I scanned the streets outside the car in effort to calm my rapid pulse. Everything about Alexander, from the words he spoke to the company he kept, screamed at me to run. But I’d been running and hiding most of my adult life, so I couldn’t bring myself to turn away from Alexander now. He drew me to him with an energy that was as magnetic as his smile.
You owe him your gratitude and nothing more, my rational side lectured me. She was right and I knew I should listen, but I also knew I didn’t want to.
“Where are we going?” I asked when we passed the entrance to my building.
“There are reporters following us. Norris will lose them before I take you home.” His hand slid further up my leg, gripping my thigh possessively as he spoke.
I closed my eyes, pushing away all the analysis and doubts clouding my thoughts, and reveled in the warmth of his touch and those words. I wanted him to take me. Take me home. Or take me here. A horrified voice began whispering in my head.
Mistake. You are making a mistake. You aren’t strong enough for this. You can’t attract a man like him.
I shushed her and concentrated on the sensations thrilling through my body, aware that he had edged closer to me and that our bodies were now pressed together.
“Clara,” he said in a low voice.
“Hmm,” I replied, lost to the moment.
“I need you to know that no matter what happens next—if you get out of this car and never speak to me again—I will see to your protection,” he promised.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “Why?”
“Because you are the only person who wished I’d never left,” he said in an even voice.
But I saw through his careful control and his measured words, past the wild, untamed side of him I’d glimpsed earlier, to the broken boy that had never healed. And I knew then that the next words I said would be the first time he had heard those words spoken, too. “I’m glad you came back.”
“I want you.” His words were final. A command, not a question. It was in his voice. He wanted me, and he would have me. I could find no strength to fight it because I wanted him more than I’d ever wanted anything in my life. The thought left me dizzy. His hand slipped up until it was nestled against my sex and a soft moan escaped my lips. “But not tonight.”
My eyelids flew open as I stared at him accusingly. “Is that what you do? Toy with girls until they drop to their knees for you?”
He could take me now and I wouldn’t object. He knew that, and I could see that knowledge reflecting from his eyes. So why the games? “Do you need me to beg for it?” I asked.
His fingers rubbed against my jeans, teasing the bundle of nerves that was already throbbing at his mere presence. “Need? No. Want?” He hesitated. “I want to hear you beg for me. Beg for my cock. Beg for me to fuck you, and you will, poppet. But. Not. Tonight.”
“Why?” I wasn’t proud of how desperate the question sounded, but a girl can’t be held accountable when her clit is pounding like a war drum.
“Because your entire building will be surrounded by the morning, and I’m not interested in sex, Clara. I want to explore you. I want to rip those clothes off of you and take you to bed. I’m going to fuck you until it hurts, and I want to hear you beg me to do it.” He paused to let this sink in, giving me enough time to visualize exactly what he was proposing. “And I need more than a few hours for that.”
I had stopped breathing, hanging off each of his promises until I thought I would melt into the seat. I didn’t think I could wait that long, and part of me longed for him to take me now, even with Norris only a few meters away. But I wanted to know a night like the one he promised more.
“I get what I want,” he reminded me, and I knew the matter was settled.
“When?” It was the only thing I could think to ask with his gaze scorching through me.
“Tomorrow.”
“And the reporters?” I managed to ask.
“I’ll deal with them.” Alexander settled into his seat, a pleased smile sweeping across his perfect face. He knew he had me. He had been victorious, although there was never any doubt that he would be. How could I have resisted him? Resisted his godlike face or his chiseled body or the unshakeable pull that drew me to him? “Norris will pick you up at eleven.”
“Then I’ll see you tomorrow night,” I said as the car came to a stop. I hoped my excitement wasn’t as obvious as I felt it was.
“Oh, no. Eleven in the morning.” Alexander leaned over and caught my face in his hands. “I told you I need time, poppet.”
His lips whispered across my mine and I opened my mouth in welcome, but he pulled away, his azure eyes flashing. “Until then.”
Chapter Six
The living room lamp flicked on as soon as I turned the lock in the front door. I whirled around, my eyes still adjusting to the dark, to discover Belle sitting cross-legged on the couch, glaring at me. Any other night I would have laughed at her for being a mother hen, but tonight it felt more like I’d just been caught by the prison warden.
“How long have you been sitting in the dark?” I asked her.
>
“Since I got home and decided to wait for you.” She pointed to a bag still crammed full of take-out boxes. Guilt crept over me as I realized I’d been gone nearly an hour and a half.
“I’m sorry,” I began, but I had no idea what else to say. So much had happened since she went to grab dinner, and now that I was out of Alexander’s intoxicating presence, I was beginning to feel a tad foolish. But then I remembered his lips dancing across mine and the now familiar but still uncontrollable longing returned.
“Earth to Clara.”
I shook my head and forced myself to meet my best friend’s gaze.
“I asked where you were. I thought you were just in the loo at first, but then you never came out.”
“I left you a note,” I said defensively, but it was clear she hadn’t gotten it.
“But,” she continued, ignoring me, “I know you can’t have been stupid enough to go out with all those paparazzi waiting for you.” She paused, obviously waiting for me to jump in and explain, but I was still trying to sort out where to begin. “And yet, here you are, dragging your sorry bum in without a word of explanation.”
I held up a hand in surrender. “Give me a minute.”
Dropping on to the couch next to her, I tried to collect my thoughts. Belle sighed impatiently and grabbed a takeout box. It had to be cold but she flipped open the carton lid and began twirling noodles around chopsticks. Instead of eating them herself, she held them up to me. “Eat.”
I knew better than to argue with her over this. I slurped the noodles down, savoring their coating of rich, salty sauce despite their coldness. She shoved the box into my hands and I took over the process of feeding myself, grateful for the chance to sort through my thoughts as much as I was for the food. We ate in silence until my belly was sated, and I had to admit my head felt much clearer after food.
Setting my half-empty carton down, I shifted to face Belle, who watched me with curious eyes, her mouth hovering over her own noodles.
“When you left I got a call.” She was silent as I filled her in on the insane chain of events that had transpired while she was out grabbing takeaway, but as soon as I finished, leaving off at the part where Alexander helped me to his car, she let out a long, extended sigh.