The Royals: Alexander and Clara: Volume One (The Royals Saga)

by Geneva Lee

  I pushed the sting of this realization down and locked it away. Outside the lobby doors, I had to face my past. There was no time to despair for my future.

  Twenty-eight steps to the revolving door. I counted each one in an attempt to focus on something mundane, but my heart continued to race as my heels clicked across the polished marble floor. Sun peeked through the door, and I was reminded of something my therapist used to say: “Why wait for the sun to come out from the clouds when you can turn on the light?”

  Easy advice to give, I thought as I exited the Clarkwell Building and pulled out my sunglasses. As I came face to face with the swarm of paparazzi waiting for me, I wished I could turn out the light. If only I could escape into the comforting darkness of anonymity, but there was nowhere to turn. Photographers clustered around me, making each step I took toward home difficult.

  Clara, are you currently in treatment?

  Does Alexander know about your anorexia?

  Is it true that you sought counseling as recently as last year?

  I clamped my mouth shut as I pushed through them toward the sidewalk. A short guy about my age, wearing a Yankees ball cap, jumped in front of me, iPhone in hand. “Smile, love! I know you don’t want any double chins in this shot.”

  Something snapped inside me and I rushed toward him. He tried to back away but I pressed forward until I was in his scruffy, unshaved face. “This is a joke to you, isn’t it? Do you even have feelings? Because from where I’m standing, you’ve all forgotten that you’re humans too! Tell me your secrets! Share that with me. You can’t, can you?”

  “I just wanted a picture!” The man held up his hands in surrender. If he thought he was getting away that easily, he wasn’t.

  “You’re a piece of shit. You all are. Did you ever stop to think that I have feelings? Did you consider what a story like this could do to someone in recovery? Or what it tells people too scared to ask for help?” I whirled around, finger in the air, no longer directing my anger at only one person. “You’re all sick. This isn’t news! Get out of my life!”

  A brunette with too much lipstick and not enough sense stepped forward, frowning sympathetically. “Clara, we just want to help.”

  “Help? Help!” Manic laughter poured out of me. “I don’t need your help. Don’t you get that? I don’t need you to fix me.”

  She moved closer to me, reaching out as if to pat my arm.

  “Stop,” I said in a quiet voice. “Don’t you fucking touch me.”

  She gasped, whipping around to the cameraman standing behind her. “Did you get that?”

  I watched in amazement as she proceeded to record a sound bite right in front of me. They really had no shame. They were just a bunch of soul-sucking leeches. I opened my mouth to give her a few more sound bites when Norris appeared at my side.

  “Miss Bishop.” He dropped a protective arm around me and steered me toward the street. Reporters crushed against us, elbowing one another as they shouted more questions. I turned my face into Norris’s shoulder, grateful that he had shown up. But where was Alexander?

  Norris forced open the car door against the drove of photographers, and I climbed into the back, sagging with relief after the door shut. But my peacefulness was short-lived. The Rolls Royce pulled away from the curb, dodging people on the street, before settling comfortably into evening traffic. Now that I’d made it out of there, fury seized me. Part of me wanted to cry, but I was too numb to produce tears. There would be repercussions for what happened today. I’d made a mistake by confronting them. It only gave them new material. Tomorrow the stories would tell of Crazy Clara Bishop attacking reporters. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to regret it. Someone needed to call them out and people like Alexander couldn’t risk it. My infamy would pass, replaced by the sins of his next girlfriend. In a month, I would be a nobody. In a month, he’d still be the heir to the throne.

  I couldn’t blame him for not coming. He’d sent Norris to fulfill his promise to protect me even as he realized I wasn’t worth the effort.

  The flat was dark when I entered, and a dam burst inside of me. I sobbed as I found a note from Belle on the counter saying she was staying at Philip’s for the night. It was selfish to want her here, but right now I needed my best friend. Digging into my bag for my phone, I realized I’d turned it off and stuck it in my desk. I had no mobile, no friend, and Alexander had sent his security guard to escort me home. Humiliation flooded through me as fat, hot tears hit my cheeks.

  I shuffled toward my room and the promise of my bed. I wouldn’t berate myself, but maybe I could afford to feel a little self-pity. I’d done my best to not misstep since I met Alexander, but no one cared about that. They wanted drama and juicy secrets. I wasn’t cut out for this life. Alexander hadn’t come because he knew that. Now I knew it too.

  At the door to my room, I stopped, realizing the light was on. I hadn’t turned it on this morning before work. That might have scared me once, but now I pushed the door wider and stepped through, knowing what I would find.

  Alexander filled the armchair by the window, his eyes turned to the street below. My heart lurched, drinking in the sight of him. His arms hung imperially on the armrests, his mere presence commanding even in the empty room. He was dressed in a faded black t-shirt that hugged his biceps, but even the casual attire did nothing to dull the brutal authority emanating from him.

  He didn’t speak and I didn’t have the energy to engage him. Instead I dropped to my bed and clutched a pillow against my lap. A few minutes passed, and I lost track of time, before he stood and moved to the edge of the bed. He loomed over me, regarding me with practiced coolness. I met his gaze, noticing for the first time the slight tick of his jaw.

  “Is it true?” he asked in a measured tone.

  I swallowed, knowing that I was about to destroy the bond we shared. Had I really thought it was unbreakable? Maybe I was as delusional as the tabloids painted me. “Yes.”

  This time his jaw visibly tightened as he turned away. I blinked against tears, refusing to cry again until he was gone. But Alexander didn’t leave, he took two steps, stopped, and put his fist through the wall. Jumping to my feet, I watched as he drew back his bruised knuckles. Plaster crumbled to the ground from the gaping hole he’d left.

  “I’m sorry,” I yelled, no longer able to hold back my tears. “I’m not perfect. I’m sorry you didn’t know. But you need to leave.”

  Alexander pivoted to stare at me. “You think I’m angry with you?”

  “I have no idea how they found out about it,” I continued, my confession streaming from me in a nervous torrent. “I was in therapy before university, and I saw a private counselor my first year of college. There was a relapse a year ago, but that was all confidential.”

  “You no longer have secrets, Clara.”

  “I realize that now. I realize I owe you an explanation, but—”

  “You owe me nothing.” The gentleness of his tone stopped me more than the words, and Alexander seized on the moment of silence to approach me. “Do you understand that? You owe me nothing.” He cupped my chin as he repeated those words, holding my eyes to his.

  His perfect face swam in front of me as I fought the tears. I shook my head. I didn’t understand him. I didn’t understand anything about today. I only felt him slipping away from me. My life was spinning out of control and there was nothing to grab on to.

  “I need you to understand,” I whispered, but I couldn’t bring myself to speak aloud the rest of my thought. Before you leave me.

  “If you need me to, I will listen. But you don’t owe me an explanation. Nothing you say will change anything between us.”

  I tore myself away from him, his words wrenching through me. He’d made his choice. “Then go.”

  “I don’t want to go.” Alexander took a step closer to me and then paused. “What do you think I’m saying to you?”

  “I understand,” I said, unable to look at him. “You don’t need more drama in yo
ur life. You don’t need a girlfriend who has to actively construct positive thoughts about her body and set alarms to remind herself to eat. I don’t blame you for that.”

  “I’m not leaving you,” he said in a soft voice. “I never wanted perfection. I wanted you.”

  I swayed on my feet, and his hand shot out to catch me. Alexander gathered me in his arms and carried me to the bed. Sinking down, his hold on me tightened as the tears I’d held back poured from me. I breathed him in—the scent of soap mixed with spicy cologne and something indescribable that belonged only to him. His grip didn’t relax until I was calm enough to pull away, but I stayed in his arms.

  “I still want you to understand,” I murmured. We both had secrets and I understood now that I couldn’t keep mine from Alexander.

  Alexander nodded but stayed silent.

  Taking a shaky breath, I focused on what I’d learned about sharing during group therapy. No one here is out to judge you, I told myself. That had been true then and I felt it was true now. Alexander didn’t want to leave. That should have reassured me, but until I told him everything, I couldn’t be certain he wouldn’t change his mind if he found out more later.

  “It started at school. My mother insisted that I attend an exclusive academy in California, and as usual, my father gave in. I didn’t want to go. I was fourteen and my friends were my life, but I had no say in the matter. I guess that made the transition worse, and I had a hard time meeting people.” I paused to take another calming breath before I continued. “Finally, an older girl took me under her wing. She taught me about makeup and boys. For some reason, I thought she was really popular. Probably because she seemed happy. And then one day, she went into the bathroom and threw up after lunch.”

  Alexander’s arms stiffened around me, but he nodded for me to continue.

  “She pushed me to try it, and when I wouldn’t, she started dropping little hints. There was a roll around my bra strap. She slapped my thigh in the locker room and laughed as it jiggled. So one night, I went with her after dinner and threw up. It was hard for me and it took so long for me to do it while she stood there and teased me. When I finally did it, I decided I couldn’t do it again. I hated it, but she was my only friend.

  “After all these years, I still feel stupid when I tell this story,” I admitted.

  Alexander’s finger flew to my chin and tipped my eyes up to his. “You are not stupid.”

  “I wasn’t smart though. I believed her when she said my parents had sent me away because they were ashamed. I believed her when she said the thinner I got, the more popular I would become. By the time I went home for Spring Break, I weighed less than a hundred pounds. My mom—” my voice broke and I choked back a sob at the memory. Alexander pressed a reassuring kiss to my forehead and waited. “My mom started crying when she saw me. They pulled me out of school, and she drove me to therapy every single day, because she wouldn’t let them admit me. That summer we moved to England. Dad thought it would be a better environment for me. Maybe he was right.”

  “He was right,” Alexander agreed, burying his face into my neck. “Because you’re here with me now, poppet.”

  The ache in my chest spread like wildfire as he spoke, but I forced myself to continue. “I’ve done really well with therapy. I learned my eating disorder was a coping mechanism that I used when I was stressed or lonely. I stayed in therapy until my second year at university and then I met Daniel.”

  “The one who tried to break you?” Alexander remembered with barely restrained disgust.

  “I should have seen through him,” I said.

  “Don’t make excuses,” Alexander ordered.

  “It was fine for a while, but then things changed. He changed. One minute he made me feel like the most important person in his life, and the next, I was the reason he was miserable. He criticized how much I ate, pointed out how little I exercised. He competed with me for grades. When my parents gave me access to my trust fund, we came home after my birthday party and I told him I was tired. He didn’t like that. He accused me of being superior to him. He said I was being elitist and that I was too snobby to fuck him. Things escalated quickly and he almost—”

  Alexander vaulted from the bed and began to pace, motioning with an impatient wave for me to continue.

  I chose my words carefully, aware of the edge Alexander teetered on. “But he didn’t,” I said. “Belle came home. She saw what was going on and threatened to call the police. That night should have been enough for me to see what he was doing to me, but still I thought I was in love with him. I refused to go to therapy even though Belle pushed. I was fine. Things were under control, and then I fainted during class. At the hospital, they asked me when my last period was and I couldn’t remember.”

  Alexander froze, his expression unreadable.

  “I honestly thought I was pregnant, and the thought of having a baby with Daniel made me so scared that I got sick. They had to put me on oxygen and give me a feeding tube.” My voice broke as I recalled that day in the hospital and the whirlwind of emotions I’d suffered. “I realized that I wasn’t scared of having a baby, but I was terrified of being permanently bound to Daniel. When it occurred to me that my child would have him for a father, there was a sadness deeper than any I’ve ever known.”

  “So you ended it,” Alexander guessed. He’d stopped his furious pacing to hover next to the bed.

  “I didn’t have to,” I said, a humorless laugh spilling out. It was impossible now to understand how I could have been so naive. “The results came back negative. I wasn’t pregnant. I was malnourished. My liver was barely functioning. I was shutting down. I hadn’t purposefully stopped eating. I hadn’t even realized I was doing it. The doctors quizzed me and suggested I go back to therapy, especially a support group. It was there that I realized I’d been clinging to an idea of control that didn’t exist. Not eating was something I chose. Maybe because of the awful things he said about my body. Maybe because subconsciously I desperately needed to control something. My group helped me see that I’d given him control over me instead. So when I say he broke me—that’s what I mean. I loved him and he nearly killed me. At least, I thought I loved him.”

  “And now?” Alexander asked.

  “Now…” I trailed away, no longer certain that was the case. Now I had someone to compare Daniel to, but I didn’t dare tell Alexander that. “Let’s just say that distance has given me perspective. Although after today, I feel like I’ve been thrown back in time. I suppose no matter how far I’ve come, I can’t change what happened, and that means sometimes I have to face it.”

  Alexander’s eyes grew distant as he considered this. He understood what I was saying better than most. I’d witnessed his nightmares and caught the self-deprecating comments he threw into conversations. Even though he hadn’t laid open his soul to me yet, I knew that I could trust him with what had happened to me. I could only hope someday that he felt the same way. “That’s why you ran when I brought up submission.”

  I nodded. I hadn’t wanted to bring it back to him, not after how far we’d come in the last few days, but avoiding it wasn’t going to help.

  “I can’t believe I…” he searched for the words, a familiar expression of self-loathing on his face.

  “No, X,” I stopped him. “It wasn’t just that. It was the idea of any relationship.”

  “My predilections certainly won’t help you,” he growled.

  “I thought that at first too. But you aren’t him, and I’m stronger now.”

  “And your body?” The rasp in his voice arrested me with its implication, and I couldn’t speak. “How do you feel about your body?”

  Pushing the words over my dry tongue, I forced myself to answer him. “Most days I don’t think about it. I eat. I get dressed. I walk or run. Other days, I catch myself wishing I had a body like Pepper’s.”

  His eyes flashed at the mention of her name, but he didn’t speak. Instead he lifted me into his arms, without so much
as a word. I wrapped my arms around his neck as he cradled me against his chest. Alexander kicked open the bathroom door with his foot and carried me to the mirror. Setting me gently on my feet, he guided me around to face my reflection. His lips moved to my ears as his fingers deftly unzipped my dress and pushed it past my shoulders with slow deliberation.

  “I’ve been remiss in telling you how I feel about your body,” Alexander said, his breath tickling my earlobe and sending warm tendrils of pleasure cascading down my neck. “Your gorgeous cunt gets so much of my attention, but when I said your whole body was made for fucking, I mean it.”

  His fingers stayed hooked into the straps of my dress, preventing it from falling to my feet. Alexander’s mouth drifted across my skin to the curve of my neck. He pressed a lingering kiss there, his eyes closed in reverence, and I melted against him. His eyes snapped open, and I saw wildness reflecting from them. “This—” he brushed the spot with his lips “—was made to kiss—so smooth and soft. When I’m burying my cock in your perfect cunt, I can’t help myself.”

  He demonstrated with another leisurely caress of his lips, but this time his teeth sank lightly into the flesh, and I gasped in approval. A pleased smile curved across his face. Alexander planted kisses as he inched the straps of my dress down the length of my arms. “Long and slender. These freckles drive me crazy.” He paused. “And the way they feel when they’re wrapped around me, clinging to me as I ride you—perfection.”

  The dress slipped off me and pooled at my feet as Alexander’s fingers knit through mine. He drew our clasped hands over my shoulder and kissed each knuckle. “Such clever fingers. I hate when they aren’t intertwined with mine, unless they’re on my cock, of course.”

  I nodded, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip as I drank in his reflection in the mirror—his blue eyes smoldering into mine, in such contrast to his thick, jet-black hair, his lips pressed to my hand.

  “Look at yourself, poppet,” he ordered when he realized what I was doing.