26. Princess Davina
Chapter 26
Princess Davina
“To love is to burn, to be on fire.”
— Jane Austen
M y eyes sweep across the ballroom, darting from one corner to the next and taking in the attempt to appease me, to make it seem like everything is fine.
It’s a swirl of unfamiliar faces—men and women of various ages, all seemingly enjoying the night. Cole is nowhere to be found, but it doesn’t ease the anger in my chest. His arrogance and ignorance are almost tangible, driving me to the brink of madness.
Rafe stands beside me, both of us watching the dance floor where everyone is laughing, drinking, and dancing the night away. The room is grand and opulent, with crystal chandeliers casting a warm, golden glow over everything.
“You’re not having fun.”
“This fancy ball is nothing more thana pathetic distraction,” I mutter. It’s the only explanation I can come up with for why Cole seems so willing to entertain strangers in his palace.
Rafe steps in close, reaching out a hand. “Shall we dance?”
I sigh as I place my hand in his. “One dance, then I’m heading to bed,” I reply and smile reluctantly, but he doesn’t return the gesture.
A new song starts, and he jerks me across the room, my feet stumbling as I try to keep up with his steps.
I wince when his palm tightens around mine.
“Stop judging him,” he hisses, his voice sharp with an edge that catches me off guard.
I flinch, his tone making me recoil. “Excuse me? Are you defending him and his terrible decisions?”
“Not all of his decisions, but his motives. He’s doing all of this to save your ass.”
“But I don’t want?—”
“No,” he cuts me off. “I don’t want to hear it. Listen, I know you don’t want him to risk someone’s life, but you’re not in the position to judge. Not when you’re the reason he’s acting like a lovesick fool.”
My jaw tightens as I shake my head. This isn’t supposed to be my fault. Cole isn’t some lovesick fool; he just needs me for his plan and uses my safety as a cover for his mistakes.
“Rafe, you’ve got to be kidding.”
“No, I just?—”
“Hi, pretty princess.”
We stumble to a stop at the sound of Cole’s voice. I turn to face him, catching sight of the familiar smirk plastered across his face, which only seems to widen as our eyes meet.
There it is again, that infuriating smile.
It’s absolutely maddening that someone so insufferable, so utterly despicable, can have a smile like that.
I raise an eyebrow, trying to mask my annoyance with a facade of indifference. “Are you talking to me?”
“Who else would I be talking to? Are there any other pretty princesses here? Haven’t seen one, let alone another pretty woman.”
“You must have terrible eyesight if I’m the only one you’ve noticed.”
“Oh, my eyesight is just fine. I’m just terribly selective about who catches my attention. You’re dismissed, Rafe,” he adds as he holds my gaze.
Rafe’s loyalty is clear as he gives a curt nod and releases me, murmuring, “I tried.”
“You once told me I wasn’t acting like a princess,” I mutter, remembering those exact words.
“Yes, but when I said that, I didn’t mean it as an insult.”
He moves toward me, my breath whooshing from my lungs when his arm wraps around my waist and pulls me close.
“I believe you owe me a dance,” he says coolly, taking my hand and tangling his fingers with mine. He lifts our joined hands to the side, and suddenly, we’re waltzing.
Cole commands my body as effortlessly as he commands a room, and reluctantly, I sink into his hold. The way he’s holding me—the way he’s pulling me just a little too tight and too close—makes me want to slam my head against the wall.
I narrow my eyes at him. “And why would I owe you a dance?”
“Do you need me to remind you of how you hurt me?”
“I have no idea what you’re referring to.”
“Oh, you don’t? Let me refresh your memory—it was about knee-high and incredibly painful. Ringing any bells?”
“Oh, that?” I respond, showing no hint of regret. “Yes, I remember now.”
He has the nerve to laugh, as if he finds amusement rather than anger in the fact that I’ve hurt him. “You really enjoy watching me suffer, don’t you?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“God, you’re stunning,” he murmurs, pushing me outward and spinning my body around before drawing me back in, closer than we were before. “Even when you lie to me.”
My body stiffens as his lips brush my ear.
“You are good at many things, darling, but lying isn’t one of them.”
“Don’t you dare attempt to divert attention from the gravity of your impending vile actions,” I shoot back. “Your plan?—”
“Excuse me,” he singsongs, “I can’t hear you over the sound of how wrong you are.”
“You drive me crazy, you know that?”
“Crazy in a good way, right? Otherwise, I’m not doing my job properly.”
“You are maddening.”
“And you,” he replies softly, “are absolutely mesmerizing.”
“I’m being serious,” I snap back. “This isn’t a joke?—”
“Are you trying to keep me close with all this endless talking, Princess? Is this supposed to be a ploy to get your hands on me for as long as possible?”
“You truly have the audacity to flaunt such arrogance after everything.” I take a deliberate step back to create space between us. “I guess your ego is the only thing bigger than your mistakes.”
“And you’re bruising it, letting go of me like that.”
“See, it seems you’re the one desperate to hold on and get his hands on me.”
“I didn’t realize that had to be said out loud,” he says, inching closer to close the distance between us. His fingertips lightly graze my back, tracing a path up my spine over the silk of my white dress. “Breathtaking.”
“Well, yes, it’s?—”
“I’m not talking about your dress.”
I glare at him. “Do you even care how you’re coming across to everyone here? Do you really want everyone to look at you and think?—”
“I don’t want them to look at me at all. If you haven’t noticed, the only eyes I want on me are yours.”
I let out a weary sigh.
“I don’t…” He trails off, letting out a frustrated breath.
I meet his gaze, finding a warmth in his eyes that makes it almost hard to be angry. I can tell he wants to say something vulnerable, can practically see it stuck on the tip of his tongue, and I’m desperate to know what it is.
“You don’t…what?”
He opens his mouth again, but then changes his mind.
“You know you’re making a mistake,” I insist. “I just don’t understand why you’re so desperate to uphold your reputation as the villain. Why do you want everyone to see you that way?”
For a fleeting moment, the mask he wears so well cracks, but just as quickly, it’s back. His head dips, and before I can react, he buries his face in the crook of my neck, his breath warm against my skin. He stays silent for a long time, his fingers digging into me as if he never wants to let go.
“Perhaps I am the villain,” he murmurs, “but I vow to be the villain for you, never against you.” He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching mine with a hint of vulnerability.
His fingers linger on my arms, as if he’s reluctant to fully release me, and I should step away, but the way he holds me like I’m something precious makes it difficult to move.
There’s a tenderness in the way he holds on, a silent plea for just a moment longer. It’s as if he’s afraid I’ll slip away entirely if he loosens his grip, and that thought, absurd as it is, makes me hesitate.
He sighs, a sound that feels heavy with meaning. “Every time you glare at me like that, I can’t help but wonder what it would feel like if you looked at me differently.”
Before I can pull back, he takes my hand and lifts it to his lips, brushing my knuckles with a kiss. “Thank you for the dance,” he says, and then he spins around and storms away.