28. Princess Davina
Chapter 28
Princess Davina
“You don’t love someone because they’re perfect,
you love them in spite of the fact that they’re not.”
— Jodi Picoult
I t’s three in the morning, and the weight on my chest feels heavier with each passing thought of Cole’s plan for tomorrow. How can he possibly consider this a good idea?
The more I dwell on it, the more certain I become that disaster is inevitable if he goes through with it. With a frustrated groan, I toss and turn, grabbing a pillow and smacking it against my face in a futile attempt to silence the chaos inside my head.
You can’t just lie here and do nothing.
The urgency gnaws at me, a relentless reminder that time is slipping away. I have to talk to him again—I won’t be able to sleep without one last attempt to change his mind.
With that determination in mind, I crawl out of bed and make my way downstairs. At this hour, I can expect him to still be in his office. I raise my hand to knock, hesitating for just a moment before rapping my knuckles against the door.
“Not a good time, Rafe,” Cole calls out, exhaustion lacing his words. “I really don’t have the energy for whatever?—”
“It’s me,” I respond, nudging the door open without waiting for an invitation.
He sits behind his desk, his face a mask of unreadable emotion.
“How are you?” I ask carefully, gauging his mood.
“I’m doing alright, but I have a feeling that talking to you might make my night even better.” He tilts his head, studying me. “How about you?”
Relief washes over me—maybe I do have a chance to change his mind.
“Remember the diary you gave me?” I ask, circling his desk to stand in front of him. I hold it up, but before I have the chance to open it, he pulls me onto his lap.
I gasp in surprise, feeling his arm wrap around me as I steady myself with my hand on his shoulder. He squeezes my waist, and it takes me a moment to remember why I wanted to come here in the first place.
I glance up at him, his lips dangerously close to mine.
He flashes a cocky grin, one of his signature dimples on full display as he motions for me to open my diary. “What are you waiting for?” With excruciating slowness, he tucks a section of hair behind my shoulder, his fingers brushing against my skin. “Or were you planning to punish me with that cute little dagger of yours?”
I grit my teeth, irritated that he discovered the dagger—something I had hoped to keep hidden. I ended up with it because Claire offered it to me, and it’s merely a precaution, really.
“Such a wicked, beautiful thing,” he whispers, his breath brushing against my cheek now. “Just my type.”
I fight back a shiver. “Funny, I remember you rather displeased about me being a brat when we first met.”
“Hmm,” he responds and holds my gaze until it hurts, as if he’s peeling back layers of my soul with just his eyes. “I’ve clearly lost my mind, then.”
I lean back slightly. “Obviously.”
Cole chuckles softly, the sound vibrating through the small space between us. He twirls a loose strand of my hair around his finger, both teasing and possessive. “Cherry,” he murmurs, as if testing the word on his tongue. “Such a fitting nickname, don’t you think?”
“Really? That’s the best pet name you can come up with?”
“It’s better than ‘brat,’ isn’t it?”
“Don’t get too comfortable with that name.”
His grin widens, dimples deepening. He’s clearly unbothered by my half-hearted threat. “Too late.” His gaze flickers to my lips, lingering there for a moment too long before meeting my eyes again. “Or am I giving you a reason to draw your dagger by calling you that, Cherry?”
“Don’t tempt me,” I retort, though my voice lacks the venom I intend. He’s too close, and I’m more afraid that he’ll close the distance.
“Tempting you is exactly what I’m doing.” His finger continues to twirl the strand of hair slowly, as if he’s savoring the moment. “You know, I didn’t expect to be so captivated by someone who drives me completely insane.”
I tilt my head slightly, arching an eyebrow. “You mean someone who refuses to put up with your nonsense?”
“That too.” He chuckles, his breath warm against my skin. “But mostly, someone who’s as unpredictable as you are.”
“If you think you can handle unpredictable, then by all means, keep pushing.”
He drops the strand of hair and runs his thumb along my jaw, his touch barely there, his eyes sparkling with challenge. “I intend to.”
I open my diary to put an end to this.
“What’s written in this precious diary of yours?” he asks, his voice teasing. “Secrets, dreams, or perhaps more wicked plans?”
My sigh betrays my irritation as I flip through the pages and look for the most recent entry.
“Found it,” I mutter, offering it to him.
Please, for the love of all that is good, do not take Madeline with you.
P.S. If you listen to me on this, I promise to never complain again.
Well, maybe not never, but at least for a while!
The cockiness slips off his face, and a muscle in his jaw twitches as the room falls into an uncomfortable silence.
“Please?” I bat my lashes, pleading with my eyes.
“Alright, fine.”
I draw in a breath. “Really?” Without thinking, I wrap my arms around him in a hug and let out a small squeal.
He pulls back to look at me. “If I’m not taking Madeline, then who else should I bring? How about Juliet?”
I glare at him, incredulous. “This isn’t funny,” I snap. “No one should go with you. They’re innocent?—”
“No one is innocent.”
“So, what?” I spit. “You don’t care about them at all?”
He laughs, a cold, dismissive sound. “Why would I care about any of them? I need someone to come with me, and you can’t change my mind. I need my sister back, don’t you understand?”
Of course I understand . “Let me talk to Lorelda, maybe?—”
He pulls me from his lap, lifting me to stand. “Alright,” he says with a snort. “Not going to happen. I’ve heard enough.”
I blow out a frustrated breath. “Then promise me you won’t let Lorelda hurt Madeline.”
“I can’t.”
My fingers curl into fists, my nails cutting into my palms.
I’m so disappointed I want to scream.
“You want me to hate you? Fine . Congratulations.”
He pulls me back into his lap, his arms wrapping around me with a firmness that betrays his frustration.
I try to wriggle free, but his grip only tightens.
Without a second thought, I reach for the dagger strapped to my thigh and press the cold blade against his throat.“Let me go.”
He freezes, his eyes meeting mine.
The dagger trembles slightly in my hand as my heart pounds in my chest. I’d never actually hurt anyone, but I need him to understand just how serious I am, how done I am with his games and arrogance. He swallows, the blade pressing into his flesh, but he doesn’t so much as wince. Instead, he tilts his head ever so slightly, exposing more of his neck, as if daring me to go through with it.
“A dagger to my throat? You really know how to keep things exciting. Is this your way of making me fall for you? Because if so, I’m afraid it’s working.”
I scoff. “I’m not in the mood?—”
“I have many ways to help with that.”
My blood boils. “If you think this is all a joke for me, you’ve got another thing coming.”
He glances at the dagger, then looks back at me, unblinking. “Go ahead, then. If you were to end me right here, right now, I’d die a happy man, knowing I had the privilege to be this close to you.”
“Stop it,” I snap, giving him a cold stare.
“Stop what?”
“Sweet talking me?—”
“Oh, so we aren’t flirting?”
“Don’t you get it?” I ask through gritted teeth. “I’d rather hurt you right now than flirt with you.”
A lazy smile spreads across his lips. “Sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference with you.”
My frustration boils over. I twist and squirm, trying to break free from his unyielding grip around my waist.
“Just stop,” he says with a resigned sigh. “Please, just stop. I’m not trying to make you hate me. That’s the last thing I want.”
I push against him. “It’s a little late for that.”
He flinches, his arms tightening around me as if trying to hold back the weight of my words.
“Let. Me. Go,” I hiss one more time, my voice a mixture of desperation and anger.
His grip loosens, his hands slipping away from my waist. He opens his mouth as if he’s going to say something, but I don’t give him the chance.
I slide off his lap and turn to leave.
“And don’t ever call me Cherry again,” I snap over my shoulder before striding out the door and slamming it shut behind me.