Chapter Two
NO, NO, NO.
She wasn’t going to go there. She absolutely was not going to—
You belong to me. You belong to me. You belong to—
Lotte took another step back, desperately keeping her outrage at the forefront and the horrifying…
elation buried at the back of her mind. She couldn’t be feeling this again.
Wasn’t the most humiliating half hour she’d experienced three years ago enough?
While Valenti would never be labelled effusive with his feelings, she’d believed for years that he was fond of her.
At least tolerated her. Until that moment in Cartana when he’d scoured her with those silver eyes, something deeply grave and earth-moving, changing his demeanour.
And his attitude. Changing their dynamic forever.
So no, she couldn’t like his hand on her. Not when he was running roughshod over her wishes. Not even if he seemed to have forgotten himself just now.
Because for one lousy minute, most likely in response to the horrible spectacle that had forever tarnished her well-loved bedroom, Prince Valenti Domene had lowered his titanium guard.
And he’d caressed her wrist.
She should be addressing this violation, the increasingly insistent and belligerent follower whose friendliness had crossed a line recently.
Who she’d dismissed because deep down she’d trusted that Valenti, despite not wanting anything to do with her personally, had charged enough well-trained men—hell, a veritable small army and the last word in overkill—with protecting her.
She should’ve been thinking of that.
Not the waves of heat and ice unravelling through her. Unravelling her.
She withstood the all-consuming sensation, let it bathe her from head to toe.
She had learned painfully that it was the only way, because her self-preservation would kick in.
Sure she would be a little hollowed out, clutching the frayed tatters of her composure.
But there would be enough left to pick herself back up again.
She stepped forward when Leif and Valenti exchanged another look. ‘What is it?’ she snapped.
Valenti’s jaw clenched. Then he turned to her and examined her for an age before he spoke. ‘There is more. And no matter what you feel I don’t believe it will benefit you to see further…unsavouriness. Will you stay here and let me?’ he rasped.
That…disarmed her. Threatened to dismantle her outrage. Because this less high-handed manner reminded her of the Valenti of old. The Valenti who didn’t order icily and instead…engaged.
She tried to resummon fury, but while it arrived on cue, another sensation threatened its potency.
She vividly remembered how it felt to be draped over his hard, powerful body.
How her fingers had brushed over his tight backside as he marched her out of the nightclub.
She cursed the blush she could feel racing into her cheeks.
Cursed her fair skin for consistently betraying her where this man was concerned.
Slivers of that guilt blasted her for the feelings she could never completely contain around this man as she boldly met his gaze.
Searched for mockery or rejection. She found none, but then neither was there further evidence that he was softening.
Maybe this was merely a ploy to get her onside, but…
did she really need to see what other horrors had been left in her bathroom?
‘Fine, I’ll stay here. But we’re definitely discussing any other plans you’re cooking up.
Including where we’re going and how long we’re going to be away. ’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Why? Do you have a hot date to keep?’
She wanted to blurt yes, but that would be lying.
Besides, he monitored every corner of her life.
She’d known the deal when she turned eighteen and, erroneously believed she was free of him, only to be disavowed of that anticipation of bittersweet joy.
Until she turned twenty-five, Valenti Domene held the key to her freedom.
She’d tried seeking an ally in her brother, but Gunnar, after shamefacedly confessing he wasn’t ‘parent material’ had urged her not to fight the guardianship, subtly reminding her of the power and might of the Domenes.
As if she could forget. Even now, she couldn’t escape the granite perfection of his face. The high, proud cheekbones. The haughty nose.
The small nick across his right eyebrow that would forever distinguish him from his identical twin. But only if you were close enough to him to see it. Or if his twin weren’t the starlit night sky to Valenti’s fathomless black hole.
Yin and yang. Two sides of an endlessly complex, priceless whole. Except she’d never found Teo as soul-searingly fascinating and hauntingly perplexing as she found Valenti. Even from a young age.
‘Lotte.’
The rumble of warning made her insides jolt. Made her gaze slide from his to the bed she would never be able to sleep in again. The bed she was sure Valenti would instruct Leif to remove and burn before sunrise.
Then she glanced at the faces of the people paid to handle her well-being. Those who took care of the practicalities while leaving her alone to wander the wilderness of her loneliness.
While they were devoted to her every material whim and plea, and on some level she knew they cared about her well-being, they wouldn’t be here if Prince Valenti Domene wasn’t paying their salaries.
Before abhorrent self-pity and claustrophobia of her gilded cage could suck her under, she shook her head. ‘I have a life. One I’m not willing to have hijacked by anyone. So yes, I’ll let the authorities do what they need to, but I also demand to know when I can return to my life.’
Even if that life left her increasingly only half fulfilled.
Even if that reality was—now that she didn’t have to fill her head with useless information like polo tournament etiquette or how to rectify the social faux pas of offending a man by stating an opposing opinion—shining a far too bright light on how empty and lonely her life truly was, now she was helping other women realise their dreams.
She pushed those tendrils of desolation far away as his lips flattened for one second.
‘Are you sure you want a timeline?’
Those tendrils morphed into apprehension. ‘Why wouldn’t I?’
‘Very well. At the very least one month or six weeks. Perhaps longer.’
‘You must be joking!’ It was the second time she’d proclaimed him humorous. Maybe it was subliminal wishful thinking. A gut reaction yearning for a time long gone. Because the last time she’d seen him crack a smile or approach anywhere near playful had been…
Her insides twisted. Then those twists knotted hard until her chest burned with the torture.
The distinct sound of the lift’s arrival galvanised movement from the security team. Silent commands were passed from Valenti to a handful of them. Nods of acknowledgment tumbled like falling dominoes.
Then he was ushering her out, a firm hand at the small of her back she was absolutely not going to think about.
‘I’ll be out in a moment,’ he rasped then stepped back and shut her bedroom door, temporarily severing the electrifying connection of his presence.
Her breath shuddered out, the sensation of having the air restored making her chest heave.
Like always, he’d arrived with the deadly power of a midnight sonic boom, turned her inside out, and left long before the devastation of his presence shattered around her.
But she wasn’t eighteen anymore, when she’d forced herself to label the feelings seething like hormonal explosions beneath her skin, ready to burst free if she so much as thought of him.
Or nineteen, when she’d allowed those emotions to dominate her.
To rob her so completely of common sense that she’d boarded a plane and presented herself in his beloved kingdom, hoping for some regard from the man who’d cared so deeply for her flesh and blood but it turned out, had been pretending a fondness for Lotte.
That reminder and the searing embarrassment it dragged along with it powered her feet and determination, and she watched with a weighty amount of glee as the guards jumped apart to let her through.
Just in time to greet the trio of policemen who walked in.
They were introducing themselves when Valenti joined her, his face set in even more icy resolution.
He crossed to the mantel where a small fire blazed in the hearth and positioned himself before it, arms crossed. Dominating the room with unmistakable authority.
Lotte wasn’t surprised at all when the police fell over themselves to start taking notes.
With each revelation that yes, she’d received uncomfortable messages from a stranger, that yes, she’d ignored most of them and that, yes, her unwanted admirer had become increasingly aggressive, finding ways to overcome her attempts to block him, the more rigid with deadly tension Valenti grew.
Until the police were casting him more wary glances than they were her.
To the point she was almost relieved when he returned to her bedroom with the uniformed men.
Lotte should’ve stayed put in the living room as agreed, but dammit, this was about her. She was damned if she’d turn into some meek doll just to please Prince Valenti Domene.
‘It’s clear these pictures were taken by a drone outside her bedroom window,’ Valenti’s arctic fury cut through her thoughts.
Dear God! Pictures? Of her?
‘We can only be thankful it’s winter and her French windows were shut or who knows—’
‘You think?’ Valenti snarled, cutting off the policeman’s useless speculation. ‘How did this happen?’
‘Unfortunately, drones aren’t illegal,’ one policeman said.
Before she could stop herself, she was rushing into the room, skirting Valenti’s towering form to see the pictures they were examining.
All of her moving around in her bedroom.
‘Lotte.’ She ignored Valenti’s clipped warning, snatched up the photos and quickly leafed through them. Thanking the heavens for small mercies that none were of her naked.