Chapter 11 #2
I shove another chip in my mouth and tell myself I don’t care.
Once it’s dark, a knock taps on my door. I pause mid-explosion and really hope Louis isn’t dumb enough to show up at my cottage when he should be charming his dinner guests.
I brush the chip crumbs off my shirt and walk barefoot to the door. When I pull it open, I’m suddenly aware of how few clothes I have on.
Louis stands before me in a perfectly tailored suit. His hair is styled but messy, and he cleaned up his five-o’clock shadow. His blue eyes travel down to my lips, across my breasts, to my bare thighs. His brow lifts, and I swear his pupils dilate.
“You reset the board,” he says, his arms crossed over his chest.
“I ended the game.” I lean against the doorframe.
“We are not fucking done,” he states matter-of-factly, like he’s not in the mood for my shit.
“Yes, we are,” I tell him without hesitation.
“Let me in,” he says.
“Is that an order, Your Highness?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest to match his stance. “I’m not someone you can boss around.”
“May I please enter so we can speak in private?” His voice is kinder. “Please?”
“Only because you used your manners.” I step back and gesture for him to enter.
He moves past me, and I catch the hint of his woodsy cologne.
I close the door and turn to find him standing in the middle of my living room, looking completely out of place. The snacks are open on the coffee table, and my laptop is frozen on an explosion.
“Is that Steven Seagal?” he asks.
“Maybe. What do you want?”
He shakes his head. “Do you like action films?”
I sigh. “It’s a comfort thing. When I can’t paint, and my mind is fucked up, I watch bad movies. It makes me feel better about life.”
His mouth curves into something close to a smile, and his head tilts. “Are you drunk?”
I scoff. “Is this fifty questions? Seriously, it’s none of your business.”
“You are.” He loosens his tie. “Delphine?”
“I’m not a snitch.”
“She’s always been trouble.” He pulls the tie free and tosses it onto the back of my chair. “You two together will be a problem.”
“For the last time, what do you want?” I move past him to close my laptop.
He unbuttons his collar, and I try not to stare at the skin it reveals. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”
“While surrounded by beautiful women pining for your attention?” I slide my hand into the chip bag and eat a few. “You’re rude.”
“I’m really fucking sorry you had to find out about this arrangement this way,” he says, his voice softening.
“I am too,” I say, then gesture toward the door. “Goodbye, Louis. Go find your wife.”
“I’m not leaving.” He takes a step closer, then another. “Do you hate me?”
“I want to. I need to. But I don’t.” I set down the chip bag and wipe my salty fingers on my shirt, which makes it ride up.
“Please forgive me. There is so much I want to tell you, but—”
“You can trust me, Louis. I will take your secrets to the grave. You have my word. And …” I shake my head. “I forgive you.”
I watch the mask he wears in public slip away. Underneath it, he’s exhausted.
“I learned about this yesterday,” he explains. “About the princesses coming to stay here. My parents summoned me after lunch and told me everything was accelerating. I had less than a day to prepare and process.”
“You have to choose your bride in two weeks? That’s absurd.”
“I’m aware. This arrangement has always existed, Addison.
I’ve known since I was eighteen that if I didn’t find a wife by the time I was thirty-five, this was the process.
Now I’m thirty-six, and no one has ever felt right …
” His words trail off, and he doesn’t finish his sentence.
As he tries to gain control, he runs a hand through his perfect hair, messing it up even more.
“There’s so much I want to tell you, but I can’t find the words. Everything sounds unrealistic.”
The anger I’ve been carrying shifts into something more complicated.
“This is why you were weird yesterday,” I say.
“Yes.” He meets my eyes.
I see stress carved into the lines around his eyes. He’s not playing games. He’s trying to be as truthful as possible.
Louis closes the distance between us until he’s right in front of me. “Do you know what it’s like to have your entire life planned out for you? Every decision already made before you were old enough to understand what you were giving up?”
“No,” I whisper.
“I know there’s no version of this that works. I’ve already played out every scenario.” His thumb traces along my bottom lip, and I grow breathless. “But I’m so fucking tired of doing what I’m supposed to do.”
We stand there, inches apart.
“You should go back to the palace,” I say.
His fingers slip under the hem of my shirt and slide around my waist. The contact sends heat rushing through me.
“Tell me to leave,” he mutters.
“Leave,” I breathe out, but I lean further into his touch instead of pulling away.
“You’re supposed to sound convincing.”
“I can’t.”
He’s so close now that I can see the navy flecks in his blue eyes. His breath ghosts across my lips, and I want him so bad that it nearly hurts.
“This needs to end,” I say. “You know that.”
I watch the realization settle across his shoulders. He takes a step back, and I feel the loss of him immediately.
“You’re right.” He shakes his head. “Of course you are. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
He moves toward the door, and I watch him go, but I didn’t realize how much that would hurt. Tomorrow, I guess we’ll pretend this never happened.
He reaches for the door, and I can tell he’s fighting with himself.
“Louis,” I say, my voice strained. “I …”
My words vanish when he turns and crosses the room in three strides. Before I can even finish my sentence, his hands are cupping my face, and his mouth is on mine. I don’t even remember what I was going to say.
The kiss isn’t gentle. It’s everything we’ve been holding back, all the tension from the conservatory sessions and the chess games and the dinner in his loft.
I grab the lapels of his suit jacket and pull him closer, needing more.
He backs me against the kitchen counter, his body pressing into mine.
Our tongues slide together, and I moan into his mouth because I’ve been wanting this since the last time I had him.
His hands slide down from my face to my hips, and he lifts me onto the counter, stepping between my thighs.
I wrap my legs around him and drag him against me, and the sound he makes against my mouth is almost painful.
His fingers dig into the bare skin of my thighs, and I arch into him because I need all of him.
“Fuck,” he breathes against my lips when his hands slide higher and find nothing but skin. “You’re not wearing any panties.”
“I took a shower and wasn’t expecting company,” I confess.
He groans and kisses me deeper, one hand gripping my thigh while the other tangles in my hair. I can feel how hard he is, pressed against me.
When he finally pulls back, we’re both gasping for breath.
“This is far from over. You’ll search for this feeling for the rest of your life,” he says against my mouth.
“So will you.”
Louis places his forehead against mine. “I can’t give you up yet.”
“Then don’t.”
His phone buzzes, and he pulls it out of his pocket with a, “Fuck. I have to go.”
I can’t even respond as he steps away from me and walks out the door without looking back.
I sit on the counter with my shirt pushed up. My lips are swollen, and my entire body is aching for more. The door clicks shut, and I stare at the empty room.
I slide onto unsteady legs and press my fingers to my lips.
“What the hell?” I whisper, knowing he makes me weak.
I sink into the cushions and turn my action movie back on.
An hour into it, there’s another knock at my door.
“Seriously?” I say out loud.
I move to the door, expecting to find Louis again. But it’s not him.
Delphine is wearing a hooded cloak like she’s stepped out of a fairy tale. Her eyes are bright with mischief, and she’s grinning like she knows exactly what happened.
“Special delivery,” she says, holding out a folded piece of paper.
I take it with trembling fingers and unfold it.
Louis’s perfect handwriting stares back at me.
Meet me at the clock tower at midnight.
I look up at Delphine, but she’s already backing away, her cloak swirling around her ankles.
“Don’t be late,” she singsongs before she’s gone.
I stand in the doorway, holding his note, my lips still tingling from his kiss, wondering how the hell I’m supposed to stay away from him now.