Twenty-One #2
“Theo said it was family business.” I was treading a very fine line with him, and I could see it in the way he shifted on his feet, his jaw clenching. “I know your parents are gone… I never asked if you had siblings.”
“I had a younger sister.” A touch of anger sprinkled his statement. “She died when I was fifteen.”
“Fuck. Shite—I’m so sorry.” I covered my mouth. I was getting better at dealing with press and holding myself in certain ways in front of cameras, polished and poised, but still awkward in real moments, the real me coming out unfiltered.
Lennox’s mouth twitched with humor before it dissolved. “It was a long time ago.”
“How?”
“She drowned. We had a lake on our farm. Swam there every summer. She was ten. Better swimmer than me.” He glanced down. “She had asthma… and I wasn’t paying attention.” He swallowed, looking away. “She died.”
“It wasn’t your fault. You were still a boy—”
“It was my fault.” He gritted his teeth. “It was different back then. At fifteen, I had most of the farm’s responsibility on my shoulders. My sister was easy compared to everything else. She should have been my only concern. Not—” He shook his head, not finishing his thought.
I understood, growing up on a farm, obtaining a lot more independence and responsibility than most kids. I was birthing calves, lambs, and training horses at six. And I had been in charge of my sister a lot, never once thinking I was too young to watch her.
He leaned back on his heels, ready to bolt. “I better get back.”
“Wait.” Impulsively, I clutched his hand.
His gaze dropped down to my touch, a nerve in his cheek convulsing.
“I just wanted to say…” My tongue and mind stumbled over each other, having no idea what I wanted to say or where I was even going.
I stared at my hand gripping his, his skin warm and calloused, fumbling with my thoughts.
“What?” he said lowly, stealing oxygen from my lungs.
I peered up at him, my head wagging, full of nothing.
“What, Spencer?” he rumbled with a bite of irritation.
“I don’t know.” I miss you. I want to see you more. Be friends again.
All those statements felt wrong to voice out loud. Like it was improper. And none of them seemed to fully express the sentiment cramping my chest anyway.
He tugged out of my grip. “You don’t know or just can’t say?”
“What?” My head jerked up, my foot stepping back. In a flash, anger soured my expression. “What do you mean by that?”
“Nothing.” He gripped his cell with his other hand, taking a step back from me as well, widening the gap between us. “Put back on your heels and pretty smile… You are fitting in well here.”
“I’m sorry?” My mouth parted, anger burning up my spine.
He shook his head, circling around, heading for the path.
“Don’t walk away from me!” I yelled, jogging after him, the soles of my feet crying out in pain as they hit the gravel.
“You ordering me to stop, Duchess?”
“Don’t call me that.” I rolled my hands into fists, still trekking after him. “And yes, I’m ordering you!”
He whipped around the same time I caught up with him, forcing me to jump back, my head cranking up.
“You can’t command me.” He leaned into my face, his mouth only an inch from mine. “I don’t work for you, remember? I work for the king.”
“If you want to keep your job, you will.” The moment I said it, I wanted to pluck the words from the air, pretending they were never said.
His nose flared, his jaw settling in a strong line.
“I-I didn’t mean that.”
“Yeah, you did.” Fury lined his forehead, his huge frame puffing even more over mine. On flat feet, I felt tiny under his furious shadow. “It’s fine, Duchess… I’m nothing more than the help.”
A strangled scream stuck in my throat, huffing out my nose, and my gaze burned with ire. I wanted to punch him, strangle him, kick him like my trainer had taught me.
At six a.m. and without coffee, I hadn’t even wanted to kill my trainer the way I wanted to murder Lennox.
“Fuck. You,” I seethed.
A smirk tugged the side of his mouth.
“You seem to have more of a problem with your position than I do.” I didn’t back down.
“Because you like me under you?”
“Wha-what?” Lava bubbled under my skin. I was overly conscious of his proximity, his body, his mouth. “I don’t think that is appropriate to say.”
The word sounded snotty. Exactly like an uptight, spoiled rich girl.
“Wow.” He stared down at me, forcing my pulse to hum in my ears.
“I meant under you as in my position here… not literally under you.” His eyes scrolled down me.
“You are one of them. And it has nothing to do with the dress and heels.” He lifted an eyebrow before he swiveled away, striding back up the path toward the palace, his shoulders in a rigid line.
My gaze dropped down to his fleeing rear end, the slacks hugging them every time he stepped. Fuck.
“Arrrghh!” I flung my arms, spinning myself away, fury at myself and him vibrating out of me. Especially him.
What was I thinking? I did not miss that arsehole. We didn’t even resemble friends.
I missed Landen and Mina. Lennox was a desperate plea for me to contact my real friends. I longed for a night like we used to: eat pizza, sneak booze from our family’s liquor cabinet, giggle and talk about everything and nothing.
Now everything was about RH. From the moment I woke up, I breathed, ate, and drank royal life. Nothing felt like mine anymore.
It was worth it. Being with Theo was worth it, but I needed a break.
Swiping up my heels, I tried to walk back without them, but gave up halfway, slipping them on.
It was easier to put them on than getting shredded over the rocks.
Easier. Why did I feel my heels were a metaphor for my life?
Late for my lesson, I took a shortcut through one of the many sitting rooms, cutting down one of the quieter hallways.
“Princess.” A familiar man’s voice drifted from around the corner, slowing my feet. “You know I’m only trying to protect you.”
Dalton?
“Protect me?” Eloise’s acidic laugh smashed into the walls, halting me in place, something telling me I wasn’t supposed to be there. “Yes, you are the dutiful guard, aren’t you?”
“Princess—”
“Stop calling me that,” she exclaimed.
Inching slowly, I peered around the wall.
Eloise was clad in skintight jeans, sexy punk-rock heels with vulgar words written over them in bright colors, and a deep V-neck white shirt, which you could see through.
Her black lacy bra was on display, her hair up in a messy bun.
When she was home, she wore outfits that the public would never dream their sweet, perfect Princess Eloise would adorn.
Her parents scolded her constantly, but she never was swayed from doing her thing.
Across from her, Dalton was in his usual tailored suit and tie, looking perfect and sexy as he always did. A carbon copy of the day before, never venturing out of the lines. He seemed like the kind who probably ironed his boxers.
Eloise, far more than Theo, bucked against the constant control and bodyguards, but something in her manner kept me from stepping out, telling me this was more than her arguing against their overbearingness or a new rule.
“What do you want me to call you?” He pushed his shoulders back, his gaze going past her.
“How about my name?” She put her hands on her hips. “You did once.”
His dark eyes snapped to her, his full lips pinching together. “Your Highness…”
“Bloody hell, Dalton.” She tossed out her hands. “I’m a person. A real human being, no matter how much you wish differently.”
“You know that’s not true.”
“No. I think you prefer me being a title. Just an object you move around and can put in a box up on a shelf at night.”
Jaw clenched, he exhaled through his nose.
“Because if I was actually real? Flesh and blood? What would you do then?” She stepped up to him, putting only a handful of centimeters between them. Her neck dipped back to look up at his tall frame, her entire demeanor a dare. A test.
His jaw twitched again, his nose flaring, every muscle locking up, but he didn’t move away from her.
“My lady…” he muttered, threads of anger and pleading tangled in it.
“That’s what I thought.” She scoffed, stepping back, anger tapering her lids. “Do us both a favor and stop trying to protect me. I have my own bodyguard for that.”
“I’m the head guard; your safety is my job.”
“No, your job is supervising my guard so he can better protect me. You have no need to communicate with me. And you definitely have no right to tell me what to do or who I can screw,” she hissed. “Your job is guarding Theo. Stay the fuck out of my life. Got it?”
“Eloise—”
“No,” she spat. “You’re too late for that.” She spun around and strode away, her head held high.
He watched her leave, his expression not telling me what he was thinking. With a heavy sigh, his thumbs rubbed at his brows before he twisted the opposite way.
My way.
Oh hell. Crapcrapcrap.
I bolted forward as if I was just coming down the hall, colliding with Dalton.
“My lady.” He grabbed my shoulders. “I’m so sorry.”
“Oh my god.” I stumbled back, grabbing at my chest in false surprise. “You scared me.”
I didn’t hear or see anything!
Dalton swallowed, a flick of dread blinking in his eyes.
“I didn’t know you were there. I apologize.”
“Same!” I expressed with far too much vibrancy, my mouth gushing out words. “I was in my own little world. Didn’t hear you at all.”
So smooth, Spencer… not awkward at all.
His brow furrowed, his hand tugging at his cuffs, straightening his jacket.
“Off to etiquette lesson. Running late actually, so I better go.” I pointed, my feet taking off in that direction. “See you later tonight!” I waved behind me, not turning around.
I could feel him stare after me in confusion, knowing I wasn’t acting normal. I squeezed my eyes shut, picking up my pace, berating myself.
I should be only allowed around animals, far too awkward to be with people, no matter how much my mother tried to instill polished behavior in me or how many etiquette lessons I had taken.
I wasn’t meant for public consumption.