Chapter Eighteen
Julian
P ress conferences are held in a large chamber with a marble floor and windows along one wall. Legend has it that once, the windows were stained glass, but when the Petrovians sacked the palace six hundred years ago they took care to smash every single pane to bits .
Probably because the windows showed of a glorious Griskoldian victory of Petrovinsk. No worries, though, because not fifty years after they shattered our windows we took their queen hostage for two decades .
Our countries have never really gotten along, despite being neighbors. It’s why there were so few protests over Belle’s captivity, once we let it slip that she was suspected of spying .
I didn’t escort her here. As she was changing into the outfit I chose for her, I slipped out of my chambers and came to the press conference separately, the remote to her vibrator still in my pocket .
I have a lot of impulse control. I was in the military for years. I led an elite regiment. I know how to tamp down my base desires and get things done .
Belle Marchand tests every limit I have, though. I didn’t know if I could walk her through the palace, knowing that I could have her on the brink of orgasm in twenty seconds, and not do it .
And once I did, it would be hard as hell not to push her against a wall, slide her skirt over her ass, leave my handprints there for being a naughty girl .
Or worse, hold her hands behind her back as I bend her over, her sweet supple body writhing with pleasure as I —
The big doors to the room open, and instantly, there’s a barrage .
“Your Highness!” a reporter shouts, already shoving a microphone into my face. “Can you please comment on speculation that keeping Miss Marchand is just — ”
“—What is the danger from Petrovinsk at this time?” someone else shouts, drowning out the first person. “How much do you — ”
“Is it true that the Marchands are part of a much larger, more dangerous — ”
I hold up one hand, silencing the mob, and by some miracle they all go quiet .
“All your questions will be answered,” I say, keeping my voice calm and quiet .
I can practically feel them looking at my bad eye, but I ignore it. Sure, I could wear an eyepatch, but to be honest I like having the ability to instantly unnerve people, particularly reporters .
I also like reminding them what I’ve given up for my country every time they question me .
Finally, my eye lands on her. Belle. She’s already on the stage, wearing the pencil skirt, white blouse, and heels I chose for her, sitting behind a table and looking at a folder .
I finger the remote in my pocket, deaf to the reporters’ inquiries, simply staring straight ahead at the girl as I take a seat to one side of the stage, still watching her .
As if she can feel me looking, Belle glances up .
God, she’s beautiful. She’s beautiful now, wearing business attire and about to address a room full of reporters. She was beautiful last night, half-naked and writhing with pleasure .
And she’ll be beautiful later, when I finally take her like she’ll beg me to, moaning and helpless .
I can’t help myself any longer, and I hit the button on the vibrator remote. It’s on the lowest setting but all the same, Belle’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly, and suddenly, she’s incredibly interested in the briefing materials my office prepared for her as her cheeks blush pinker and pinker .
Below the table she’s clamping her knees together, legs crossed at the ankles. I doubt anyone but me can tell what’s happening, that even from fifty feet away I’m sending waves of pleasure through her body and simply watching her .
I’d love to make my pet come in front of all these people, but I don’t. The first time is for me and me alone .
I shut the vibrator off, and I swear I can see Belle slump slightly in her chair, take a deep breath, shake her head, and I smile to myself .
After a few moments, the press conference begins, and my press secretary talks for five meaningless minutes: he assures the reporters that Belle isn’t being held illegally, that this is just a precaution, et cetera, et cetera .
On stage, Belle looks nervous. I caress the remote in my pocket as she glances at me, my press secretary clearly winding down with his portion of the conference .
Then, finally, he vacates the lectern and she’s up. She nods at him, grabs the folder, walks to the podium in the shoes I left her this morning. Belle is poised and graceful, beautiful, acting as if she’s a princess, not a woman being held as a political prisoner and sexual captive by a beast .
“Thank you all for coming today,” she starts, her voice clear and calm. “I realize that my current position has made a number of Griskold’s citizens concerned and anxious …”
I hit the button on the remote .