Chapter Thirty-One
Julian
I ’m still a prince. Even if I can’t stand to see people, and even if I more than know that they shouldn’t be forced to see me , I’ve got responsibilities. I’ve got work .
I’m in the office in my quarters, angrily writing notes onto the latest diplomatic accords about the amount and types of wheat we’ll import from Voravia, when one of the screens on the wall flicks to life .
It’s the guard shack on the east side of the castle, and the man in it is stiff, saluting me, still as a stone statue .
“At ease,” I growl .
“Sir, yes, Your Highness, Sir,” the man responds .
I hold the bridge of my nose between my forefinger and thumb, already fighting the urge to punch the damn monitor .
“What is it?” I snap .
“Sir, Your Highness, I’ve just allowed a car through this gate,” he says .
“Good, that’s your job .”
He clears his throat. The guy can’t be more than twenty-one, practically still a teenager .
“Sir, my commanding officer informed me that I should let this particular individual in the car in question — ”
“Spit it the fuck out,” I command .
He stands even straighter .
“She gave her name as Isabelle Marchand, and my commanding — ”
I bolt out of my chair, shut the monitor off, my office quickly going dead silent as my insides all twist together like they’re being wrung out .
She’s here .
She came back .
Belle came back .
I didn’t think she would. After more than a week, I thought she’d taken her freedom and escaped me, and as much as I hated the thought of never seeing her again, I couldn’t blame her .
I’m everything a girl like her doesn’t need. I’m damaged, I’m rough, I’m impolite and unkempt. I blur the line between pleasure and pain, and even though she liked it — even though she begged me for it — I can’t help but hate myself sometimes .
A girl like Belle should be worshipped, put on a pedestal, treated like a princess. Not cuffed to a bed, spanked, and fucked hard .
It’s what she wanted , a voice in my head whispers .
It’s why she stayed .
It’s why she’s back .
I swallow hard, slam open the door to my office. I look down at myself, wearing a black t-shirt and gray sweatpants slung around my hips, and I try frantically to remember if I showered that morning .
I think I did .
No, I definitely did. Thank God .
I leave my quarters, ignoring the surprised look on the faces of the guards. They’ve never seen their prince wearing sweatpants before, not to mention that I’ve only let a few people — my cook and my manservant — see me in the past few days, because I know what I look like .
And I don’t care. Belle came back .
I walk swiftly through the halls, down the stairs, to the palace’s side driveway, ignoring the stares that I’m getting from the people who work for me. Let them look, if anyone says anything they’ll be fired so fucking fast they won’t believe it .
Then I’m there, standing outside. The day is a little chilly, unseasonably so, and I can tell that the garage attendants and guards all want to stare but they don’t. I stand there, perfectly still, watching the driveway .
After what feels like an eternity, a car rounds the corner and begins driving up the slight hill .
It’s not a nice car, just a car. A Toyota, maybe, a couple of years old with a ding on the front fender. But behind the wheel is her , clear as day, and I cross my arms in front of my chest, my heart beating against my ribs .
She came back. She came back .
Belle pulls up. One of my men is opening her door before she’s even shut the car off, but she’s not looking at him, she’s looking over at me, bending over slightly to see me through the passenger side window. Her face is unreadable, and my heart squeezes in my chest for the millionth time .
She could be back to say goodbye , I think .
Then she’s out of the car, walking toward me, long brown hair drifting over her face in the breeze and she smiles when she sees me, looking so unabashedly happy that I can’t help but smile too .
It’s a strange feeling, because people never smile when they see me. They stand up straighter, they cast their eyes down, they fidget. They don’t smile .
“Julian,” she says when she’s a few feet away, reaching toward me. “I’m so sorry, I know I was gone for so — ”
I take her face in my huge hands and kiss her. I don’t care if she’s here to say goodbye, I need this one last thing from her, need it more than I’ve ever needed anything .
Belle melts into me, her arms wrapping around my body. She makes a small, needy noise and opens her mouth under mine, and suddenly I’m plundering her with my tongue, pulling her closer, our kiss hard and desperate and full of longing .
After a long time, she pulls away, her lips bright red and slightly swollen, her eyes hazy. All the guards outside are staring forward, rigidly, and I know that even if none of them are looking at us we’re what they’re watching right now .
“You came back,” I say, my voice so low and soft that no one but her can hear it .
She smiles again, her big eyes blinking up at me ,
“Of course I did,” she whispers. “Of course I came back .”
I’m hard as a rock, tracing my fingers down her spine.
I’m desperate to grab her ass, haul her to the stone wall of the castle, tear our clothes off and take her as hard as I can, right here.
But I can’t, not with all these people watching, and I twist the bottom of her shirt between my fingers instead, using every last strand of my willpower .
“I love you,” I breathe. “And I need you .”
She takes my face in her hands, runs her thumb over my cheekbone .
“And I have something for you,” I growl, my voice lowering .
The spark of desire in Belle’s eyes is unmistakable .