Chapter 3
The blue of her eyes seems almost unreal in the pale moonlight streaming through the window. Her previously unfocused gaze falls on me, and it feels like a punch in the gut.
Have her eyes always been so captivating?
Of course, I knew she was here with my mother, as I had seen them both in the great hall that morning. Just thinking about what they talked about and how deeply that conversation affected me makes my stomach drop again.
Fuck, I don’t want to feel like a miserable bastard, but that’s exactly how I feel. Because this uptight being in front of me is right. I am selfish and self-centered. But hearing it from her mouth ignites an irrational anger in me that I can’t control, and I feel the need to punish her for it.
“What… what are you doing here?” she stammers, clutching the blanket as if it were a damn lifeline.
What am I, Jack the Ripper or something?
“That’s what I should be asking. What are YOU doing here?
Because, if I recall correctly, this is my late brother’s living space.
And you, Goldilocks, have no right to be here anymore.
” I look at her coldly, and although my voice sounds silky and soft, I hear the provocation in it.
Which is absolute nonsense, because I know that Mother summoned her here.
Yet, the desire to provoke her to the core, to pull her out of her stiff and proper shell, is stronger than reason.
And promptly, she gives me what I want. Her eyes narrow and begin to blaze. She lifts her chin defiantly and glares at me with a challenging look.
“Exactly. It’s your brother's room. And I am… was his girlfriend. His girlfriend who spent every day here with him. Who was there for him. Who worried about him. And I can’t remember seeing you here even once over the past year. So, what exactly are YOU doing here, Your Highness?”
Boom.
Her tone leaves no doubt about the meaning behind each word. That comeback hits its mark. Amelia aimed and struck. And it’s my own fault.
The stab her words give me is intense, and I clench my fist to hold back my anger. But I don’t quite manage it.
“Careful, Goldilocks. You’re treading on dangerous ground,” I warn her, leaning in close, twirling a strand of her long curls between my fingers.
For a moment, I see fear flash in her eyes, and she slightly flinches back.
But it passes so quickly that I’m not even sure it was real.
She already has that haughty, indifferent expression back on her face and is staring at me coldly.
She doesn’t move away, allowing me to continue playing with her hair.
The scent of vanilla drifts into my nose, and by everything that’s sacred, she smells incredible. Dammit. Dangerous. Unexpected.
She holds my penetrating gaze, blue meeting gray, and dammit again. Those eyes. So blue, so innocent. If I’m not careful, I’ll drown in them. Which cannot happen.
“Am I? Why? Because it’s the truth? Because His Eminence doesn’t want to hear it?” She snorts mockingly, pushes the blanket off her body, slaps my hand aside, and tries to stand up. She briefly grimaces in pain and hesitates, touching her ribs for a second before fully rising.
The sting in my chest returns, and I feel the urge to reach out to her, to support her, but I don’t.
Amelia stands, and for the first time, I truly notice how petite, yet undeniably feminine she is. The fitted pants hug her hips, and despite the prim blouse she wears, I can see her curves and the attractive body beneath.
“What will you do if I don’t stop? Hmm? You’re not scaring me, Nicolas. But I’ll spare us this pointless conversation. Let me know when you’re ready to talk reasonably. Otherwise, have a pleasant evening, Your Majesty.” She practically spits the last word at me, and a grin sneaks onto my lips.
Now I’ve provoked her, and I like it very much.
A few curls have escaped from her bun, which is so tight that it’s painful just to look at, and I genuinely wonder what she looks like with her hair down. I’ve never seen her with her hair loose. Or in jeans.
Perplexed by my thoughts and her bold behavior, I raise an eyebrow and stand up as well.
I position myself close to her, this little thing who barely reaches my chest. Her gaze slowly travels up my body, and once again, those incredible blue eyes meet mine.
But the anger and disdain I see in them feel like an ice-cold shower, dragging me back to the present.
She has no right to look at me like that. Accusingly. Not her.
“Oh, but I do scare you. But believe what you want, Goldilocks. You couldn’t be further from the truth. Enjoy your freedom a little longer. Tick-tock, your time is running out. Now, off you go…”
I don’t know what comes over me, but I lean down and slide my nose along her neck up to her ear. She shivers.
Fuck. My reaction to her is just as intense. I want to grab her and…
Dammit, no. No. No. No.
“In seven days, Goldilocks. Prepare yourself,” I whisper, pressing a soft kiss on her slender neck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I’m crazy. Insane.
Amelia stares at me as I take a step back. Her chest rises and falls quickly, and I… I need to get out of here before I do something really stupid.
Tempting. So tempting. And forbidden. And wrong. I’d rather suffer blue balls than cross this line now and take her against the wall.
“Oh God, yessss.” Sarah moans loudly as I push myself hard into her again. Over and over again.
The pressure in my cock has become unbearable, and here we are. She props herself up against the glass window of the hotel room I’ve ordered her into and presses her bottom firmly against my abdomen. I hold her by the hips so that I can push myself even harder into her.
Fuck, I need to get rid of this pressure.
Blue eyes appear in my mind’s eye and I get even harder.
Fuck.
No.
Sarah moans again, but today it’s getting on my nerves.
“I told you to keep it down. No more sounds or I’ll stop,” I snap at her and reach into her long hair, pulling her head back. She gives me a lecherous look, but when I tighten my grip and slam hard into her at the same time, she swallows and obeys my command.
Finally.
She tightens around me, which usually drives me crazy. Not today.
Blue eyes that look at me with contempt.
Shit.
For all that I hold sacred, my balls are about to explode.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Because when I come, moaning, it’s not Sarah looking at me with lust-filled eyes. It’s not her body that trembles under my thrusts.
Double fuck.
Breathing heavily, I pull out of Sarah and close my eyes briefly.
Have I completely lost my mind?
Obviously, otherwise I wouldn’t have just come harder than usual. And all because of Goldilocks.
My blood automatically starts to boil and I welcome it. I hate it. Hate that she makes me feel this way.
“Honey… what are you doing? I wasn’t done.” Sarah’s mewling and annoying voice reaches my ear, reminding me where I am.
“Your loss. I don’t have time. When you’re done with whatever…” I cast a patronizing glance at her wide-spread legs as I get dressed. “Just close the door behind you. The concierge knows.” Without paying any further attention to her, I grab my leather jacket and helmet and head for the door.
“Are you serious? You’re such an asshole, Nicolas,” I hear her hiss behind me, and I laugh out loud.
“Yes, and yet you let me fuck you over and over again. That says more about you than it does about me, sweetheart. I know I’m an asshole.”
With those words, I slam the door behind me and leave. Because even though I’ve just fucked the frustration from my soul, the desire is still there. And not for Sarah.
My cellphone vibrates in my pocket just as I get to the underground car park where my bike is parked. When I see my father’s name on the display, I hesitate briefly. I don’t feel like dealing with him. On the other hand, I’m now the heir to the throne.
Oh fuck, Phil, why? Why did you get so distracted?
My grieving and angry self viciously and murderously whispers a name to me. Over and over again. But at this moment, I manage to push this voice into the background.
“Father?” I pretend to be relaxed, which I definitely am not. My body is under high tension as I wait to see what my old man wants from me this time. Normally, his calls don’t mean anything good.
“Nicolas, I’m surprised that you’re even taking my call,” he says promptly and I take a deep breath without making a sound.
Don’t let him provoke me.
“Oh, even I know how to behave from time to time, and, believe it or not, I’m aware of whose footsteps I’m supposed to follow.
And who I’ll never be able to hold a candle to.
So save me the innuendo and get to the point.
” That came out sharper than I intended, but my frustration level is excessively high today. And my father is my outlet.
Just like Sarah and a certain other woman were, my subconscious sarcastically reiterates, but I’m a pro at not listening.
“As stroppy and overbearing as ever. Very well. Please come to the castle tomorrow morning at ten, we have a lot to discuss—among other things, the conversion of your new living quarters. But above all, how we deal with the press. Also, Nicolas… be on time.” Without waiting for my answer, he hangs up.
Resigned, I stare at the display and pinch the bridge of my nose.
“Have a good evening too, Dad,” I mumble to myself, and put my phone back in my pocket.
The rift between my father and me has widened so much over the years that I can no longer imagine how to ever bridge it.
Every conversation is a battle, another slap in the face, a punch to the gut.
And now, I don’t even have my brother anymore—the one who was always my safe haven, the buffer between us.
Without really thinking about what I’m doing, I get on my bike, put on my helmet, and flip the visor down.
It’s black and mirrored, because I have no interest in being the headline of yet another sensational story in the Harlington Post. Very few people know who’s hiding under this helmet, and that’s just how I like it.
Slowly, I roll out of the parking garage, staying within the speed limit as I ride down the illuminated avenue near the hotel. The events of the past few hours flash through my mind again.
Ah, fuck.
I twist the throttle and head onto the main road leading out of the city. I need room to breathe.
As soon as I pass the city limits, I rev the engine and speed up. Adrenaline floods my veins as I lean forward, feeling the wind tug at me, watching the landscape blur around me.
Freedom.
For a brief moment, I feel it again. Lightness. Freedom. Carefree. But it doesn’t last long.
This fragile feeling bursts like a bubble the moment I realize where I’m headed. Immediately, I slow down. My stomach knots. Anger and grief surge through my veins.
What happened, Phil? Why did you lose control of your car?
I stop at the spot where his car went off the embankment. There’s almost no trace left of the crash now, but I know exactly where it happened and what it looked like the day after. It’s burned into my mind.
I park my bike and flip up my visor, slowly walking to the spot. The knot in my stomach tightens unbearably, and I feel nauseous. I want to vomit as I peer down the slope. Ten meters down, a thick tree ended my brother’s life.
“It’s a miracle you survived, Goldilocks,” I murmur under my breath as my brain starts to spin.
What really happened? Were they arguing? Did she distract him? At the spot where he veered off the road, nothing should have gone wrong. Nothing COULD have happened. Unless someone wasn’t paying attention.
My hands clench into fists, and I take a deep breath. In and out. Then I turn and walk back to my bike.
It’s time for Lady Perlington to answer some questions.