Chapter 8
Asshole. I am and will remain an asshole.
No idea why I always end up hurting Amelia, why I keep wanting to see her. Because every damn time I do, it feels like a sharp arrow piercing deep into my flesh. And yet, I keep doing it over and over again.
Amelia Perlington is like a beautiful rose with sharp thorns that draw you in, and if you’re not careful, you tear yourself on them.
Looking at her hurts me. It stings and stings and stings because she reminds me of Phil. And what he stood for. Because she seems so much better than me. Because she makes me feel.
I can clearly feel her little hand trembling in mine as I pull her into the conference hall of Harlington Castle, and again the devil and angel argue inside my chest. On one hand, I want to throw her to these vultures and expose all the secrets she’s hiding.
Want to see if she can withstand all this crap.
On the other hand, I feel ready to tear apart anyone who comes too close to her.
Anyone who hurts her, who even looks at her the wrong way.
We enter the hall through the side entrance for the castle residents, and I let my gaze wander around the room. At the front, there’s a podium set up with seats and microphones for the speakers. Several rows of visitor seats are positioned in front, today occupied by members of the press.
My father is already waiting for us with a serious expression.
“Amelia, Nicolas. I hope you are well prepared. Your appearance will influence how our people view the reputation and credibility of our house, particularly yours, Amelia. We cannot afford to lose the trust of Harlington.” He looks disapprovingly first at my fiancée, then at me.
Goldilocks shrinks under his stern gaze, so I gently push her behind me.
He should stop. She’s not at fault
Ha, that’s rich coming from you. Didn’t you just insult her for the very same thing? my inner voice sneers. I want to curse. Curse this whole damn mess dumped at our feet.
“Leave that to us. Amelia is a professional. And she can’t help what the press writes about her. Even we of the high nobility are entitled to a private life, Father,” I reply coldly and pull the silent Amelia along. I’m not in the mood for this stupid chatter now.
The invited reporters have already taken their seats, and I see Eric standing by the side of the podium, monitoring the proceedings. He nods briefly at me, which I return, before I scan the crowd. And I freeze. Because Albert Richardson is among them too.
My eyes dart to Eric, who just shrugs because he knows exactly how much I despise that man.
He despises everything about us, the royal family, and he's made more than a few missteps in the past. He's always ready to cross the line if it means creating a scandal around my family.
Amelia gasps and furrows her brow. Suddenly, her eyes widen, and she turns pale as a sheet.
What the hell?
In the very next moment, she squares her shoulders, and her face smooths into a calm, unreadable mask.
My respect for her deepens. Something clearly terrified her, yet she composes herself completely and stands beside me with her head held high.
Only the tightening grip on my hand gives her away.
She nearly crushes it, and I narrow my eyes and turn to look at her.
What’s going on here?
I hate seeing her stand there, pale as a corpse, clinging to my hand like it’s the only thing keeping her grounded. I want nothing more than to pull her away from this place, but I can’t.
Amelia catches my expression, gives a barely perceptible shake of her head, then turns back to the reporters.
Dammit.
Eric steps onto the podium, and the show begins.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you very much for attending on such short notice. After today’s reports, Prince Nicolas found it appropriate to make a personal statement and clear up some rumors about his fiancée.
Only relevant questions about this topic will be answered today.
The press conference will be ended immediately if tensions rise or the situation gets out of control.
You all know the rules. If everyone is ready, please join me in welcoming Prince Nicolas of Harlington and his fiancée, Lady Amelia Perlington. ”
He turns toward us and gestures for us to move forward. I lead the way, holding Amelia’s hand firmly in mine. The moment we step onto the podium, I nod toward the reporters, while Amelia offers a polite but distant smile.
I wait until she takes a seat and then sit beside her, looking each attending press member in the eye.
“Ladies and gentlemen, you are here today because, barely twenty-four hours after announcing our engagement, a few wild rumors have started circulating. Let me make one thing clear: Lady Amelia Perlington is the most charming, loyal woman I have ever met, and exactly what Harlington needs. Exactly what I need. Shouldn’t that be the priority?
She has always stood up for Harlington in every matter, has been one of our family’s closest friends for a long time.
Therefore, I ask you to refrain from reports like the one I read this morning in the Harlington Post. Because none of it is true.
” My gaze warns the men and women around me, but I see Albert preparing himself.
I clench my teeth and try to stay calm.
“Albert Richardson from the Harlington Post. Lady Amelia, you want to say you were not involved with Prince Nicolas’s brother beforehand?
According to eyewitness reports, you were often and intimately seen with Prince Philipp.
That raises the question of how the engagement with his brother could happen so suddenly, especially so shortly after his passing. ”
My eyes automatically shift to Amelia, who takes a deep breath but then looks Albert directly in the eye.
All my muscles are taut, ready to snap, as I wait for what’s next.
“Yes, that’s exactly what I meant. Prince Philipp and I were friends since childhood.
Our families have always been closely connected.
Naturally, we’ve been seen together, especially since we’ve worked on several social projects.
I don’t see anything wrong with that, nor do I understand how it relates to Nicolas.
My engagement to Nicolas has nothing to do with my friendship with Philipp.
That’s why I find your question a bit puzzling, Mr. Richardson.
You’re not seriously suggesting that I’m moving from one prince to another, are you? ”
I have to summon all my strength to keep my face expressionless and not stare at Amelia, but damn, that was a direct hit.
Smiling sweetly and blinking at him with innocent eyes, she leaves Richardson clenching his teeth. His colleagues watch with anticipation, as it’s clear he hadn’t expected such a comeback.
Now he has to tread carefully. He can’t accuse the crown without solid evidence. Amelia has cornered him with her response.
Eric tenses in the background but looks at Amelia with a certain respect.
Well, well, turns out Goldilocks has fangs.
“Oh no, I don’t mean to imply that at all, milady. I was just surprised because you two were never seen together before,” he answers, clearly strained, but his eyes sparkle dangerously.
Oh fuck.
I should stop him, do something, but I’m frozen.
I hear his next words and don’t react. I just stare and let it happen.
Because Richardson is saying exactly what I’ve thought countless times myself.
My throat tightens and it feels awful to think this way about Amelia. Still, I let this asshole keep talking.
“But it can’t be denied that suspicious coincidences have been piling up lately, and every time, you’re involved, Lady Amelia.
First, the current heir dies while you’re in the car.
Then Princess Elisabeth is drugged in a shady club you both visited.
Most recently, Senator Robins’ son was attacked out of nowhere by you.
This all paints a very questionable picture of you and this engagement.
” Richardson grins maliciously, fixing his gaze on Amelia, who has turned pale and looks away.
A murmur runs through the crowd, and everyone stares intently at us. No, at Amelia.
She wrings her hands in her lap, and I snap out of my trance, but it’s too late. The damage is done. I have failed.
Full of anger, I look around for Eric, but he’s already on his way to us, giving the security some instructions.
My father appears at the side entrance where Amelia and I came in, eyes darkly fixed on Amelia, who now raises her head.
And damn, I want to puke. My stomach cramps violently because it hurts to see Amelia so broken.
It hurts like hell, and it’s my fault. It hits me hard, and I blame myself for letting this happen.
Her gaze drifts empty and lifeless over the reporters before settling on Richardson, who smirks at her with malice. The turmoil inside me grows stronger, but before Amelia can react Eric takes control and ends the disaster I forced her into.
She stands up stiffly, and I want to reach for her, but she avoids my hand, retreating like a wounded animal. Faster than I can react, she slips out of the hall.
Damn it.
I want to follow, yet I am held back.
Not now!
“Thanks for the invitation, Prince Nicolas. It was a pleasure to speak with your fiancée. So enlightening.” That bastard Richardson grins slyly at me, and I lose it. I jump down from the podium where our table stands, right at him, but Eric and my father intervene.
“Nicolas! A word. Now,” my father thunders.
Eric steps up beside Richardson, whose eyes had flashed with panic, and signals me to back off. My hand clenches and unclenches as I turn to my father.
“You owe me an explanation, son. Fast.” My father doesn’t waste time, but I wave him off through gritted teeth, not ready to engage.
“I owe you nothing. That reporter is talking crap, and you know that as well as I do. So, spare me this conversation. I need to check on my fiancée. You better make sure the press doesn’t stir up more shit publicly.” I look at him coldly and leave him standing.
On the way out, Eric stops me.
“Sorry, I couldn’t intervene in time. I don’t even know how he got in here. I didn’t invite him—the contrary, in fact. But I’ll find out. I’ve got your back as best as I can.” He pats my shoulder, and even though I’m furious, I know it’s not his fault. This is on me alone.
“Thanks, buddy.”
Without paying attention to the others, I leave the hall and go straight to our apartment. I see Amelia’s high heels carelessly thrown in the dressing room, but no one else is here.
Shit.
I run my hands through my hair, my brain racing.
Where could she be? Phil. She’s probably at his grave.
“She ran off with Lizzy, if you’re looking for your fiancée,” Cedric’s voice sounds behind me, and I spin around, seeing him and Damien standing in the door. Both look at me seriously, and I know the news of the shitty press conference has already reached them.
“Fuck, damn it,” I curse and tear at my hair again.
“This shouldn’t have happened. I… dammit, I put her in this situation. The press will hunt her from now on.” My guilt threatens to crush me. I hate myself so much.
“Why didn’t you intervene, Nic?” Damien asks the question I’ve asked myself a dozen times in the last half-hour.
Yeah, why didn’t I stop it?
“I… I don’t know. It all happened so fast… I… no idea,” I reply weakly, knowing how evasive that sounds.
“Bullshit, Nic. You know exactly why you didn’t intervene. You wanted to see her reaction. You wanted to see how she reacts to all those accusations you’ve already been thinking about yourself.” He hits me with ruthless honesty, and that honesty cuts like a razor blade.
I want to deny it—everything inside me resists it, wants to reject that I wanted this—but my lips remain closed. I silently stare at him as chaos erupts inside me.
Fuck.
This is exactly what I wanted. I pushed for it, provoked it, just to see how Goldilocks would handle it. But now that it’s real, now that I caused it, I’m the one who can’t take it. And that hurts. Damn, it hurts.
“You’re an asshole, Nic. A huge asshole. Fix it. Phil wouldn’t want this for her. He loved Amelia. He wouldn’t want this for her, and he would kick your ass if he could.”
The knives cut deeper and deeper, and I close my eyes for a moment because it’s too much.
Phil wouldn’t just kick my ass, he’d tear my head off and impale it on a stake.
“Enough, Dam. I think he got it,” Cedric calmly intervenes, and I look at my best friends.
“I’m going to look for her. Who’s with me?” I need both of them by my side now.
“I know where she is. Let me talk to her first. She’s just shutting you out now anyway.” Damien looks at me with a warning expression in his eyes, and even though I’d rather not, I only nod with a clenched jaw.
“Give me five minutes, I need to get out of these clothes.” Without paying attention to the two of them, I go into the dressing room, step over her high heels, which lie lonely on the floor mocking me, and change.
The whole time I have her empty, defeated look in front of my eyes, which burns itself into my soul.
Shit, I really screwed up.