Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
Evangeline
Every few weeks, I told myself I'd stop looking.
Stop torturing myself with searches that lead nowhere.
Stop hoping for a sign that what we had shared meant something, anything, to him.
However, my new routine, like clockwork, had me here again at three in the morning, scrolling through security firm websites and news articles, desperate for even a glimpse of his name.
The woman staring back at me from my laptop screen's reflection looked like a ghost—hollow-eyed, pale, all sharp angles where there had once been soft curves. I'd lost weight I couldn't afford to lose, and no amount of concealer could hide the damage six months of grief had carved into my face.
"Your Highness?" My lady-in-waiting, Margaret, appeared in the doorway of my private sitting room. "Your mother is waiting in the Blue Drawing Room."
I nodded, closing the laptop and smoothing down the silk of my navy dress.
Another meeting, another discussion about my future that would happen without my meaningful input.
It was remarkably easy how I'd slipped back into the role of dutiful princess, how readily I'd accepted that my brief taste of real life had been exactly that—brief.
The numbness had settled in somewhere around week three, after the tears had stopped and the anger had burned itself out.
It was easier this way, I'd discovered. Easier to float through state dinners and charity galas and endless meetings about constitutional reform when you felt nothing at all.
When your heart was so thoroughly shattered that even the pieces had given up trying to fit back together.
The Blue Drawing Room was my mother's favorite for private conversations, probably because the cold formality of it suited her purposes.
She sat in her usual chair, but she wasn't alone.
A man stood by the windows, tall and dark-haired, with the classical features that belonged in a Renaissance painting—and knew it.
"Evangeline, darling," Mother said, rising as I entered. "Prince Dmitri has returned for another visit."
He turned from the window with a smile that was too practiced, too calculated. Everything about him screamed wealth and privilege, from his perfectly tailored suit to the way he moved with the confidence of someone who'd never been told no in his life.
"Your Highness," he said, taking my hand and pressing it to his lips in a gesture that lingered a fraction too long. His dark eyes traveled over me with an assessment that made my skin crawl. "The photographs don't do you justice. You're even more beautiful than I expected."
The comment was inappropriate for a first meeting, delivered with the casual arrogance of a man who considered women interchangeable ornaments. I retrieved my hand with practiced ease, fighting the urge to wipe it on my skirt.
"Prince Dmitri," I replied coolly. "Welcome to Bellavista."
His smile widened, apparently taking my restraint as a challenge. "Please call me Dmitri. We're going to be great friends, I can tell."
"Dmitri has been visiting from Montenegro," Mother said, her tone carefully casual. "His family and ours have been discussing some fascinating opportunities for cooperation between our nations."
I took my seat in the chair across from them, arranging my skirts with automatic precision. "How interesting. What sort of cooperation?"
"Oh, the usual boring political nonsense," Dmitri said with a dismissive wave, settling back into his chair and spreading his legs wide in a display of territorial dominance. "Trade agreements, cultural exchanges. Nothing nearly as fascinating as the woman sitting across from me."
The blatant flirting made my stomach turn. This wasn't charm—this was predatory behavior wrapped in designer clothing and a royal title.
"I'm sure the respective governments find these negotiations quite important," I said sternly.
"Of course they do," he agreed, his tone suggesting he found governmental concerns beneath his notice. "But I'm much more interested in personal negotiations. Between us." His gaze lingered on my chest in a way that made me want to reach for a shawl.
Something cold and calculating flickered in his eyes as he studied my reaction.
This wasn't accidental rudeness—he was testing me, seeing how much he could get away with.
Seeing how broken I was, how little fight I had left.
Okay, I could play this game. I may have been heartbroken, but I still had a juggernaut of an attitude just waiting to be given a reprieve.
"Dmitri has quite the reputation in European social circles," Mother said, either oblivious to the undercurrents or choosing to ignore them.
“Several magazines have featured him as one of Europe's most eligible bachelors.”
"How wonderful! However, have they personally spoken to you prior to publication?" I said dryly.
He laughed, a sound with too much satisfaction in it. "Your reputation precedes you, Princess. Though I must say, the stories in circulation are well … I had expected you to be more spirited…. than you appear today."
There was something in his tone — a cruel amusement that suggested he knew exactly why I seemed subdued. As if my heartbreak was entertaining to him.
"Perhaps you've been reading the wrong publications," I said with a snarling undertone to my voice.
"Oh, I doubt that. I make it my business to know everything about beautiful women who interest me." His smile turned predatory.
"Including their... romantic histories."
The words hit like a slap. He knew about James. Of course he knew—everyone in royal circles knew. I was the princess stupid enough to fall for the help, the cautionary tale whispered about at embassy parties.
"I see you were expecting my reaction to be one of someone flattered by your attention. However stalking is illegal, Mr Volkov". Deliberately dropping his title. I watched as he tensed his jaw, narrowed his eyes, and then quickly resumed his arrogant composure once again.
"I prefer to think of it as practical. After all, a man likes to know what he's getting into." His eyes glittered with malicious amusement.
"Especially when dealing with women who have a taste for rough trade."
The casual cruelty of it took my breath away. Mother made a sharp sound of disapproval, but Dmitri just shrugged, unrepentant.
"Forgive me, I speak too freely. It's one of my many charming flaws." But he didn't look sorry. He looked pleased with himself, like a cat that had cornered a mouse.
I stood abruptly, my composure finally cracking. "If you'll excuse me, I have other commitments this afternoon."
"Of course you do," Dmitri said, rising as well.
"But perhaps tomorrow you could show me the famous palace gardens? I do so enjoy... exploring new and unfamiliar territory."
The innuendo was unmistakable, delivered with a smirk that made my skin crawl. This man wasn't just arrogant—he was dangerous. A predator who saw my emotional devastation as an opportunity.
"Perhaps," I said, because what else could I say with Mother watching?
As I moved toward the door, I heard him speak to my Mother, just loud enough for me to hear:
"Broken birds are so much easier to tame, don't you find? All that fight knocked right out of them."
I kept walking, my hands clenched into fists at my sides, but his words followed me down the corridor like poison. He was right, and he knew it. James had shattered me so completely that I barely had the strength to object to being handed off to the next man in line.
That night, I sat in my private sitting room with a cup of tea growing cold in my hands, staring out at the palace grounds where James had once patrolled.
Where he'd kept me safe from threats, I hadn't even known existed.
Now the only threat was the one sleeping in the guest wing, already planning my subjugation with the casual confidence of a man who'd never met a woman he couldn't break.
Unable to stop myself, I opened my laptop again and typed his name into the search engine.
James Banks. The same results as always—old military records, the brief mention of his employment with elite security firms, and then nothing.
Radio silence for six months, as if he'd fallen off the face of the earth.
Had he changed his name? Left the country? Was he somewhere warm, laughing about the na?ve princess who'd thrown herself at him? The not-knowing was almost worse than the certainty of his indifference.
A soft knock at the door interrupted my spiral of self-torture. "Come in."
Mother entered, still elegant even in her dressing gown, her expression more troubled than I'd seen it in months.
"We need to talk about this afternoon," she said, settling into the chair across from me.
"About Prince Dmitri's charming personality?" I asked bitterly. "His wonderful way with words?"
"He was... inappropriate," she admitted, something like shame flickering across her face. "I didn't expect him to be quite so... direct."
"Direct?" I laughed, a sound with no humor in it. "He practically called me a whore to my face, Mother. Is that the caliber of man you're hoping to marry me off to?"
"His family connections are impeccable—"
"His family connections?" I slammed my laptop shut with enough force to make her flinch. "That's your defense? That his bloodline excuses the fact that he's clearly a predator?"
"You're being dramatic—"
"Am I? Did you see the way he looked at me? Like I was a piece of meat he was considering purchasing?" I stood, pacing to the window. "He knows about James, doesn't he? That's why he's here. Because he thinks I'm damaged goods, that he can get at a discount."
The silence behind me told me everything I needed to know.
"My God," I whispered. "That's exactly what this is. You told him about James. About how thoroughly humiliated I was. And he saw an opportunity."
"Evangeline—"
I spun around, months of suppressed rage finally finding a target. "What did you tell him, Mother? That I was so heartbroken I'd marry anyone? That I was so desperate for approval I'd settle for a man who treats women like property?"
"I told him you'd been through a difficult period," she said quietly. "That you might appreciate a fresh start."
"A fresh start." I laughed again, the sound echoing harshly in the formal room. "With a man who made it clear within five minutes of meeting me, he considers me a conquest. A broken bird to be tamed."
Her face went pale. "He said that?"
"He did. Right after he made it clear he knew all about my ‘taste for rough trade’." The words tasted like poison. "Is that really what you want for me, Mother? A marriage to a man who delights in my pain?"
She was quiet for a long moment, staring at her hands folded in her lap. When she finally looked up, there was something like guilt in her eyes.
"Perhaps I misjudged the situation," she said carefully.
"Perhaps?" I moved back to my chair, suddenly exhausted. "He's not here to court me, Mother. He's here to claim a prize. The broken princess who'll be grateful for any scrap of attention."
"Then we'll send him away."
I looked at her, this woman who'd shaped my entire life around duty and sacrifice, and felt something die inside me. "Will we? Or will you find another Dmitri? And another? Until you find one who's better at hiding his true nature?"
She didn't answer, which was answer enough.
"I've been searching for him, you know," I said quietly. "James. Every night for six months, I've been looking for any trace of him online. Hoping for some sign that what we had meant something. Maybe he was lying when he said I was nothing to him."
"Evangeline..."
"But there's nothing. He's vanished completely, as if our entire relationship was just a fever dream I imagined.
" I stared out at the gardens, remembering moonlit walks and stolen kisses that apparently meant nothing.
"Maybe it was. Maybe I was so desperate to feel something real that I convinced myself a man like that could love me. "
"You're not desperate—"
"Aren't I?" I turned back to her, letting her see the full extent of my devastation. "I'm so broken that a man like Dmitri thinks he can walk in here and claim me like a trophy. And the worst part is, he's probably right."
I stood, smoothing down my skirts with hands that trembled slightly. "Set up another meeting with Prince Dmitri if you must. But don't expect me to pretend he's anything other than what he is—a predator who sees my pain as opportunity."
"And if I do? If I arrange another meeting?"
I looked at her, this woman who'd never understood that duty without love was just another form of slavery. "Then I suppose we'll find out just how thoroughly James Banks destroyed me. Whether there's enough left of the woman I used to be to fight for something better."
I left her sitting there and returned to my bedroom, where I stood once again before the mirror.
The woman looking back at me was still perfectly poised, still elegantly dressed, still every inch the princess.
But her eyes were hollow now, carved out by loss and betrayal and the crushing realization that even rock bottom had a basement.
Tomorrow, I would probably sit through another meeting with Dmitri. I would listen to his crude innuendos and calculated cruelties, and I would feel my soul die a little more with each word. That's what broken birds do—they let themselves be caged by men who enjoyed their suffering.
The trap was closing around me, and for the first time in my life, I wasn't sure I had the strength to fly away.