Anger and fear bristled up my back.
“Fucking hell!” Kyle yelled, jerking his hand back from trying to get one of the dogs from the window, blood dripping down his hand.
“Get help!” Sarah screamed, waving at Poppy to move as she cradled Kyle’s hand with a towel.
Poppy didn’t even move before the door burst open, a figure filling the doorway, but it wasn’t Debra or any other staff member.
Feck me.
Lennox.
Relief. Guilt. Anger. It flooded me as our eyes connected, his feet slapping the ground as he ran for me.
“You okay?” he growled, the fury in his voice crackling over every syllable. I nodded, and the dogs howled as police sirens wailed and lights flickered from over the fence, the paps scurrying like cockroaches, leaving a mess behind.
Debra ran in to the room, other staff behind her.
“Oh my god.” She went to Kyle, grabbing for his bloody hand.
“I’m fine.” He hissed in pain.
“You need stitches.” She pointed at Sarah. “Take him the down the hall; the vet should be able to clean and stitch it up.”
Sarah nodded, escorting her friend out of the room, flicking me a glare before she veered down the hall.
“Poppy, Travis, and Ollie.” She pointed at a guy who had come in with her. “Gather the dogs and get them calm.”
I twisted to peer at the little dude hiding under the sink, making little sounds to coax him out.
“Spencer.” Debra’s tone had lost all friendliness and awe at who I was. “I’m sorry, but I think it’s best if you leave.”
It was like she drove a blade down my torso, gutting me like a fish.
“The animals come first. Their safety. And any unnecessary stress or trauma… I can’t subject them to that. It’s not fair to them or us.”
Emotion over the whole incident, for my involvement in it, flooded my eyes. Swallowing the tears back, I nodded, understanding her decision. The animals were first. And I was a liability.
“Of course,” I replied smoothly, but inside I was cracking into tiny pieces. This was supposed to be a good deed, a few hours I could forget everything and just be me. The me who wanted to help animals.
“I am truly sorry.” Debra’s face softened. “At least for a while, or maybe you could help out at more public events.”
Meaning donate at their fancy dinners and throw an appearance in at an event to get people there, but stay away from the meaningful work with animals.
Turning to look at the guy under the sink, I bit down on my lip. His trembling body faced the corner, but his head was turned to look at me, his deep brown eyes staring at me like I had betrayed him.
And I felt like I had.
I didn’t want to leave him, longing to wrap him up in my love and bring him home.
“Sorry, you can’t adopt him,” Lennox muttered in my ear, his hand wrapping around my bicep, tugging me out of the room.
“But—”
“The only dogs the king allows are the ones he keeps outside and uses for hunting.”
My lips hitched up at the word hunting, another horrendous, cruel, archaic “tradition.”
Silently, I let Lennox march me out of the shelter to a waiting black SUV, his anger increasing with every step.
“Get. In.” He yanked the door open, not even looking me, veins popping along his temple. For the first time, I really noticed him. He was dressed in worn dark jeans, a gray henley and jacket, with scruffy boots. He looked rugged. Rough. Sexy as hell. Like he should be on a motorcycle, not opening the door to a glistening SUV. This was him on his downtime. The real him. And it stirred even more rage in me.
I angrily got into the car, crossing my arms, looking forward, fury flaring my nose.
“If you ever,” he stressed, “do that again.”
“What?” I snapped at him. “What will you do?”
He felt the challenge in my question, the insinuation that he had no power to actually do anything to me.
He was here to serve me.
He took a step, his face right at my level, his stillness full of vehemence. “Don’t challenge me, Baroness. You have no idea what I am capable of.” His voice was low and menacing, his lips only a hair away from my cheek. “And just because I work for the king, does not make me beneath you.” His breath hit my cheek, sliding down my neck. “I only do that position when someone is riding my cock.” A sharp intake of air hitched my chest, his words shocking me. Heat pooled in my belly. That word was not one I’d ever heard from Theo’s mouth. I couldn’t imagine him ever being dirty or kinky in any way.
Theo.
Think of Theo.
Guilt rushed into me, twisting the pulse between my thighs to disgusted hate.
“Which I’m sure, with your charming personality, happens a lot.”
“More than you can imagine.”
“Great for you.” I shifted on the seat, images flashing through my head before I could shove them out. “The vet’s right there; you probably should go get a checkup.” I nodded to the vet’s office next door to the shelter. “Ask for a rabies shot just to be safe.”
There was beat before Lennox scoffed, grabbing for the door.
“How did you find me, anyway?” I asked before he shut the door. “One of the guards rat on me? Put a tail on me? Track my phone?”
“We didn’t have to.” He lifted the mobile in his hand. “Found you the same way the paps did.”
“What?”
“Top trend right now? Hashtag Spencer Sutton. Took me right to you. Along with any other crazy person wanting to get close to you. I had to bring extra guards, pull them from their real jobs, and have them clear and block this entire area,” he snapped, anger fizzing back to the surface. “But I’m glad you slipped one over on me. Good for you.” He slammed the door, strutting around to the driver’s side, deflating my ire like a leaking balloon.
My one act had stressed out the already traumatized dogs, got a guy bitten, caused havoc to both the shelter and to the royal house, which I was sure would get back to King Alexander.
I thought it had been an act of kindness, but it had been an act of complete selfishness.
Chapter 17
Raindrops trailed down the window of the SUV, my attention on watching them move in zigzag motions as the car sped across the city. The rain had started to ebb, and the sun trying to peek through a sliver in the clouds, bucking at my current mood.
Folding my arms, I stared out the side window, looking much like I was pouting. Maybe I was, but mostly I was trying to hold in the anger and humiliation at myself, willing myself not to cry.
Lennox and I were silent as he drove back to the palace. He didn’t have to speak, his disappointment and anger at me layered on my own, feeling like shouts in the small space.
My mobile sat in my lap, taunting me to look, to show me the mess I made with one decision. My mouth pinched as I palmed the device, turning it on. Within seconds, I found myself plastered over the internet. Nowadays, no one waited for magazines, getting to see your fuck-ups live.
#SpencerSutton was the top trend, along with headlines like “RH going to the dogs.” And my favorite #Duchshund, elevating me to a duchess title to fit a catchy hashtag.