“Fuck. You,” I seethed.
A smirk tugged the side of his mouth.
“You seem to have more of a problem with your position than I do.” I didn’t back down.
“Because you like me under you?”
“Wha-what?” Lava bubbled under my skin. I was overly conscious of his proximity, his body, his mouth. “I don’t think that is appropriate to say.”
The word sounded snotty. Exactly like an uptight, spoiled rich girl.
“Wow.” He stared down at me, forcing my pulse to hum in my ears. “I meant under you as in my position here… not literally under you.” His eyes scrolled down me. “You are one of them. And it has nothing to do with the dress and heels.” He lifted an eyebrow before he swiveled away, striding back up the path toward the palace, his shoulders in a rigid line.
My gaze dropped down to his fleeing rear end, the slacks hugging them every time he stepped. Fuck.
“Arrrghh!” I flung my arms, spinning myself away, fury at myself and him vibrating out of me. Especially him.
What was I thinking? I did not miss that arsehole. We didn’t even resemble friends.
I missed Landen and Mina. Lennox was a desperate plea for me to contact my real friends. I longed for a night like we used to: eat pizza, sneak booze from our family’s liquor cabinet, giggle and talk about everything and nothing.
Now everything was about RH. From the moment I woke up, I breathed, ate, and drank royal life. Nothing felt like mine anymore.
It was worth it. Being with Theo was worth it, but I needed a break.
Swiping up my heels, I tried to walk back without them, but gave up halfway, slipping them on.
It was easier to put them on than getting shredded over the rocks.
Easier.
Why did I feel my heels were a metaphor for my life?
Late for my lesson, I took a shortcut through one of the many sitting rooms, cutting down one of the quieter hallways.
“Princess.” A familiar man’s voice drifted from around the corner, slowing my feet. “You know I’m only trying to protect you.”
Dalton?
“Protect me?” Eloise’s acidic laugh smashed into the walls, halting me in place, something telling me I wasn’t supposed to be there. “Yes, you are the dutiful guard, aren’t you?”
“Princess—”
“Stop calling me that,” she exclaimed.
Inching slowly, I peered around the wall.
Eloise was clad in skintight jeans, sexy punk-rock heels with vulgar words written over them in bright colors, and a deep V-neck white shirt, which you could see through. Her black lacy bra was on display, her hair up in a messy bun. When she was home, she wore outfits that the public would never dream their sweet, perfect Princess Eloise would adorn. Her parents scolded her constantly, but she never was swayed from doing her thing.
Across from her, Dalton was in his usual tailored suit and tie, looking perfect and sexy as he always did. A carbon copy of the day before, never venturing out of the lines. He seemed like the kind who probably ironed his boxers.
Eloise, far more than Theo, bucked against the constant control and bodyguards, but something in her manner kept me from stepping out, telling me this was more than her arguing against their overbearingness or a new rule.
“What do you want me to call you?” He pushed his shoulders back, his gaze going past her.
“How about my name?” She put her hands on her hips. “You did once.”
His dark eyes snapped to her, his full lips pinching together. “Your Highness…”
“Bloody hell, Dalton.” She tossed out her hands. “I’m a person. A real human being, no matter how much you wish differently.”
“You know that’s not true.”
“No. I think you prefer me being a title. Just an object you move around and can put in a box up on a shelf at night.”
Jaw clenched, he exhaled through his nose.
“Because if I was actually real? Flesh and blood? What would you do then?” She stepped up to him, putting only a handful of centimeters between them. Her neck dipped back to look up at his tall frame, her entire demeanor a dare. A test.
His jaw twitched again, his nose flaring, every muscle locking up, but he didn’t move away from her.
“My lady…” he muttered, threads of anger and pleading tangled in it.
“That’s what I thought.” She scoffed, stepping back, anger tapering her lids. “Do us both a favor and stop trying to protect me. I have my own bodyguard for that.”
“I’m the head guard; your safety is my job.”
“No, your job is supervising my guard so he can better protect me. You have no need to communicate with me. And you definitely have no right to tell me what to do or who I can screw,” she hissed. “Your job is guarding Theo. Stay the fuck out of my life. Got it?”
“Eloise—”
“No,” she spat. “You’re too late for that.” She spun around and strode away, her head held high.
He watched her leave, his expression not telling me what he was thinking. With a heavy sigh, his thumbs rubbed at his brows before he twisted the opposite way.
My way.
Oh hell.
Crapcrapcrap.
I bolted forward as if I was just coming down the hall, colliding with Dalton.
“My lady.” He grabbed my shoulders. “I’m so sorry.”
“Oh my god.” I stumbled back, grabbing at my chest in false surprise. “You scared me.”
I didn’t hear or see anything!
Dalton swallowed, a flick of dread blinking in his eyes.
“I didn’t know you were there. I apologize.”
“Same!” I expressed with far too much vibrancy, my mouth gushing out words. “I was in my own little world. Didn’t hear you at all.”
So smooth, Spencer… not awkward at all.
His brow furrowed, his hand tugging at his cuffs, straightening his jacket.
“Off to etiquette lesson. Running late actually, so I better go.” I pointed, my feet taking off in that direction. “See you later tonight!” I waved behind me, not turning around.
I could feel him stare after me in confusion, knowing I wasn’t acting normal. I squeezed my eyes shut, picking up my pace, berating myself.
I should be only allowed around animals, far too awkward to be with people, no matter how much my mother tried to instill polished behavior in me or how many etiquette lessons I had taken.
I wasn’t meant for public consumption.
Chapter 22
“Spencer! Spencer!” My name was repeated in a loop, flashes clicking along at an even more rapid rate. “Over here! Over here!”
The rain poured down, dripping off the umbrella Lennox held over my head as he helped me out of the SUV. The weather did not diminish the crowds. Between the other guests, paparazzi, and royal devotees, the front of the arena was packed and chaotic.
“It’s slippery,” Lennox muttered, his hand taking mine, leading me out of the car. This was the first thing he had said to me since we parted earlier.
My heels hit the step, my legs straining to get down. The dress they put me in looked casual, but it was tight and highlighted every curve on a day I wanted to be in sweats, snuggling a heating pad, and shoving ice cream down my throat, which actually was most days.