“What is your name?” I demand.
“Why?” she asks breathlessly. “Are you going to have me arrested?”
The streak of fear in her eyes is enough to make me question everything. I can’t figure out what it is about this woman, or why I even give a fuck, but I can’t let her leave without knowing more. It irritates me, and it fascinates me, and I can’t rationalize this senseless hunger to strip her bare and force her to reveal her secrets. But when I reach for her mask, she gasps, shaking her head.
“I can’t. I can’t, Your Highness, please forgive me.”
“It’s too late for forgiveness. Give me a name.”
“Cinderella!” she cries out. “That’s what I’m known by, and now I really must go.”
My eyes drift to her lips, and my cock stirs to life in my trousers. It’s a pity she’s so beautiful. I’m tempted to drag her around the corner of the palace and hate fuck her right here on the lawn, smearing her lipstick and ruining that pretty dress of hers when I spray my come across her tits.
“Thor?” Calder’s voice startles me, bringing order back to the chaos in my mind. “What are you doing out here?”
When I turn toward him, the mystery woman slips out of my grasp, and it takes all of my restraint not to chase after her again as she glances at me one last time.
“Who was that?” my brother asks.
“Nobody.”
“It didn’t look like nobody.” He arches a brow at me.
“She was offensive and needed a reminder of her manners.”
“They are all offensive.” He chuckles darkly. “Isn’t that the entire point?”
I nod and turn to go back inside, but the reflection of her heel stuck in the grass captures my attention. She left it behind. Calder watches me curiously as I kneel to examine it, tugging it from the dirt and tucking it against my side.
“What are you doing with that?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “Perhaps she’ll want it back someday.”
The rest of the evening passes in a blur of faces and grating laughter. By the time I leave the white drawing room, I’m far past ready to retire.
“Surely, you must have found someone who would suit your dick for the evening.” Calder blocks the escape path to my quarters. “The night is still young.”
“Another time.” I shrug him off. “I’m not in the mood to return to the party.”
“You are never in the mood.” Concern seeps into his features as he studies me. “Do I need to worry about you, brother?”
“No.” I disregard the pity in his eyes, opting not to react to it. While my brother’s intentions might be honorable, he should know he’s treading on thin ice.
“Perhaps we need to make another appointment with Dr. Blom when we return home,” he suggests. “We can speak to him together.”
“That’s unnecessary.” I narrow my eyes at him. “Regardless, this is not the time nor the place to discuss such matters.”
“I’m sorry.” He bows his head and shrugs. “I just wanted you to have a good weekend before we return to your royal duties.”
“There is no escaping my royal duties,” I remind him. “Only through death.”
Calder grabs my arm, his expression morphing to one of despair. “Don’t even joke about that. It isn’t funny.”
The hard outer shell of my heart softens, if only a little. “I know. I’m sorry.”
We study each other, allowing the tension to ebb away before more words are spoken between us.
“Please return to the party,” I implore him. “Enjoy your evening. Don’t hold back on my account.”
He sighs and gives me a resigned nod. “As you wish. Just promise me you won’t sit in your room brooding all weekend.”
My focus inadvertently moves to the heel in my possession, and a sinister seed plants itself in my mind. “I can assure you I have no intentions of that.”
6
Thorsen
“As much as I love slacking off in England and partying every night, I think Father might blow a gasket if we don’t get you back to your royal cage soon.”
I tear my attention away from the list of names in front of me to meet his gaze. “I only need a couple more days. My engagements can wait until then.”
“What are you even looking for?” He leans closer, trying to peek at the names Prince Aston’s secretary gave me.
“Nothing.” I stuff them back into the folder from which they came.
Recognition dawns in Calder’s eyes. “Dare I venture a guess that she has a blue dress and might be missing a heel, perhaps?”
A sigh escapes me as I turn my head toward the window, observing the children playing out on the palace lawn. I don’t want Calder to think this is more than it is. And I certainly can’t admit that I haven’t stopped thinking about the way she spoke to me. People might hate me, but they are always dignified to my face. It’s only when I turn my back that the knives come out. But that isn’t the case with the little fire-breather, whoever the hell she is.
As it turns out, Cinderella was a bogus name, and there are hundreds of real names on the guest list to sort through. That could take weeks, and so far, my search for her has turned up nothing. As much as I’d like to keep this to myself, I’ll have to get my secretary involved.
“I’m just planning to return her shoe,” I tell Calder. “And pay a visit to some animal sanctuary she rambled on about. She was trying to secure patronage for the charity.”
“You haven’t done a charitable thing in your life.” Calder muses. “Why start now?”
His words burn, particularly because it seems my entire life has been one charitable endeavor after another. However, he is right about one thing. None of it has been my choice, and therefore, I suppose I am due none of the credit.
“If you’d like to go back without me, I’m not holding you hostage here.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” He stretches out on the chair and kicks his feet up onto the coffee table. “Aston is taking me shooting this afternoon if you’d like to join us.”
“Another time, maybe.” I grab the folder and head for my private room. “Hayes and I have a few things to discuss.”
“Your Highness?” Hayes knocks on the door to the study, interrupting me mid-email. “I have that information you requested. Would you like to schedule a time to go over it?”
“Now.” I set my phone aside and gesture him in.
Hayes has been my secretary for five years. He’s polite, studious, and respectful. But his loyalties lie first and foremost with the crown. I can trust that everything we say to each other will be leaked back to my father at some point.
“Charlotte Duncan.” He sits down across from the desk and slides a folder in my direction. “That is the name that was on the ticket. However, my research tells me she didn’t actually attend the ball. She was across the city at a business dinner with her fiancé.”