Colorful houses dot the landscape as the car speeds along the road, and I catch glimpses of hills and water off in the distance. This isn’t England. That much, I know. I’m beginning to wonder if he actually brought me back to Norway. A million different thoughts bounce around my mind, giving me a pounding headache. Or is that the drug?
What will Narcissa do when I don’t come home? Will anyone even look for me? No, I don’t think they will. She will be angry, but I can’t see her actually bothering to worry about my absence. What about Olivia? Relief springs up inside me, only to be dimmed when I remember that she wasn’t even home. She didn’t know I was there and probably never will. But I remember I had my phone and my purse. Where are they? Did he take those too?
My head flops over to study him, and it occurs to me that whatever he’s given me is wearing off. Maybe I shouldn’t be so obvious. Maybe I should wait until I’m certain I can move my body and then strike. But how?
The man is a towering steel frame and royalty at that. Which is about the time it occurs to me that none of this makes sense. Why would he take me? How can any of this even be real?
I lick my lips, desperate for water, and then try again. “Why?”
This time, the word comes out as a throaty whisper, and I’m not imagining that I really spoke because Thorsen turns to look at me.
“Why?” he repeats. “Because I can. You asked me what I wanted, Ella. Remember?”
His words should terrify me. I think that would be the normal reaction. But I don’t know if it’s the drugs or the fact that my entire life has been a series of unfortunate events that’s left me numb to my fate. If it isn’t one monster, there’s always another lurking around the corner. The men who killed my father. Narcissa. Lavinia. Magnolia. And now, Thorsen.
What can he do to me that hasn’t already been done?
Grief, so dark and deep, sinks into the chambers of my heart like lava, snuffing out the last flickering flame of hope I held. For me, survival mode has always meant abandoning my feelings and icing over my heart. Numbness is the only way I can function through the bad days anymore. But I think what scares me the most is that when I look at Thorsen, I can’t go to that safe place in my mind. I can’t turn off my fears, and I feel… too much.
I wonder if he can sense that weakness in me when his eyes clash with mine. A bolt of lightning strikes my heart, and adrenaline floods my veins as he narrows his gaze like I’m the enemy. I couldn’t see it before, but I see it now. This man hates me.
I shrink into my seat as he turns the car down a private lane, coming to a stop at a secure gate. It’s dark outside, and I can’t be sure, but I think he punches in a code. When the car lurches forward again, and the gates lock us in from behind, a lump forms in my throat.
I’m likely never getting out of here alive.
“This will be your quarters.” Thorsen drapes my body onto the bed, his massive figure blotting me out beneath the soft glow of the lamplight. “Tomorrow, we will discuss expectations.”
Expectations?
He lingers for a moment longer than necessary, his eyes burning a path over my face. There isn’t a single ounce of warmth radiating from this man, and I understand now why they call him the coldhearted future king. Every word he utters is like a biting wind in a tundra. There is no escape from his hostility.
“Go to sleep,” he commands. “You’re going to need it.”
With that ominous threat, he turns away, his back rigid as he retreats from the room. My blurry eyes dart around the space, trying to determine the next logical step. I should seek out a weapon and prepare myself. But the exhaustion of the day hits me all at once as I sink into the bed, and before I can do anything, my eyes are already drifting shut.
11
Thorsen
“You seem agitated,” Calder observes.
It’s unnerving how easily he can read me sometimes. But agitated isn’t the word I’d use to describe the frantic energy electrifying my veins. I spent half the night pacing the floors of my estate, and in my sleep-addled brain, paranoia takes root. Does he know about my dirty little secret locked up in the guest room? Does he know that I’ve come completely unhinged?
“I’m just tired,” I tell him.
“In that case, you better start mainlining coffee now.”
“Why?”
“Mor has requested a meeting with you,” he says. “And I’ve been sent here as a carrier pigeon to inform you that if you don’t come to her by noon today, she will materialize here instead.”
A groan rumbles from my chest. “I can’t imagine Father letting her out onto the palace grounds, let alone here. Do you know what this is about?”
“I don’t know.” Calder tosses a grape into his mouth. “But she said it was important.”
I open the fridge and pour myself a glass of orange juice right before Lisbet, my housekeeper, comes scurrying over.
“Can I get you anything else, Your Highness?”
“No.”
She shrinks before me and disappears just as fast as she arrived.
“You certainly have a way with women.” Calder snorts.
“She doesn’t need to like me,” I answer bitterly.
He tosses another grape into his mouth and shrugs. “Nobody does.”
Ignoring his jab, I rummage through the fridge until I find the fruit and yogurt that has been set aside for this morning’s breakfast.
“I have some work to do in my office,” I tell him. “Are you going to stay?”
“No.” He stands up and stretches. “I have a fencing match this morning. But I’ll be at the palace this afternoon.”
“I’ll see you there.”
We part ways, and I take the tray of food down the hall to the row of guest suites that have rarely seen use before. Ella’s is the closest in proximity to my master suite. On the off chance she decided to throw a fit last night, I wanted to be able to hear her. But so far, there has been no disturbance whatsoever. When I turn the key in the lock and push open the door, I’m expecting more of the same.
The first thing that registers is a lamp swinging at my head, and when I duck backward, Ella stumbles forward, losing her balance and nearly toppling over completely. But it doesn’t stop her from swinging again. Maybe I’m off my game, or maybe I just want to see what she’s capable of when she smashes the lamp into my head. It bounces off my skull, the tray in my hands clattering to the ground, food spilling everywhere.
I’m stunned, but more than anything, I’m fucking pissed, and she recognizes that as she tries to bolt. But little Cinderella is no match for me. She hits like a girl, and she runs like one too. She may as well be trying to outrun a cheetah.
My fingers wrap around her arm, dragging her back to me just as she lets out a bloodcurdling scream for help. I curl my palm around her mouth, only for her to bite me as she kicks me in the shin.
I’m a raging fucking bull, nostrils full of steam when I tug her back into the bedroom and slam the door behind me. She continues to fight in my grasp, using every possible weapon at her disposal, including her nails as she rakes them down my arms.