“Cherise, come now. Don’t act as if you don’t know.”
Suddenly, I felt sick to my stomach, and it wasn’t the hangover. “No, no, no, no!” I said as I took a few steps away from Silas. “Absolutely not. No.”
“Cherise, you knew this day would someday come.”
I shook my head as if I could shake away the words Silas was saying. “First off, I never agreed to it. I was a child and you fucked up royals live by an ancient rule. You better not, even for a second, be here to bring me back to Roman to… you better fucking not be!”
“No need for such vulgar language,” Silas chastised. “Your hand was promised to Prince Roman. You know this. You have always known this. And the time has come. He has reached the age of thirty, and we can no longer have him not married.”
I shook my head even harder than before. “Absolutely not. I’ll have no part in this. I left that all behind me. This is fucked up, and I want no part of it.”
“You can’t simply move to another country—no matter how far away it is—and expect to erase your past and your duties. You were groomed for this day.” Silas scanned his eyes from my wild sun-kissed hair to my unpainted toes and then into my eyes with disgust. “Though I see no signs of that grooming now.”
“So you’re here to bring me to New Orleans to marry Roman. Is that what you’re really saying?” I knew this arranged marriage had been contracted between our families when Roman and I were children, but it had been years since then. My life in the royal circuit was over. Over.
“Well, not right away. We have an image to uphold, of course. We will have to announce an engagement and proceed from there. It will take some time. But yes, I am here to bring you to Roman so we can begin the proper illusion.”
His words sunk in and were like a punch to the gut. “You’ll kick my mother out on the street if I don’t play along with your sick game. Is that what you are also saying?” I put my hands on my hips and hunched over to gather the breath that felt was being knocked out of me every single time I looked at Silas’s pompous face. “If I don’t marry Roman, my mother loses her estate. Right?”
“It would be a shame to take such ugly, yet necessary, measures. But correct. If you play nice, I play nice.”
“Does Roman know you are doing this?”
“Roman is aware of his royal duty. He is of royal lineage, and he understands what that means.”
“He doesn’t own me.”
“But he owns your mother,” Silas quickly countered.
“You’re all assholes,” I said quietly, but knew I had no choice.
This fucking duty of mine was a reality I couldn’t escape, and Silas was right when he said there was no running from it. Even if I didn’t care about my mother and her well-being—which I did—I would still have been trapped in this destiny. They would find a way. The royals always got what they wanted. Royals were the rulers of the fucking world. They ruled everything and everyone.
“Call me what you will. I have a job to do just as you do.” He glanced around. “It doesn’t look like there is much worth packing, if anything, but if you find it necessary to do so, make quick time. We have a plane to catch.”
“Fucking asshole,” I murmured under my breath as I too looked around the rented room. Silas was right. There wasn’t anything worth packing. Not for the world I was about to return to. Nothing in my Costa Rican vagabond bungalow would be fitting for my royal homecoming.
Chapter Two
Roman
I never got to see her pussy. A mistake I damn well planned on rectifying. I never got to lick it, taste it, and savor the essence that was my sweet Cheri. Or what had been my Cheri. But she had finally returned.
It was about fucking time.
And as she entered through the mahogany double doors of the exclusive, members-only club, Spiked Roses, I knew that pussy of hers would soon be mine. Silas followed close behind her tiny frame as my dutiful servant, as if preventing her from turning around and fleeing, but I didn’t care. I was going to imagine that she entered the club of her own free will because she wanted me. She wanted to fuck me, as I wanted to fuck her. I was going to imagine she had never left me without saying goodbye. And that she hadn’t ripped my soul into a million pieces the day I had found her gone.
Maybe she didn’t want to fuck me yet. But no matter… when I was done with her, she would demand for me to take her. Insisting for me to do to her what I hadn’t had the skill and experience to do so many years ago. She would beg, she would plead, and she would be mine, and stay mine forever. I would not lose her again.
A black dress that showed off every single curve of her body had me doing a double take. When did Cheri get curves? And her hair… when did her luscious blonde curls frame her heart-shaped face making her appear like a seductive angel—a siren calling me toward my death? Her shapely legs in those black heels went on forever. Straight to that pussy I had yet to see. Fuck me; she was hot as hell. When did her blue eyes sparkle so much? Even in the shadowed room of Spiked Roses, I could see them. I could feel them. Those damn eyes. She appeared so pure and innocent. Perfect for me to dirty up. She would be fucking filthy by the time I was done with her.
Cheri was taking it all in. I could see her examine every detail of the room. Her eyes scanned the red and black leather furniture, the black bar with red barstools, and the black spiked vases cast all around that held two to three dozen roses in each ostentatious urn. She glanced up to look at the huge crystal chandeliers that appeared as if they were dripping diamonds onto the clients below. The large overhead fixtures reflected the gas lanterns that dotted the damask papered walls, giving off a warm and seductive vibe. Cheri’s eyes scrutinized the men who sat around sipping on top-shelf booze and smoking hand-rolled cigars as if she were looking for me amongst the powerful players of the room.
Silas placed his hand on Cheri’s upper back to guide her to where I sat. I hated it. I didn’t want anyone else touching what was mine. Even old man Silas. No one touched what belonged to me. I knew women were not allowed past the guarded doors without an escort unless you worked at the club, so Silas was a necessity, and he knew exactly where I would be. It was the spot I liked most—up on the iron-railed balcony so I could see all the action below. The club was where I spent most of my nights when I resided in New Orleans. It was my kingdom where I preferred to rule. It was opulent, luxurious, exclusive, and only opened its doors to the wealthiest men. Power sizzled through the air, and I fucking got off on it. Spiked Roses was a membership only club for the monarchs, the presidents, the captains of industry, and for the most ruthless fucks in the world.
“What has you scowling over there?” my friend and business partner, Lennon, asked in his pristine British accent as he sipped on bourbon and smoked a cigar without a care in the world. And what was there to care about? We were rich, affluent, and dominant. We had everything that made a man, but could also destroy him. We had it all.
But I didn’t have her. Not until now.
“My wife just walked in the door,” I said as I puffed on my cigar and swirled the bourbon against the inside of the glass I held.