I took a deep breath and closed the door behind me. My gaze shifted from the swirled marble floor to the gorgeous brunette running her fingertips along the spine of every book she strolled past. I would bet my crown she hadn’t read a fraction of them.
“Sit,” I commanded Julianna as she walked toward the leather sofa in the center of the room. I moved until I stood before her. “Here.” Then I gently urged her down onto the very same spot where Katie sat less than an hour ago. The memory made my dick hard. I squashed the urge to run out to the hall and drag her in here to make her watch me the way I watched her. Tit for tat and all that bullshit. Somewhere in the pit of my stomach was this driving force that filled me with a burning need to have her and hurt her all at the same time.
Katie might have thought she won. She might have thought this was over, but we hadn’t even fucking started yet. Little did she know, revenge was a dish best served with a set of bright red lips wrapped around my cock.
I spread Julianna’s feet apart with mine, allowing me room to stand between them. She licked her lips when her eyes met my crotch. I stroked the curve of her jaw with the back of my finger. “Is this what you wanted?”
“Yes.” Her voice was soft and low.
I unfastened the top button of my pants. “Then, take it. It’s yours.”
She did. Julianna took every drop I had to offer, and like the asshole I was, I gave her nothing in return. When it was over, I was more certain than ever that the devil had my soul. Probably signed the contract with my semen… because even though it was Julianna’s mouth on my cock, I closed my eyes until it was Katie’s face I saw.
Five
I poked my fork into the stack of blueberry pancakes for the third time in the last five minutes. This bite, like the two before it, never made it to my mouth. The silver fork clanked against the porcelain plate as my eyes wandered the empty dining room, ignoring the familiar pang in my gut. On the outside, we painted the perfect picture of a royal family. On the inside, we ate breakfast alone. We read books alone and watched television alone. I was tired of being alone.
Dad was supposed to meet me here twenty minutes ago. We had meetings with constituents all afternoon, followed by Saturday evening Mass. He would call Parliament back into session soon and, since the king was the voice of the people, kissing babies and shaking hands was the best way to get them to open up about their concerns. I couldn’t keep my mind off Katie long enough to concentrate on eating breakfast, let alone solving the problems of our country’s citizens—which was odd because being out on the streets, talking to the people, was my favorite thing to do. And not just because out there, the loneliness disappeared. I loved being in the thick of it, seeing the faces, hearing their stories, and getting to know them. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree, at least not where the people were concerned. Apparently, my priorities had gone to complete shit, right along with my morals.
I finished my coffee then headed toward the kitchen with a handful of dirty dishes and my uneaten pancakes. It was a good thing my father decided to skip breakfast because he’d throw a fit if he ever caught me cleaning up after myself.
White. Everything was white. Crisp white cabinets with polished silver hardware and stark white marble tiles. The only ounce of contrast in the entire kitchen came from the rich, onyx countertops. Thornebridge Castle looked like an ice palace rather than something in the middle of the Mediterranean.
The girl from yesterday, the one with the grapes, stood at the oversized island chopping garlic and tossing it into a stainless-steel mixing bowl. Her dark hair was pulled into a knot at the top of her head. She wore the same navy-blue and black dress she had on before. Come to think of it, everyone on the kitchen staff always wore the same thing. Everyone except Katie with her jeans and T-shirt. Why didn’t I notice that before? Maybe it was because she was new.
Or because you were too busy mentally grabbing a handful of her ass.
One of the older women we had working at the castle since before I was born snatched the plate out of my hand. “How many times do I have to tell you to stay out of my kitchen, Your Highness?” Her soft brown eyes brightened with her smile.
I gave her a knowing but leveled look, a skillful balance of you could commit murder and I’d be your alibi and but I’m still your boss. “I’m perfectly capable of washing a plate, Mrs. Fletcher.” It wasn’t the first time and wouldn’t be the last.
She scraped the pancakes into the garbage disposal then turned on the tap to rinse the plate. “Capable? Yes. Encouraged? That’s another story.” She tsked. “Your father would have my head.”
I sat my coffee cup on the counter and winked in her direction. “What the king doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
She laughed. “I’ve kept enough of your secrets over the years to fill the Royal Treasury.”
The consequences of being an only child—boredom and curiosity. Abigail Fletcher was one of the elite few who got to break through the barrier and see the man beneath the crown. Unfortunately for her, there were rare occasions when she had seen a little too much of the man.
The girl chopping garlic giggled beside me. I glanced her way, and her cheeks flushed pink. I was suddenly very aware of what she must think of me, of how what happened yesterday must have looked to her.
You curled your tongue around a woman’s finger and growled. What the fuck did you think it would look like?
Her hooded eyes told me she probably thought—or hoped—she might be next. This girl was young, too young, and it wasn’t every day that I waltzed into the kitchen and hit on the staff. Yet here I was for the second time in a row…
“Yesterday, there was a woman making cupcakes. I thought she might be here again today,” I said.
I watched the false hope shatter in the girl’s eyes as she tossed another batch of chopped garlic into the bowl then grabbed a nearby onion. “Yes, Your Highness. That was Katie. She hasn’t been in today.” She peeled the top layer from the vegetable.
Hasn’t been in? What the fuck? First, she disrespected me in front of my staff. Then, she blew me off (not literally, unfortunately) and wandered around the castle performing sexual favors for the guard. Now, she thought she could come and go whenever the fuck she pleased?
Fuck. That.
I clenched my teeth, and my jaw tightened. Mrs. Fletcher cleared her throat, giving me a stern look as she smoothed the front of her dress. It was a warning. Too bad I didn’t care.
“Thank you,” I replied with a smile then walked toward the door.
“Sir,” the girl called out behind me.
I checked my shoulder but remained silent.
“She’s probably in the library.”
Right. The library. Take a chance of repeating yesterday’s soap opera? Thanks, but no thanks. I would rather scrub my eyes with bleach than catch her with Keaton again.
“Or you could try the South Garden,” she added.
The South Garden? No one went to the South Garden unless we had guests in the villas. It faced the sea. The smell of saltwater bothered most people I knew, so they stayed inside. But Katie wasn’t like most people I knew. She wasn’t vain or pompous like the champagne guzzling “friends” of the Crown. This girl was a shot of whiskey, slow burn with a hint of sweet. All I had left to do was chase her.