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“No,” I shake my head, replaying Travis’ cold, hard words in my head, which brings anger to the surface, “I’ll be glad not to ever see him again.” I turn my head and darkly narrow my eyes at Travis across the room, and I see a new bimbo hanging all over him. A slow burn settles into the pit of my stomach as I wonder how many romps in the hay he’s had with that one. He’s such a player and an evil manipulator. “If I never see him again, it will be a day too soon,” I say with disdain lacing my voice.

Apparently, Nick is pleased with my reaction, and he wraps me in a warm embrace. His hand rests at the back of my neck as he whispers into my ear, “It pleases me to no end to hear that. I knew we were meant to be, love.” He kisses the side of my neck, and I clench my hands, willing myself not to pull away and wipe off his kisses.

“Try to eat something.” He nods toward my lunch. I reluctantly pick up my fork and begin to shuffle the food around on my plate. Thank God, Nick gets distracted with people constantly coming over to chat with him, and it keeps me from having to make small talk. Now if only I had a dog begging under the table, I’d secretly feed him so I wouldn’t have to eat.

I keep my head down for the most part and smile on cue when Nick introduces me to strangers I care nothing about. I take a few bites of food, willing this day to be over.

Once everyone has eaten and the plates have been cleared, Nick grabs my hand and squeezes it. He’s wearing a shit-eating grin on his face, and I’m curious as to what he’s up to. The lights begin to dim, and instantly I scan the room, wondering what’s going on.

The legs of Nick’s chair makes a scraping noise when he scoots back and he stands up, pulling me along with him. “Come, I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“Is it alcohol?” I would seriously love some right now. I am twenty-one, after all, and I could sure go for a case of Jose Cuervo right about now.

Nick tweaks my nose and grins. “You’re funny, you know that? But it wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you. Come on.” He’s like a kid in a candy store as he pulls me along to the center of the room. The lights have fully dimmed now, and everyone turns quiet. I fidget uncomfortably, hating to be the center of attention.

Three waiters wheel in a birthday cake the size of Mt. Rushmore. I’m awe-struck. Nick squeezes my hand; he’s excited. The cake is a pure masterpiece; it looks like a castle straight out of a fairytale, and it’s beyond exquisite. Tiny replicas of people and horses adorn the inside and outside of the fortress, with foliage spread out everywhere.

“Happy Birthday, Princess,” Nick says proudly. He pulls me into the side of his muscular body, guides my lips to his, and kisses me long and hard. Thank God he doesn’t force his tongue on me in public, or I would’ve bitten it. Releasing me, he whispers, “Go on and have a look.”

I automatically approach the monstrosity of a cake with curiosity. I love anything artistic, and this takes the cake—pun intended. It looks as if the Cake Boss himself along with his crew made it just for me, painstakingly working their asses off to get it just right. The miniature castle has multiple colorful, tapering spires protruding from the top. I see 360 degrees of beautiful, arched, stained-glass windows adorning the cake as I walk around it full circle. It has to be at least four feet wide and three feet high, and I’m sure it cost thousands.

When I get around to the front of it, there’s a red carpet running down the middle of the drawbridge. I tilt my head sideways to see it reads, PRINCESS.

The irony of the cake is not lost on me. It is a mockery of my life, ridiculing me, teasing me with a fairytale, illusions of a happily ever after. I left one castle—correction, I was taken from one castle—only to be held captive in another, only this one brings with it the stark reality I no longer have my freedom. I’m going to be Nick’s sex slave in this castle, helplessly locked away in one of those turret towers and living within its fortified structure. I’ll be forced to live a life of drugs and debauchery. Suddenly, I feel my stomach twisting in knots.

I feel an arm slip around my waist, and I instantly know it’s Nick; his expensive cologne gives him away every time. His lips whisper over my ear, as he murmurs, “My sweet princess, my sleeping beauty, I’ve come to claim my kiss.” I feel my fury brewing like I’m a locomotive building steam and power, getting ready to blow its stack. I hear him add, “Then we will live happily ever after,” and that’s when the train’s whistle blows.

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