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Chapter twenty-six
You look just like your mother.
It had been years since I’d heard those words. People in Ayelswick never talked about my mother, at least not to me. After her death, they put up all the appropriate memorials, of course, but no one spoke her name, not anymore. Liam and I talked about her all the time, wondered what it would be like if she were still alive, what she would think about us as adults. We always laughed, imagining what she’d say about his eccentric love life.
There was no emotion in Chandler’s voice when he announced he was leaving, then walked off.
As every emotion imaginable swarmed through me at once, I wished I could be like that for one moment. For a single second, I wished I had the ability to turn it all off the way he did.
A lean brunette about Mrs. Carmichael’s age walked up once Chandler left to find his father. Her floor-length emerald green gown was covered in rhinestones from top to bottom and she had enough diamonds around her neck to fund a small nation.
“Natalie,” she said as her eyes scanned the room before stopping on Chandler’s mom. “You’ve outdone yourself. This is spectacular.”
Mrs. Carmichael grinned and placed a delicate hand on the woman’s shoulder. “You know I’m always here for a good cause.”
While Chandler was exotic, like rich bronze molded over a chiseled frame with piercing emerald eyes, his mother had creamy-white skin with blonde hair and strikingly blue eyes. Her lips were full, although it didn’t seem natural like mine. It made me wonder what his father looked like. Was he hard edges over polished stone like his son? Any man who shared Chandler’s DNA had to be breathtaking.
The other woman’s expression stiffened as her gaze moved to me. “And who is this?”
Ayelswick was a small country, not nearly as well-known as England or Spain, so I didn’t expect everyone to know who I was, but for some reason, the way she regarded me stung.
Mrs. Carmichael’s hand flew to her chest, her mouth agape. “Oh, forgive my manners. This is Anniston Radcliffe, Princess of Ayelswick. She’s a guest of our family.”
The woman gave me another scrutinizing glance. “Is that so?”
A server dressed in a black tuxedo and carrying a silver tray full of oysters approached our group, then leaned in and whispered something in Mrs. Carmichael’s ear.
“Excuse me,” she said, “This won’t take but a moment.” She walked off in a hurry, leaving me alone—and extremely uncomfortable—with the Diamond Lady.
Where was Chandler? All the times I’d cursed him for taking me, now I wanted him to whisk me away.
The woman tilted her head a fraction of an inch and pursed her lips, studying me for the hundredth time since she walked up two minutes ago. “So… a princess?” she asked as if she were weighing the merit of Mrs. Carmichael’s words.
I grinned. “Since the day I was born.”
She straightened her shoulders at my sarcasm. “Did I see you walk in with Chandler Carmichael?”
“I’m sure you did.” Everyone did. There were even photos I knew I would end up answering for later. I would worry about that when it was time. Right now, I just wanted to find my date. Or a drink. Champagne sounded nice.
“Hmm…” Her voice trailed off.
Prickly silence passed between us, and I practically saw the wheels spinning inside her head. Her nostrils flared and eyes narrowed as though it took all her strength to keep from saying anything else.
Okay, I’ll take the bait.
“Does that surprise you?”
She let out a breath, obviously relieved I bit. “Well, sort of. He usually brings one of those girls from his club or hires an escort for these things.” The wordgirlscame out as though she were speaking of something dirty and disgusting. “I think he does it to embarrass his parents.” She raised a brow. “Or… maybe he’s into that sort of thing.”That sort of thing?As in, sex? Since when was sex a bad thing to be into?
She shrugged a slender shoulder. “Who knows.”
My cheeks flamed. I had no reason to react this way, but I felt the bitter sting of jealousy down to the darkest depths of my soul. As he so bluntly put it earlier, he’d seen plenty of tits. Suddenly, I felt nervous, out of place, and insecure.
Are you trying to get fucked, Princess?
How many times had he said those words to other women? Did it make their heart race and their skin feel like it was on fire the way it did mine? Why did I care?
I shouldn’t care.
