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Cassie
Seeing my parent’s happy faces makes my heart twist with pure agony. They are ecstatic, proud and excited and it hurts me more than I want to admit. Even my father looks so blown away by the whole thing I feel betrayed by him the most. What about me? What I want. My career, the only thing I ever really wanted. I always thought they encouraged me to do well. Told me I was one in a million because I had brains as well as beauty. It turns out only the beauty part counted in the end because they couldn’t wait for me to ditch any idea I have of making it as a doctor to become arm candy to a tyrant.
Then there’s him. The King. Maxim.
So cold in many ways except when we’re alone. He changes and becomes a different person entirely; full of emotion. It appears that Mrs. Travers is right and emotion has no part in this family outside of intimacy and I hate the thought this could be my life.
Now he’s angry and I know why. I haven’t looked his way once, and he’s obviously unhappy about that. I expect he’s used to women falling at his feet and giggling coyly when he speaks. Well, he chose me, not the other way around, and so he can suck it up because I’m angry. I don’t want this and I don’t want him.
Liar.
I ignore the part of me that wants him more than anything in life it seems. The foolish virgin who is curious about something she has only heard about. Crude conversations that cause my head to spin and make me worry. Tales of something so embarrassing, I would rather stab myself with a knife than endure. But when he looks at me in a certain way and touches me, I respond differently. The fact my heart races and my body shivers with expectation is a powerful emotion that has surprised me. So, when Mrs. Travers told me to disguise my emotion, I listened because that is obviously how the people in this family live with the life that was thrust upon them.
I follow Maxim to a room on the other side of the hallway and as we step inside, I notice it’s a pretty room overlooking the beautiful gardens. The room is empty, and he wastes no time in pulling me to face him and angling my face to his and the storm in his eyes makes me swallow hard.
Reaching across, he removes my tiara and the whole up-do monstrosity comes crashing down and his eyes flash as he says huskily, “Better.”
Then he slams his lips to mine in an intense move that shocks me and fists my hair, causing it to hurt a little as he punishes my lips. Not soft and gentle this time but filled with intensity as he tastes, bites and plunders the far reaches of my mouth. Somehow it excites me in a way I never expected, and I groan with a longing that surprises me.
Pushing me hard against the wall, he presses in and I feel his hard body against mine, reminding me there is no escape from him. He holds me effortlessly and with an ownership I’m kind of enjoying and as he pulls back, he says harshly, “Kiss me back, baby, show me how much you want me.”
The flame heats inside me and I feel mortified. How can I demonstrate a passion I’ve always kept locked away—until now? But I do want him. I can’t deny that but to give in to what he wants, to surrender to him, would be letting him win, so I pull back and say angrily, “No.”
He grips my waist and pulls me in closer and as his hand cups my ass, I feel my cheeks burning with embarrassment as he growls, “I want to fuck you so badly I might just get it over with now.”
Struggling, I try to push him away but his grip is tight and intent, ominous. Once again, he punishes my mouth in a frenzied attack, and this time the alarm bells sound as I sense I’ve pushed him too far. Maybe he likes the challenge and hates the fact I’ve ignored him and wants to show me who’s in charge.
Struggling against him, I try to escape, but he isn’t having it and as his hand creeps toward my breast and pinches my nipple through the fabric, I’m ashamed at the burst of longing that drives my anger.
Somehow, I pull back enough to deliver a resounding slap around his face and as the noise bounces around the room, I stare at him in horror as a red mark appears almost immediately.
My heart thumps at the realization I’ve just assaulted the king, and yet the look he gives me isn’t an angry one. He looks almost relieved.
Stepping back, he grins wickedly as I struggle to remain upright because now I’m worried I just made a terrible mistake.
Then he says gently, “Thank God for that.”
“What do you mean, what’s going on?”
He laughs and points to a chair and says firmly, “Sit.”
Feeling like a dog commanded by its master, I do as he says, grateful for the support it gives my shaking legs, and he sits opposite me and stares at me hard.
“What happened to you?”
“What are you talking about?”
“This. The clothes, the cool, emotionless person you’ve become in the space of a few hours. This isn’t you, Cassie, what changed?”
I’m surprised and it must show because he shakes his head and laughs softly. “You look amazing by the way, but I would prefer if you came to breakfast in your pj’s rather than looking as if you’re about to attend a ceremony.”
“But…”
I’m really confused and shake my head. “But I did what you wanted. The people you sent told me I had to be dressed, prepared and made me into this mannequin.”
I’m shocked at the anger in his eyes as he hisses, “What people?”
“Mrs. Travers and the maids. To be honest, Maxim, I really need to have a word about that because I have never been so embarrassed in my life. I thought when I grew up, I could at least wash myself but that was mortifying.”
