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He winces, my words like knives against his flesh. “Don’t put it that way. Please.”
“It’s the truth. You weren’t in that meeting.” I point in the general direction of the palace. “I have no doubt there’s money changing hands here. Not to mention, you should have seen the dossiers the PR team put together that we’re to study and memorize in order to sell our relationship to the public.”
“Jameson Gates is a good man.”
“I don’t give a fuck about that!” I throw my hands up in frustration, my irate tone unsettling a few of the horses.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I inhale a deep breath. When I open them again, I lean toward Creed, keeping my voice as even as possible.
“When I look at him, all I see is a man who was chosen for me. Don’t you see how messed up this is? That I don’t get to choose who I marry? I understand things are different for me, but at least give me a goddamn option, instead of ordering me around like a puppet. Nearly every decision has always been made for me. I don’t get to decide what to wear. What to drink. And now, who I spend the rest of my life with. I don’t want them to control this, too. I want this choice to be mine.”
“Esme…” He shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. Then he brings his gaze back to mine. “I… I can’t.”
I suck in a quivering breath, swallowing the tears wanting to fall. I refuse to cry. Not over this.
I didn’t cry when I was told I had to leave the only home I knew to live in this damn prison.
I didn’t cry when I learned my mother was sick and may soon lose control of her limbs.
I didn’t cry when I walked into her bedroom and discovered her unconscious body.
This life has dealt me harsh blow after harsh blow, and I’ve taken them all in stride.
I’m not going to let it break me over this.
“I’m sorry,” he offers.
“Don’t, Creed,” I bark out. “I don’t need your pity. Don’t need your apologies. I don’t… I don’t need you. If you’re not interested, I’ll find someone else.”
“Esme,” he sighs, stepping toward me.
Something in the way he peers at me makes me think he’s about to reveal some earth-shattering truth.
That he’s about to wrap me in his arms, forbid me from asking someone else, then press his lips against mine, treating me to a spine-tingling kiss.
But before he can utter another syllable, footsteps grow near, and he jumps as far away as possible.
I whirl around, momentarily disoriented, before I focus on the doorway and see Jameson Gates standing there.
Chapter Seven
Esme
“Your Highness.” Jameson bows in my direction.
“Mr. Gates,” I greet formally.
I don’t bother telling him it’s not necessary to bow. Or address me as “Your Highness” past the first one of the day. He’ll figure that out soon enough once he starts learning all the rules and traditions that accompany being part of the royal family.
“I told you.” He steps closer. “Call me Jameson.”
“Of course. Jameson.” I pinch my lips into a tight smile. “What are you doing out here?”
“Looking for you,” he declares, everything about his demeanor put-together and confident. “I figured you might have come out here for some…clarity. What, with your love of horses.”
“Did you read about that in the binder?” I snip out.
“No,” he chuckles, his blue eyes shining in amusement. “Although I’m certain it’s covered quite extensively in that dossier. Truth be told, I’ve learned a few things about myself I didn’t know, thanks to their disconcerting invasion of privacy.”
