AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Captain.”
I take one last look at her, trying to ignore the prickling sensation in my chest. Then I turn from her, pushing down the emotions stirring to the surface after being in her presence again.
It’s been nine years. She shouldn’t have this effect on me anymore. I shouldn’t crave her kiss. Shouldn’t get jealous at the thought of Tristan tasting what was once mine.
But I still do.
It may have been nine years, but even the strongest recovering addict sometimes has an occasional relapse.
I just pray I can be strong enough to resist the temptation this time around.
ChapterFour
Esme
“There she is!”Anderson slurs when I step into his private suite.
His hair is disheveled, the scruff on his jaw indicating he hasn’t shaved in a few days. Typically, my brother follows the rules regarding his appearance, keeping his hair neat and face clean shaven.
That appears to have gone out the window.
“The future queen.” He lifts his rocks glass, the amber liquid sloshing around in it.
Apparently, Creed wasn’t successful in keeping alcohol away from him. I can’t be angry at him, though. I know how difficult my brother can be when he gets like this.
While I don’t condone his excessive drinking, I can understand it. This life can be a tremendous burden. Sometimes the only thing that can lessen the weight, even for a little while, is to escape. To have a few hours you don’t feel like yourself.
Alcohol has always helped Anderson not feel like himself, and I said nothing.
But I can’t stay quiet now. Not when everything he puts in his body can affect him.
“Should you be drinking like that, Anders?” I ask in as calm of a voice as possible, not wanting to sound accusatory.
He has enough people in his life telling him what to do. How to dress. How to behave. The last thing I want is for him to hear it from me, too.
“What are your plans for this space?” he presses on, ignoring my inquiry. “You’ll probably do some mid-century modern motif, right? That seems to be your style. You definitely won’t be needing this anymore.”
He staggers to a portrait of him in his full military uniform, the gold plate below bearing the title, “The Crown Prince”.
“Considering I soonwon’tbe the Crown Prince anymore.”
He pulls the portrait off the wall and smashes it over a chair, the canvas ripping.
I gasp, not in horror that he’d destroy the original artwork commissioned by the royal household. I never quite liked it myself. Doesn’t remotely resemble the Anderson I know.
Instead, my surprise is from the helplessness consuming every inch of him. I anticipated he’d be in rough shape. I just didn’t expect him to be in such a dark place.
Swallowing hard through the lump forming in my throat, I turn around and meet Tristan’s sympathetic eyes.
“I’ll give you some space,” he offers without me needing to ask him. “I have a few phone calls I need to make anyway, especially now that they’re starting to wake up in California. I’ll just head to your apartment and get settled.”
I pass him a grateful smile. “Thank you.”
“I’ll see you later on.” Our lips touch briefly before he pulls back.
He glances Anderson’s way, but doesn’t linger, sensing now isn’t the time for pleasantries. Then he slips into the hallway, requesting the butler outside to arrange for someone to take him to my apartment, his tone full of confidence.
Once the door closes, I turn back to my brother, jumping into problem-solving mode. I head to the couch and sit, retrieving several articles from my bag, spreading them across the table.
