AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I’m met with camera shutters as microphones are shoved in front of me.
“That couldn’t be further from the truth. The truth is I felt like a bloody fraud when I was giving that speech earlier today. There I was, encouraging people to give up their precious time, which I know is in short supply these days, when I wasn’t willing to do the same. So I put my money where my mouth was. Instead of attending a luncheon at some aristocrat’s house, I stayed here. Worked for hours in a dress and heels to ensure people didn’t go hungry. What have any of you done to give back?”
With every word I speak, my anger increases, blood boiling in my veins. I can feel Creed looming nearby, but I don’t stop. I’ve always had a somewhat tenuous relationship with the press but kept my feelings to myself. It’s how I was trained. It’s what was expected of me.
I can’t do that anymore. Can’t allow them to twist what was supposed to be a selfless act into one for political gain.
“You show up here to get a sound bite, hoping to prove I’m just another spoiled princess who doesn’t actually care about the people of this country, when you could have easily spent the hours you waited out here doing something useful. Like volunteering. Likehelpingpeople.”
I lean into them, muscles straining, adrenaline coursing. I have no doubt this will be all over social media within minutes. Hell, it could be right now. But it’s not enough of a reason to stop.
“That’swhy I did this. Not for the headlines. But because people are hungry. Being able to enjoy a hot meal isn’t a bloody privilege. It’s a goddamn right. And if you can’t see that, if you can’t wrap your privileged mind around that, I feel sorry for you.”
I spin, about to hurry into the SUV so Thomas can tell me what a shitstorm I started, when another question is shouted my way.
“How can you claim you care about the people of this country when you’ve spent the past decade in France?”
Pausing, I slowly turn around, addressing the various reporters and photographers once more. “You’re right. I can’t claim to care about the people of this country. At least, Ishouldn’tclaim to, not when I haven’t lived here in years. I’m not perfect. I make mistakes. And now that I’m back, I realize that running away from my problems wasn’t the right thing to do.”
I blink, my words surprising me as much as they do the press. But I can’t deny the veracity within them. Today made me see that.
I left because of the way the royal household treated me. I thought by standing up for myself, I was showing strength. But in doing so, I abandoned the people of this country.
“I guess you can say I lost sight of what was important. And it’s not attending galas, state dinners, or art auctions.Thisis what’s important. Making sure the citizens of this country have all their basic needs met. Going forward, you can be damn sure that will be my top priority, no matter where I am.”
I give another practiced smile, allowing the photographers one more opportunity to snap my picture, when a face in the crowd of photographers catches my attention. His dark eyes burn like embers as he stares at me, something about the flecks of gold in a sea of black making me feel like I’ve seen them before.
And not simply at a prior event. He looks out-of-place holding that camera, as if my subconscious is telling me he doesn’t belong here. But why would I think that?
A few reporters shout more questions, some asking if this means I plan on staying in Belmont indefinitely. Others ask about my thoughts on the referendum. And still others ask about my brother.
While I wouldn’t mind answering some of them, especially regarding the referendum, I can’t shake the uneasy feeling that steadily increases. All because of that photographer’s familiar eyes.
Nothing else about him stands out. He’s dressed all in black, bundled up with gloves and a beanie to fight against the chilly temperatures, a scarf obscuring the bottom half of his face. But the coldness in his stare gives me pause. As if I’ve seen him glower at me with that same malevolence in a former life.
“That’s all I have time for today,” I tell the reporters, my voice wavering slightly. “Feel free to reach out to my PR team and we’ll do our best to get you a statement.”
I grit a smile, trying to hide my unease as an icy sensation trickles down my spine. I should retreat, but something has me stealing another glance at the mysterious photographer, as if looking at him one more time will help me place him.
After that, everything happens so quickly. One second, I’m looking at his camera. The next, I’m staring down the barrel of his gun.
I need to move, run as fast as I can. But all the training I’ve gone through over the years goes right out the window, leaving me completely frozen, panic rendering my legs useless.
Cries of alarm and desperation echo around me as people scramble in every direction, tripping over themselves to get away. But all I see is the man and his gun before a deafening shot rings through the air.
ChapterTwenty-Four
Creed
I hatetransitions more than anything. It’s my least favorite part of this job. Because it’s the part I have the least control over. While several of my team members have been doing constant patrols around the five-block perimeter of the soup kitchen all day and haven’t found anything suspicious, that still doesn’t set my mind at ease. I won’t be able to relax until I have Esme safe in the SUV and we’re on our way to our next engagement.
Since she pulled up to the airport yesterday, she’s played the part she was told to play. Wave at the reporters, but don’t answer their questions. Show up at events and give the speech that was written for her. No matter what, don’t stray from the plan for a second.
That all went up in flames when I agreed to let her help at the soup kitchen. I have no doubt I’ll probably get chewed out for doing so, especially since I’m not sure I would have done the same for Anderson.
But Esme had a point. She’s on a goodwill trip, trying to encourage those with the ability to give back during this time of year. What better way to accomplish that than by giving back herself? Not to mention, Esme’s never exactly been one to play by the rules. She’s always been outspoken about causes she believes in, to hell with what the royal household thinks.
Which is why I shouldn’t be surprised that she refuses to stay quiet when some of the reporters accuse her of only staying here as part of some publicity stunt. If they knew Esme like I do, they’d realize that thought never even entered her mind. She pushed to do this because she genuinely wanted to help. That’s the type of woman Esme is. Always giving to the causes and people she believes in.
