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Instead, he hangs his head, his shoulders falling. “When I heard what happened, it felt like my heart had stopped,” he says, voice choked. “Like someone had ripped my lungs out of my chest and left me gasping for air.”
He looks to the ornate ceiling, blinking back his emotions. Then he steps toward me and takes my hand in his.
“I’m just…frustrated. And scared that I could have lost you. That I couldstilllose you.” He brings his hands to my face and cups my cheeks, staring intently into my eyes, sparkling blue to deep green. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Esme. I love you so fucking much.”
Any woman would swoon at the devotion in Tristan’s words.
Several weeks ago, I probably would have myself.
Now, with Creed looming nearby, a wave of uneasiness washes over me.
Or maybe it’s something else. Maybe I just don’t want to share my feelings with Tristan anymore.
Maybe I don’thavethe same feelings for Tristan anymore.
Maybe I never did.
“Pardon the interruption…” A throat clears, preventing me from having to address any of this.
I pull away from Tristan and pivot toward the doorway where Pippa stands with her lips pursed into an annoyed line.
She greets me with a slight curtsy, then addresses everyone, smoothing a length of dark hair behind her ear. “You’re all expected in the throne room. You were supposed to be there over five minutes ago now.”
“My apologies. I just needed a minute. I’m fine now.” I take a few deep inhales, adjusting my navy blue dress as I head toward the doorway, Tristan’s hand on my back every step of the way.
As we’re about to slip into the hallway, Creed booms, “No cameras.”
“Excuse me?” Pippa whirls around, aghast. “We specifically invited the press to cover this story. It’s a public relations dream, especially with the referendum.”
“I don’t give a fuck about that,” he snarls. “So you can either un-invite them or tell them to leave their cameras at the door.”
“And what will they take photos with?” She crosses her arms in front of her chest, Creed’s size not seeming to intimidate her in the slightest.
“Their mobiles will have to suffice.”
“I don’t—”
“Do what you want, but I’m not going in there unless I have assurances that every single camera has been left at the door. No exceptions.” He pins her with a glare, then slowly shifts his gaze to mine, his expression softening.
“This is absolutely ridiculous,” Pippa mutters under her breath, but unlocks her mobile and types feverishly. After several silent moments, she looks back to Creed. “It’s taken care of. Are you satisfied?”
Creed doesn’t respond, looking my way with a single brow arched.
It’s a simple thing, but the fact that he’s going above and beyond to remove any potential source of stress from today’s event means a lot. More than I think he realizes.
“Yes,” I tell Pippa.
“Let’s be on our way then.” She spins and heads in the direction of the throne room, heels clicking against the marble tile.
I’m about to follow, but stop, meeting Creed’s gaze. “Thank you.”
“Of course… Princess.”
I fight to reel in my smile, especially in front of Tristan, but I can’t hide the effect his nickname has on me. It’s almost like a secret code between us. All he has to do is call me princess and I know I’ll be okay. Know I’m safe.
“Princess?” Tristan interjects, pulling my attention away from Creed. “I thought you hated that nickname.”
“I do,” I respond, which only increases Tristan’s confusion. But I don’t offer him any explanation.
