Page 48 of His Princess Brat
Chapter Thirteen
Pita
Resolve mixed with hope as I dressed to leave my room, preparing myself to find and throw myself at Azid putting all my cards on the table and stopping just short of the one thing I wanted more than anything: a marriage proposal. That had to come from him. It had to. A girl had to have some pride after all, and in my head I’d always seen the man of my dreams proposing to me. Not the other way around. And if by some miracle he did propose, then I wanted to be ready to receive it.
I took my time, soaking in a hot bath and rubbing every inch of my body with his favorite lavender lotion. I even left half of my braids down just for him. I put on my fanciest undergarments and a blue dress that I knew made my eyes sparkle and my complexion shine.
I painted my nails and toenails, and stuffed my feet into a pair of very pinchy heels. One spritz of very expensive perfume, and I was ready.
Steeling myself, I marched to the door and threw it open, only to find him standing there, shoulders slumped, hands in his pockets, looking awkward.
“We need to talk,” he said.
My stomach turned back into a roller coaster, flipping through several loops before I quickly got myself back under control.
“Shall we go for a walk?” I propositioned hopefully, still envisioning a grand, hearts- and-flowers, down-on-one-knee marriage proposal, maybe in the garden or courtyard.
Azid looked almost sick at the suggestion. “Unfortunately, the palace is still rocking from the rumors spread about by one spoiled little Dutch girl who can’t seem to handle the fact that the world, and my attention, does not revolve around her. Can we please just talk in here?”
I stepped aside to let him in and tried to ignore how hard my heart was pounding. The little modicum of control I thought I had on this situation felt as if it were already slipping through my fingers.
Azid closed the door behind him, and we walked silently to the middle of the sitting room, before turning to face each other with only a foot of space between us.
“I’m so sorry, Princess,” Azid began. “I should never have put you in this situation.”
“It takes two to tango, Azid.” And two to make a baby, I silently added, fighting the urge to place a protective hand on my stomach. “I’m just as responsible for what happened as you are.”
“I’m the Daddy,” he argued obtusely. “I’ve made a big deal of protecting you and taking care of you, and then when it really mattered, I put my own stupid desires and sexual needs high above my regard for your reputation and feelings.”
“I could have said no. You would have stopped if I’d meant it. But I was enjoying myself,” I confessed. “I always enjoy myself with you. You awaken something in me I never knew existed, and yes, I lose my head a little, but that’s on me, not you. Despite your many whispered nothings that claim otherwise, I’m a big girl. And I have to take ownership for the fact that my actions have consequences.”
“My actions,” he insisted. “Your consequences. It’s not fair.”
“Are we really going to sit here arguing back and forth about who is more responsible for what, and who should have done what to stop it?” I demanded, fists knuckling onto my hips. The conversation between us had only just started and already it was derailing far away from where I’d hoped it would go.
“You’re right,” Azid conceded. “It won’t change anything, and it’s not why I came up here anyway.”
“Good. I think we should get married,” I said just as Azid said, “We need to stop what we’re doing.”
