Page 114 of Ruthless Prince
If Anna witnessed that, along with the terror in my expression as I sat there waiting for it to be over, I was sure she’d finally realize my messages weren’t part of a sick prank. She’d have to see that I was genuinely a prisoner in this mansion, and that she was my only chance at escape, as long as she never told anyone that we were exchanging notes or communicating in any waywhatsoever.
In one of her most recent messages, she said she would play along and see what she could do about getting on cleaning duty for myroom.
Two days later, two new maids came to my room with Logan to vacuum, dust and polish everything. One of them followed the rules and acted like I wasn’t there, but the other one shot curious glances at me every so often. I met her gaze whenever I could, imploring her with my eyes, and when she gave me a slight smile, I knew she had to beAnna.
A note arrived later that evening, when Logan was out somewhere.Oh my god. You’re not joking, are you? He’s fucking creepy,it said.He told us you were the one who made the rule about not speaking to you or making any eye contact with you. But now that you’ve told me all this stuff, it’s obvious it was him. The way he stood there staring at us the whole time…. ugh. He looked like a fucking shark with those cold, dead eyes. Literally made me shiver. I kept thinking he was going to catch me looking at you and throw me out the window orsomething.
I sent back a note essentially saying ‘I told you so’ in the politest tone I could muster up, and she replied almostimmediately.
I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you before. This is beyond messed up. What can I do to help? Should I call the police? The WhiteHouse?
I told her not to do that. If she really wanted to help, she had to promise not to tell a single soul about our communication, and she needed to bring me a cellphone.
Now she’d finally come through. A rose gold iPhone and charger were sitting in the center of the silver tray with a scrawled Post-it note attached.Good luck. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do to help. I’m so sorry this is happening to you. Really wish I could do more. Stay safe, okay? –Anna
The cell phone was an older model, but it was still in perfect working order, so it was exactly what I needed. I obviously couldn’t call anyone, seeing as the collar recorded everything I said (and apparently also sent Logan alerts whenever I made a sound to warn him to check up on me), so my plea for assistance had to be silent. An email or text message would have todo.
I silently ran through a mental list of my friends and family. I couldn’t text my mother, father, Simone, Marissa, or Kate, because I was sure Logan was secretly keeping tabs on their phones and emails just in case, seeing as they were the people closest to me in the outside world. I couldn’t text any of my newer friends from college, either, because they wouldn’t be able to help. They simply didn’t have the contacts or resources available to doso.
I thought about messaging some of the Order members who’d been initiated at the same time as me, but I quickly decided against it. For one, I didn’t know any of their numbers off by heart—they were all stored in my old phone, which Logan had stolen from me—and secondly, my sale to the Thornes had been brokered by the Order. Even though the newer members didn’t know about that, they’d pledged their undying fealty to the society, so they’d probably choose them over me anyday.
For a brief moment, I considered messaging Jamie Torrance, my mother’s Chief of Staff, but then I realized that was a bad idea too. He would tell my mother, and the situation would blow up immediately. I couldn’t risk my brother’s life likethat.
Shit.My cheeks flamed as I realized how powerless I was, even with a phone. Logan had really done a number on my anxiety, to the point where I was paranoid about contacting literally anyone. I felt completely helpless and out of control, and I had no idea what the hell todo.
I had to figure out something, though. Soon. I couldn’t live and die here, controlled and tortured by the Thornes forever. My hands curled into fists from the mere thought of that, and my cheeks flamed with vengefulanger.
Fuck Logan and all hisbullshit.
Fuck his evil, twistedfather.
Fuck his dumb, brainwashedmother.
They wouldn’t get the better of me. They wouldn’t stop me. One way or another, I was going to get out of this place, and I would expose their wicked ways to the world, even if it meant exposing my own crimes against Chloe. I didn’t care about the punishment I would face for that. As long as I was free from the Thorne family’s grasp and Jared was safe, nothing elsemattered.
While I waited for an idea to strike, I opened a browser on the phone and Googled my name. I wanted to see if Logan was as good at covering his tracks as heclaimed.
Hewas.
No one seemed to suspect that anything out of the ordinary was happening in my life. The only recent media articles about me concerned my supposed whirlwind romance with Logan. It made me feel sick to mystomach.
I hated him for springing our engagement on me in front of my parents at dinner the other week, but there was nothing I could do about it. I had to play along and act like it was exactly what I wanted, even though I would rather die than marry him, and later, when my mother told me about the press release that would have to be arranged in order to make our announcement official, all I could do was grit my teeth and force a smile like it was a dream cometrue.
It was a fuckingnightmare.
As I stared down at the phone, my cheeks grew hot at the sight of several paparazzi shots of me exiting Bistro Guillaume on Logan’s arm the other night. One shot was focused on the diamonds glinting around my neck, and the author of the accompanying article had commented on how gorgeous the ‘necklace’ was and how wonderful my fiancé was for giving me such an elegant and priceless piece. She said it was clear proof of his undying love anddevotion.
If only she knew thetruth.
I wasn’t his beloved future wife. I was just a possession. A toy to be picked up and played with whenever the mood struckhim.
I sighed and kept reading the news about my fake relationship. Most of the articles focused on how ‘adorable’ and ‘fairytale-like’ it was, and a couple of websites even featured exclusive interviews with Marissa and Kate, where they smugly claimed to have always suspected that something was going on between me andLogan.
I snorted. What a load of bullshit. They just wantedattention.
I kept scrolling. Some of the newer articles were markedly different in tone than the others. They were filled with vitriol about me and my supposed betrayal of my mother’s political party, all because I was marrying into a so-called rival family. It was ridiculous. Apparently I wasn’t entitled to my own opinions, given my status as the president’s daughter, and I was a repulsive traitor for marrying aThorne.
As if I could helpit.
