Page 13 of Knot your Princess
“Sophia, get back in the van.”
“No. I’m going into the party. Now you can either come in, or you can wait here. It’s up to you.”
She pulls her arm free and stalks up to the front doors, of the Art Gallery, where the event is being held, with Nico right behind her. A security guard opens them for her. Almost a littletooquickly.
I’ve just realised what is off here. There are three vans, all labelled up with the logo of the local water board, but the fourth one is blank. Just a white van, parked in the middle of the three vans. It’s not right.
I launch myself forward, determined to get Sophia back in the van. “Sophia?” I bellow, trying to get around the guard who seems intent on blocking my path. “Sophia?”
Shoving him aside, panic courses through me, but then I see her and Nico, as Franco joins me. She is hugging Lola, a woman around the same age as her, laughing and looking softer and more relaxed than I have ever seen her. Nico is practically on top of her, gazing at her briefly before his eyes scan the small crowd around her.
Sophia gives him an annoyed glare to move back, which he doesn’t, so she steps away from him, taking Lola’s arm to guide her further away from me.
“Sophia!” I call out, rushing to catch up with her. My senses are still pinging. Something isn’t right, but I can’t quite put my finger on why.
ChapterEleven
Nico
Following Sophia around the Gallery is a laborious task. Breathing in her sweet vanilla scent is torture. I want to kiss her, plunge my tongue into her mouth and devour her, tasting her before I slam her up against the white wall, lift her pretty pink dress, and ram my cock into her as far as it will go.
Watching her giggle and whisper with her friend, she seems so alive. Her sadness has vanished, and she is happy. I know that will come crashing down again once she is back in the van, travelling back home where she is locked up and kept from everyone. It’s for her own safety, but it doesn’t make it any easier to see.
After about a quarter of an hour has passed, I do a sweep, my gaze layering over everyone in the crowd. Cain is stuck to Sophia like glue, making a real nuisance of himself and rather enjoying it, I think. Sophia is furious and beautiful with it. Franco and Luca are working their way around the Gallery when something skitters over the back of my neck. It’s the sense that something is wrong.
Shots fired in the distance, only discernible to someone who knows without a shadow of a doubt what they are and where they’ve come from, scramble me into action. Grabbing Sophia, I haul her away from her friend and Cain, who instantly goes on alert, knowing something is going down. We exchange a glance.
“I’ve got this,” I murmur, dismissing him to secure the area with Franco and Luca.
“I’m supposed to stay with her every second,” he argues.
“This ismyjob. Go do yours,” I growl, getting pissed off that he is stalling. I know it’s because he is enjoying being with her. The little looks he gives her are obvious. He’s fallen for her. It’s no surprise, when I know exactly what he is seeing when he looks at her. She is a vision.
“What’s going on?” Sophia asks, breaking away from her conversation, knowing something is going on.
“Come with me,” I mutter, taking her arm and leading her gently away as Cain goes apoplectic behind me.
“Nico,” she hisses.
“There is something going on, just come with me.”
“Nico,” she pants breathlessly as I bustle her through the administration-only door of the gallery. “What is going on?”
“Shh,” I hush her with a soft murmur and march us down the corridor to a door on the right. Shoving it open, I haul her inside, scoping it out thoroughly, which only takes a second or two, seeing as it is small and relatively bare. “Get under the desk.”
“What? Why?”
Taking her by the shoulders, I look her dead in the eye. “Sophia. Please do as I say. Get under the desk.”
“Please tell me what’s going on.”
“My only job is to keep you safe. Do you trust me?”
She nods immediately. “Of course.” She removes her shoes before lifting her dress and drops to her knees, crawling under the desk that faces the door.
“Do not move.”
“Don’t leave me!” she pleads,
