Page 26 of Knot your Princess
Taking me inside, we are in an ornate entrance hall with a large chandelier over our heads and a deep red Windsor print carpet beneath our feet.
“If you haven’t changed your mind about the basement, the room’s this way…” He heads up the sweeping staircase, and I follow slowly, still trying to catch my breath.
He’s waiting for me outside a door near the top of the stairs when I catch up to him. Enzo shoves it open and insists I enter in front of him. It’s a gorgeous room with a double bed and a beautiful bay window that overlooks the front garden. The curtains are heavy green brocade that matches the carpet and bedcovers. The furniture is old, dark wood and absolutely beautiful. It’s just like my room at home, minus the bay window, but twice the size. There is even a fireplace over on the far wall below a mantelpiece that appears to be made from marble. It’s not surprising. This is an old English country manor and something I love and wish I could live in one day.
“It’s lovely,” I rasp, still feeling out of breath and out of sorts. “Rented? Or yours?” I turn to him with my eyes narrowed.
He chuckles and taps the side of his nose. “You will find extra blankets and pillows in the drawers under the bed. Ring the bell if you need anything.” He points to a buzzer on the wall by the door.
“Uhm, okay. Thanks.”
So far, this is hardly a hostage situation. It’s the opposite. Despite the savage way in which Uncle Lorenzo ran us off the road, thus injuring me, shot my bodyguard, and grabbed me to stuff into a van, I don’t exactly feel assaulted or abused in any way.
“I’ll see you later,” he says and leaves the room, closing the door behind him.
The frown forming on my face turns to an eyeroll as I hear the key being turned on the other side of the lock.
“Riiiight,” I mutter. “There you go. Still a hostage.”
Like I was expecting anything else.
Okay, I was, but come on. He has outright said he thinks of me as his daughter.
With a sigh, I turn back to the window and look out over the gardens. By now, my parents will be frantic, and Cain is probably dead too, alongside Nico. I dislike the fact that it hurts my heart. Feeling overwhelmed by all of the death, I push it aside. If I break down now, I will never piece myself back together, and I need to be strong. Stronger than I’ve ever been to handle this situation with grace and fortitude with my wits about me. A small voice in my head screams at me that I'm being cold, but it’s not that. I’m shutting down the emotions so I can think clearly. I didn’t know I had the capacity to do this, but it seems to be working so far. Who knows how long it will last and what will happen when it ends?
I try to avoid thinking about a complete and utter mental breakdown.
Reaching up, I turn the lock on the sash window and raise it, wondering how Enzo missed this obvious exit, when the window suddenly jolts to a stop, jarring my arms. I shove at it to raise it higher because the three centimetres currently letting in a bit of air is not enough when I’m suffering an attack. Not that the air itself helps, but theideathat there is air around me helps me deal with it. When it doesn’t budge, I look closer and see that two screws have been driven into the wooden frame at the top on either side to stop the window from opening more than three centimetres.
“Ugh,” I spit out. I should’ve known better. I could probably work them free with time, but that time is not now.
Letting go of the window, it slides back down, so I take my shoe off and open it again, shoving the shoe into the gap to wedge it open. Satisfied that this is the best I can do, I remove my other shoe and pad over to the bed to pull out the extra blankets and pillows. Not that I feel like I need them right now. This pre heat, or whatever it is, is very erratic—coming in fits and bursts. It’s not pleasant.
Looking around and hoping to see a door for an en-suite, I spot it and stalk over, yanking the door open. It’s like the ones you find in a hotel with an extractor fan but no windows.
It was definitely built in at a much later date than the house was erected.
Stripping off my dress, I ball it up and lean through the doorway to chuck it on the bed. It’s my only item of clothing, and really, that is the worst possible outfit imaginable. Why couldn’t I have attended Wanda’s party in joggers and a hoodie?
Stepping into the shower, I turn the water on, letting the freezing blast of water hit me, making me squeal, but then it warms up, and I appreciate the lukewarm stream that falls down onto me.
Turning it off a few minutes later, I grab a towel and dry off. Wrapping it around me, only now finding the white terry cloth dressing gown on the back of the door, I replace the towel on the rack to dry off. Grabbing the gown, I head back into the bedroom to plot my next move after I call up for some food.
I scream and jump a mile when I’m confronted with an alpha standing in the middle of the room, looking like Billy-no-mates.
ChapterTwenty-Two
Trent
Knowing I shouldn’t be in here, I feel like I’m intruding, but when I knocked, she didn’t answer, and I panicked, thinking her asthma had returned and she was in dire straits. It turns out she was in the shower, and then Icouldn’tleave.
Seeing her emerge from the steamy bathroom, her hair damp and dressed in a gown; I didn’t expect her to shriek at me.
Although, that sort of does make sense, seeing as I’m intruding into her space. My space…but hers.
Forced space.
Despite how Enzo feels about his niece, she is still being held here so he can get what he wants from her mother.
