Page 69 of Royal Charmer
I’m still awake, fully dressed now, sitting at the desk in the bedroom next to her laptop, watching her sleep. I didn’t sleep at all last night. I read through the whole story with the sick feeling of dread growing in my stomach as the scoundrel gets his comeuppance. She made me look terrible, a selfish arrogant man who seduces a vulnerable woman below his station. That is not me. I love her.
It ended horribly.
Theonestory inspired by me, starring me as the scoundrel in a fake engagement, ends with the scoundrel losing everything, including the woman he loves. She told me romance always ends with the couple together in a big happy ending. She’s known for her uplifting happy stories! There was nothing happy or uplifting! A fucking tragic ending when it comes to me.
Her alarm goes off. She reaches an arm out of the covers, turns it off, and then a moment later jackknifes upright in bed, shoving her hair out of her face as she looks around. She’s naked, her fantastic breasts bouncing with her movements. Even now, as gutted as I am by what she wrote, I still want her. She scrambles for her glasses on the nightstand, shoves them on, and finally her gaze lands on me.
“Today’s my signing in London,” she says. “You’re up early.”
“I never slept.”
“Why?”
My jaw tightens. “I was thinking.”
Her brows draw together. “Oh-kay, did you want to share what you were thinking about?”
“No.” I spy her long sleep shirt on the floor, grab it, and toss it to her. “Put this on.”
She does. “Thanks. Could you get some coffee and muffins up here while I shower and pack?”
“I live to serve you,” I drawl, returning to my seat and resuming my staring session. Some part of me believes studying her carefully will give me a clue as to how her mysterious female mind works.
She shakes her head, muttering, “I don’t know what crawled up your ass, but I’ll do it myself.” She calls to the servants’ quarters, making her request, grabs some clothes, and dashes to the bathroom.
I wait and obsess some more over the horrible story I wish I never read. How could she write that about me after the way I treated her? I was good to her. I made more effort than I’ve ever made with any woman. Last night I even took her on a romantic walk on the beach and kissed her under the moonlit sky. Okay, she asked me to do those things, but I did it because Iwantto be the man of her dreams. I want to be the one she chooses forever. And it’s now abundantly clear she doesn’t feel the same way.
She emerges from the bathroom fully dressed a short while later, looking more awake. She crosses to me, her voice soft and uncertain. “Lucas?” She knows I’m angry, and I’m trying not to be. She can’t help it if she doesn’t feel the same way I do.
“I read your story.”
Her eyes dart to the laptop next to me, her arms crossing as she hugs herself. She turns back to me, brows furrowed over wide blue eyes, hurt etched in her features. “I can’t believe you read my story,” she whispers.
Guilt stabs at me. I hurt her. But she hurt me too. “Well, I did. And I know that the scoundrel leads her on, pretending to have real feelings for her when he never had any intention of marrying her. Now she’s ruined, and no man will marry her.” I can’t help my accusing tone. She knows how much I want her to commit to me, yet she denies us both in real life and in her fictional world, which I know is her refuge, her joyful place. And she made me a villain.
Her jaw drops, and she shuts it with a snap. “I’m sorry, I must’ve missed the part where I gave youpermissionto go into myprivatefiles and read the story I specifically told you not to. In fact, when you asked to read it, my exact words were, ‘No. I don’t want to share my first draft.’ Or does the wordnonot apply to princes?”
I stand, glowering down at her. “The scoundrel leaves her in the end, and then she creates a diabolical plan that sends him to debtor’s prison as revenge. That’s not a love story! It’s a fucking tragedy.”
She doesn’t back away despite my harsh words. Instead, she lifts her chin. I’m both proud of her for holding her ground and completely exasperated. “Love stories can end happily or tragically.”
“No. You told me you write romance, which specifically has the couple together in the end, yet you didn’t write it that way this time. Why?”
Her blue eyes flash, her voice shaking with the force of her anger. “Let’s talk about the real problem here. You betrayed my trust—again! First, you deliberately kept me in the dark about Gabriel being against the engagement, and I let you charm your way out of that one, but this is too far. You waited until I was asleep to invade my privacy because you knew it was wrong. Where is your honor? Where is your sense of integrity? You told me you were a man of honor, but your actions tell me I can’t trust you.”
“I am a man of honor!”
She scoffs. “How did you even get on my laptop? It’s password protected.”
My lip curls. “Besotted. Anyone who knows you could guess.”
She jabs a finger in my chest. “Only you would guess because I called you that. I’ve never called anyone that before.”
“What a compliment for me,” I say in a voice dripping with sarcasm. “I get the ‘besotted’ when it’s all a game, and now that it’s real, I get nothing.”
She throws her hands up. “I can’t deal with you right now! I have to pack!” She yanks her suitcase out of the closet, wheels it over to the bed, and tosses it on top. Then she starts piling clothes in it. It’s an overnight trip, yet she’s packing everything. Is she leaving for good?
My gut churns. I’m hurt and angry and feeling a little desperate. Princes don’t beg, we don’t grovel, we don’t chase after a woman. Why did I have to fall for the one woman who refuses to fall back?
