Seduced (Royal Expat Series Book #1) Page 7

  Was this what it felt like to be in love? Or was this simply what it felt like to be normal? Every time she thought of Damian’s face, it made her swell up just a little bit more, as if one more tiny puff of happiness had been added to her soul, and it was fat and ready to explode. Although they had only parted an hour or so ago, she was restless, waiting for the time when she could see him again and run her fingers through his hair, kiss his lips and feel his warm skin against hers.

  No, this wasn’t just feeling normal. It was something more, and there was no reason to deny it. It had gone way beyond physical lust. Although her body sang every time she was near Damian, she also felt perfect contentment just to be resting her head against his broad shoulder, chatting about meaningless things or sitting in silence.

  He was irresistible to her. She didn’t know how she would be able to make it through the next day before she saw him again. They had plans to meet that night, and Damian had promised her that they would go to another of his favorite places. It was all she could think about—that, and the touches and kisses from the night before.

  She only thought about Caroline with a brief pang of sadness for a few seconds before the thought subsided into the tumult of happiness and excitement churning around inside her.

  She reached the door to her apartment and took a deep breath. She knew she had to appear normal in front of Colin, and she tried to smooth down her hair and calm the beating of her heart. Her stomach felt like it was full of frolicking snakes (did snakes even frolic?) and she didn’t want it to show on the outside.

  She hoped it was still early enough that she could sneak by unnoticed—her cotton dress was still a little bedraggled from its sojourn in the pool, and it would be evident that she hadn’t headed out for a newspaper.

  She snuck past his door soundlessly, and tried to make no noise at all as she went up the stairs towards her own front door. She breathed a sigh of relief as she unlocked her own front door and slipped through into the welcoming dimness. She was safe for one more night. Now to shower, get a few hours of sleep and meet Colin for lunch as if nothing had happened.

  The lights went on, and she froze, like a burglar caught in the act, blinking wildly to work out what had happened. Her heart froze in her chest as she saw Colin, his face grim and thin-lipped, standing by the light switch.

  “I think it’s time to stop the lies, don’t you?” he said.

  Numerous emotions flitted through Matilda’s head. The first was fear at the confrontation which was about to take place. She hated arguments and confrontation of any kind, and she knew that this was going to be unpleasant. The second emotion was shame. She hated disappointing her family, and she knew that this would do just that—she had been selfish and reckless and now she had to live with it. The final emotion she could readily identify was anger. Anger at herself, anger at her family, and most of all, anger at Colin for being there and controlling her life.

  Before she could really react to any of them, Colin had crossed the room to stand face to face with her.

  “You were with that man again last night, weren’t you?” he said, his voice tight, controlled.

  Matilda looked up into his face, and anger won over the other emotions. Who was Colin to make her feel guilty about doing something which made her happy?

  “You’re not my father—in fact you’re not anything to me,” Matilda said. “I’m tired of justifying my actions to you or anyone else.” It was exhilarating to say, both terrifying and liberating. “From now on I am going to see whoever I want to see, whenever I want. I’ll call my father and explain that to him—and that I no longer want anyone stalking my every move.”

  Colin’s face went white as she delivered this speech, and she continued to look up at him defiantly, willing him to contradict her.

  “You silly, naïve little girl,” he said.

  “I beg your pardon?” she asked, astounded by the contempt in his voice. “Is it too much to ask to run my own life at the age of 20?”

  “Matilda, your life does not and never will belong to you. It belongs to the crown—and the crown has employed me to prevent you from making it look bad. You will stop seeing him once and for all or you will face the consequences of your own actions, and they will not be consequences you’ll like. I’ve warned you before but you didn’t listen to me. I am both much older and much smarter than you. If you try to outplay me again, you will regret it.”

  “You arrogant prick,” she exclaimed, losing her temper completely in the face of his threats. “How dare you threaten me? You’re supposed to be taking care of me—and I don’t even want you to do that. I run my own life—I do! You have no power over me—none! Only the power my father gave you, and if I’m willing to tell him how I feel, there is nothing you can do to stop me.”

  “Oh, really?” Colin sneered, an ugly look creeping over his lean face.

  “Not one thing,” Matilda said stubbornly. “I am a princess and you are merely an employee.”

  “Would a princess fuck some tramp she picked up in public—in a national monument, no less?” Colin asked, his voice as light and dangerous as spider’s silk.

  “Wh-what?” Matilda was dumbstruck. She cast her mind quickly back to the night before. Had someone seen them? Would it be in the press? Had Damian—no, Damian would never have betrayed her, never! He didn’t even know who she really was.

  “Don’t look so dumb, missy. You know exactly what I’m talking about. Weren’t you there, last night, letting your precious lover boy fuck your brains out in the middle of the rainbow pool?”

  “I – how?” she asked, her entire world falling away like water swirling down a drain.

  “You’re not nearly as smart as you think you are,” Colin sneered. “Even I didn’t imagine you could possibly be this indiscreet, though.”

  He made a motion, and she flinched back, her entire body in a state of shock. He gave a brief snort of derision before continuing to pull an envelope from the pocket of his coat. He laid the envelope in front of her.

  “Don’t you want to see what sort of things I’ve caught you doing, princess?” he sneered, his upper lip peeled back to show his long, slightly crooked teeth.

  Matilda could feel the tears threatening to well up in her eyes, and took a deep breath, willing herself to be calm. In the last week, she had never once felt that she was doing something wrong or something that she should be ashamed of. Now, looking back on her conduct, she could see that she had behaved recklessly. What had she been thinking? Letting him pin her up against the wall in a public street, and even making love in the middle of a famous tourist spot. It was something which would look beyond terrible for anyone if it came out, let alone for her. She knew full well that she had to behave with more discretion than normal people—and now she had exposed herself to this. She had set herself up to be exposed as a slut and a harlot—but she wasn’t! She had just been carried away by the romance and the freedom.

  Now…she had a dreadful feeling that she knew what was in the envelope in front of her, but she had to look nonetheless.

  With a shaking hand, she pulled the envelope towards her, pulling out the photographs within. She gasped and looked up—the first photograph had been taken that very first night, when she had taken Damian home with her. Had he been watching them even then? The thought made her feel sick. It was as if every memory she had made with Damian had been tainted, poisoned by the fact that Colin had witnessed them, peeping at them from the shadows.

  She flipped through the photos, her horror and outrage turning to sickening fear as she saw herself, spread out and naked, Damian’s head between her legs and a look of abandoned pleasure on her face. Another showed them in the boat, her breasts bare in Damian’s hands. Each and every photo showed them kissing, cuddling, or much, much worse. There were about 20 photos in all, and that was more than enough. She knew that if her father or the media ever got hold of them, her life may as well be over. How could she have been so stupid and so naïve? How
could she have trusted to the fact that she was safe here?

  “Quite a spectacle you made of yourself,” Colin commented mildly. “Now do you still want to tell me that I can trust you to act with decorum by yourself?”

  “I—you had no right to violate my privacy,” she choked out. It made her nauseated and shaky to think that Colin had stood and watched her most intimate moments with Damian.

  “I had the right to be in public places—and that is where you displayed yourself like a common whore, performing obscene acts with some bum you picked up a week ago.” Colin’s words cut through her like hot knives slicing through butter.

  “I—how could you?” she asked. “You’re supposed to protect me from this sort of thing, not expose me.”

  “I hardly exposed you. You left yourself wide open to this. I’m just trying to point out to you what sort of consequences this behavior has.”

  “What are you going to do with them?” Matilda asked, gesturing to the photos.

  “Well, there is no law to say that I have to do anything with them,” Colin admitted. “Then again, there are so many possibilities. I could show them to your father—that would be the end of any argument from you that you should be allowed the freedom to be independent. Or perhaps I could sell them to the media. I’d get thousands, don’t you think, for just one. Think how much I could get for a 20 photo feature in a gossip rag.”

  “Stop,” Matilda pleaded, not wanting to hear any more of the horrible potential of the photographs.

  “But you asked—and you should know just how much damage I could cause. I could, princess, but that doesn’t mean I will—not if you cooperate with me,” Colin said.

  Matilda felt the bile rising in her throat.

  “You want to blackmail me?” she asked, sickened. She had never expected him to be so low, not even after this.

  “What an ugly word from your pretty little mouth. Then again, I guess a mouth which is happy to wrap around some thick American cock will do pretty much anything.”

  “Please, stop talking to me like that,” Matilda said, hating the vulgar starkness of his language. “Just tell me what you want.”

  “Well, that, for one thing. What I want is for you to start listening to what I want. You’re going to be a lot nicer to me from now on, princess. Aren’t you?”

  Matilda stood silently as he leered at her. Everything about him was disgusting, from his slimy voice and the way he mockingly called her ‘princess’, to his crooked, yellowing teeth, thin, smirking lips and narrow, cold eyes. She felt a bubbling hatred rising in her stomach, and she knew that if she didn’t have self-restraint, she could claw at his face, taking her fury out by sinking her nails into his flesh.

  As it was, she simply stood, unable to bow down and agree with him just like that.

  “Too proud?” he asked, his eyes hardening from smugness to anger in seconds. “You still think you’re better than me?”

  “I would never blackmail a person, let alone follow them and watch them,” she said.

  Colin’s face darkened and twisted into a scowl.

  “I’d watch my step if I were you,” he warned. “You can’t just say anything you want. Make me angry and I might just go ahead and tell your father what you’ve been up to. I should, you know—that’s what he pays me to do.”

  “He pays you to take care of me—to protect me from the press, from people who might try to hurt me. Damian would never hurt me,” she said. “Falling in love isn’t something I should be forbidden to do.”

  “You met this man a week ago. I call it a worldly man taking advantage of a naïve little girl,” Colin countered. “Didn’t I tell you that I talked to him, that night in the bar? He as good as told me he was in it to score.”

  “It’s not your place to decide if he’s a good man or not,” Matilda said, trying to keep calm even as a seed of doubt was planted in her mind. “Not unless I ask you to. I am free to make my own mistakes.” Damian wouldn’t do that—would he?

  “Correction,” Colin said with a nasty smile. “You were free to make your own mistakes. Now you are paying for them, and unless you want these pictures leaked, you should do exactly as I say.”

  He took a step closer to her, leaning into her and bringing a hand up to caress her hair, stroking the side of her face. She reeled back, shocked and horrified by the touch.

  “What are you doing?” she asked in horror.

  “Did you really think that my power over you stops at the press? I can do anything I like to you, princess—and as long as I have those photographs, there is nothing you can do to stop me. You think you’re free and independent? You are my slave. You belong to me. And it’s all because you refused to listen to me. What poetic justice.”

  “Justice? It’s sick,” she said, her strong sense of right and wrong bursting out even when she was cornered. “You threaten to sell me out, and now you’re practically threatening to rape me. You’re a monster!”

  “Now, now, princess, there’s no need to use such strong language,” he said, leaning away from her again and shrugging as if he had suggested going for a walk in the park. “I’m just trying to teach you something useful. Don’t we all want to learn from our mistakes?”

  “I’d never let you touch me, no matter what you threaten me with,” she said harshly. “I’d rather the whole world see those pictures than you lay a finger on me.”

  “Harsh words from a little girl with no power,” Colin said, chuckling, although his eyes looked furious. “We’ll see which one you prefer.”

  He lunged for her again, and tried to kiss her. Adrenaline shot through her veins and she struggled, kicking and screaming, not allowing him to get anywhere near her.

  “Stop struggling,” he gasped, trying to pin her down. She struggled harder. Finally her arm shot out and collided with his chin, and he reeled back, panting.

  “You little bitch,” he said. He looked for a moment as if he was going to attack her again, then seemed to think better of it when he saw the fierce, rebellious look in her eyes. He withdrew, gathering up the photos and putting them back in the envelope.

  “Well, I guess I’ll give you a little time to think it over,” he said, still breathing hard. “No use playing all my aces at once. Just remember: your father trusts me, and I live right below you. I have your key. I can have you any time you want, if I want. Is it really worth facing the scorn and ridicule of the world, shaming your whole family, when you can make it so much easier just by giving in to me?”

  Matilda didn’t answer.

  “Think about it, princess,” he told her. “How about we make a new deal for now? You put an end to your meetings with that pretty boy, or I’ll do whatever I like to you. Maybe that means having you for myself, and maybe it means having a conversation with you—or the press.

  “If you want to find out, feel free to make another cozy little rendezvous with your boyfriend. Otherwise, I’d put a stop to those visits.”

  Laughing under his breath, he slammed the door of the apartment behind him, leaving her curled up on the floor, shaking hard, all the happiness snuffed out of her.

  -

  It was a long time before Matilda found the strength to get up from where she was crouching on the floor. She was shaking badly, and she knew she was in shock. She put both her hands on the sofa beside her and pushed herself to her feet. Standing in the middle of her living room, surrounded by all her things, the room bright and cheerful, her confrontation with Colin seemed surreal. But she could still feel his breath on her face, his hand stroking her cheek, and it made her sick to her stomach. His voice sounded slimy and nasal in her memory.

  She sat down on the sofa, trying to breathe calmly and figure out what had just happened in a rational manner. She swallowed back the tears which kept threatening to leak out, and tried to play back their conversation from the beginning.

  It wasn’t working. All she could think about was his thin lips and sneering voice, the way he kept calling her ‘princess�
�� in a mocking tone of voice. And his final threat—that he could do exactly as he pleased with her—that threat was lurking in the back of her mind, heavy and terrifying, like the bogeyman lurking underneath a child’s bed.

  What should she do? Colin was clearly not the man her father thought he was. Prince Laurence might be strict, but he loved his daughters more than anything else. Hadn’t he taken her into his family even though she was only a lovechild and raised her with his wife as though she was legitimate? She had always been treated kindly, if strictly, by her father and her stepmother. He certainly never would have entrusted her to Colin if he knew what kind of man he was.

  The thought of Colin’s leering face made Matilda shudder again. How could she not have seen him for what he really was? She had thought of him as a tenacious shadow, dull and reliable—unwanted but safe. Now he was completely in control of her life and her actions.

  Should she call her father? She considered it seriously for a few moments. Her father was sure to believe her, wasn’t he? She was his daughter and she had never lied to him or tried to trick him. He had to trust her word over the word of an employee.

  But it was impossible for her to call him. If he knew—she could see the look on his face as he pored through the photographs Colin had captured of her and Damian. She couldn’t bear it, and she knew that he would react badly to the thought of his daughter behaving in such a way.

  There was no way she could bear his anger and disappointment at seeing those photos or knowing what she had done. Besides, he would probably never let her have any freedom again after the way she had acted.

  She tried not to care, but it was hard to just throw her entire life up until now away. Could she just not care what her father thought and let him disown her or drown her in his shame and disappointment? She wasn’t sure she could bear it. Although her feelings for Damian were strong, the deep bond which existed between her and her father—and Caroline—was equally persuasive. No, she decided. He might have come round to the idea of Damian in time, but now those photographs were in the mix, it was hopeless. No matter what, he could never know.