Seduced (Royal Expat Series Book #1) Page 8

  As she realized this, it lifted a tiny fraction of the weight from her heart, but replaced it with a thorn. She knew that whatever happened she had to deal with Colin herself, but that left her in such an impossible position that it was all she could do not to break down.

  “Shit,” said Matilda out loud. It didn’t really make her feel any better.

  “Stupid buggering damn,” she exclaimed. Her problem still remained, and she knew that no matter how many curse words slipped past her lips, she still had to find a solution.

  “Damian.” Saying his name out loud was more of a balm than any curse word. Saying his name made him feel more real. His warm embrace and easy smile came back to her, and she found some strength in that.

  She considered what Colin had said about talking to him that night. Could it be true that Damian had admitted she was only an easy conquest? But what about all the things they had done together? Damian had even said he was falling for her. There was no reason for him to say it unless it was true. She had to dismiss the claim as just another way for Colin to manipulate her. She knew deep within her that Damian felt the same about her as she felt about him. She could see it in his face every time they met.

  She had to see him again. She didn’t want to imagine a life without him. She would go back to the came confinement, the same drudgery and misery and lack of freedom as she had existed in before. She would never hear him laugh, or enjoy another of his ridiculous anecdotes. She could never make love with him again—no, she could never make love again. Nobody could ever measure up to Damian, and anyone else would just be a poor mockery of him.

  But there didn’t seem to be any way she could see Damian again—not ever, not if the photos did come out and not if they didn’t. It was hopeless.

  On the one hand, if she defied Colin and saw Damian, her father would see the photos and organize to have her deported in a heartbeat to ensure she never saw him again. On the other hand, if she did as Colin said and ceased to see him to keep the photos a secret, she would have to give him up herself.

  Which one was the worse option? Both paths seemed bleak and hopeless to her. Whichever way she looked at it, her time with Damian was over.

  The realization was too much for her. Flopping sideways onto the sofa, she curled up into a tight ball and cried. It wasn’t just quiet snuffling. Her body shook with huge, shuddering sobs which seemed to vibrate through her chest and limbs. Tears coursed down her cheeks like waterfalls in the spring, and she could barely breathe.

  “Damian,” she choked out. “Damian. Damian.”

  The name was her only comfort. She longed for his warm arms around her, his calming voice in her ear. Perhaps he would know what to do. He was always so confident, so sure of himself. He would help her, he would protect her.

  She sat up, wiping away her tears and trying to still her quaking body once more. She was an English princess, for goodness’ sake! She could do this herself without any help from anyone. She wouldn’t let Colin boss her around, even with his blackmail tools.

  But what could she really do? She couldn’t defy him openly. He would know, and that would be the end. If only she had a phone number for Damian, but he didn’t have a cell phone. Their only means of communication was their meeting place. He would be waiting for her there, tomorrow, but she would not be able to come.

  A fresh wave of misery swept over her as she realized with renewed anguish how trapped she was. Colin was right. She wasn’t smart. She was stupid and naïve and she had gotten herself into this mess by trusting Colin and being careless with Damian.

  Matilda hated wallowing in her own misery, but having her happiness shattered so completely, her victory turning to ashes in her mouth, was a blow that even she could not withstand. Her only option was to wait—to wait and hope that somehow the situation would get better. Maybe Colin would relent and let her see Damian again. Maybe he would be called back to England on urgent business, leaving her free to do as she liked.

  Maybe, she hoped with all her might, Damian would realize that she was being held back against her will and he would fight for her.

  Amidst her misery she gave a bleak snort of laughter. She truly was a pitiful princess, waiting for the handsome prince to come and rescue her. Curling up into a tight ball again, Matilda pictured Damian’s face in her mind, lingering on the details—the wavy hair, dark and rich, but lightened by the sun; his high cheekbones, perfectly chiseled and unbearable handsome; his beautiful smile.

  Trying to block out every other thought in her mind, Matilda thought about Damian. Even so, the tears seeped out, wetting her cheeks. She sat and waited for the day to disappear and night to fall, not wanting to feel anything at all but the anonymity of sleep and the ghost of Damian’s arms around her.

  -

  Matilda put her head in her hands, trying to shake the negative thoughts out of her mind. A week had gone by since her confrontation with Colin—a week in which she had not seen Damian even once.

  It was like a hollow place had opened up inside of her. Where she had been happy, optimistic and excited about discovering the world, now she went through the motions of her job, going home at the end of the work day to stare out of her window, wondering what Damian was doing, and whether he cared about the fact she had suddenly disappeared off the face of the planet. She hadn’t heard from him at all—no messages to her apartment, no figure waiting for her underneath her window and no indication at all that he had even tried to contact her.

  She couldn’t get the anxious thoughts out of her head that maybe he had simply given up on her, not interested in seeing her any more if it was going to be complicated. After all, they had only known each other for a very short space of time. Maybe he had already moved on and gone somewhere new, somewhere where he could find other women and other things to amuse him. Maybe Colin had been right. He had only wanted to play around with her and now he had moved on.

  The thought was like a punch to the stomach, and she shook her head, trying not to believe it. It was just as likely that he had decided that she wasn’t interested in seeing him anymore. She hadn’t turned up to their designated spot and hadn’t been able to contact him. Surely he thought that she was the one who had abandoned him, and abandoned what they had together.

  This thought was even worse than the first. She hated the idea that he might think she wasn’t interested. She wanted to shout and protest that it wasn’t so, to somehow communicate to him that the thought of him was all that was keeping her going. But how? There was no way to communicate with him without Colin finding out.

  Colin. He had barely spoken to her all week. She had locked the door of her apartment from the inside, using the latch so that he couldn’t get in short of forcing the door down. He hadn’t pushed it, probably thinking that he had won and he could afford to let her sulk for a bit. The truth was that she was scared of him—scared of the thought that he could come in any time and do what he wanted. She didn’t want to so much as look at him. It just brought everything back more strongly.

  “Hey, hon, are you doing OK?”

  Matilda looked up to see Sylvie sitting opposite her on the table where she was supposed to be researching for a report they were compiling about the history of the city. Sylvie’s round face was concerned, and Matilda tried to hitch a half-hearted smile onto her face.

  “Just a little tired,” she replied. “Did you find any other files for us to look through?”

  “Oh, never mind about that,” Sylvie dismissed. “You know they only send us down projects like this so we don’t start getting bored and refiling the archive with some bizarre filing system none of them can understand.”

  Matilda giggled despite herself at Sylvie’s assessment of her job. It was true that it was often quiet down here, but she doubted that any of them would go that far.

  “So what’s eating you? You haven’t looked your normal self at all this week,” Sylvie said, propping her face on her hands. “Don’t tell me there’s trouble in paradise a
lready?”

  “There never was—I mean, that’s all finished with now,” Matilda said, trying to dismiss it as nothing. She hoped that Sylvie hadn’t noticed the tremble in her voice, but from the look in her eye, she knew exactly what Matilda was trying to do.

  “Now, everyone experiences a lover’s tiff now and again,” Sylvie said comfortingly. “The number of times my husband and I have argued about the silliest of things and kept it going for weeks! Now, why don’t you tell me all about it?”

  Matilda looked up at Sylvie. Her face was a mixture of sincerity and curiosity. She wondered how much trust, if any, she could put in the woman—would she gossip it all over the archive?

  Then again, she realized, Sylvie had no idea who she actually was. She was just Matilda Stuart here, a girl who had come across to the States on an internship. Her identity was completely unknown over here, except to those who followed everything in the British media religiously or who did an extreme amount of research about the British royal lineage. There would be no repercussions for telling Sylvie anything.

  Besides, it was suddenly clear to her that this was her best chance to get a message to Damian. In fact, it was her only way. If Damian was still waiting for her and still wanted to be with her, he would be at the only meeting place they had—the bar where they had first met. If he wasn’t, well, at least she had tried and she would know for sure that he really had moved on and left her behind.

  A plan was forming itself in her head, and for the first time in a week she felt the kindling of hope. Perhaps it might be possible to get out of this situation. At the very least, Damian would know that she hadn’t simply got bored of him and left him behind.

  “Sylvie—if I asked you for a favor and I asked you to be completely discreet about it, would you do it?” she asked.

  “Of course, hon,” Sylvie said. “Poor little girl like you all alone in a big new country—anything I can do to help, just name it.”

  “Well, it’s nothing big. Just that I was supposed to meet a—a friend, but I won’t be able to make it. I wondered if you could get a note to him?”

  “A note?” Sylvie looked confused. “Why don’t you just text him?”

  “He’s a bit scatterbrained and he never remembers to have his phone on him,” Matilda lied easily, the words slipping out of her mouth without her even having to think about it. “We usually meet at this one bar.” She told Sylvie the name of the place.

  “Yeah, I know it,” Sylvie said.

  “Is it too much trouble for you to leave a note there for my friend?” Matilda asked.

  “It’s no problem—but you live right there, don’t you? Can’t you drop in a note yourself?”

  “It’s complicated,” Matilda said. “I’m really sorry to ask you.” If she tried to leave a note herself, Colin might find out that she had gone there. She couldn’t risk that, but sending Sylvie was safe.

  “Don’t worry about it. You’re a great kid and I’d love to help you out—but can’t you tell me what’s really going on?” Sylvie wheedled. “This guy is your boyfriend, isn’t he?”

  “Kind of, I suppose,” Matilda allowed. “But there are some obstacles in the way of us seeing each other right now.”

  Sylvie’s eyes lit up, and she got the dreamy look of a woman who reads too many romance novels.

  “Forbidden love,” she sighed.

  “Well, I guess you could think of it that way,” Matilda conceded. “If you could just take a note, I’d be grateful. I’d try around 7 or 8, but I don’t know exactly when…if he’s not there, go ahead and leave it with the bartender.”

  “Glad to help, hon,” Sylvie said, looking as if she had been assigned the most essential task in the history of time.

  As Matilda scribbled a note to Damian, she prayed deep within her soul that Damian would care enough to be there again that night. If not… if not, then it was truly over.

  -

  The little flicker of hope burned within Matilda for the rest of the day. As a result, she was able to get through the work day with relative ease, and she was even faintly excited in the evening in the expectation that Damian might be receiving the note at that very second.

  However, she was completely restless, unable to focus on anything, because she was so intent on knowing whether or not the note had been successful.

  Had Sylvie delivered the note yet?

  Had Damian got hold of it? Would he even turn up to the bar? Would he expect her to try to deliver some sort of message?

  The questions running through her mind were endless, and she felt as if she was going mad. Why could she think of nothing else?

  She powered up her laptop, wondering if there was anything online which could help distract her. After trawling through a few pages, she knew it was pointless. Slamming down the lid once more, she went to the window, wondering if she would be able to see anything going on in the street from there.

  After a few minutes, she pulled back in frustration. Why was she even this tense? Even if Damian did get hold of the note, what did she expect him to do? She had never explained the full situation to him—that she was a royal and that every move she made was being tracked by Colin and, by extension, the Royal Family. How could he possibly understand the situation she was in? At twenty years old, he would expect her to be independent enough to do whatever she wanted. He’d simply think she was stupid and weak.

  This dark train of thoughts made the little fire of hope in her chest gutter and tremble. What had she expected to achieve? It was over, and the sooner she accepted that, the better.

  Perhaps if she forgot all about Damian, Colin would forget about his threats. He would let her live her own life without accompanying her at all times, and maybe eventually her father would trust her enough to live abroad—or anywhere she wanted—without a bodyguard.

  But for that to ever happen, she would have to give up on Damian. That was the part that didn’t compute. Somehow, her entire being yearned for him. Without him she felt desolate, incomplete. The happiness she had felt with him for that brief week was simply too addictive to throw away.

  “I won’t give up,” she said out loud, as if to resolve her decision once and for all. She only hoped that Damian would feel the same way.

  Picking up a book, she tried to keep herself distracted from thinking about him and about her predicament. She was barely a page in when she heard banging and shouting outside her apartment.

  She sat up immediately, her first thought that someone was trying to break into the apartment complex. After a second of listening intently, she heard several voices shouting, and someone running.

  Opening the door of her apartment a crack, she could make out some of the voices.

  “…call the police! This is trespassing.”

  “Somebody stop him!”

  “Matilda! Can you hear me? Matilda!”

  Matilda’s blood froze solid in her brains, then rushed to her face all at once as she recognized the voice. It was Damian.

  She was out of her apartment and halfway down the hall before she even had time to think.

  “Damian!” she cried, pausing for a second to try and work out where his shouts were coming from. “Damian! I’m up here!”

  She started to run towards the stairs, but before she could go so much as a step, she felt hard, vicious arms constricting her, preventing her from moving. The vice-like grip could only belong to one person.

  “Colin, let go of me!” she cried out, struggling to break free. She twisted violently, intent on getting out of his grasp, but he was resolutely pulling her backwards, carrying her as if she were nothing more than a rag doll.

  “Get back in your apartment—and stay there,” he snarled, panting with the effort of dragging her. He pulled her through the door of her apartment, and she screamed out once more.

  “Damian!”

  She made a move to leave again as Colin let go, but he grabbed her by her wrists, so hard that it felt as if her arms would be crushed and b
roken in his grip, and shoved her backwards.

  She fell, crashing to the ground with a cry of pain and surprise. Before she could react, Colin had slammed the door, locking her in the apartment.

  Matilda got up and ran to the door, trying to pull it open, but Colin had locked it from the outside. She heard footsteps come closer to where she was, and then there was a sudden, bone-chilling silence.

  “You,” she heard Damian’s voice, strong and angry, and felt a thrill of delight go through her. “What have you done to her? You monster!”

  “She is none of your business. You’d better stay away from her. I can have you arrested even just for this,” Colin said.

  “You—you can’t keep her like this! She’s a grown woman, not an animal. Who are you, anyway?”

  “You don’t need to know, and you better not try to find out if you know what’s good for you—and for her,” Colin said, his voice cold and menacing.

  “Like hell I’ll just leave her with you,” Damian said.

  Matilda’s whole body filled with hope and joy as he said it, and she felt suddenly as if maybe there was a chance.

  She heard a thud, a groan, and the sounds of fighting outside her door. She leapt back as the weight of two heavy male bodies slammed against the door, causing the whole apartment to tremble.

  She stood, unsure what to do, as she heard Damian and Colin clearly fighting outside. She couldn’t call the police in case they arrested Damian, and she couldn’t intervene because she was locked inside the room. She hated the feeling of complete uselessness.

  Before she had come to a decision, there was another thud against the door, and another. She gasped and stepped backwards as it burst open, sending the two men sprawling across the floor, their clothing torn and Colin’s nose bloody.