Chapter 2

The flour bombing on the queen had caused a worldwide uproar.

Any threat to the royal family was taken with the utmost seriousness by the Royal Guard. As expected, the palace was swarming with security everywhere. I wasn't even allowed to leave my room.

My hand shook as I held the silver picture frame in my hand, staring at the adoring look in my mum's face as she held me in her arms as an infant.

That moment at the shop when my mother's eyes filled with love as they met mine, and then just a few minutes later, that love had turned into pure hatred, left a heaviness in my heart.

Gifs and memes of my mum's humiliation were already spreading online like wildfire.

News on the telly reported that the flour thrower was a rogue animal activist who had a history of psychotic episodes. No one knew how the rogue got inside the shop or passed the rigorous security checks.

My mum blamed me.

The offending fur jacket, white flour still clinging to it, lay on my carpet, where my mum had flung it in anger just before she left my room a few minutes ago.

"You had Annabelle send me this fur jacket to wear at your opening. You planned all of this. I must say, daughter, that you are a very successful manipulative bitch," she had lashed out, her blue eyes spitting fire. "I should be proud of you. At least there's something you are good at other than being useless."

Her hurtful words had cut like deep slashes on the wrists.

I had tried to explain to her that I had nothing to do with any of it, but she wouldn't listen. She didn't believe me. She never did.

I had never asked Annabelle or anyone to give my mum that fur jacket. In fact, I specifically told Annabelle before we even signed the partnership for the clothing line that I did not want to sell fur in our store.

Breathing heavily from the pent-up frustration I was trying to keep inside, I dialed Annabelle's number.

"Princess Eleanor, hello. How's your mum? That fur jacket looked fabulous on her, didn't it?"

When I heard the malicious glee in her tone, I knew. "What have you done? I never asked you to send her anything."

"Darling, it was me who sent it." Her laughter was spiteful and grated in my ears. "Haven't you figured it out yet? I planned everything."

"Why? But... you're my friend."

"Friend?" she mocked. "With someone like you whose goal in life was the Top Whore award?"

I froze.

"Did you really think," she continued, her voice taunting and cruel, "that I would willingly seek out a clueless child for a business proposition? My dear, you were merely a pawn to your mother's humiliation."

"Why?"

Her tone hardened as she spat, "Your whore of a mother slept with my husband. At least you know where your talent came from. Now she and I are even."

With that, she hung up.

I was tired; tired of the hurt, the deception, the chains and expectations, and even the rebellion I adamantly kept up.

It would be freeing if I ended all of this right now.

Carefully, I placed the picture frame back to its place and took another long swig from the bottle of wine in my hand. I needed to feel numb. Molly would do the job.

Maybe I should take it all and overdose on it. And maybe then I would find the freedom I've been looking for all my life. I was debating whether to swallow or snort it when the French doors in my room flung open without warning.

Beautiful and dangerous, Jasper strode inside, looking like the devil in his tailored black suit. His blonde hair was pulled back from his exquisite face, his stance confident as his gaze roamed the room.

When our eyes met, I felt it like a powerful punch in the stomach. His intense too-blue eyes focused on me.

As if he could see right through my soul.

"Get out of here!" I screamed at him, flinging the bottle at him.

He dodged it easily. Fueled with self-hatred, I grabbed whatever I could reach and hurled them at him, snarling and shrieking like a deranged animal.

"Leave me alone! Why can't you leave me alone? Why can't everyone just leave me the hell alone?"

His strong arms banded around me like shackles, restraining me from hurting him or myself even more. My knees gave out but he caught me easily, gently sliding me down on the floor.

He was silent, holding me tenderly as if he was afraid I would break. Depleted, I slumped against him. And still, I refused to cry.

"Look at me," he finally said.

I closed my eyes tightly, lowering my head so he wouldn't see how much pain I was feeling.

Appearances were everything. Even a bitch like me, especially a bitch like me, had one to keep up. Showing pain made me weak. I didn't want people to think of me as weak. Not even Jasper.

"Princess," he whispered quietly.

I shook my head, refusing to look at him.

I would rather have hate or indifference than pity any day. If people pitied you it meant they've seen your weakness. You were now exposed to prying eyes, and they'd want to dig more. Dig more to that place inside you that you were too afraid to examine because you know what's inside was broken and ugly.

They'd want to fix it. But what if I didn't want to be fixed? What if I wanted to keep these broken things inside me because that's all I have? That's all I was?

"Eleanor."

Gently, he placed his hand on my cheek. "Len," he said softly.

Damn him. No matter how hard I tried, he wouldn't let me hide from him.

I raised my eyes to his. My throat filled with tears at the gentle way he touched me. There was no pity in his too-blue eyes, but there was tenderness. He had never looked at me like this before.

I hadn't cried since my dad was murdered. I was afraid if I released the tears they would never stop.

His gaze was silently demanding as he looked at me, his thumb felt rough against my skin as it stroked my jaw.

"I'm exhausted, Jasper. I don't know how long I can keep this up."

He angled his head and I could feel his warm breath tickle my skin as he asked, "Why do you let them?"

I lowered my eyes so I didn't have to answer him. It was too much.

I heard him sigh softly, his breath fanning my hair, before scooping me up in his arms and gently laid me on my bed.

I turned my back to him, curling up and wrapping my legs against my chest for comfort. I heard and felt him crouch beside my bed, his presence too powerful to ignore.

"The fire inside you is bigger than theirs. Don't let them extinguish it," he murmured. I felt him stand up. "I'll be outside your door if you need me."

"No." I turned around quickly and grabbed his wrist before he could leave. "Don't go." I looked up at him, letting him see the vulnerability I allowed no one else to see. "Stay with me."

For the first time since I met him, a look of uncertainty appeared on his handsome face. "I... can't."

Ever since I met him, Jasper had always been purposeful, always been confident and decisive in his actions. Until now.

"Please," I begged.

A look of pain materialized in his eyes and I noticed his hands bunched into tight fists. "What do you want from me, Len?"

"I... I don't know."

I released his wrist, my hand falling limply. I expected him to leave.

I was a job to him, nothing more. There were no promises between us. Not even an unspoken one. The only relationship we had was in bed.

But he didn't leave. He stood beside me for a moment and I felt his struggle like it was a living thing in the air.

"Len," he whispered after a moment, using that soft tone that melted the ice around my heart. "I'm not supposed to be here."

"Then go."

I was used to people leaving. What made me think he was different?

But the mattress dipped as he lay down beside me, sliding his hand under my head and pulling me close to him. I didn't even bother resisting and curled into him, fitting the top of my head under his chin. He was warm, his scent intoxicating as his strong arms wrapped around me tenderly.

"What is it about you?" he asked achingly. "What is it about you that makes me want to stay?"

No one had cared enough to stay for me before.

But Jasper did.

*

I woke up the next morning alone in my bed. I could still smell him from the pillows, the sheets. If I closed my eyes, I could still feel his long and hard body on top of me, moving with animalistic grace as he used my body for his pleasure, and given mine the same. I could still hear the sex sounds he made at the back of his throat, the satisfaction in his too-blue eyes as he gripped my hips and took what he wanted.

And then there was the tender way he held me last night... What did it mean?

"Jasper!" I yelled from the bed.

Anytime now he would come to the door. As usual. Dressed in his black suit, earpiece in place. As usual. But would he look at me and talk to me and be with me... just as usual?

When the doors opened, I propped myself on my elbows, let the blanket slither down my body, exposing me.

"Jasper." My breath caught as I said his name.

He stood at the foot of my bed, looking down at me with eyes as cold as blue ice. "Why are you talking to me like that?"

His tone was blank, distant.

Was he being playful? Acting like a real bodyguard? It was too late for that. He was more than that to me now.

"Like what?" I asked, more than ready to flirt with him.

"The way you just said my name."

I raised an eyebrow. "What about it?"

"Don't."

That one word said it all. It wasn't even the word, really, but the tone he had used. Cold, distant, commanding. Even his eyes were the same. It reminded me of what he was like the first time I met him.

I shivered, but not in pleasure no more. I could feel my heart surround itself with an impenetrable wall once again.

"What do you think this is?" he asked callously, pointing his index finger to me then back to him.

In defense, I wrapped the blanket around me to cover myself from his eyes.

"Do you think last night changed something between us? Do you think because I stayed the night with you and held you when you were sad that there's something more between us?"

His devil-may-care eyes lowered, his lashes casting shadows on his cheeks. There was a small shake of his head before his gaze returned to my face. "Don't mistake this for something that it's not, Princess. I assure you, nothing has changed."

"Fuck. You."

His grin was quick, sharp. "You did. Last night. And every night before that, in fact. Do you need a repeat performance?"

"Get out!" I screamed. If I had a dagger in my hand I would have hacked his heart in pieces with it.

A look of pain flitted in his eyes and was gone as quickly as it appeared. When he only stood there, hands in tight angry fists, I scrambled up in bed, ready to attack him and claw his face.

But I stopped myself. I would not give him the satisfaction of seeing me affected by his heartlessness. I would rather die.

"I'm going clubbing tonight. I want Marcus as my security detail. Not you."

His jaw tightened. "As you wish, Your Highness."

*

It was late when I got back. High and reeking of alcohol, I stumbled my way inside my room. I had spent my night drinking and dancing. Thinking of him, cursing him, killing him in my head. There were so many ways I wanted to murder him. Flay him alive, hang him by his balls, tie his limbs to four different horses and make them run in different directions.

Damn him.

How could he?

I'd show him who was boss.

Wrapping myself in a silky robe, I sneaked outside my room, tiptoeing my way to his.

He was going to beg for my forgiveness before this night ended.

His door was slightly ajar and I could hear his deep voice behind it. He was talking on the phone, his tone urgent and low.

"...the king's death," I heard him say.

I froze, my heart dropping in my stomach.

"I know my orders. You don't have to remind me of them," he finished, ending the call.

With dread seeping in my veins, I walked back to my room quietly.

No, it wasn't possible. Jasper had nothing to do with my dad's murder. But even though I kept repeating it in my head over and over again, the seed had been planted.

I thought back that night when my dad was murdered. I was in my room at the palace with the giant bodyguard I nicknamed Hagrid standing outside my door. But where was Jasper?

Where was he the night of the king's death?

*

I knew the best thing to do was to report Jasper, but I couldn't make myself do it.

What to do to keep tabs on your enemies? Keep them close. So I did. The problem was that we couldn't stand not ripping each other's throats when we were in the same room.

The bitchier I got, the more distant Jasper became. The colder his eyes appeared, the meaner and faster my insults flew out of my mouth.

"Hold on," Jasper commanded, gripping my arm to stop me from entering the building. "I enter the premises first before you do."

I jerked my arm away from him. "Get your filthy paws off me, servant."

He tilted his head, that ridiculously arrogant and attractive smirk appearing on his lips. "Sharpened your claws today, I see."

I hadn't seen his smirk in days that for a moment I froze, staring up at him. I recovered quickly.

"Touch me again and you'll see how sharp they are when I claw your eyes out."

He raised his brows. "I'm shaking."

I wanted to kick his balls so far up his ass they come out of his eye sockets and pop his eyeballs out.

I didn't realize I had uttered my thoughts out loud until he let out a soft laugh.

"That's creative," he commented, his back to me as Ophelia and I followed him inside the building.

My brother, Prince Liam, was out of the country again, attending one of those I-don't-give-a-f uck-really summit. Since he wasn't around for his girlfriend Ophelia, he had begged me to stand in for him at a birthday party he was supposed to attend with her.

The party was boring as hell. The only time it wasn't was when I was shedding Jasper into little pieces in my head. Ophelia didn't look like she was having fun either.

But then to Ophelia's blissful surprise, Liam arrived at the party later on. Looking worn out from his flight, but golden and handsome as ever, he had strode to her, kissing her in front of everyone. There were swooning sighs and fluttering eyelids and awws from the crowd.

"I missed you," Liam had whispered quietly in her ear, but I heard him.

The look in Liam's face as he stared at Ophelia triggered something inside me. I diverted my eyes away from the couple and met Jasper's.

My heart lodged in my throat as I took in the intense hunger in his too-blue eyes. But more than the hunger, it was the longing in them that flummoxed me.

I need you, his eyes declared.

I stared back at him, shivering once, twice, before he released me from his hypnotic gaze. The crowd began to move and the moment vanished.

He was so damned confusing. What did he want from me?

My heart was still bounding as I followed Jasper with my gaze. Dressed in casual clothes, he tried to blend in with the crowd. But there was authority and confidence surrounding him that made it impossible for anyone to ignore. I watched as several women, and men, turned their heads to take a look. He ignored them.

He was tall, towering over everyone as he stood leaning against the wall where he could see everything. He had one hand in his pocket, the other one holding a plastic cup as his eyes continually scanned the crowd.

He was wearing a light blue Henley that was tight on his arms, accentuating his biceps and chest. Dark jeans hugged his long legs and the shape of his arse. I wanted to lick him as much as I wanted to drown him. I hated him for making me feel something I had never felt for anyone else and then callously discarding me like a piece of shite.

And if he turned out to be my dad's murderer...

"Try them," Ophelia beamed, appearing in my sight like a ray of sunlight and brandishing a plate of cookies in front of me.

Vowing to forget about Jasper, I turned my full attention on Ophelia.

"My friend's putting up a bakery downtown," she continued. "The shop's called Cox's Cookies."

"I'm sorry," I said, choking on my wine. "I know you meant that in the purest sense, but... God. I'm so dirty. So, so dirty."

Ophelia's eyes widened in shock then humor as she realized what I was referring to. "You are absolutely scandalous."

"Hi! Hi! Good day, Your Highness. Pardon me, but please, please, Ophelia, won't you help me with him for a minute or two?" A harried-looking woman stopped in front of us. She was carrying two little boys on her hip; one of them screaming like someone had scooped out his eyeballs. Three little girls trailed behind her. And she was pregnant.

Jesus. Was she trying to populate the whole world with her brood?

"Which one?" I asked sarcastically.

Ophelia elbowed me on the side. "Of course, Alice. Give him to me," she crooned graciously, taking one of the toddlers and securing him on her hip.

"Give him some of my wine to shut him up," I offered. My ears were starting to ring.

How someone so tiny possessed such a humungous voice box I had to wonder. Was there an on and off switch to shut it up?

"Eleanor!" Ophelia chastised, but her eyes were twinkling with amusement.

I looked at her innocently, batting my lashes at her. "Nowadays, you should start them young so they can build an astounding tolerance for alcohol. Liam and I got roaring drunk in Monaco when we were twelve. Where is Liam, by the way?"

"Right over there, talking to one of his loyal subjects."

I turned my head to look for Liam, but Jasper caught my attention first. His body was poised on alert, his eyes narrowed with purpose as he concentrated on something in the room. I saw him reach for his gun.

My heart pounded and dread filled my veins as I realized what was happening. There was a threat somewhere in this room and we were in grave danger. I turned my head to where Jasper was looking and saw Liam laughing cheerfully with his mates, unaware of the danger.

And then the room erupted in chaos at the sharp shocking echo of a gunshot.

*

Please don't forget to vote and comment! Love, Isabelle