❥SARAH❥

The dress clung to my body, feeling uncomfortably tight.

If I had known that this was the attire for royalty, I would have made some adjustments. I stared at myself in the mirror, observing how the black gown accentuated my curves. It would have been more manageable if I hadn't eaten so much. I knew dinner was scheduled for 6 o'clock, but I hadn't had anything since morning. I couldn't even remember if I grabbed a snack before boarding the jet.

"You look beautiful, Milady," Samantha complimented me. I smiled, making sure she could see my appreciation through the mirror.

"Thank you, Sam," I replied, trying to find my balance as I turned to grab my phone. I attempted to call my so called fiancé, but it kept saying that his phone was switched off.

What on earth was he doing that he couldn't answer a call? It was already 5:40, and we still hadn't come up with a perfect lie for his parents.

"He better not ruin this for me," I silently cursed, contemplating how to meet him. I walked toward Sam and her sister. "Could you take me to see Christopher?"

Their faces showed a slight frown, but they nodded in agreement. I wondered why they seemed a bit scared.

"Right this way, Milady," Amanda said, gesturing for me to lead the way.

"Um, I think you guys should walk in front instead," I chuckled nervously.

They looked at each other, appearing perplexed by my comment. Did I say something wrong?

My thoughts were interrupted when they finally nodded and began walking toward the door. They held it open for me, bowing their heads respectfully. I didn't bother trying to tell them not to bow every time because I assumed it was a customary gesture they were accustomed to.

Tension filled the air as I observed the guards standing like statues along each corridor of the hall. Their expressions were serious and focused, holding weapons of various sizes and types.

Now I understood how prisoners must feel.

Suddenly, Sam and her sister stopped at a particular spot. "Milady, that's his highness's door," they pointed to a black door. Most of the doors in the area were either white or brown.

It was as if they cast a spell on it or something.

I nodded, expressing my gratitude, and proceeded toward the door. I half-expected them to follow me, but they remained motionless in the same spot. I took a deep breath before knocking on his door.

"Come in," he said immediately. His voice sounded stern and commanding, quite different from how he sounded on the jet.

I opened the door, my gaze fixed on what lay before me. He was in the process of putting on his shirt, and I caught a glimpse of his muscular back before it was covered. Maybe I imagined it, but I thought I saw a tattoo or perhaps a scar. Everything happened so quickly that I couldn't be sure.

I cleared my throat, attempting to let him know who had arrived.

Surprise washed over his face as he turned back and saw me standing there. "You?" he exclaimed.

I rolled my eyes, placing my hands on my hips. "Of course, it's me. You didn't pick up my call," I retorted.

He appeared momentarily distracted, his eyes fixated on my dress. His stares were never fleeting; it was as if he wanted me to know just how intensely he was looking at me.

"Please forgive me," he turned fully, revealing his unbuttoned shirt. In that split second, my eyes couldn't help but scan his body, from his chest down to the alluring glimpse of his well-defined muscles. They seemed too perfect to be real. "I don't answer calls from unknown numbers," he continued.

I nodded,"That's understandable, considering your status," I replied.

I didn't realize when he moved closer, but he did. "What do you mean?" His voice lowered, his gaze never leaving mine as he spoke. Whenever he talked, he exuded such confidence that it simultaneously frightened and excited me.

"You're a prince, you need to be on guard, right?" I unfolded my arms, pacing around the room. "Guess you're not a fan of bright lights, huh?" I took note of the dimly lit room, not that I minded, but it was an observation worth mentioning.

"Already acting like my girlfriend, and we haven't even had dessert yet," he chuckled softly.

"For heaven's sake, could you please be serious? We only have a few minutes before dinner, and we haven't even come up with a believable lie," I vented my frustration, and it was necessary. He had been teasing me all day, and I couldn't imagine enduring this playful side of him for an entire three months.

I should have just seduced an old, wealthy man.

I heard him sigh. "Fine," he began buttoning his shirt and walking toward his wardrobe. "What lie did you think of?"

"Simple. We met at a bar," I suggested.

"No," he shook his head, dismissing the idea. "Think of something else. Meeting at a bar would only imply that you're one of my flings, and that's not the impression we want to give."

Fuck.

"Just how many 'flings' have you met at a bar that people know about?" I blurted out, instantly regretting the question as a smirk replaced his frown, fueling my frustration.

"Do you really want to know?" he raised an eyebrow mischievously.

"Forget I asked. How about..." I couldn't finish my sentence as a light knock echoed through the door. It didn't take long before a man's voice was heard.

"My prince, it's time for dinner." Oh, shit.

"On my way," Christopher voiced out, reaching for his black suit and walking towards me. "Let's think about the lie later. If we're late, I don't think I'll hear the end of it," he said, and I didn't particularly like the idea of being nervous around his parents while scrambling to come up with the perfect lie. It was a daunting mix, but it seemed we had no choice.

I jumped slightly when his hand touched my exposed back. The dress I wore revealed more skin than I was used to, and I cursed inwardly at how my body responded to his touch. "It's showtime," he remarked.

He guided me out of the room, and my eyes immediately fell upon his bodyguard, who had informed him a few minutes ago. The bodyguard appeared unfazed by my presence, but I supposed it was a common sight for him to see women leaving Christopher's room.

Why did I even care? It wasn't my damn business if he had fifty women in his bed.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his eyes filled with concern. I knew he was just playing the part. He had no right to genuinely care about my thoughts.

"Nothing, let's just go," I replied, subtly distancing myself from him. He noticed and suddenly gripped my waist tightly, pulling me closer to his body. "Could you remove your hands from me?" I demanded.

"No, how else do you expect my parents to believe that we're a couple?" he retorted.

I raised my hand, showing him the ring he had put on my finger without my consent. "Then why the hell did you do this to me, huh?"

He ignored my question. "I stand corrected, and maybe you should tone down your use of vulgar words," he remarked.

"Excuse me? My vulgar words?" I questioned, noticing two bodyguards opening a nearby door. Deciding to keep quiet, I took deep breaths as my gaze settled on the long dinner table adorned with delicious food.

I wasn't sure I could eat anything, considering my dress was on the verge of tearing off.

I noticed Alex already seated at the table, and though I wanted to give a friendly wave, an elderly voice suddenly spoke up. "Christopher, glad to see you made it in time," the voice sounded unpleasant, and I couldn't help but notice the resemblance, aside from the gray hairs and wrinkles.

His eyes shifted to me, and his frown deepened. "I see you brought another one," he remarked.

Okay, seriously how many women has he been?!

"Oh, please, dear," a woman's voice caught my attention. She bore a striking resemblance to Alex, but she was much older. "I'm sure he has a reason, right, Chris?" Her gaze shifted between him and me.

I hadn't anticipated this level of tension.

I could sense his anger simmering beneath the surface, but he took deep breaths and silently led me to the table. Pulling out a chair, he gestured for me to sit, and I obliged. I could feel his parents' eyes on us.

Disappointment was etched across their faces.

"Mother, Father, please," Alex began to speak. "Sarah isn't one of those people you mentioned."

"Oh, you don't say," his father, the king, raised an eyebrow. He rested his hands on the table and continued, "Then who is she?"

"My bride," Christopher declared, his voice commanding my attention. I couldn't tear my eyes away from him as he spoke. He turned towards me, slowly raising my hand that bore the ring. "She's my soon-to-be wife, Father," he announced boldly, his gaze fixed on me rather than his father.

A mischievous smirk danced in his eyes, and I wondered what he was planning to do next.

He leaned in slowly, his warm breath caressing my face as he whispered, "Don't kill me."

Why was he doing this?

Before I could even comprehend his intentions, his hand slid behind my head, and then, in an instant, his lips pressed against mine, catching me off guard. My eyes widened with surprise, my whole being engulfed in a wave of sensations. My initial instinct was to part my lips, succumbing to the slow yet possessive rhythm of his kiss. It ignited a fire within me, causing my body to respond and nearly making me forget the last rule of our contract.

I'm going to kill him.