Seduced (Royal Expat Series Book #1) (8 page)

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 any
thing 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 t
o 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 tenaci
ous 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.

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 h
ad 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 sh
e 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 got
ten 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. Sh
e 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 anx
ious 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 had
n’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 Syl
vie’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 already?”

“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.

-