Still feeling numb, Victoria opens up the window of her bedroom, even though she knows she's not allowed to. Music comes streaming in.
Someone is getting married down beside the pool. The actual ceremony has ended, and now they've all just settled into the reception. The bride looks beautiful in her white gown with her arms wrapped around her new husband and her head settled on his chest.
It's a horrible thought, but Victoria cannot help but imagine what she would look like in a white wedding gown and what Matt would look like holding her, dressed up to the nines. And the Duke, what would he look like?
Faintly, Victoria recalls seeing pictures of him. He's not a bad looking man, all things considered, but the thought of entering into a loveless marriage still makes her stomach churn. It's no secret that her parents never felt anything more than a strong friendship for each other, that their copulation was nothing but business, nothing but a job.
Sometimes, Victoria thinks she isn't anything but a job to them, too. That would make sense, with how her mother is offering her up as a treaty. What are they, still stuck back in the Middle Ages?
It makes her chest feel tight to think about. At the same time, Victoria cannot get the thought out of her head. Maybe marrying the Duke is what she's supposed to do, after all.
The song switches out by the pool.
Tears burn at the edges of Victoria's eyes. She's still clad only in her towel. Really, she needs to go get dressed and prepare to face the day. But her eyes are glued to the dancing couple. The groom catches his wife in a tight hug as the song ends, plastering her face in soft kisses that make her squeal in laughter.
Victoria's parents have never behaved like that before. And she knows, in her heart of hearts, the Duke will never behave like that around her, either. A loveless marriage will be nothing but propriety and halfhearted jokes and stilted sex.
Her stomach curls. She regrets, desperately, that she and Matt didn't get to finish their affair in the bathroom. More than that, she regrets not getting his number or any other way of contacting him.
“Victoria,” she sighs, finally pulling herself away from the window, “you have never been such a fool before in your life.”
# # #
That night, Victoria is set to accompany her parents to another party. It's a grand affair—the women wear silken gowns and up-done hair, and the men have dark ties and crisp suits. There's nothing about this that says small or little or second class.
Instead, it screams announcement, and the look on her mother's face screams lies. There's something afoot, and Victoria knows she won't like it. In her own private display of childishness, she chooses to stand by the snack table the entire evening.
The music hums in her mind, but it's nothing compared to the song that had played at the wedding down below. Victoria finds herself humming it. Then, she finds herself singing it lightly under her breath. “Ho—So show me family. Hey—All the blood that I will bleed. Ho—I don't know where I belong. Hey—I don't know where I went wrong. Ho—But I can write a song—Hey.”
“Truly lovely,” says a smooth, rolling voice.
Victoria jumps. She spins around, only to come face to face with a very handsome man. He's all broad shoulders and slicked back hair. Even the scar running along the side of his left jaw does nothing to detract from his appearance. If anything, it adds to that bad boy appearance that Victoria has come to love. “Oh! You startled me! I'm sorry, am I in your way?”
“Heavens no,” says the man with a snort that completely disagrees with his eloquent manner of speech. “I'm just over here trying to get away from that.”
The man gestures to the party as a whole, and Victoria hums in agreement. “After a while, they get boring.”
“After a while, the people get boring.”
“You don't look boring.”
The man smiles at Victoria and says, “I'm not. You can call me Killian.”
“You can call me Tori.”
“Princess Tori.” Killian hums thoughtfully. “I think that's suiting.”
“Ugh—no. No more princess titles for the night or you can turn right around and go back to cavorting with the rest of them.” Victoria waves her hand at the crowd of governors and senators and rich men who have paid their way inside.
She cannot take it anymore. After having a taste normalcy after being around Matt, Victoria knows the royal life is not what she wants, but more importantly, it's not what she needs.
“Perhaps a walk outside would help?”
“What, in the garden?”
Killian hums. “That would work. Just somewhere that isn't here.”
“Agreed,” says Victoria. She plucks a cubed cheese off the tray and lets Killian guide her out into the night. Today’s party is being held at a grand resort whose name Victoria cannot remember. The main hall leads out into a beautiful garden, where all manner of plants have been meticulously tended.
She stops to pluck a rose from a bush and sniffs it. Killian smiles at her. “What's a woman like you doing out here, all on your own? I'm surprised your parents don't have a task force around you.”
“What, because I'm pregnant?” Victoria snorts. She rolls the stem between her thumb and forefinger. “Mother would like that, but Father won't let it happen. It's probably his one saving grace.” She does a bad impression of her father on purpose. “We must keep up our appearances!”
“They sound lovely.”
“Oh, don't mind me. I'm just sore with them right now. Truly, they're good people. They care for their country very much.”
“And you?”
Victoria blinks. The petals are white. She would like white roses at her wedding, she thinks, and tulips, too. “I love it very much, too, of course.”
“No,” laughs Killian. “I meant, what do they think about you?”
“Oh. That's, that is a rather personal question to ask, considering we just met, don't you think?”
“Perhaps,” says Killian, “but I'm rather taken with you; I must admit. It would be nice if we could get to know each other a little bit better.”
“Surely,” says Victoria, “we can do that without bad mouthing my family?”
“Of course,” says Killian, holding up his hands in a mock sign of peace. “I meant no disrespect.”
“I'm sure you did not,” says Victoria, even though she cannot understand how such a question could be asked without meaning to be barbed and painful. “What about you? Do you get along well with your parents?”
“I did,” says Killian in a measured voice. “When they were still alive, that is. They both passed when I was a young boy. It was quite tragic, really—a car accident.”
“I'm so sorry,” says Victoria. “See? This is why we should not start off with such personal questions!”
“I'm far from sore over it anymore,” says Killian with a shrug. He plucks the flower out of Victoria's hand and offers it back to her, like he was the one that picked it.
She smiles at him. “I cannot imagine not having my parents around, no matter how crass they might be.”
“It was rough,” says Killian. “But being around a beautiful woman such as yourself makes it easier.”
Victoria's cheeks color. “Hush, you. You're just saying that!”
“Hardly,” says Killian. “From the moment I saw you across that room, I knew you were something special. Please, won't you go for a walk with me?”
“We're already on one,” says Victoria, laughing.
“No,” insists Killian. “A real one! Just down to the end of the walkway.”
Victoria glances into the darkness. She knows it is foolish, but she also knows this might be her last chance to protest her parents’ command over her. In the end, she nods and says, “All right.”
The resort is in the middle of a lavish garden, meant to be some sort of monetized nature preserve. Giant oak trees loom over them, with branches that twist in garish directions in the fading light. The moon is full. It casts strange shadows onto the world.
Victoria smiles. “It reminds me of fall.”
“You like fall?”
“I do,” says Victoria. “Well, I think I would. It rains a lot back home. We don't have the true color change that some places do.”
Killian nods. “That is how it is out in Georgia. Everything is just pine trees and dead leaves.”
“You're from Georgia?”
Killian nods. “Born and raised. Have you been there, Princess? I'm sorry, have you been there, Tori?”
He stretches out the correction on her name like it means something else entirely. Victoria smiles, even though she does not particularly like how the words roll off of his tongue. “I have. Our plans were delayed, and we spent the night there once. It was wondrous. I met a lovely man there.”
“Oh?”
Victoria hums. “He was quite charming, all things considered.”
“I hear the Duke of Cambridge is quite charming,” says Killian. He wraps an arm around Victoria's waist, guiding her farther down the walk. Small, pink flowers bloom alongside the cobbled path. Occasionally, vines with stunning white and purple blooms race up along the trunks of the oak trees.
“So I've heard,” says Victoria. “I'd rather not talk about him, however. Didn't you say you wanted to get to know me?”
“I did,” says Killian. “So I asked about your fiancé. Rumor has it, he's going to show up tonight.”
Victoria nearly trips over her own feet. The arm around her waist is the only thing holding her up. Killian is quick to brace her and demand, “Are you all right, Tori?”
“I…what?”
“Are you all right?”
“No,” says Victoria, shaking her head. “What you said before that!”
“That the Duke was going to make an appearance tonight? Didn't you know that?” Killian smiles, and it seems dark, almost sinister.
Victoria's heart sinks. “No. I didn't. How did you find out about that?”
“I just heard it through the grapevine,” says Killian. “You don't look happy to see your fiancé. Are there troubles so soon?”
Victoria opens her mouth, and then snaps it shut again. She knows she should not run her mouth about such personal affairs, but the young woman cannot help it. In a sort of final vindication against her family, she shakes her head. “There are,” says Victoria, “or rather, there are not. I have never even met the man!”
“Not once?”
“No!”
Killian looks aghast. “How can they expect you to wed? That is simply ridiculous!”
“I feel the same way,” says Victoria. “But my mother won't listen. This will go on, whether I want it to or not.”
Killian is silent for a long moment. Finally, he asks, “Have you ever ridden on a motorcycle before?”
“What?”
“Have you ever ridden on a motorcycle before?”
“No,” lies Victoria, feeling strangely reluctant to share any more of her encounter with Matt. “I have not.”
Killian holds out one hand. “Then you should come with me. I have a motorcycle. Not here, of course. I would have been flayed at the front entrance if I rode it here. But back at my house. Would you want to come take it for a spin?”
Just like with Matt, Victoria has a hard time saying no.
She gives the resort one last look and takes Killian's hand.
# # #
The parking lot is oddly dark. A few of the streetlamps have been turned off, no doubt because most of the partygoers have plans to stay in the resort overnight. That is what Victoria and her family plan to do, as well.
At least, that's what she planned on doing before this. Now, as she walks up to Killian's luxury sports car, she wonders where her night will take her.
It's not like it was with Matt, of course. There's no primal desire to sleep with this man, no instant attraction that she just cannot explain. It's little more than anger and rage and resentment, all coming to one final head.
“I wouldn't have pegged you for this sort of car,” says Victoria with a tittering laugh.
Killian gives her a roguish smile. “It's not. I just borrow it from a friend when I have to come out to events like this.”
“I don't picture you coming to events like this,” admits Victoria, getting in the car.
Killian laughs this time, and the sound is bitter and loud. “I don't usually do that either. I just had to meet you.”
“You came out here just to meet me?”
That's almost disturbing, actually. Victoria frowns at him.
“I did,” says Killian. “I hope that does not sound strange. I just…you're such an idol! More than that, you're someone to respect. I heard about you on the television and thought that's a woman I need to meet.”
Victoria isn't sure what to say to that. She asks, “What kind of bike do you have?”
“The best sort,” says Killian and won't answer any more questions on the matter. He turns the radio on. It's a loud, blaring rock song. Victoria doesn't like it near as much as the music she'd heard earlier in the day and can't help but compare Killian to the harsh sounds of the drums and the base.
And then, as they pull out of the parking lot and onto the empty stretch of highway, she can't help but wonder, I hope this isn't a mistake.