Chapter 12

Gwen

As I leave the courtyard, a million thoughts rush through my mind.

The most prominent one is of pure fucking disbelief. Did I really just blow the king in the garden? Holy shit! Someone could have seen us!

Ugh, I’ve been so reckless lately. But when I think of Edward, the taste of his hot tongue still tingling on my pussy, I can’t help but think, Fuck it. It’s totally worth it.

In the palace, I feel like a new woman. As I make my way down the grand hallway, I realize how magnificent this place truly is. I’ve always thought I was too timid to be a queen, but not anymore.

As I walk through the hallway, my heels clacking against the expensive marble, I feel more royal than ever before.

As I continue my strut, I see the Earl and his wife approaching me.

Oh, god.

I brace myself.

“Princess Gwen!” The Earl bows to me as I extend a hand, his balding head nearly blinding me. He kisses my hand then looks up, smiling, displaying his yellow teeth.

“Lady Lara and I just heard the news. Congratulations, Your Royal Highness! That was quite a shock of excitement for a dull evening.”

“Thank you for the well wishes, Earl Gilbert,” I say, taking my hand away. I always feel so damn formal whenever I’m around the older generation.

I glance at the Earl’s wife, who’s staring at me like I’m a peasant who tried to squeegee her carriage. Once our eyes meet, she turns her head away and starts admiring the gold-engraved ceilings.

Guess I won’t be getting an invite to her annual soiree this year.

“Well, anyway,” the earl continues, sensing the tension in the air, “just wanted to give you our congratulations. We’ll be making our way now. The missus needs to gossip about you.”

The wife gasps and kicks Earl Gilbert in the leg.

“I mean, she needs to go…change her shoes,” he nervously corrects himself. “Anyway, we’ll be going now.”

Lady Lara drags him away by his hand. As they walk away, I can hear him loudly whisper, “I can’t keep your lies all together, woman!”

Uh-oh. Why do I suddenly feel the weight of reality falling on my shoulders? As I look around, I feel like everyone’s suddenly watching me.

To my left, I spot two women with ridiculous hats and raccoon eye makeup. They look at me from head to toe, whisper to each other, and then laugh. It’s like the Earl’s wife secretly branded an invisible scarlet letter on me: S for slut.

Nervous, I grab two champagne glasses from a passing server’s tray.

Ah, alcohol…my only friend. You’ll get me through this.

I can’t deal with the wrath of jealous bitches while sober.

As I down champagne after champagne, I realize that my buzz is long gone. I guess that’s what I get for having like a million orgasms. Not that I’m mad—that’s one payoff I do not regret.

But as I stand here, all alone with my sober thoughts, I can’t help but feel that sense of doubt again. Do I really want to deal with a lifetime of Lady Laras looking at me like I have dog shit stuck to my Manolos?

I wish Edward was here. I feel so fucking powerful when I’m with him. Only he can reassure me that what we’re doing is a good thing, not some tabloid clusterfuck that we’ll live to regret.

As I start hunting for the waiter to get my third glass of champagne, I feel a tap on my shoulder. Taken aback, I swerve around dramatically with a hors d’oeuvre still in my mouth.

“Brother!” I exclaim as I swallow my tuna tartare. “Wow, you’re actually here. Isn’t there a yacht somewhere for you to be puking on?”

James smiles and leans in to kiss me on my cheek.

“What?” He plucks two champagne glasses from a waiter who magically appears out of nowhere. “Can’t I stop by and wish my little sister well on her, ah…engagements?”

I grab one of his glasses and start downing it like it’s Gatorade.

“It’s been quite a change of events.” I slam the empty champagne glass on the table. “Are you mad?”

“Mad?” He throws his head back and laughs. “I think it’s great! This has been the most entertaining engagement announcement I’ve ever been to. It’s like I’m on a reality show. I fucking love it.”

“So you don’t think it’s…shameful? Shouldn’t I feel sorry for Marquis de Roach?”

“Who?”

“The loser I was betrothed to since I was practically born!”

James chuckles and runs his fingers through his hair. He was voted ‘Hottest Prince’ in Teen Scream magazine like ten years ago, and he has never gotten over it.

“The weirdo with the skinny mustache? Forget that guy. Edward is the king. Think of all the power you two will have together. Screw what anyone else thinks.”

Hearing his words makes me feel so much better. He’s right. If I have the option to be queen, why settle for anything else?

I’m a queen, damn it! I’ve earned this.

But just as I’m feeling this new rush of empowerment, I see the Marquis himself, stomping through the crowd.

Well, fuck.

I grab James around the arm. “Help me disappear. Please.”

James smiles and pats me on the head. “You’re on your own, sis.”

He grabs another glass of champagne and disappears into the crowd. Damn it!

As the marquis approaches me, his eyes burning with hatred, he grabs me forcefully by the arm.

“Come with me, Your Highness,” he hisses. “We need to talk.”

Putting aside for a moment his appalling lack of nobility hierarchy, I oblige. After all, we’re in a public place, and the last thing I need is to cause myself to be even more of a spectacle. Surely, he won’t try to murder me, right?

Away from the crowd, the marquis drops all pretenses and lets me have it.

“Are you mad?” His hot breath mists my face. “You stupid, selfish little girl! Who do you think you are? Denying my engagement without even asking me? What kind of person does that? You disgusting little whore!”

I put my head down, not knowing what to say. Hopefully, this doesn’t go on for too long.

“How dare you humiliate me like that in front of all those people!”

His face is contorted in a grotesque shape that makes him look even uglier than usual. Why was I ever engaged to this guy again?

“It wasn’t about humiliating you.” My voice is so tiny and weak, it feels like it’ll break in half. “It was just an impulsive feeling I had…in my heart. I didn’t mean—”

Marquis de Roach suddenly grabs me by the shoulders and roughly pulls me toward him as he digs his nails into my skin.

“You better get your act together, little girl, or else.” His grip on my arm grows tighter as he spits into my face. “You keep it up with these stupid, whorish, impulsive shenanigans, and you’re going to become a tabloid laughingstock, just like all your slutty, dumb friends. Forget your prestige or your family name. You’ll be just another dumb slut who ruins lives because she can’t keep her fucking legs closed.”

When he lets go of me, I push back and exhale. I grip the wall and realize my hands are shaking.

Say what you want about the Marquis, but he’s terrifying. I never really know what he’s going to do. He’s a wild card.

But to make matters worse, everything he said is true. My entire family will become tabloid fodder if I marry King Edward. Come to think of it, the marquis will probably be the one to call the papers and sell outrageous stories about me.

I’ll never be able to escape it. I’ll be on the front page of every tabloid for months as thousands of women, just like the Earl and his dreaded wife, side-eye me for eternity.

Can I live with that? I don’t know if I can.

“But darling, you’re a smart girl,” Marquis de Roach says as he offers his hand. “Leave with me right now, and you won’t have to worry about that ever happening. You can live an honorable life…with me.”

I look at his palm, all crusty and dry, as if cobwebs once existed there. I try to imagine those hands running up and down my body as he fucks me, his hands caressing my breasts or burying themselves between my legs. Just the mere vision of it makes me want to puke all over myself.

But what else can I do? I don’t want to be some trashy tabloid whore who ruins King Edward’s reign. He actually cares about this country.

I can’t do that to him.

I guess I have no fucking choice.

I grab Marquis de Roach’s dusty palm and bite back my urge to recoil.

“Okay, let’s go.” My voice sounds so pathetic and sad, I can barely stand it.

But even that is not enough for the marquis. He opens his mouth and raises his head, expecting me to say more.

“Let’s go…fiancé,” I sigh.