Ida

 

Waking up, wrapped in Felix’s strong arms, with the soft covers cocooning us in our own little world, is extraordinary. Replaying in my head the night that we spent together is mind-blowing. I’ve been intimate with men before, but never on the level I was with Felix. He managed to take every expectation I had and turn it on its head with his tender intensity and overwhelming enjoyment of my body. I’ve never felt so special in my life.

He promised to worship me, and he delivered in spades.

My full bladder interrupts my decadent thoughts, so I slowly shuffle out from under Felix’s arm and make my way to his ensuite bathroom. After washing my face and using one of the brand-new toothbrushes that I found in his cabinet, I head back to bed.

The sight of his sleeping face sets off a plan in my head—one which I think he’s going to absolutely adore. I use careful and precise movements to push him onto his back and straddle his thighs. Taking a moment to let the sight of his athletically muscled body burn itself into my memory, I then set out to give him the best wakeup call I can deliver.

Holding my hair over one shoulder, I run my fingers the length of his cock. He responds to my touch instantly. The hardness I’ve created jerks involuntarily when I wrap my mouth around the head of his cock. Felix makes a moaning sound which I take as sleepy encouragement, so I start bobbing my head, up and down, until his hips begin to flex, and his hands are grasping at the back of my head.

It’s a struggle to fit all of him in my mouth, but I’ll unhinge my jaw if I must. This man showed me how sex should be last night, and I want to say thank you by returning the favour.

“Holy fuck, Ida,” Felix groans.

I smile as much as I can, raising my eyes to meet his gaze. He is staring down at me with disbelief and awe in his expression. His reaction makes me feel ten-foot tall and bullet-proof. For once, I’m not second guessing myself. I’m happy and content with this man.

The door to his bedroom swings open. Startled, I jump away from Felix and dive under the covers. Felix sits up and places a pillow on his lap while I scoot behind him with the blankets wrapped around me.

“What the hell?” Felix shouts at the older man and the young blonde woman who have burst into his room. One of the men who escorted Felix from my office building the other day also pushes into the room. He sends an apologetic look Felix’s way, then tries to shepherd the other two from the bedroom.

Unfortunately, they refuse to leave.

The older man, who bears some resemblance to Felix, points a finger at us. His eyes are filled with judgement as he takes in our unclothed state.

“Is this any way for a Crown Prince to behave?” he asks with ice in his tone.

In front of me, Felix vibrates with anger. “This is none of your business. Get the hell out of my room and take that tart with you.”

The blonde woman gasps. She lifts a hand to her mouth and I see that her eyes are wet with impending tears. My heart hurts for her as it seems that she is as confused by what is happening as I am.

“That is no way to speak to your fiancée.” The older man hits Felix with a withering look filled with poisonous contempt that would kill if were able. “I send you to this city to represent me as my son and heir to the throne and this is how you behave. Missing events to spend time in a penthouse that I pay for with your latest Infidelity conquest. I suppose this one thinks she’s the love of your life, too. I bet you told her that your tore up the contract as well—”

“That’s untrue,” Felix interjects. “You’re deliberately muddying the truth with your lies.”

“This behaviour is unbecoming of a Von Sonderberg. I truly thought you’d outgrow this need to deceive innocent women by now,” his father says, with a sad shake of his head. He pins me with an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry that you have to find out like this, Miss.”

While I hear the rest of their argument, I barely comprehend the words above surface level. I’m still stuck on the truth bombs the older man just dropped. He called the blonde woman Felix’s fiancée. He said he was a Crown Prince. That his last name was Von Sonderberg and not King.

My heart flips in my chest and drops into the pit of my stomach when I remember his next statement. The contract is still valid. Felix lied about everything.

My skin pulses under an invisible layer of filth and I itch with the need to get the hell out of here.

I knew this was too good to be true. Marta was right—fairy tales are poison and men are nothing but liars who peddle the promise of a happy-ever-after, so they can get their dick wet regularly.

Felix and his father are still arguing when I slip from the bed behind him. I make quick work of grabbing my discarded clothes and heading for the main bathroom in the hall to get dressed. I lock the door behind me and will the tears that are burning my eyes to stay away until I’m able to get the hell out of here.

“Ida,” Felix is standing in the hallway waiting for me when I exit. “Please believe me. My father is lying.”

Without answering, I juggle my shoes, clutch, and bolero into one arm and attempt to push Felix out of the way. He refuses to budge, so I pin him with a glare that telegraphs all of my anger and hurt, “So you’re not a prince? You’re not engaged to that woman? Your last name is really King not Von Sonderberg? And the contract no longer exists like you promised?”

I don’t need to wait for him to answer. His face tells the whole story. Everything his father said is true. I’m a fool for even asking and that’s the bit that hurts the most. I broke all my rules for Felix. I trusted my heart instead of my head, and I was wrong.

Closing my eyes, I push back the need to cry. In its place, I give my anger free rein. A red haze of rage clouds my vision when I reopen my eyes and I take my stiletto and hold it above my shoulder like a knife.

“Get the hell out of my way, Prince Felix Von Sonderberg.” I snarl. “If I ever see your smarmy face again, I’ll tear it from your bones and feed it to my abuela’s wolfhound.”

Felix steps out of my path. I run for the door, and then to the elevator. Felix’s friend—the one who was at my office building with him the other day—holds the lift for me so I can climb in. I press the button for the ground floor like a woman possessed, holding my breath until the button lights up and I’m certain that we’re on our way.

“It isn’t what you think,” Felix’s friend ventures while the elevator descends.

“Just shut up,” I snap. “I’m not interested in an explanation. I simply want to be left alone.”

Wisely, he shuts his mouth. I lean back against the cold, steel wall, despair clawing at my throat and draining me of my will to fight. The rest of the journey to the ground floor is spent in silence, for which I will be eternally grateful, and before I know it, he’s bundled me into a taxi and I’m on my way back to Marta’s apartment.

I’m halfway there before I realise that I don’t want to stay in this city. Rapping my knuckles against the plastic partition, I signal the driver to change destination. There is only one thing that’s going to soothe my suffering at the moment.

My mother’s hug.

“Please take me to the airport,” I ask when the driver meets my eyes in the mirror. “I need to go home.”