Chapter 18

Vivienne

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” The hot, brown water spills over my desk, soaking everything in its path. So much for having a relaxing cup of tea before bed.

I pick up the ruined remnants, trying to recover what I can, and throw them on the floor.

“Ughhh!” I yell out in frustration and fall back into my chair.

Today has been hell, to say the least. Not only have I been running around like a chicken with it’s head cut off, but David’s been acting fucking strange. He basically recoiled at my touch earlier when he’s usually begging for it.

He can’t keep his hands off me when we’re together, regardless of where we’re at. The luncheon, the interview…you name it, he finds a way to make me squirm.

Chills run down my spine just thinking about it…hmmm.

But today was different. He hardly even stood by me. And when he did, he was distant.

The only thing he gave me today was a damn lecture. Yes, he was lecturing me, the one who’s supposed to be making the rules and determining what he does and doesn’t do.

I might’ve let myself run a little wild with the wedding plans, but do you blame me? Who wouldn’t go crazy planning a royal wedding? It’s stressful, seeing as I’m making it up as I go, but I’m also trying to have fun.

Again, why not? May as well make the best out of a fucked-up situation.

I look at my watch. 12:30. Fuck, I should probably call it a night.

I doubt I’ll be able to sleep, though; there’s too much to do and way too much to think about.

So…I settle for work. Maybe this will exhaust me so that I’ll just pass out.

What seems like minutes later—despite it being two hours—I feel my phone vibrate.

Who is calling me at 2:30 in the morning?

Instinctively, my stomach drops. Nothing good ever happens past two—well, really, midnight.

It’s a Google alert with the headline—Where’s Vivienne? King David seems to be back to his ways, partying and shagging women. Is the wedding still on?

Fuckkkk! What the fuck is happening?

I feel bile creep up my throat, and I reach for the trash can with all intentions of throwing everything up.

What is he doing?

Why would he do this to me?

I swipe the alert, and it directs me to the tabloid story with a few pictures included. And, like a sore thumb, I make him out immediately, with a fucking drink in one hand and a blonde with big tits in the other. There’s a crowd of people around him, but its dark wherever he’s at, so I can’t see who they all are.

I’m fucking furious.

I knew something was off with him today, but I didn’t think whatever it was would make him do this and sabotage our whole damn plan.

And just like the headline asks, I wonder, too: where the fuck am I? I should’ve known what he was going to do and stop this from happening. Now, I look like a damn idiot.

I slam my phone on the desk and stalk out of my office towards his bedroom. I need to make sure my eyes aren’t fucking with me, and he really isn’t here.

The door creaks as I open it. “David?”

Nothing.

I slam it open and walk directly to his bed, throwing the covers aside.

Fuck. It’s true. He’s there.

Thud.

I jerk towards the sound, somewhere downstairs, and I calm my breathing, trying to stay as still as possible so I can hear.

“Fuck!” David yells, and then I hear a cabinet slam. Then another.

Good thing I wasn’t sleeping.

I head towards the kitchen, anger quickening my pace, and I prepare myself for a fucking battle royale.

“Good morning, asshole.”

He turns around to meet me and stumbles back on his heels.

Fuck, he’s drunk. This is going to make it so much worse.

“Asshole? What’d I do?” He slurs his words and places his hands on the kitchen island in front of him, steadying himself.

“What didn’t you do? That’d be a more fitting question.” I shoot back.

He smirks at me, and he eyes me up and down. Any other time, and that look would have me reeling, panting in anticipation for his touch.

But my fury is dulling any sensitivity I have towards him. I’m on fire, but it’s not in his favor.

“What the fuck are you doing? Or did you not think at all?”

“No, I thought. I thought about drinking, partying…you know, the shit you don’t allow me to do.” He glares at me, and his large body sways back and forth.

“And why don’t I allow you to do that?” I scoff.

“Because you’re in love with me and want me all to yourself?”

Um…what? I wasn’t expecting that. I almost lose my balance, having not shielded myself properly for that sort of attack.

“In love with you? Is that what you think?” I ask, not hiding my shock.

“Oh, just admit it. You want this. For as long as we both shall live. Love.” He’s mocking me, and I can’t make out if it’s him being playful or spiteful.

“I can’t even begin to explain how ridiculous you sound right now. But you really fucked up this time.”

“Me? I fucked up? Hah!” He closes the distance between us, and the smell of whiskey and cigarettes stings my nostrils. It’s so overwhelming that I can almost taste it.

The frustrating part is my pussy begins to throb as I watch his muscles twitch while he looks at me with those drunken sex eyes.

Damn it. Why can’t I ever get a grip on my body when I’m around him?

He continues, “This is all pretend, love. It’s bullshit. You concocted this whole thing, and then you fucking fell for it. You care too damn much about this…this engagement!”

I stare at him, thinking over what he just said to me. He’s wrong. I didn’t believe in this…in us.

Did I?

I replay every moment we’ve had together in my head, looking for the nuanced feelings I might not have noticed before.

Shit, is he right?

“If anything, I’m saving you from an even bigger mistake…and I’ll be waiting for my reward.” He winks at me.

If I had the strength in me to punch him, I would. I want to punch him right in that fucking chiseled jaw of his and make him pay for what he’s doing to me.

But as I contemplate his words, the reality of it all hits me, and I feel weak. I did care too much. I’ve been trying to play it off as making sure my job gets done, making this—our fake engagement—look believable because it’s what a damn good PR consultant would do.

And, with that distraction, I couldn’t stop myself from believing. With every touch, kiss, fuck we’ve shared, I fell deeper into this twisted fairytale that’s of my own making.

I thought my defenses were stronger than that—no, I thought I was smarter than that.

“I guess you’re right. I did care too much,” I say to him, defeated and humiliated. Then I turn my back towards him and head to my room, leaving him behind me.

So, yes, maybe he did save me from making one of the biggest mistakes of my life—falling in love with a King, the King David Lockridge.