Page 52 of Wanted
“You’re not pregnant, Kamila. Get that silly idea out of your head,” I warned her. I drew her blood expertly, watching the fluid flow with curiosity. What would her blood taste like? Would it sweeten my tongue, or would I find its bitterness appalling?
She peed in a cup in front of me without any sense of shame. I checked her temperature and blood pressure. There was nothing unusual there.
Grudgingly, I gave her a painkiller. If Jordan and Alex were gone, I wouldn’t have. But since they were here, the spoiled brat could tell them I neglected her. I didn’t want that. Jordan had to believe I had Kamila’s best interests at heart, even if his intellect told him an entirely different story.
We retired to our rooms that night, and the next day, I sent one of the men outside to have the samples checked. A couple of days later, we received an untraceable phone call from our contacts. Kamila hadn’t been pregnant, but she had an iron deficiency. Luckily, Alex’s live-in pharmacy had a series of vitamins and pills for Kamila.
She was stressed out because of her hospitalized friend.
Who cared?
I didn’t.
Kamila clung to me like I could save her from Jordan’s demands. I didn’t plan to intervene with Jordan’s plans. She hung out in the gym when I worked out on my own. She sat on the floor while I scanned the depths of the internet for malicious activities. She observed me while I tried to cook.
“I’ve made a decision,” Jordan claimed one day. We sat at the dining room table about to feast on steak and potatoes.
“It’s not just your decision,” Alex intervened. “I pointed out that Kamila suggested a public marriage.”
Kamila’s head snapped upward. “What about it?”
“We think it would do you good to get some fresh air. I want to announce that you’re my fiancée. We could attend a charity event together soon.” Alex didn’t touch his food. His gaze was directed at Kamila, his one and only. I wanted to cut out the part of his brain that had fallen for the evil red.
“Would you agree to such an arrangement?” Jordan asked.
Kamila nodded. “Definitely. I’d love to get out there again. Yes, please.”
†
Kamila Ruby Wraith sat on a desk chair, fumbling with one of Alex’s orange sweatshirts. She wore the sweatshirt as a dress. In front of her, voices came out of an electronic device she didn’t know how to use. The Princess of Katantia had all the riches she desired, but she barely knew how to use a mobile phone. Much less a laptop. Back home, she’d been more preoccupied with the king’s dick over electronics.
Being the loyal servant of Jordan, I set it up for the Princess of Katantia. She’d watched me with curious eyes, soaking in every information that my body gave out. She wasn’t getting much out of me.
Now, I stood there, on the other end of the room, observing her. She shook. She never stopped shaking. She thought we didn’t notice, but that was a testament to her naivety.
We noticed.
We couldn’t do anything about it.
Jordan and I agreed that she was still suffering from withdrawal symptoms, coupled with anxiety over her departure from Katantia, worry about her family’s well-being, and her absence from sex.
It filled me with joy to see her in pain. I woke up to witness her struggle, to see her feel what so many others dealt with. Every day, it was the medicine I needed. In contrast to Kamila, I didn’t need the drugs I stored. I took pleasure, or whatever you wanted to call the malicious sense of satisfaction inside me, from the simplest things. Humiliation. Self-doubt. Tension. Revenge. Pain.
And Kamila Ruby Wraith was suffering from all of the above. Most of all, pain.
“To present you as Jordan Winters’ fiancée, you have to follow protocol,” the male voice from the laptop claimed. The picket-fence, three dogs, five children, a house in the suburbs man wasn’t what Kamila was used to, rough and authoritative. This man wasn’t half as imposing as he wished to be, but Kamila bought into it, nonetheless. Sheltered from the world in the past three months, two weeks, three days, ten hours…. I wasn’t sure about the seconds. I’d lost it there. Kamila had lost sense of herself. She was fading away, away from her source of power.
“You mustn’t provoke,” the man stated. “There’s no room for that in my client’s career. He has goals that he will reach before he’s thirty. He needs to focus. You can’t mess with that. You can’t cause an uproar with your antics.”
“Antics?” Kamila asked, lifting her brow. She looked wilder now than she had back when I’d picked her up from Alex’s game. In the safe house, she hadn’t paid a lot of attention to her looks. Ever since we returned to civilization, she’d attempted to become the Princess of Katantia again, but she was more worried about Mandy’s condition than her own royal looks. I wished that she looked like Kamila Ruby Wraith again. A return of her red hair would help the narrative in my brain.
“Yes, antics. Your entire existence is a list of antics. Alex Winters isn’t a sexed-up bad boy. He’s the good guy who ends careers with his immense talent. That’s the route we’re going with.” I heard a shuffle of documents. “We’ve arranged appropriate clothes for you. Your make-up will be done by somebody we trust…”
“I do my own make-up,” Kamila interfered. She’d raised her voice, but the man ignored her.
“No, you don’t. Now, we have to rearrange the way you behave and what you say. It would be best if you let Alex do the talking. He’s trained, and he knows what to say to reporters.” More noise from the end of the line, hushed comments, crumpling papers.
“I’m trained as well. That’s all I did back home,” Kamila informed the man. She smiled, proud of her royal etiquette. I scoffed.
