Page 89 of Tarnished Reign

“Where is Sian? I’m dying to see her.” I will feel better with her here; this is starting to give me a strange vibe.

“She had to leave suddenly. For Italy. Her grandmother is very sick.”

“Oh, no, Nonna Florentine?” I know how much Sian loves her.

He smiles softly. “Yes, her nonna.”

“Barnaby, I don’t understand.”

He gently pulls the covers over me.

“We will talk tomorrow.”

“Can I call Dimitri and let him know I’m safe?”

The sharp crack rents the air. My cheek stings, and I stare at him in shock. He hit me. Barnaby hit me! My best friend’s dad, the man who said I was like his second daughter, hit me!

I touch my cheek and immediately start to cry because I’m scared. I’m losing my mind. This must be a dream.

“Darling, girl. I’m sorry. It’s just I’ve waited so long, and I can’t bear to hear you speak his name. He sullied it all, but I still came for you. Because I love you.”

“You hit me,” I whisper.

“I will never do that again. Ever. I swear. I’ve been so beside myself. This was all going to plan. When I saw your name on that auction list, I knew that I couldn’t allow anyone to buy you. I spent two million American dollars to secure you. Then it all went wrong because of him.”

He wasted two million dollars on a rescue mission that went wrong? I’m even more confused, and I suppose I can understand him being stressed.

Still, my cheek hurts, and him hitting me was unforgiveable.

Things aren’t adding up, though. Why did he take me from the yacht? Did Sian know he was doing this?

“You spent two million dollars to free me?”

“To save you. Your virtue. Your beauty. Your innocence.” He smiles. “And now you’re here, where you belong, my precious darling.”

His words are wrong. Sticky with something dark and sick. “Barnaby, you’re like a second father to me,” I say sternly.

“You’re like a daughter to me. In some ways. Not so much in others. You’ll learn to see me differently. In time.”

“Barnaby, what have you done?” Horror tinges my words. I don’t think he saved me. I think he bought me.

“I’ve brought you home to me. You will be the princess to my prince.”

My mind is so shattered that it stalls on that one thing. “You’re not a prince,” I say. “You told me you were a marquess.”

“In England, I am a marquess. However, in a very small European principality, I would have been a prince if that line had continued. Except, my family fled here when the royals were banished for being dreadful rogues. Hence my British ancestry becoming so important. It’s my nickname still, in many European capitals.”

“Prince?”

“Yes, my darling. The Prince. And now I have my princess. Like every good fairy tale.”

“Barnaby—”

“Barnie, please.”

“Barnie, I have to leave.” My voice cracks. “I need to help Cade.”

“We can bring Cade here.”

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