Page 54 of Prince Cheating Charming

He wasn’t in his bedroom.

As far as I could tell, hurrying up and down the dark and quiet hallways, he wasn’t anywhere in the palace.

My blood suddenly ran cold.

Was he out fucking some other woman?

What other explanation could there be?

Cold with rage, I stomped back to my room and started throwing clothes in a suitcase.

I was going to get a taxi to take me directly to the airport and then I’d be on the next flight to Gesaint.

I was done.

Yanking the heavy suitcase upright, I zipped it up with jerky, angry motions.

Just then, I spotted some movement in the dark palace gardens.

I didn’t care if he was the King or not, if I caught Alexander Levesque fucking some other woman against the stables I was going to horsewhip him.

Pulling on a sweatshirt, I stalked outside.

Goddamn Alexander Levesque!

What was he doing out near the horse stables at 5 am in the morning?

It couldn’t possibly be anything normal or sane, that was for goddamn sure.

As I walked up to him, I saw he had some sort of caving helmet on, with a little light, and a big shovel in one hand. In the light of his headlamp, I saw his phone propped up on the stable, recording himself.

He was shoveling something from the stables into a wheelbarrow, although I couldn’t see what.

“What are you doing, you lunatic?” I hissed at him.

He whirled around. “The stables,” he said. “I promised I’d get all the shit out of them.”

Of all the absolutely horrific things about this scenario, I focused on the most bizarre and inexplicable one.

“Why are you filming yourself?” I whispered in agony, the malodorous stink of the stables feeling like it was seeping into my clothes, settling into my hair.

“To prove to you that I did it, of course!” he said.

I looked at him, really looked at my husband. The King was wearing an incredibly dirty white shirt covered in poop, athletic shorts covered in poop, and hiking boots. And they were the most covered in shit.

“I said I would,” Alexander told me. “And I have to do everything I say I will to show you that I’ve changed. That I’m a man you can trust with your heart. Please, please, even if it’ll be ten more years before you forgive me, don’t go home today, Delilah.”

And tears were running down his dirty face, making wet rivulets on the caked-on dirt and muck.

His hands gripped the shovel, his arm long and lean and tanned as the early morning sun hit his golden hair.

“I love you,” Alexander said. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, even if you never forgive me.”

He didn’t bother to wipe away the tears because more were flowing, dripping down his jawline to collect in the hollow of his neck.

My heart caught in my throat and I felt tears spring to my own eyes.

“I believe you,” I said. “I don’t think you’re going to cheat on me again.”

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