Page 11 of Broken Princess
I rested my head on the cool, lavender-scented linen and sobbed, wishing I’d chosen to stay at the White House party with Logan. If I’d just trusted my heart instead of my head, none of this would’ve happened, and I would be safe and warm in his arms right now.
Instead, I let Jamie prey on my worst fears and fill my mind with nonsense. I let him convince me that staying with Logan would damn me to eternal misery and danger, and I believed him when he said he would help me. Now I was trapped in a hellish nightmare.
Deep down, I knew I deserved it. I picked the wrong path, and now I had to pay the price for my wayward foolishness.
I should’ve trusted my instincts. I should’ve listened to that overwhelmingly loud voice in my mind last night; the one that told me I’d fallen in love with Logan.
Why didn’t I do that? What the hell was wrong with me? Why did I let someone trample all over that and manipulate me into thinking the worst of him instead?
Now he would never know how I felt. He would never know how close I came to staying with him, and he would never know what I was thinking as I lay on this little bed, crying my eyes out. He would never know about the realization crushing my chest right now; the too-late understanding that I really did love him after all.
In the end, there was only one major thing that pushed me to leave him, and that was the fact that he’d never apologized for all of the terrible things he’d put me through in the past. Because of that, I thought he would never give me my freedom. I thought I would never have the chance to choose him and his love for myself, instead of being forced into it, and I thought I would be trapped in that bleak gray half-life forever.
Even if that was all true and Logan never intended to set me free—which I had no way of knowing—that sort of existence was a hell of a lot better than what was going to happen to me now.
Logan might have hurt me in the past, but he stopped when he realized I hadn’t done anything to deserve it. Although I was worried that he might do it again at some point, he hadn’t given any indication that he actually would. As far as I could tell, he intended on treating me with kindness and respect, even if he refused to let me go free.
I couldn’t say the same thing about whoever chose to buy me at the upcoming auction. That man was bound to be someone who despised our country and wanted to rape and torture me in a twisted attempt to triumph over us, so I had nothing to look forward to but pain and misery for however long he decided to keep me. After he was done with me, I would probably be killed or sold on to another terrible man who wanted to defile the American president’s daughter.
That was my life now, unless Logan miraculously found me and saved me. But why would he? I left him. Betrayed him.
Again.
I wouldn’t blame him if he washed his hands of me because of that.
Even if he did come looking for me, he would never find me in time. Q would make sure of that.
I cried into my pillow for what felt like three hours, though I had no way of knowing if that was accurate. There were no clocks in this spartan room, and the sky outside hadn’t darkened. For all I knew, only fifteen minutes had passed, and I was simply losing my mind.
Maybe it would be better if I did.
I heard the key turning in the lock again, and I sat up and quickly dried my eyes with a corner of the bedsheet. I wouldn’t give any of my captors the satisfaction of seeing my tears. My time with Logan had taught me to be stronger than that.
Jamie stepped inside and closed the door behind him. A beige bag hung off one arm and a large silver cloche tray was balanced on his other forearm. A delicious scent wafted through the room as he stepped over to me.
“This is for you,” he said, placing the tray on the nightstand. “I figured you must be hungry.”
“Thank you,” I replied in a low murmur, refusing to meet his eyes.
He dropped the bag on the end of the bed. “There’s fresh clothes in here. You can shower and change after I leave.”
I gingerly reached into the bag to find a white sweater, white pants, and a white lace bralette with matching panties.
“You’ll fit in with everyone else now,” Jamie said with a smirk as I examined the new outfit.
“Great,” I muttered. “Thank you, Master Jamie.”
He chuckled at my sardonic gibe. “Eat up,” he said, nodding toward the tray.
I scooted over to the other side of the bed and lifted the cloche lid off the tray. My eyes widened as I saw a large plate of salad, roasted potatoes and pumpkin, and a generous portion of marinated salmon with lemon wedges on the side. A small lobster sat on a side plate, along with a buttery sauce to dip it in. Next to that was a small cup filled with a pale pink smoothie.
“That’s a probiotic drink,” Jamie said, pointing to the cup. “Plenty of goodness in it, so make sure you drink it all.”
I looked up at him with arched brows. “I was honestly expecting a slice of stale bread and a bowl of gruel.”
He chuckled. “Don’t be stupid. We have to keep you healthy, don’t we? We can’t have you standing up on the auction block looking like a zombie.”
My stomach soured. “Guess not,” I murmured, looking back at the food.
