Page 41 of Vengeful Princess

“Fuck, I’m about ready to make a mess in my pants,” he groaned as I came down from my high. Then we both heard Florrie calling from the doorway into the main house.

“Master Landon? Do you need any more refreshments?”

Landon cursed under his breath, shouting, “No, we’re good! Just showing Thea some of Mom’s plants!”

“I’ll pack some shortbread for you both, dearie. Come and collect it when you’re ready to leave.”

I jumped off his lap and adjusted my clothing, grimacing at how wet and uncomfortable my panties now were.Gross.

An embossed invitation sat on the table, taunting me when I returned to my room.

The Forsyth Family Cordially invites you and a guest to the Midsummer Night’s Masked Ball at Blackwood Manor on the evening of…

The invitation had been a surprise. It seemed my father was losing patience with my lack of progress infiltrating the Forsyth family’s inner circle and had taken matters into his own hands. He’d expect me to attend the ball and find an opportunity to take out Lucian. Since everyone would be drunk, it was actually a half-decent plan.

How Dad had swung an invitation to such an exclusive event was a mystery. As well as the invitation, the box I’d collected the other night also contained a lavishly decorated mask.

The date printed on the invitation told me the ball was in 10 days, the Saturday after next. According to a Google search, the house was somewhere down south. I had no fucking clue how I was supposed to get there. Via train, maybe? Or perhaps I could hire a car.

The thought of attending a ball attended by the rich and obnoxious almost gave me hives, but not going wasn’t an option. It was risky, though. If Cassian and his friends spotted me, they’d wonder why I was there, which would raise questions I had no way of answering.

No doubt my father had gone to extreme lengths to secure this invitation. Given how important Lucian Forsyth was, the event security would be off the scale. There was no way I’d get in without an invitation.

I lay back on my bed and pondered my options. Not only did I need transport, but I also needed something suitable to wear. I wouldn’t know where to begin when choosing a ball gown, but I knew someone who might.

Me: I need help ASAP.

Eden: Be there shortly.

Ten minutes later, there was a knock on my bedroom door. When I disengaged the lock, Eden tumbled in, her arms full of chocolate, snacks, and tequila.

“I wasn’t sure what the problem was, so I figured I’d cover all bases,” she said with a smirk. “You’re not sobbing your heart out, so I assume it’s not guy-related. If you’ve run out of feminine hygiene products, I can nip back to my room?”

“No, it’s none of those things.” I shut the door quickly before any of my nosy neighbors decided to listen in on our conversation.

Shit. Where did I begin? Telling her about the ball meant I had to trust she wouldn’t blab. If the event was a masked ball, it would be easy to conceal my identity. I could hopefully avoid them and do whatever my father needed me to do.

Unsure of what to say, I picked up a chocolate bar from the pile of goodies she’d dumped on my bed and scoffed it quickly while I organized my thoughts into some kind of order.

Eden pulled two paper cups from her bag and poured us both a drink.

“Here,” she said, handing me one. “In my experience, tequila solves most problems.” Then she paused and snatched the cup back. “Unless you’re pregnant.” Her eyes widened in alarm at the thought. “Fuck, Thea, has Landon Rothmore knocked you up? Please tell me it isn’t so. I hate to say this, sweetie, but that asshole has ‘deadbeat dad’ written all over him.”

“What? No!” Jesus Fucking Christ. “I’m not pregnant, dammit, so give me that cup back now before I stab you!”

“Oh, thank the Lord.” She downed her tequila in two gulps and refilled her cup. “You know I’d stand by you, right? If you were pregnant.” She guzzled the second cup of tequila and splashed some more into her cup. Inviting her over was starting to look like a terrible idea. At this rate, she’d be out of her skull and I’d be carrying her drunk ass back to her room, none the wiser about how to find a suitable ball gown for the stupid party.

“Eden,” I gritted out, trying to leash my temper. “For the last time, I’m not pregnant. To Landon, or anyone else, for that matter.”

Her gaze snapped up. “Anyone else? Who else are you banging on the regular?”

“NOBODY!” Jesus Fucking Christ on a fucking bicycle. If this conversation didn’t get back on track imminently, I’d need a second bottle of tequila to drown my sorrows.

Eden relaxed. “Great! I’m so happy for you. Pregnancy wrecked my cousin. She was a fucking basket case after she popped out little Liam. The wee shite was 11 pounds! Can you believe it? Poor cow.” She shuddered. “So, what’s the problem?”

Finally. “I need a ball gown, only I’ve never been to a ball before...”

“Ooh, a real-life Cinderella!” Eden bounced on the chair with excitement. “So spill, bestie. What ball, where, and when? Oh, and can I come too?”

---