Page 30 of Her Royal Master
I’d made a decision and it was too late to change it.
Even though I was fairly certain I’d botched it.
7
Two Months Later
Darius
Isat in my father’s office—I still thought of it that way, even though I’d been duke for six years—and stared out the window at nothing.I’d been sitting there all night.Hadn’t bothered going to my bedroom.Hadn’t bothered with dinner.I’m not sure whether I’d slept or not.I’m not sure I would’ve noticed the difference.
The darkness outside lightened to a dull gray, but I felt no more illuminated.
Like the walking dead, I’d been doing the same thing for the last two months.I was empty.Numb.It seemed nothing could bring me back to life.Not even the drinking and drugs of my wilder days.Not that I hadn’t tried.Not women, either.
I couldn’t dredge up excitement for any female, no matter how beautiful.
No one compared to Chelsea, the woman I couldn’t make care about me.
It confirmed my darkest suspicion—the one I’d had all my life.
I wasn’t worth caring for.
I kept wondering if I should have done something different.Held my treacherous reporter hostage, or asked her to marry me.What would’ve convinced her to not to walk off that yacht with my heart on the sole of her fucking flip flop?
Except then I tell myself she wasn’t worth it.She was using me, and hanging onto a girl like her would inevitably end this way.
But something in my heart didn’t believe that.
This was a girl who’d risked her life for a fucking dog—and not even her own.
Did she really fit in the hole my rational mind kept trying to shove her?
But she had to.Right?
To make matters, worse, I’d been waiting for the shoe to drop.When would Chelsea publish her tell-all?
Like a coward, I hadn’t told my aunt it was coming.I didn’t want her to know her beloved Kaspar had been anywhere near the paparazzi.And despite it all, I did trust Chelsea’s word she wouldn’t mention my cousin.
She may be ambitious, but she wasn’t a liar.
My cell phone buzzed on the table, and I looked at it with disinterest.
The queen.
That was a call I was definitely not up for taking.
Why in the hell was she calling me at six in the morning?
Not even that question had me curious enough to answer.I let it go to voicemail.And the next five calls that came in, too.
D-day.
Chelsea’s story must have hit.Did I want to know what she’d said?
My gut twisted.No.Definitely not.
It was enough to push me out of my seat, though.I stumbled to the bathroom and took a too-hot shower, hoping the steaming water would be enough to scald me back to life.
