Page 4 of It Takes a Thief
Her touch sends a tingle of awareness up my arm and through my body. Straight to my desperate dick.Down boy.
“I still have two weeks until my birthday,” she says, removing her hand from my arm and trailing her fingertips around the base of her wine glass.
I have no clue where this conversation is going, but I’m intrigued. The tension between Merritt and her parents just skyrocketed, and I look back and forth between them.
“And you think you can find a man, fall in love and get engaged within two weeks?” her father asks doubtfully.
“Stranger things have happened,” she says softly.
“Merritt, honey, you haven’t found anyone in five years,” her mother says.
“The deal was I could live my life in New York until my twenty-fifth birthday, right? That means I have two weeks left.”
Deal?I have no idea what they’re talking about, but I find myself leaning forward, my fork hovering above my plate.
Her father sighs, and I get the impression they’ve had this conversation a hundred times. “Let’s call it what it is, Peach. A good time in the States, going to school, making friends, spreading your wings. But now that you’re turning twenty-five, it’s time to start thinking about the future and your role here.”
Merritt’s fingers wrap around the stem of her glass. Tightly. “And what if I don’t want that?”
“You have responsibilities here,” he father reiterates in a firm voice. “Whether you like it or not, you’re the Royal Princess of Arcadia.”
“I never asked to be!”
For the first time, I see the princess’s cool, elegant composure crack. This conversation is clearly upsetting her. And I don’t fucking like it.
“I’m sorry, honey, but you had a chance,” her mother reminds her in a stern, but understanding voice. “We gave you five whole years. You agreed to return home if it didn’t work out.”
I look from her mother to her father, who nods in agreement. Then my attention shifts to Merritt, whose pretty, doll-like face crumbles.
“I don’t want any of this,” she exclaims, shoving back from the table and standing. “Not a palace or a title or a crown. And certainly not a lifetime with a man I don’t love!”
Right before she spins around and races from the table, I see the tears. And my chest tightens. Only one other woman’s tears have ever had the power to affect me like this—my mom’s. A lady I miss so damn much. It’s been twenty-two years since she died of a broken heart—no thanks to my piece of shit father—and her loss still hurts.
“Excuse me.” My chair scrapes back as I stand and turn to follow a fleeing, very distraught Merritt.
But only because it’s my job. It has absolutely nothing to do with the tears falling from her blue eyes or the strange pang in my chest.
Nothing at all.
Chapter Three: Merritt
Grasping at my throat, fighting to pull in a breath, it feels like I’m suffocating as I storm off the edge of the veranda and run. Run from it all—my demanding parents, my overwhelming responsibilities and, most of all, from a life I don’t want.
Running, running, running. Lately, that’s all I seem to be doing, and I’m getting so very tired.
Hot tears stream down my face, ruining my makeup, but I don’t care. I’m exhausted from always trying to be perfect. I yank my chignon loose, shaking my hair free, and abruptly stop when I reach the rocky edge of the jasmine-covered cliff. There’s nowhere left to run. I’m trapped, out of options, and this literal metaphor is not lost on me as my world comes crashing down, causing a cacophony of distress in the depths of my soul.
Far below, I hear the Mediterranean Sea battering the rocks, its angry roar commiserating with me. I drop my head back and let out a frustrated cry, knowing this is mostly my own damn fault. All because I made a promise when I was eighteen that I never thought I’d have to keep.
I’ve never felt so confined, and the walls are closing in fast. If I don’t find a way to escape within the next couple of weeks, I’llbe completely crushed, forced to marry a man I don’t love and expected to take on the heavy weight of an entire kingdom.
Clenching my fists, squeezing my eyes shut, I collapse on a small patch of grass and swipe away the tears.Why is nothing ever easy?I wonder.
Nearly five years ago, I made a deal with my parents: if they allowed me to attend college in New York City, I’d return home after graduation and embrace my royal responsibilities, which include getting married and producing heirs. I was the one who stupidly mentioned Jeffrey Dumas as a potential partner because our families are old friends, and I knew they’d approve of the match. Ever since his name slipped out of my mouth, I’ve regretted it. I chalk it up to desperation because I wanted to leave Arcadia and experience a new, faraway world different from where I’d grown up.
Now that my time is almost up and I’ve tasted freedom, I realize it was a foolish bargain to make. Ironically, I’ve dug my own grave. But, at the time, I would’ve promised anything to escape. Because in the back of my mind, I was never returning except to visit. My romantic heart planned on finding a man to fall in love with and eventually marry. If that happened, I knew my parents would allow me to travel back and forth between the States and Arcadia, and we’d figure out a way to lighten my royal duties.
They agreed to my proposition and graciously allowed me to leave. Living in NYC was the best four years of my life. Unlike so many royals, no one knew who I really was, and it’s where I met my best friend, Charity. Time flew by and the idea of leaving after graduation left me bereft. I begged for another year.
