Page 93 of Reveal Me
Somewhere deep down, I’m still wondering if I’m enough for her. Still can’t believe that she’s real. That she’s mine.
Where are you, Layla?
The wind picks up, driving the rain sideways, and I turn my collar up against the storm. Through the chaos of wind and water, I keep my eyes fixed on those palace gates, praying to a god I don’t believe in for a fucking miracle.
Then—movement catches my eye.
A figure emerges at the edge of the palace gardens, distant at first through the curtain of rain. My heart stops. Even from here, even through the storm, I’d recognise that silhouette. I know the way her body moves.
She’s running across the grass, her dress a pale blur against the dark parkland. Her hair streams behind her, soaked and wild. The ballgown clings to her legs as she runs, the fabric heavy with rain, but she doesn’t slow down. She’s a far cry from the picture perfect princess in the wedding coverage, but she’s utterly fucking perfect to me.
Our eyes lock across the distance, and my heart swells.
She grins—actually grins—despite being drenched, despite everything. The layers of her dress billow and flow around her like liquid silk, and she’s barefoot, her shoes abandoned somewhere in her escape.
She’s all I can see.
I step forward, then break into a run as she reaches the edge of the palace gardens. She doesn’t hesitate at the high stone wall that separates the royal grounds from the park. She hikes up her sodden dress and climbs, hauling herself up and over like a ninja. She stumbles slightly as the heavy fabric tangles around her legs, then breaks into a sprint. A black cabblares its horn as she darts across the street, but it doesn’t stop her. She keeps on running, bare feet splashing through puddles, her dress streaming behind her like a pale banner in the storm.
I sprint toward her, my shoes sliding on the wet ground, and we meet halfway across the park. She launches herself the final few feet, then slams into me like it’s been years instead of days.
I catch her.
Hold her.
Bury my face in her hair. She smells like champagne and freedom.
‘Have you been out here all day?’ She laughs, grabbing the collar of my jacket and yanking my face down to meet hers.
‘Yes.’ My shoulders sag with relief at being reunited.
‘You’re crazy.’ Wild eyes dart excitedly over every inch of me, like she can’t quite believe I’m here.
‘Crazy about you.’ I pull the princess tight against my chest, nuzzling into her, wrapping my arms around her, securing her against me. I inhale her neck, breathing in her familiar scent. ‘I missed you so fucking much. No one is ever going to take you from me again.’
‘Damn right they’re not.’
‘Not your mother. Not your family. Not the entire fucking army.’
She stares up at me as the layers of her dress blow around us like a blanket. ‘I love you so much.’
‘I love you.’
The Queen’s fucked up.
They all have.
Because I’ve got her now.
And I’m never letting her go.
Chapter Forty-Three
LAYLA
I wake to the sound of rain against the huge windows. Sean’s arms are wrapped around my waist. For a moment, I just lie there, breathing in the scent of his skin and listening to his steady heartbeat beneath my ear.
This is what happiness feels like.
