Page 22 of The Princess Trap
Cherry pursed her lips, listening to their rising voices for a moment. Then she searched the living room for something to throw. She marched over to the bookcase, hefting an encyclopaedia with both hands. Was she strong enough to throw it at someone’s head? She wasn’t sure. It was rather heavy.
“Cherry.”
She moved on to an ornamental bulldog her dad had given her as a kind of weird flat-warming gift. It had a decent weight to it. Hefty, but light enough for her to throw it with some force. Now to choose the first victim.
“Cherry.”
She looked up, the bulldog in one hand. “What?”
Ruben looked at the ornament warily. “Could you put that down?”
“Why?”
“Please?”
She watched his jaw clench. And said, “No.”
“Fine,” he sighed. “Okay, here’s the thing. I told the photographer that you were my fiancée—Jesus fucking Christ, woman!” He leapt aside as she launched the bulldog at his head.
It landed on her coffee table with an ominous thud. Hans walked over to the table and picked up the ornament to reveal a slight dent and a mess of chipped varnish.
Cherry glared at Ruben. “You owe me a new coffee table.”
“What?”
“Shut up. Why would you say that?”
“Because—”
“I saidshut up! Jesus,” she spat, throwing up her hands.Without permission, her feet began to pace. She didn’t really mind. It seemed appropriate. “So what happens now? A load of foreign paps come over here and stalk me? Camp outside my flat? Brilliant,bloodybrilliant. Jesus Christ, I didn’t even get a shag out of it.”
“Well, we could still—“
“I swear to fucking God, shut the fuck up or I will gag you with your ownfucking dick.” Had she screamed that last part? She rather thought she might have.
Oh, dear. She was losing her temper.
But Ruben didn’t seem to comprehend the danger. He crossed his arms and stared her down and said, “I did it to protect you. Okay? You don’t know how—” He broke off, and for a minute he looked almost… lost. So lost that she forgot to be furious for a second. When he spoke again, his voice was stiff and formal. “No, you’re right. I—I have put you in an untenable position, without your knowledge or consent, and for that I apologise.”
“Oh,” she said sweetly. “Youapologise. Well that’s just grand. Can you also guarantee that my life isn’t going to change because of your big fucking mouth?”
He swallowed. “No. I really can’t. But I—”
She held up a hand. “I think that’s enough talking for one day. You can see yourself out.”
“Wait, Cherry—”
“Get out.” Her voice was hard. “Now.”
She didn’t expect him to listen. Not really. But after a moment, he nodded tightly and turned on his heel, barking, “Kom,” at Hans.
The large man hesitated by the window for a moment, his eyes on Cherry. Then he said, his voice soft, “We will return tomorrow.”
“I won’t be here.”
“Yes,” he said firmly. “You will.”
Before she could work past the outrage blocking her throat, he left.
