Page 39 of The Princess Trap
“Um…”
“Bye!”
Ruben sat and watched as she hurried from the room.
This was not going well.
Chapter Thirteen
And so it went on. And on, and on, and on, for almost a week. Cherry avoided him with impressive conviction and iced her way through their dinners; Demetria scolded him about checklists and convincing performances like a schoolteacher; and Ruben became desperate. Really fucking desperate.
He didn’t want it to be like this. Fuck, none of it was ideal, and it was completely his fault, but...
He kept thinking back to the woman he’d first met at the Academy. Her spark, her knowing humour, the confidence that danced through everything she did. Now that woman was trapped inhisgilded cage, doing everything she could to keep him at arm’s length, and it was taking its toll. She seemed a little more tired, a little more subdued, every day. So one night, about a week after they signed that damned contract, he made a decision.
Was it a sensible one? Probably not. But then, he wasn’t known for his sense.
Ruben lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, wondering what it said about his life that he was tucked beneath the sheets before 10.30 p.m. Nothing good, probably.
And then the idea bit him. Bit him, and wouldn’t let go.
You should see Cherry. Talk to her without Demi’s list and Agathe breathing down your neck.
But Agathe’s the only thing that makes it bearable. If she’s not around, Cherry probably won’t talk to you at all.
Or she’ll lose her temper and scream at you for half an hour.
Nowthatsounded good. That soundedgreat. Ruben didn’t want her blank stares or her polite answers or her pointed avoidance. He wanted her to bite his fucking head off.
Maybe she’d feel better afterwards.
He leapt out of bed and yanked open his door, striding out into the hall. Then he remembered that he was naked, and turned right the fuck back around. If he showed up at her door without any clothes on, there was a 98% chance he’d leave with his balls stuffed up his backside.
Throwing on some pyjama bottoms and a dressing gown, he started the short journey again. He was marching down the hall with a discipline he hadn’t felt since his rather uneventful time in the air force.
But when he reached her room, the fire in his gut was snuffed out as reality flooded in.
This wasn’t going to work. What was he going to do, forceher to speak? Prod at her until he got the response he wanted? Because that would make her feelsomuch better.
With a sigh, Ruben rested his head against the cool surface of her firmly closed door. She was so fucking close, and it didn’t even matter. He’d dragged her into his bullshit and fucked up her life, just because he wanted her. No matter how different he liked to think he was, in reality he was just like his siblings: an overgrown, spoilt brat who treated people like toys.
Why would Cherry want anything to do with him?
He turned, ready to leave. But then a thought captured him: if he wasn’t enjoying this, she wasn’t either. But if they got to know each other, perhaps they could rub along for a year without her feeling trapped, always being on her guard.
Maybe someone just needed to make the first move.
He hesitated, hovering at the door like a ghost. His common sense was telling him to turn the fuck around and go back to bed, but his instincts disagreed.
Always follow your instincts.
Funny; that mantra kept failing him recently. But it had served him so well for so long, he couldn’t give it up after a few failures, could he? Maybe something good was waiting at the end of all these apparent mistakes.
Taking a deep breath, Ruben knocked gently on the door.
For a moment, nothing happened. But then a voice called, “Demi?”
Ah, fuck. He definitely should’ve left. “It’s me.”
