Page 12 of Hupotasso
Her lips become a thin line.
“I thought not,” I snarl. “Get out.”
“Very well,” she nods. “But I came to welcome you to the family because I knew I wouldn’t get another opportunity before your trip. That’s all.”
“My trip?”
“Why yes,” she frowns, “you’re leaving the day after tomorrow for the tour of the contestants’ relatives. You’ll take a month or more to travel around the world, as is the tradition. Tomorrow will be taken up all day with fittings and preparations. I wanted to squeeze in a visit before then, although we’ll have plenty of time to get to know one another upon your return. I’m so looking forward to it.”
‘A month? I won’t see him for a whole month? Why does this pain me when he’s just treated me so terribly? I must be brain damaged. What am I thinking? Of course I’m brain damaged — what other kind of person would have even entered The Games to begin with?’
“Angelina?”
I scowl and refocus on the woman before me.
I’ve watched VBG long enough to know a post-wedding tour is customary. Usually though, it’s a few weeks down the track, after the honeymoon.
‘But no honeymoon for me. Straight into royal duties. Bastard!’
“You know,” she smiles gently. “You might find things are not so overwhelming upon your return. Maybe a little space is all you and Falcon need.”
I grit my teeth at her words. I know what’s in store for me. Traditionally the winning royal wife visits the losers’ families to talk to them about The Games and give money and gifts. It’s all televised, of course, and aimed at making the royals look benevolent and kind, and at promoting VBG for the following season.
‘Visiting Giselle’s family, Isabel’s family, Pasha’s, Neve’s… and having to deal with Gary Fucking Showman and the whole circus all over again….’
I can’t think of anything I’d rather do less — except maybe fall under Falcon’s sex spell again and act like a dog in heat for a blood-sucking creature that plans to put a bun in my oven and kill me.
I want to scream at this woman that yes, I want ‘space’ I want to fly to outer space where I never have to look at her face, or her son’s, or any other royal ever again.
But instead, I turn my back to her and face the window again without a word.
The door closes a few seconds later. But I don’t hear the key turn in the lock.
10
I scowl as Rose massages my shoulders.
“You’re so tense, my lord,” she murmurs, her breath warm against my ear, her breasts equally as warm against my back.
“I have a lot on my mind,” I grunt, pulling her around to sit on my lap, “but you are definitely helping.”
“I’m so glad you changed your mind about us,” she whispers. “I cried so much when you said we couldn’t see each other any longer.”
I consider her as she runs her hands over my bare chest and settles firmly in my lap, her legs astride me, pressing indecently close as she looks at me with her big, brown eyes. She and my other two mistresses are all still living in this, the North Wing,just as they were before I entered that vile game. The only difference now is that Sophie is also installed here.
It had been a last-minute decision to keep them.
When I knew I was going to choose Angie for my wife I’d sent word on ahead for my mistresses to move out. All except Sophie, who was living under my protection. It was no real hardship at the time. I harbour no feelings for them, and most of my mistresses only stay in my favour for a year or two anyway. But I’d cut short my liaisons because Angie said she wouldn’t brook me having mistresses after our marriage, and I’d intended to honour that.
Naturally I’d reversed my decision after I found out she was the spy.
Still, this evening was the first night I’d availed myself of any of their comforts since returning to the castle, and Rose, although pleasantly distracting, somehow isn’t erasing the remembrance of my consummation last night with Angie.
Try as I might, I can’t stop thinking about it, about her.
‘Wanting her.’
My conversation with Mother earlier this evening had not helped. She’d visited Angelina today without my consent or knowledge, and she, like Jag, feels I’m being too harsh with my wife. I’m sure if she knew the truth she’d think otherwise. Unfortunately I can’t tell her, so I’m resigned to her thinking I’ve become an unfeeling monster.
