Page 39 of Coronation
My idiot heart flutters at the wry smile that curves his lips. “Yes, I guessed as much. What, with the scowling.”
I am scowling, aren’t I?
It takes some effort, but I manage to compose my expression into something a little less menacing. “Why bother following me in here, then?” I peer around the doorframe, half expecting to find his security standing within earshot. There’s no one, though, just me, the king, and afternoon rain, which is falling harder and harder as the minutes tick by.
“If I were in your shoes,” he offers tightly, answering the question I spat at him a minute ago. “If I were in your shoes, I would think I was an ass.”
“Are you an ass,Ben?” Any familiarity we shared is dead and gone, and the name sounds funny to me, too ordinary for such a grand, important person.
The man before me shrugs. “Sometimes. In public, mostly. Though I do seem to have botched things with you to a somewhat alarming degree, so perhaps it’s spreading to other areas of my life.”
Aren’t monarchs supposed to be kind and relatable in the public eye, and tyrants when no one is looking? It isn’t the first time I’ve suspected that nothing about King Benedict is what it seems, but now, I’m not interested in trying to figure out the truth. I need to protect myself, and regardless of what he claims, I don’t trust that he isn’t here in the hopes of a convenient fuck.
Suddenly exhausted, I turn away, crossing to turn on the water in the small shower stall. It’s the kind with three plastic walls and a plain white curtain hanging over the entrance, a world away from the luxury he’s probably accustomed to. “I need to shower,” I tell him over my shoulder, my voice echoing off the walls of the small room.
“Should we be getting you medical attention instead? That’s quite a lot of blood.”
The joke is so unexpected that I hear myself snort before I can stop it, and, reeling, I look back at him. It’s still a mystery what he’s doing here, but King Benedict—Ben—hasn’t moved a muscle. He’s standing where I left him, leaning against the wall, and I’m struck by sudden inspiration.
I hear his low groan as my fingers find the tie on my robe, shouldering off the fluffy white material, and allowing it to fall to the floor. It’s not like he hasn’t seen me naked before, and if the king is desperate enough to try his luck with me again, he must be hard up. The manmusthave known this was a long shot, that is, unless he’s so used to women throwing themselves at him that my attitude really is a surprise.
The possibility leaves a sour taste in my mouth.
“I suppose I deserve this,” Ben calls as I slip into the shower, closing the curtain without a backward glance.
The warm water is heaven on my aching muscles, and I sigh in relief as I tilt my head back under the spray, pleased with myself for the first time today. “Maybe if you’d just asked for my number like a normal person, I would have let you join me.”
Sixteen
Benedict
In the hour that I’ve been here, the rain falling on the roof of Zelda’s little trailer has grown from a sprinkle to a deluge.
I fully expected her to throw me out, but my apology must have redeemed me at least a little, because I was permitted to stay. Admittedly, sitting on the toilet and peppering her with questions about the film through the shower curtain wouldn’t have been my first choice on how to spend the time. I didn’t mind. Being in the same room with her, hearing her voice, and seeing her face has made me properly warm for the first time in weeks.
Zelda didn’t attempt to hide her body from me when the shower finally shut off and she pushed aside the plastic curtain again, her skin flushed and free of fake blood. All I could do was stare, struck dumb with lust as she toweled off and pulled her robe back on, pretending she didn’t notice that I had to reach down and adjust myself.
Now, I’m sitting on the cheap couch, my feet on the coffee table as I watch Zelda at her makeup table, carefully running various products through her damp hair. It’s fascinating, getting a glimpse of her private time, seeing the brands she favors and the music she selects to play softly through the wireless speaker.
She’d received an email just after getting out of the shower, informing her that filming was postponed due to the storm, so she’s taking her time, and so am I.
Part of me wondered whether I was misremembering, not just the effect she had on me, but how effortless it was being around her. My brothers are the closest people to me on earth, and even they put my teeth on edge before long. With Zelda, though…I can fucking breathe.
I think I could sit here forever, just watching her, but forever isn’t something I have. Our time is already running short, and I know that any minute now, I’ll get a call to remind me of my next pressing engagement, and that will be it for us yet again. Another perfect, stolen moment over, and only the fucking garden party to see her again.
“Shouldn’t you be going?” Zelda asks as she sets down a final bottle of serum, addressing me with the same cool, guarded tone she’s been employing all afternoon.
I meet her eyes in the mirror. “Soon.”
Too soon.
Lowering my feet to the floor, I stand, and my footsteps sound hollow as I walk over the cheap vinyl, coming to a stop beside her makeup table. She doesn’t look at me, keeping her gaze lowered to the tabletop as she replaces all her products in a little basket, pretending she doesn’t care or notice my presence.
“Will I see you at the garden party?” Her hand stills on the last bottle for a long second before she recovers enough tocontinue. There is a tiny freckle behind her right ear that I somehow missed before, and I imagine bending to kiss it, watching her bright eyes flutter shut as I do.
After an age, her gaze lifts again to meet mine in the mirror. “It’s been put in as a press stop for the movie. I have to.”
I hate the thought of her having to do anything.
