Page 26 of Royal Affair
Sofia glanced between us, then toward the front door where I knew James would be visible in his car. She'd served me dozens of times over the past months, and we'd developed an easy familiarity from regular, friendly exchanges.
"Please," I added. "I'll owe you one."
She hesitated only briefly before nodding. "Through the kitchen, behind the pastry case. Be quick—my manager's on break for ten more minutes."
"You're a lifesaver," I whispered, slipping her a generous tip.
The three of us casually walked toward the pastry display and quickly ducked through the swinging door when no other customers were looking. We hurried past surprised kitchen staff, whom Sofia politely waved off.
"They're with me!"
"The taxi's two minutes away," Octavia murmured, checking her phone.
My heart thundered in my chest as we pushed open the exit door, the cool October air hitting my face. The narrow alley was empty except for a few scattered leaves dancing in the wind. Every shadow made me jump, remembering the lifeless kitten, the note, the blood...
"There's our ride," Gabi pointed to a black taxi turning into the alley.
As we hurried toward it, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was making a terrible mistake. But then I remembered James's cold, demanding stares, how he'd turned from protector to interrogator, the suffocating weight of his constant presence.
The taxi door opened, and I slipped inside after my friends, the leather seats cool against my skin. As we pulled away, I glimpsed the coffee shop's front window, of the familiar black car parked outside where James waited, unaware that his charge had just vanished into the Halloween night.
"The Underground," Octavia told the driver, then turned to me with a wide grin. "Time to remind yourself what freedom feels like, Eve."
I forced a smile, even as my stomach churned with anxiety. Freedom. Was that what this was? Or was I escaping the truth that James desperately wanted—the truth that threatened to destroy everything?
I saw James's car in the side mirror as we pulled away from the coffee shop. He was still there, a dark silhouette against the café's warm light, patiently waiting for me to emerge. The trust in that patient waiting—the assumption that I was safe inside with my friends—felt like a physical weight in my chest. If the person behind those threats could find me here, could kill an innocent kitten just to send a message, what would they do when they discovered I'd slipped away from my protection?
"You're having second thoughts," Gabi observed.
"I'm having third and fourth thoughts," I admitted. "James doesn't deserve this. He's been trying to protect me, and I'm repaying him by lying and sneaking around like a teenager."
"He's also been interrogating you daily and treating you like a prisoner," Octavia pointed out. "You're allowed to push back."
"This isn't pushing back. This is betrayal." The word tasted bitter. "He told me about his nightmares, his past. He's been vulnerable with me, and I'm using that trust against him."
The city lights blurred past the window as we drove toward The Underground. Each block we put between James and me felt like a small rebellion, a tiny reclaiming of my autonomy. But with each mile, the guilt grew heavier.
"Tell me again why we're doing this," I said to Octavia.
"You're twenty-three, not twelve. You've been cooped up with Mr. Tall, Dark, and Brooding for weeks. It's time you remember what it feels like to be just Eve, not Princess Evangeline."
Just Eve. The words hit something deep inside me. When was the last time I'd been just Eve? Before the scandal, certainly. Before the threats, before James, before everything became so complicated.
My phone buzzed twenty minutes into the taxi ride. James. I stared at the screen, my thumb hovering over the answer button.
"Don't you dare," Octavia warned, reaching for my phone.
"He'll be worried," I said, but let her take it, anyway.
"He'll be furious," Gabi corrected. "There's a difference."
The phone stopped buzzing, then immediately started again. And again.
"He knows," I whispered, my stomach dropping. "He knows I'm not there."
Through the taxi's rear window, I imagined James's reaction. First, he'd check his watch—he constantly checked his watch—and then try calling. When I didn't answer, he'd go inside the café. Sofia would have to tell him what we'd done.
The thought of his face when he realised I'd lied and deliberately evaded his protection made me feel sick.
