Page 25 of Corrupted Queen

“I want to see it again.”

I shake my head, knowing exactly what she means. “That’s not a good idea.”

Alexis scoots closer, desperation swimming in her eyes. “Please,” she says. “Just one more time.”

“Watching that video won’t help you understand,” I insist, brow furrowing. “There is no magic switch that you can flip where you will suddenly be able to accept what he did.”

“He laughed.” Alexis looks down at her fingers, where I see she has bitten the nails down to the quick. “He and your father laughed while they tortured that man, like it was a game to them.”

I lift her hands from her lap and clasp them in mine. They are ice-cold.

“You need to stop obsessing about it, Alexis. It won’t do you any good.”

She rips her hands away and fixes me with an accusing stare. “You just expect me to forget about it? You can’t turn my world on its head and then tell me to let it go. It’s not that easy.”

“I know.” I sigh. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you about it in the first place. I never intended for you to find out about any of it.”

“It’s always better to know than to not know,” she says in a flat voice. “I just wish I could understand.”

“You never will. You need to accept that.”

Her shoulders slump. “He laughed, Gabriel. Helaughed.”

“I know.”

“Just let me see it again,” she pleads.

I shake my head. “No.”

“Please.”

“No, Alexis.”

She sighs and collapses on the sofa, her head falling back against the cushions. My fingers itch to reach for her, to pull her to my chest and kiss her forehead, but I won’t allow myself. So I get up and walk to the drinks cabinet, pouring myself a whiskey.

“Do you want one?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder at Alexis.

She doesn’t move. “Sure.”

I bring her drink over and press it into her palm. Alexis lifts her head and drains the glass, setting it onto the coffee table before slouching back again.

We sit in silence while we wait for the food. I figure from what I know about Alexis, trying to speak to her before she gets some food would be pointless.

I get word from my men that the food has arrived and been set up in the dining room for me, and I stand and offer Alexis my hand. She takes it and I drag her to her feet.

“What did you order?” she asks, a little more interested now that the prospect of dinner is so close at hand.

“Whatever.”

She shoots me a quizzical look as we walk through the house, and when we reach the dining room she stops dead. The table is covered in takeout boxes of all different kinds—pizza, Chinese, Indian, burgers. I ordered a little bit of everything. If there’s anything Alexis responds to, it’s food. I figured I would hedge my bets.

I have not seen Alexis move so quickly in days. She jogs around the table, piles up a plate, and takes a seat at the head of the table. I decide not to point out that she is sitting in my seat, and instead grab a plate for myself and take the seat to her right.

Alexis bites into a burger, which muffles her moan of delight. “Oh my God.”

I chuckle, stabbing a piece of chicken with my fork. “You would think I don’t feed you.”

“Victoria’s on a health kick,” she says, chewing. “I’ve eaten a whole rainbow of fruits and vegetables this week, which is great because it sets a good example for Harry, but not great because all I want to do when I’m in a shitty mood is binge on junk food.”

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