Page 12 of His Accidental Princess

“You could use the community pool,” he added.

I sighed in reply. I couldn’t. Not because I was a snob.

I could never swim in public because my swimsuit was practically backless, and I didn’t want anyone setting eyes on my bare skin. I sighed again because it meant I’d have to go shopping again to find a suit that covered me up.

“Alright, I have to go now. I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” he said hurriedly, sounding distracted.

“Sure. Say hi to Mrs Fialho,” I said, with a grin.

I knew the two oldies liked to have a drink together after dinner on Mrs Fialho’s porch. They were both inveterate gossips and perfect for each other, even if they didn’t realise it.

Freddy laughed and ended the call.

The smile slid off my face as I stared out the window, wondering if my prankster was out there in the gathering darkness, waiting to see if I screeched the house down. Was I really safe in my house? Even if it was just a prank, what was the point of it? Was it meant to merely embarrass me, or was there a deeper, darker motive? Was it meant to scare me? An icy finger ran down my spine at the thought of having offended someone without knowing.

I had spent most of my life trying not to upset my mother. She took offence at my very existence, and nothing I ever did could make up for it. And boy, did she make me pay for it!

Was this prank a one-off, or was I to spend the rest of my life trying to atone for whatever real or imaginary sins I had committed against the person who sent me the dead chicken?

My skin crawled with a very familiar restlessness and I took a few deep breaths to calm my racing mind. I had to stop overthinking this. I wasn’t alone this time. I had friends who would do whatever it took to keep me safe. And much as I hated to admit it, I had a very grumpy ex-fiancé who would stick to me like a very irritating shadow until all this was resolved.

Speaking of said grump, I peered through the curtains. The lights were still on in his cottage. I wondered if Vinnie was with him. The very thought made me want to puke. I turned away from the window and threw myself on the couch determined not to think about DV, his bimbo or whatever they were getting up to in the cottage next door.

I picked up my book and stared at the same page for almost an hour, and then slammed the book shut because it struck me as extremely unfair that DV was getting to have a lovely little romantic getaway with his bimbette on the pretext of protecting me. Fuck that, I decided. He could do what he liked. I was going to bed.

After tossing and turning in bed for what seemed like hours, I walked over to my bedroom window. The lights in DV’s cottage were out, and the place was silent. He was finally asleep. Which was so very inconsiderate, considering how I was awake and battling the fantasies of my anxiety-ridden mind all because of him.

There was only one thing that could help me fall asleep. My daily midnight swim.

I checked the time. It was just past midnight. Perfect, I decided grimly.

He wouldn’t even know because he was probably fast asleep with that witch’s arms wound around him tighter than a boa constrictor. I’d just hop into the pool, have a quick swim and hop out before anyone saw me.

It was a wonderful plan. Only in theory, though.

Because when I tiptoed through the door between our cottages and stealthily turned the corner that took me to the pool, I spotted a pair of powerful arms slicing through the water steadily until they reached the end of the pool, and turned around for another lap.

I stood frozen in place as I realised that I had failed to take one very important point into consideration. That DV was also out for a midnight swim.

CHAPTER6

DIGVIJAY

The monotonous laps of the pool did little to dim my fury over the chicken incident, but I hoped the exercise would tire me out enough to sleep dreamlessly. Although that seemed highly unlikely since the star of most of my dreams was sleeping in the cottage next door.

It seemed our bedrooms shared a common wall because I had heard her tossing and turning in bed. Either she had trouble falling asleep or she was an active sleeper. That thought led my overactive imagination down a slippery path, and I spent the best part of the next hour wondering what it would be like to sleep in the same bed as Tasha.

If she was a restless sleeper, I’d have no trouble pinning her in place with my body. Or even better, I could make love to her over and over again, until she dropped into exhausted slumber. In my arms, of course. That was non-negotiable. She’d fall asleep in my arms, and she’d wake up to my kisses. I shook my head in disgust, because only in my imagination was it possible for Tasha to be so pliant and submissive. In reality, she’d probably drain me dry and then kick me to the floor, sore and broken, as she sprawled all over my bed.

When I realised that I was smiling in anticipation at the prospect, I decided it was time to cool off my body and my imagination with a midnight swim. The cottage came with a small pool that was barely big enough for two people.

I’d have to swim in my boxers, though, because the emergency bag in Samar’s van had a change of clothes, but was sadly lacking in swimwear options. Sure, there was a gun and three types of smoke grenades for a quick getaway, but there was nothing in the way of swimming trunks. I’d have to send for some clothes if I had to stay on in Paradiso for more than a few days.

I cannonballed into the pool and made my way slowly from one end to the other, going faster with every lap. But it did nothing to bank the fire running through my veins. I didn’t know how I was going to convince Tasha to take this seriously. Someone had broken into her house. Into her bedroom. They had placed something on her bed. It was an invasion of her space and safety, and I didn’t understand why she couldn’t see that.

I raised my head to take another breath and froze in place, treading water. Was I hallucinating? There was an urban legend that you could conjure up the ghost of a woman called Mary by saying Bloody Mary in front of a mirror seven times. Maybe I had conjured Tasha up in a pool by saying her name over and over in my mind. For there she was. Standing by the pool. And in a swimsuit, no less.

She looked mad as she clutched her towel around her like a cloak.

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