That was...
A light flashes in front of my eyes.
It's my Heads Up View Display.
Dress battery low. Shutdown imminent.
Oh no.
No.
I spent all of my charge in here with my Prince Charming instead of out there in the ballroom! How could I do this? The shock of the message hits me hard enough to almost numb me.
My only chance to find a sponsor.
My only chance to go to Parsons.
Gone because I wanted this man badly enough that I had sex in the bathroom.
Decided to lose my virginity in the bathroom.
What was I thinking?
As he pulls out of me, I straighten and step to the side to face him.
I can't pretend everything is alright.
He frowns at the distance I'm putting between us, as I fumble to pull my bodice back up.
My shoes are over by the counter, kicked off at some point.
No time.
I have no time.
I can't add insult to injury by having my dress die on me.
"I'm sorry, I have to go. This was...I'm really sorry." I bite my lip to hold back the rising tide of despair. "I worked so hard, but I've just messed it up again. My only opportunity." I know I'm babbling, that I'm not making much sense. But it's the best I can do in that moment. I take a deep breath and whirl to the door, opening it. "I'm sorry."
I run out into the hall, my bare feet slapping against the floor. It stings. But that's the least of my worries right now.
"Wait!" I hear him call out behind me. "Wait, I don't even know how to find you!"
I wipe away my tears as I rush through the ballroom, pushing past surprised people as I make a beeline for the exit.
I can't lose charge while I'm in here. That's the only thought beating through my mind as I fight through the crowd.
I dodge around a waiter who barely stops from spilling his tray, passed a newly arrived gaggle of giggling girls who start whispering as soon as they see me, and around a sharply-dressed guy who tries to get my attention.
And then I'm out on the street, running down the sidewalk, the cold concrete harsh against my soles.
The dress flickers and dies around me.
Gone.
I'm just me again.
I choke back a sob as I keep running.
Chapter 12
Herne
Shit.
I pull my pants back up roughly, fastening them quickly.
I don't know why she ran but I have to stop her. I can't lose her. I have no way to find her and this can't be how we leave things.
I grab the shoes she left, pretty sparkling heels that I'd only noticed long enough to take them off of her delicate feet.
I rack my brain, going over everything, wondering if I may have done something to make her run. I can't think of anything.
All I know is that this cannot just be a one-time occurrence.
And the clock is ticking. She already has a head start on me.
Slamming out of the bathroom door, I run down the hall in the direction of the ballroom. She's nowhere in sight in the hall, which is a straight shot. She has to be in the ballroom.
My heart drops as I make it out onto the dance floor, my eyes darting around the glittering crowd, trying to find that shock of light hair, the sparkle of that one-of-a-kind dress.
I ignore those trying to get my attention, shaking off the girls who can't take a hint. I have no time for this right now. I search the whole ballroom, every sparkle catching my eye.
Everyone's wearing jewelry. There is a lot of sparkle.
After a thorough search, I have to conclude she isn't in here.
I refuse to give up. I step outside, scanning the street on either side. It's deserted.
The cotillion is still in full swing. Nobody has left yet.
I turn to the security guards dressed in dark suits, there to make sure only those with invitations get through and to escort out those who drink too much while inside.
"Did you see a blond woman in a white dress leave?" I demand, searching their concerned faces.
I must not be as in control as I think if they're looking at me like that. They're used to seeing me cool and collected.
I don't feel cool or collected.
More like frustrated and desperate.
They glance at each other, their eyes wary.
"I think she ran in that direction," the taller one says, gesturing down the street.
I don't wait to confirm if it's her. Who else would be running in a white ball gown?
I bolt down the street, the sense of urgency gripping me tight. If I don't find her now...
I search the alleys and smaller streets that intersect the road as I pass them. It's not safe for her to be running alone at night, especially dressed like that. With no shoes on.
What would make her run like that?
When I find no sign of her after fifteen minutes of desperate searching, I finally have to admit defeat.
She's gone.
I'm not going to find her.
I turn back, frustration rising inside me.
This can't be it.
It can't.
I reach my building and walk into the ballroom, shaking my head as the guards ask me if everything is fine.
I stop at the top of the stairs when I enter, scanning the arrogant faces, the insincere smiles, the practiced flirtation.
The music is beautiful, but it grates on me anyway. Just like the murmur of voices, the sound of glassware...
I growl, feeling the beast rising in a rush despite my attempts to control it. I have no patience for this game.
Not tonight.
Not now.
I throw one of the shoes in my hand at the floor. The pretty crystal immediately shatters, the sound unmistakable and loud enough that it draws everyone's attention.
I watch as the shimmering pieces skitter across the floor.
The crowd turns to me, reminding me of their reaction when my missing girl walked in.
Rage pounds through me.
"The party is over," I announce, the growl clear in my voice. I see the shock on people's faces and I distantly understand.
I'm not the uncontrolled Singarti Prince, the one that doesn't know how to control his beast. This isn't my role. My role is the sophisticated prince who always has the right thing to say, who knows how to charm anyone into his bed.
I'm completely shattering that carefully built reputation right now.
But I find I simply don't care.
I want this event over.
Now.
"Everyone out," I say, my voice even deeper. "Now."
The shocked silence transforms to whispers as I turn away and pull my security detail to the side.
"I need you to find the blonde woman with the white dress. Take everyone you have. Call my personal line with updates."
"Yes, sir," the guard says with a sharp nod, already using his HUV to contact his team.
I have to have her.
The beast and the man are in full agreement.
There is no other option.
I turn away and head to the private elevator down the same hall as the bathroom. I punch in the code to take me to my rooms, placing my hand against the scanner. I pace as the elevator rises. I have too much energy to stand still.
As it opens up into my suite, all of that frustration and anger drains out of me. I just feel tired, at a loss. I collapse into the overstuffed armchair I have positioned in front of the window to contemplate the view of the city. The lights and the movement usually help me think.
I don't even see it right now.
I look down at the lone shoe I still hold in my hand.
It's small, just a little larger than my hand. Pretty and delicate, just like its owner. I immediately regret shattering its pair, but I was not in control of myself.
Not that I'm in much better shape now.
I turn the shoe, watchi
ng as the light dances off the cut crystal. It's unique, eye-catching.
Again, just like its owner.
I think back to when I first set eyes on the woman. A flash of heat goes through me as I remember her passionate embrace, the perfection of her response when I touched her.
Anger and an ache in my chest rise as I remember her walking away from me.
No.
Not walking.
Running.
I frown as I remember what she said, the despair on her face.
I was too confused, too worried about losing her to really absorb what she was saying.
I'm sorry, I have to go. This was...I'm really sorry. I worked so hard, but I've just messed it up again. My only opportunity. I'm sorry.
I thought she was running from me...
But that isn't what she said.
The pit in my stomach expands as details come back to me.
Another woman appears in my mind's eye.
Elle.
The girl from the park.
She wanted to show off her talent for design at my cotillion. Had wanted the opportunity to find a sponsor for Parsons.
The woman tonight...her dress had been a work of art. Beautiful, ethereal, high fashion even while it was sensual. And she spoke of opportunity lost...
I straighten in my chair, my heart pounding. Disbelief wars with a rising certainty.
Elle.
She was a blonde, the same bright shade, the same height with the heels off.
I bring up the woman from tonight in my mind, trying to remember the small things about her, the identifying details. She didn't have freckles, but that could have been due to the VR makeup, the same reason why her made-up eyes looked different.
There's no mistaking that soft, full mouth, the same mouth that I kissed before, just a few nights ago.
How could I not have realized this before?
I stand up and start pacing again, the shoe clutched in my hands. It’s only physical link I have to her.
How could I not have known after kissing her that she was the same woman?
Only one other woman had that same effect on me, made my body react so intensely, held my attention so easily.
Elle.
How could I have lost her a second time?
How could I have let this happen again?
I stop at the window, bracing my forearm against it as I look out at the city below. She's there somewhere. Right under my nose.
An intense desire to possess runs through me.
My beast is awake and strong in a way it rarely is.
And I have no desire to control it.
Chapter 13
Elle
"Come on," I mutter, yanking at the broom handle in frustration. "You're not going to get the best of me."
Great. Now I'm talking to myself. A sure sign of mental illness.
I tug again. It's stuck on something that refuses to give way. I grit my teeth as I adjust my grip. I'm going to have to put some more muscle into it. I brace my feet and jerk at it again.
Once.
Twice.
I heave with all my strength and it finally breaks free with a cracking sound, sending me sprawling to the floor, half in and half out of the fireplace.
"Ouch." That's going to leave a bruise.
I look at the cracked shaft of the broom. Figures.
I huff out a breath, seeing the grime and dirt caked on my jeans and my once-white t-shirt, and probably on my face and hair, considering that my arms are as dirty as my clothes.
I fight back the sudden urge to just sit there and cry.
It won't do any good.
Cleaning the chimney has never been my favorite chore, but today it's just one more not-so-great thing to add to my list of reasons to break down. The list is growing exponentially. At this rate, it'll be so long that I'll have to make a table of contents for it.
I've ruined my one chance to get into Parsons, to make my dream a reality.
My one chance!
I worked so hard for it, only to fumble at the goal line.
Now I don't even have that hope to keep me going through the day. No escape chute I can think about when I'm down. Like right now, covered in soot with a broken broom handle I know I'm going to be yelled at for.
If my regret about the cotillion isn't enough to occupy me, the reason for my ridiculous distraction that night still haunts my dreams. The Singarti prince plays a starring role every night without fail. His handsome face with those perfect cheekbones. His ripped body that I'm sure looks even better naked though I didn't get the chance to see him without his tuxedo.
There’s another regret, though it’s a minor one on the list.
I can't stop dreaming about the way he touched me, the way he looked while he was inside of me. The way we looked when we were moving together, as close as two people can get. How funny, and smart, and charming he was.
Then I wake up and remember how stupid I was for being distracted by him. For running out what I knew was a short battery life.
Then I ran off in a panic without an explanation. I didn't even tell him my name. Or get his!
I'll never see him again now.
I rest my head against the brick of the fireplace.
"Stupid," I mutter to myself.
Worst of all, there's nobody to blame for any of this mess except me.
I wallow for a while, but I'm distracted from my pity party by approaching footsteps. I look up as my stepsisters walk in, dressed in pristine clothes straight off the trendy runway. The bright colors and the voluminous cuts don't really suit them, but I'd never say that out loud. They're enough of a thorn in my side as it is.
I’m not proud of it, but I kind of like that they look like idiots. It makes my day a little brighter. They’ve brought me down to their level, and that’s the worst part.
Their conversation pauses as they watch me start to stand, the disdainful smirks on their faces telling me what they think of my appearance.
I simply don't care right now. I have more important things to worry about than what they think. I ignore them as I brush myself off as best I can, not that much can really be done with soot. I need a full shower and these clothes need a good scrubbing.
They laugh as I bend over to pick up the broom, the high-pitched cackling grating on my nerves. What would happen if I just smacked them across their smug faces with this soot-covered broom? I picture it with relish, imagining the shock on their faces. They'd probably just run to their mother. Maybe it would be worth it. See? I’m on their level.
"Look at you!"
"You're supposed to use the broom to clean the chimney, not yourself you idiot!"
They laugh again.
Ha ha. Very funny. My mouth tightens, but I force myself to ignore them. It really isn't worth the hassle of responding.
"She really is stupid, isn't she?"
"Yes. It's a wonder she's even graduating on time. At least she can put chimney sweeping on her resume!"
Another mean giggle.
"I wonder if there are any job openings for chimney sweeps in the city?"
"I doubt it. Who would hire her when they could get a perfectly good robot to do a better job at half the price?"
They laugh again as they saunter away, probably off to spend more of my father's money. My face burns, a combination of rage and humiliation.
I lean against the brick, feeling utterly defeated, the fight leaving me as they move on.
This is it.
This is my life for the all the future I can see.
I don't know how I can handle it without the hope of escape to help lift me up. I might snap.
I sigh as I shove a stray lock of hair off my face, the strands gray from soot.
What am I going to do?
Chapter 14
Herne
I look out the window, watching as the streams of people go about their day. Going to work, running errands, spending time with their families. All I'm doing is w
atching them right now.
I should be working, not wasting time at the window. I have more than enough to keep me fully occupied. My inbox is full of paperwork that needs to be approved, questions that need to be answered, contracts that need to be signed. I've already ignored more than a few phone calls today and had my assistant reschedule meetings for me, meetings that I really shouldn't be putting off because they're time sensitive.
I just can't seem to bring myself to care.
I'm in no mood to do anything or to speak with anyone. Business dealings that usually have me excited and ready to go leave me cold. Work has always been something that I love, that keeps me excited to face the day. And I know exactly why I don't even want to look at it right now.
I have something else occupying my mind in a way that nothing but business has before.
Or, rather, someone.
Elle.
I just can't stop thinking about Elle. I made mistakes with her, not just once, but twice. How could I have been so dense that night at the cotillion? So completely unable to see the woman that had driven me crazy just a few days earlier in the woman that had so completely captured my attention in that ballroom?
Thinking back on it now, I cannot believe I missed it. My reaction alone should have clued me in. My fists clench at the thought of exactly how stupid I was.
My only defense is that the makeup and trappings involved in attending the cotillion threw me off. She just looked so different from the casual, comfortable girl I'd met walking alone in the park. Jeans and sweatshirt, no makeup. Still beautiful and perfect, but so different in how she'd presented herself.
Elle.
The girl who got away.
Twice.
The idea boggles the mind.
I want to go back in time and smack some sense into myself.
My people still haven't been able to track her down, even with a first name. Considering how many people live in the city and that I don't know if it's a nickname or even a fake name, I don't blame them.
There's only so much that can be done with the information we have.
And it's driving me insane.
I need to find her.
That cannot have been the last time I see her. The last time I hold her in my arms. The last time I speak to her. The last time I kiss her.
Prince: A Filthy Sweet Fairy Tale Romance Page 8
