by Ava Walsh
“I’ve been thinking the same thing,” I said. Normally, I’d have been annoyed at a stranger being so invasive and familiar with me, but part of me wanted to talk about Ella with anyone who would listen. I’d never felt anything like it. Never known anyone like Ella at all.
I wanted us together. I hadn’t thought the festival would actually bring me a woman I wanted to marry, but watching Ella, I knew it had.
The afternoon went by quickly, and with great success. It looked very promising that we would secure those trade deals, and I couldn’t help but think Ella was largely responsible. With the trial ending, I decided I had to tell her about my Facebook profile. She deserved to know everything.
Chapter Fifteen - Ella
I felt a heaviness as I packed my overnight bag back up to go home. I didn’t know how to return to normal life after the past two days. I had never thought royal life would appeal to me at all, but I found myself sorry to leave it--the lunches, the clothes, the food, the palace, and, most of all, Tristan. He met me in the parlor. There were more papers to sign before I left, more rules to agree to. I wondered if we would be asked today if we wanted things to continue, if I would have to make a decision right now. If I did, I thought I knew what it would be.
In the parlor, Tristan pulled me in tight for a long, searing kiss. I clutched at him, gripping the defined muscles in his arms.
“I really have enjoyed being here, with you,” I said, pulling back a little.
“And I really have enjoyed you being here,” he said, smiling quickly. It was softer than his normal smiles, more sincere, more gentle. It looked like it was just for me.
“What happens now? When do we decide?” I asked, not letting go of his arms.
“I’m not sure,” he admitted, then frowned. “Before you decide anything, and before you go, there’s something you should know.”
“What is it?” I asked. He sat down on the small couch and pulled me down next to him, grabbing my hand.
“I had my security team find out some things about you,” Tristan said. He almost looked worried, so different from his normal confidence. I was puzzled. It was not surprising that he had wanted to know more about me, especially given the family secrets he had told me, but I couldn’t imagine anything in my past that would be startling or concerning.
“What about me?” I asked.
“From the moment I saw you, I thought you might be someone I already knew,” he said, confusing me more. “I thought you might be the woman I had been talking to on Facebook.”
“What?” I said. Suddenly, my heart was racing and I felt ill, like I might throw up right there in the parlor.
“Months ago, I made a fake profile. I’m not really allowed to be on social media, and I was bored,” he said with a shrug, “and then I met you.”
“No,” I said, half a whisper, not believing what I was hearing.
“I’m Frederick,” he said.
I clutched the arm of the couch. He couldn’t be Frederick. I could not have spent the past few months telling the crown prince all of my secrets, every erotic fantasy in my head. I wanted to melt into the couch at the idea. I felt all of my skin grow red and hot.
“And you knew who I was?” I asked, horrified.
“That you were Christa? Yes. Since yesterday afternoon,” Tristan said. I shook my head, still not believing it. My time with Tristan had felt like a trial for me too, a trial of the person I could be, of a woman who was bold and daring. Now I felt it all come crashing down around me. I was the same person I had always been, typing erotic things I’d never done to a stranger behind a screen, playing it safe, hiding behind a fake profile. The stranger was never supposed to walk into my life and actually be the one I lived out those wants with. Was never supposed to be the most handsome man I had ever seen. Was never supposed to be the prince.
I had been sending my filthy sex fantasies to the man who ran my country and who now sat across from me on this couch, holding my hand. I had never been so mortified in all of my life. I pulled my hand away, quickly, and Tristan frowned, deeper this time, like maybe he was hurt. I didn’t know what to say or do.
“Ella,” Tristan began slowly as if he was trying to find the words.
He was interrupted by the event manager coming into the parlor, folder in hand.
“Good evening!” he said, setting the folder on the table and opening it.
“Give us a minute,” Tristan said. His voice sounded hard and commanding.
“I can’t, sir. The trial is over, and by law, Ella must leave now,” the event manager said.
I nodded gratefully. I wanted to run from the palace and never come back. I couldn’t believe I’d been so foolish to think this was all real.
“Another ten minutes isn’t going to make a difference,” Tristan said, crossing his arms.
“It’s the law,” the event manager said. “Ella must leave. You will have two days to decide what to do next. You are forbidden to contact each other during that time. After two days, you will both decide what to do. If you decide to move on, you will be married within a week. If not, you will not see each other again. This decision will be final.”
“We have to wait the two days?” Tristan asked, his voice still sounding hard. Through my embarrassment, I wondered if it was like this for him often, rules he had to obey even though he was one of the most powerful people in the country.
“Yes,” the event manager said. “Ella, you need to sign this agreement that states you will not reveal any information you might have gained while in the palace to anyone outside.”
“Okay,” I said shakily, grabbing for a pen. I wanted to run. To not be under Tristan’s gaze for a second longer. The agreement was another fairly standard one, easy to understand and sign. I signed quickly, not looking at Tristan as I did.
My head was spinning. I couldn’t believe this had happened. That my days of escape had turned out like this. That this man I was falling for was suddenly too close, too fast. I couldn't believe I had revealed so much of myself to Tristan without even knowing it. It was more than I knew how to handle, more than I wanted to handle. I picked up my bag and stood up. Tristan put a hand on my arm, but I shook it off.
“Ella,” he said, almost pleading.
“Goodbye, Tristan,” I said, still not looking at him. I made myself walk to the door instead of sprinting like my brain was screaming at me to do.
“Goodbye, Ella,” Tristan said. He sounded hurt, and part of me wanted to stop, to look at him again, to look past my own embarrassment, but I couldn’t.
I fled the palace, assuming I’d never see it again.
Chapter Sixteen - Tristan
I spent two days thinking of nothing but Ella. I was convinced she was the perfect woman for me. I still couldn’t believe how well our time together had gone. I wanted to see her again, have her here in the palace with me, take her to bed and spend days never leaving it. I did not need the days to think it over. I knew what my answer was, and I thought Ella felt the same. She had seemed so upset when she was leaving, but I hoped that with the days to think, she would see this all differently. That she would realize that the fact we had been the people talking to each other, hidden on Facebook, was a good thing. It was perfect, actually, as I saw it. We had already not just had an amazing few days but had spent amazing months together.
I had never been sure, before this, that I really believed in romance. I wasn’t sure I was cut out for it. I didn’t really see the appeal of it all. Falling in love with one woman, and being with her for the rest of my life, had sounded confining, almost oppressive. I thought I preferred strangers in my bed, with no feelings or rules. Ella had changed that, and I found myself wondering if it had all been fated somehow. That I’d met a fascinating woman online, when both of us had been disguising our identities, only for her to walk into my life in a concrete and real way. It felt like it might have been meant to be.
I was sure that Ella would think it was as well, once she had a c
hance to process it all. How could she not? Our days together could not have gone better, and I was almost certain she was in love with me. I thought of the way she had kissed me and the way it had felt to have her in my arms. I thought of the way her face flushed when I touched her, the way her eyes widened as she came for me, the way she screamed out my name when I was inside her.
Through all my meetings, through every minute of the next two days, I thought of nothing but Ella. I wanted her back with me. I wanted to marry her and have her stay mine forever. I knew there was no one else for me. No one but Ella, the sexiest, most interesting woman I had ever known.
At the end of the two days, I called the event manager, ready to get Ella back, wanting to marry her as soon as possible.
“I want to continue my relationship with Ella,” I said as soon as he picked up. I heard the event manager make a startled sort of sound on the other end of the phone, and I assumed he was just surprised I was so interested. That I had changed my mind so much since our initial talks about the festival. I was surprised, too, of course. I hadn’t known it would bring me Ella.
“I’m afraid I have bad news, Prince Tristan,” the event manager said, sounding nervous.
“Has she not contacted you yet?” I asked, frowning. I wondered if she was in class or caught up in something.
“She has, sir. She does not want to continue,” the event manager said.
I sat down, slumping into a chair, feeling as if I had lost all my footing.
“No,” I said, “that’s not possible.”
“It is what she said. I just got off the phone with her,” the event manager said.
“Did she say why?” I asked, trying to figure it out. I had been so sure Ella and I were feeling the same way. I didn’t know what to do with the idea that we weren’t, that she didn’t want me.
“No, only that she did not want to continue,” the event manager said.
I hung up on him and threw my phone across the room in frustration.
Ella knew, she understood, that if she said she didn’t want to continue, that that would be it, forever. She knew we’d never be able to speak again. Even if she didn’t want to marry me yet, had she really never wanted to talk to me or see me, ever again? I thought of when she’d left, how upset she’d seemed. I’d thought she was just a little overwhelmed at the idea, that it had just been a lot to take in. I thought maybe she was a little embarrassed. But I didn’t think it was anything that would make her not want to continue our relationship.
I got up and paced, thinking. Ella had decided to end our relationship without talking to me, without telling me why. I knew by law she had had that right, that she wasn’t obligated to talk to me, but I had thought, I had hoped, that what was between us had been beyond the damn laws, had been about more than festivals and contracts.
If we had only had a few more minutes, if we could have talked about it more two days ago, if it wasn’t for all these fucking ridiculously old-fashioned laws, I was sure none of this would be happening. I was angry and hurt, and I didn’t like feeling either of those things, feeling so out of control. I was crushed, and I felt trapped under it, under the idea that I’d lost Ella forever.
I pulled my phone back out from where it had fallen when I threw it and signed onto Facebook, getting an idea. Messaging her was probably breaking the law, but it had been against all the rules for me to be talking to her through social media in the first place. I tried to message Ella, sure that if I could just talk to her, I could get her back.
I got an error message in response. Ella had deleted the profile.
I threw my phone again, and this time, the screen made a shattering noise when it hit the wall. I bitterly thought it was fitting, that it matched the way I was feeling.
Chapter Seventeen - Ella
I told myself over and over to move on with my life, to erase everything that had happened. I even deleted my Facebook profile, trying to get rid of everything connected to Tristan. I threw myself into studying, but I couldn’t really focus on it. All I could think about was Tristan. Every time I thought of him, a fresh wave of shame came over me and I wanted to hide forever. I never wanted to leave my house again.
I kept thinking of his security team looking me up, seeing all those conversations and messages, maybe even printing them out and passing them around the palace. I could picture them laughing at me, the girl who’d confessed her sex fantasies to the prince. Some of them were probably getting off to them, the others whispering about how a woman who said things like that, who had a mind like that, could never be royalty. They were probably right. I’d been tested to make sure I was still a virgin, but what was that compared to what had been in my head, to what everyone now knew? What was once, I thought, hidden behind a fake profile, was now attached to me, to my name and face, forever.
I couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t imagine what Tristan had thought of me, what he had maybe always thought. I could never marry him now, after all that. It ruined everything, ruined those few days we’d spent together when I thought maybe I could. When I’d thought I could be someone a prince would want, that Tristan would want. Now I knew I’d only been fooling myself. Nothing about Tristan, or about Frederick, had ever been real, and the pain of losing them both was too much.
I was miserable and heartbroken in a way I had never been before. I wanted to be able to move past it, to shake it all away as a mistake I could walk away from, but he was always on my mind. I kept thinking of his handsome face, the way his eyes looked when he smiled, the muscled lines of his body, the things we’d talked about, the way he’d made me feel. I could hardly get through a few minutes without seeing the sex we’d had in my mind, without remembering what it felt like to have him inside me, remembering the taste and feel of him.
No matter how low I was feeling, remembering made me wet and aching for him. I was so turned on, and so angry with myself for it, so embarrassed. I had had sex with him, and he had probably known the whole time who I was, had known I had said those things, wanted those things. I was sure he had only picked me from the festival because he knew. He probably thought of me as a ridiculous, naive girl, someone who would be easy to get into bed. I imagined him laughing at all those things I said as I typed them, those erotic thoughts I had confessed. He had probably thought a girl who would say those things to a stranger online would surely have sex with a prince after only one conversation.
He had been right. I was that girl, and I didn’t know how it had happened. I was so raw with humiliation, so jagged and exposed that I didn’t know how to feel whole again. I had always been in such control, excelling at school and at most things I tried, but I felt now like none of that mattered, like I was nothing but a spectacular failure.
On top of it all, I couldn’t help but miss Tristan terribly. I had never felt so close to a man, and the loss of him, of what I’d thought we had, hurt terribly. It made me feel like I could break down and sob at any moment. I did, several times, unable to stop the waves of sadness that overtook me, paralyzing me.
In high school, a boy named Craig had broken my heart and humiliated me. He’d cheated on me, carrying on with another girl for months before I found out. I’d been so hurt and felt like such an idiot for ever trusting him, for wasting my time, that I’d cried until my eyes were puffy and my throat burned. But compared to this hurt I was feeling now, it was nothing, like comparing a scraped knee to an amputated limb.
After Craig, Gretchen had been there. She’d helped me feel better, and she’d helped me plan all sorts of revenge that we hadn’t actually gone through with. She’d encouraged me to confront him, and I had. I’d yelled at him right in the high school hallways, and it had helped. It had made me feel less like a victim, less like he had broken me. I thought about calling Gretchen now, as she had left me several messages wanting to know how it all went, but I wasn’t ready to talk to her. To explain it, I’d have to tell her everything, starting with the Facebook profile, and I just wasn’t ready for t
hat.
I knew I’d have to tell her eventually, but right now, I couldn’t imagine saying any of it out loud to anyone. I didn’t want to talk to anyone, about anything, except for Tristan. I desperately wanted to talk to Tristan, but I also never wanted to talk to him, or about him, ever again. I wanted to hide away until it stopped hurting so much, until I stopped feeling so bad.
I didn’t know how long that would be. It felt like I’d never get over this. That I would never get over Tristan.
Chapter Eighteen - Tristan
I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t fucking take it. I couldn’t accept that Ella was gone forever and there was nothing I could do. She was the only one for me, and I needed her back. I tried, I told myself that I had no choice but to move on, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t let it go. I couldn’t let her go. A week after I got the news she didn’t want to continue, I was still thinking of nothing but her. I missed her, missed everything about her, and I couldn’t just let that be it. I had to take action.
I called my event manager on my new phone, pacing as I did. I’d been pacing a lot since Ella left, filled with frustration and hurt and want.
“I need Ella’s address. I’m going after her,” I said, not wasting any time. This was ridiculous, everything about it was ridiculous, and I was tired of it.
“I cannot give you that. It’s against the law,” the event manager said.
“I need to talk to her,” I said slowly, drawing out every word. I was so sick of being told what I could not do about my own love life and my own feelings.
“It is against the law for you to speak to her again,” the event manager said.
“Then I guess I’m going to break the law today,” I responded, hanging up and immediately calling Peter in security. Ella was worth breaking the law for.
