by Anna Bloom
I believed that in my heart. It was why I stood in a palace with diamonds on my skin.
The door clicked behind me and John looked up over my shoulder.
“Brother, you could not be more wrong.”
I almost sagged with relief at the sound of his voice. Oliver stepped around me and knelt at Isabella’s side. “Bella, sweetheart, can you hear me?”
“She’s out cold, Ollie.” John’s voice snapped through the air.
“Seriously, you two, stop bitching for one moment and talk to me. Where is she getting this stuff? What is it?”
Isabella’s eyes blinked open. “Ebeneezer E’s are good,” she slurred.
Why the hell is she quoting nineties shit music?
“Oh my god, is she on Ecstasy?” I asked, turning my gaze for both the brothers.
Oliver’s face scored with pain while John gave an almost helpless shrug. “Shit. This isn’t just drunk and high, Ollie. This is dangerous stuff.”
I wiped my hand around Isabella’s face, her clammy skin slipping against my fingertips. “I can’t leave the banquet for too long.” Oliver’s voice dropped, tightened, like it hurt him to say the words.
John snorted. “Off you go, first born.”
“John, that’s not fair.”
“Cut it out.” I rocked back on my heels. “Okay. We need to get her out of here. She can’t be seen.” I glanced over the princess’ face again. “I’m no doctor but I’d say she’s taken too many or it’s a bad batch.”
“And you know everything about E’s do you?” John’s voice hardened.
“Sadly yes.” I met his pale blue gaze before flickering my attention to Ollie who stood like a man torn between two ropes pulling him in opposite directions.
“John, can you take her to our old apartment?” Oliver reached for his brother, clutching him tight around the forearm. “The beds should still be made up. Slip her into one and we will have to hope she sleeps it off.”
“Oliver, she can’t be left. She could be sick and choke.” I didn’t need to fill in the blanks that most drug-related deaths were due to obstructed airways—apart from Ecstasy which could make your brain swell in moments.
He scrubbed a hand though his hair, his beautiful face torn.
“It’s okay, I won’t go back to the dinner. It won’t be the first time I’m in trouble for missing a state event,” John said.
A flicker of hesitation creased Oliver’s face, but John waved it away. “Better I’m in trouble than you. At least if I miss a state dinner, the press won’t talk about it. You both need to be in there.”
I looked between the brothers. “Let me call Janine. She’s the best one to have here now anyway.”
“Your boss?”
The fact John knew my boss’ name registered with me, but I didn’t bother to question it. “My boss, but she’s also a trained rehabilitation counsellor.” I straightened up realising I’d dropped my all-important handbag somewhere. Oliver stepped for the door and opened it, speaking to someone on the other side, his voice murmuring low.
Closing the door again, he shortened the space between us and ran his hand along the bare skin of my arm. “Sorry, this isn’t the way tonight was supposed to go.”
“No?”
His lips curved just a fraction. “I should have stuck with my plan of mince pies and mulled wine.”
John rolled his eyes. “You are so cliché it’s frightening.”
“Nothing is ruined,” I said. “Janine can come and she will help, of course she will.” I tried to smile at him, but his statement wasn’t wrong. That moment of perfection in the chapel had long disappeared. Possibly a sign of what our marriage would be like, outside factors always pulling our attention away from one another. I didn’t know. I couldn’t imagine what any of it would be like.
Oliver stepped closer, his lips brushing my ear. “It is official in all the ways that matter.”
The door opened, a member of liveried staff holding my small clutch bag just as Isabella lifted onto her elbows, her skin now a dull grey and stared at us through unseeing eyes. “I’m sorry,” she blurted before a gush of vomit spurted from her mouth and all over my dress.
Nineteen
The vacated royal apartment had more people in it than I’d ever seen. It was close to midnight and I struggled to keep my eyes open. John had stayed with Isabella until Janine had arrived at the palace. Then he’d slipped back into the dinner as Janine took over. The royal physician had also been in attendance; apparently, he was the most discreet man in London. Oliver had promised to explain more on that later. I actually didn’t have the energy left to wait to hear any amusing anecdotes on royal physical ailments.
I wanted to go to bed.
I wanted to wake up tomorrow, just Ollie and I, and be able to stare in wonder at my ring.
That wasn’t happening.
Janine and the doctor came out of the spare bedroom where Isabella had been taken, and the King got up to greet them. Drawn and pale, he looked like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. Maybe it did. I hadn’t understood just how deep the royal secrets were buried. Oliver had said Isabella drank too much and got high. No one had said she was popping ecstasy before royal events. Only this morning in my cottage she’d looked awful; red eyed and edgy. Had there even been a dinner with her friends? Or had she been in the palace just zoning out of reality?
I began to realise that the royal family weren’t being honest with themselves, let alone anyone else.
The truth hurt. I knew that. I’d lived it.
“She will be fine. I’ve given her an intravenous drip to flush her system and rehydrate her.” The doctor looked like he wanted to add something but didn’t. Another secret.
“Thank you.” The King nodded, his voice tight. I squirmed as he turned to look at me. “And thank you, Leia. Your actions have helped us this evening.”
Ollie, who sat next to me on the brown leather sofa rubbed his hand up my back. I turned to glance at him, his bow tie hung undone around his neck. The top button on his white dress shirt exposed the pulse in the base of his throat. His eyes shadowed with grey, his lips drawn into a straight line.
“How long has she been like this?” I asked.
He stared at me for a moment. “A while.”
“She needs help. Proper rehabilitation. And you need to find out how this stuff is getting into her hands.”
The King nodded but his face remained closed.
“Dad, we have to.” Oliver’s voice gravelled like grit.
“After Christmas,” The King returned. “We are going to leave in a few days, the Welsh air will do her some good.”
I went to open my mouth, but I didn’t need to. Oliver spoke for me. “Dad, it’s not going to help. She’ll be taking the problems with her.”
Oliver’s gaze flickered to meet mine. A swell of pride bloomed in my chest; he’d taken on board everything he’d learnt in his time at Bright Futures.
“If she doesn’t come with us, then the papers will talk. It’s enough that you are staying in London. If another member of the family also doesn’t uphold tradition, then it will create yet more bad headlines.” The King looked pointedly at my hand. “And I don’t think you want those right now, Oliver.”
“Dad! It’s not about bad headlines, it’s about Bella. She has to be the focus here. Leia said that she looked hungover this morning, on a come down. We need to be realistic that what used to be a sign of teenage rebellion is something worse now.”
“Oliver!” the King rumbled. “The public come first. Our example comes first. Always. If Bella doesn’t go to Wales, people will talk, someone will talk and they will say things we don’t want people knowing.”
“You’re wrong.”
I leant over and grabbed Oliver’s hand, squeezing it tight and giving a small shake of my head.
A moment of silence stretched awkwardly, and I met Janine’s eye. A dart of guilt settled in my stomach for the way I’d behaved in her o
ffice earlier. The woman had never put a foot wrong for me, ever. She’d always protected me. That’s why she’d reached out to Oliver first.
I got up from my seat, smoothing down my second black velvet dress of the evening. Luckily, the designs that had been bought in for me didn’t stray too far from one another and no one noticed my change of outfit. Or if they did, they were incredibly discreet about it. Although by the time we’d got back into the state room the King had managed to distract everyone from the missing family members by plying them all with more champagne than I think the staff knew how to serve that fast. The poor waiters and waitresses had been run off their feet.
Stepping towards Janine, I reached my arms around her, squeezing her tight. “Thanks for coming when I needed you. And I’m sorry for earlier.”
She hugged me back, which was all I needed to hear.
“So, Oliver.” The King cleared his throat. “I believe you have something to ask me?”
Oliver didn’t look like he ever wanted to ask anyone anything ever again. “Not now.”
“Well, we can’t all sit here ignoring the giant rocks on Leia’s hand.” The King stepped towards me and lifted my hand, tilting it this way and that to catch the light. “Perfect.” His eyes met mine and I swallowed. “Welcome to the family.”
“Dad, I really don’t think this is the right time.” Oliver went to interject as he stood and came to my side, but the King held up his hand.
“Nonsense. Now, with your agreement we will withhold announcing your engagement until New Year’s Day. It will be seemlier to not have two royal engagements all in one year.”
I gasped a little but then steeled my expression into one of neutrality.
“Obviously we will need to talk with Marcus. Announcing another wedding could sway the public either way. We will need to be prepared for all eventualities.”
My stomach plummeted.
I tried to remember how it felt in St Edwin’s Chapel, kneeling on the cold floor with Oliver, promising to give him everything; but despite it only being hours before, I couldn’t grasp the essence of it.
“Father!” Oliver’s voice cut through the air. “I need to ask Leia’s Nana first and her daughter. Leia has family too, family that is right now looking after…” he stumbled for just one moment but then lifted his chin, pushing out his chest. “Looking after our daughter. I will do this the right way.” He turned for me, his eyes shining. Then he dropped his attention to his watch—good thing too because sweat broke out along my face. “And also, we have something else to celebrate.”
“We do?” I asked.
He showed me his watch. “Happy birthday, my love.”
My heart sunk, along with my smile. “Did you really think I wouldn’t know?” He arched one dark eyebrow.
“I don’t celebrate my birthday.”
“You don’t think I’m going to celebrate the fact that this makes you one year closer to me in age, and takes me down one notch in the dirty old man rating?”
Heat flamed along my throat and cheeks.
Oliver laughed, leaning over and brushing a kiss across my skin. “FYI,” he whispered. “I’m still dirty.”
The Queen who still stood by the door to the guest room, her gaze on her sleeping daughter, turned towards us. “Happy birthday, Leia. And congratulations. I’m sorry what should have been a wonderful evening has degenerated in this way.”
I smiled and shrugged.
Janine gave me a squeeze with her left arm. “I’m going to head home. I’ll see you tomorrow,” she smiled. “Well, I guess I mean later today.”
“You will?”
She grinned. “Oops.” Chuckling she leant in and gave me a kiss. When she went to walk away, I held onto her hand tightly. My lifeboat. For a moment I didn’t want her to leave me here with these people. Smiling, her eyes meeting mine, she untangled my grasp on her hand and then placed it on Oliver’s hand. “Get some sleep, Leia. It’s been a day and a half.”
I nodded, a smile creeping along my lips. “I should have been in bed hours ago.”
“God, I know. I don’t know why you aren’t round and bright orange yet.”
“I keep telling you, guys. Disney isn’t real. Pumpkins don’t change into things.”
I led her to the door of the apartment where a driver stood ready to take her back home to Richard, her husband. She turned at the door as Oliver came up behind me and slid his hands around my middle. “Some fairy tales come true, Leia. I see it in you every day, and that was before you went and met a prince.”
“My life was not a fairy tale.” I chuckled and shook my head. “I think it’s slipped, and it’s a nightmare now.”
“I’m standing right here.” Oliver kissed the side of my throat and a different kind of heat flamed inside me, this one not the scorch of embarrassment, but rather the desperate dry burn of desire. I’d never have enough of him, and now he’d promised to be mine forever.
“Let’s go home.” I turned and whispered against his skin.
“Let’s.”
Four o’clock had crept past by the time Oliver shut the door behind us to our bedroom. Walking through the door of the small cottage had truly felt like coming home, away from the high walls of the palace, and the crowded sitting room of the apartment. The warm air of Fenmore and that reassuring click of our own front door had sounded like heaven.
For about thirty seconds until four diamonds blinded Nana and we then had an over-excitable pensioner on our hands.
“Wow.” Oliver began to unbutton his shirt and my exhaustion evaporated. “I think she said yes.”
“So it’s just Daisy left to ask.”
“Easy. She loves me.” Oliver flashed me a smirk.
“True. Very true.” For one dark moment my mind drifted to the woman who’d come forward but then I pushed it back. Then I thought of Isabella and whether I should have acted on my concerns by now. I pushed that back too. “Anyway, I have a few things to discuss.” I turned my back and tilted my neck so he could get to the zip on my dress. As it slowly undid and he pushed the velvet off my shoulders, his kiss trailed up the skin of my spine. I shivered hard.
“Things to discuss? That sounds ominous.”
“Like… if there are only seven years between us now, just how exactly do you plan to maintain your dirty old man mantle?”
With my dress on the floor, I turned back around to him dressed in just my black lacy underwear and began to undo the rest of the buttons on his shirt.
The left side of his mouth hitched and that deep and dark kindle of desire he awoke in me, the monster he’d created and kept alive with his touch, flickered to life.
“But most importantly.” I ran my hands down his flat stomach, revelling in the gentle grooves of his abs, my fingers hooking onto the waistband of his trousers. “Why aren’t you wearing underwear to a state function?”
He laughed and then leant forward, catching my mouth, his tongue hot as it slipped between my lips. My skin burned as he brushed his palms along my waist, his hands drifting over the lace of my underwear.
All humour dropped as his kiss deepened and his touch became firmer. A hunger I knew I’d never be able to satisfy gnawed in the depths of my stomach. Hooking his hands around my back he unclasped my bra and pulled it from my shoulders, his thumbs grazing down my arms. His gaze burned bright as fire as it lowered over my pebbled nipples. I shivered again as his lips curved into a smile that would be my earthly ruin. Dressed in only black knickers and diamonds, I held the man of my dreams, beyond my dreams, beyond any concept I’d ever thought possible, in my thrall.
I nibbled my lower lip, my pulse racing in my veins.
Slowly, he lifted his fingers, trailing them in a light caress of my nipples. The heat in my stomach intensified until I had to squeeze my thighs together. “You are so incredibly beautiful.” Another brush of his fingers, another responsive and uncontrollable shiver. “And you’re mine.”
“I am.”
I reached for
the waistband of his trousers, but he clasped my hands, drawing them into one long-fingered grasp. Without words he led me for the four-poster and turned me so his lips could slide down my spine. I gasped in a breath. Coaxing me forwards, he pushed me onto my knees on the mattress, gently easing me forwards so he could smooth my hair over my shoulder and then trail his hands along my back, his fingers dancing lightly over my sensitive skin.
He groaned slightly as he shifted forward and followed his fingers with his lips, all the way along my spine. His hands pulled on my hips, lifting them higher, holding me firmly in place as his mouth danced over the lacy edge of my thong.
I shuddered again. I wanted him to take me apart, own every part of me. I lifted my hips higher, willing him to make me fly.
I whimpered as his thumb caught the edge of the lace, easing my knickers to one side. His mouth burrowed into my core, his tongue swiping along my clit, dancing over my entrance, his hands spreading me wide. Shamelessly, I lifted my hips higher, pushing myself back into him.
I’d die at his touch.
Slipping a finger deep inside me he turned it, pushing against the wall with the sensitive spot, his mouth still hot on me, sucking and flicking while his fingers delved as deep as they could go.
“Jesus,” I whimpered, my hands clawing at the bedsheets, my hips rocking with a rhythm of their own. With fingers buried deep inside me, his tongue still dancing against my clit, he swiped a finger through my wet folds and then quickly edged it into that tight bud, the most illicit of places, unexplored and unchartered.
I cried my sudden and intense orgasm into the sheets, my body shivering uncontrollably.
His hands disappeared, but his mouth still licked and kissed as I moaned, the sound of his zipper and my sighs the only noise in the room.
With a long last pull of his lips he let me go. I couldn’t move; there wasn’t a part of my body I controlled. He settled behind me and then lifted me like a rag doll, rocking me back against his length. I managed to get my legs to work, to lift me up, and then settled back, pushing myself onto his hard dick as his arms wrapped around me tight, his lips at my neck.
