Page 59 of Stolen Princess

My eyes close, and I release a heavy, heartsick breath. All of it was part of his game. His social engineering.

Me: He’s gone. He left me.

Mother: My girl. Of course he did. He realized I didn’t have what he sought, and you were worth nothing to him. Come home. Come home to Mother.

I did learn that hard truth. But I’m learning others along the way, and instead of making me cower, they’re giving me strength. Drive. Determination. And a big dose of fuck you.

Me: I’m not coming home. I’m staying where I am.

Mother: You won’t get far. You have nothing.

Me: Then I’ll have to learn how to make my way in the world. The one you kept me from all these years.

Mother: You’re making a terrible mistake.

Maybe, but I don’t care anymore. She may have been right about a lot of things, but not everything. I saw it today. I saw it yesterday in the other village. She was wrong about the world, and she was wrong about me. Yes, there’s evil. Yes, there are bad people. The worst of all may be my mother and the guy I willingly ran off with.

But not everyone is that way.

I can’t stay hidden anymore. I can’t live in a bubble with no oxygen.

Fuck it.

I’m going out tonight.

20

FERRIN

I’m in the room directly across from the princess, but it might as well be no space between us at all for the way I’m watching her fucking door. Something tells me she won’t simply stay in her room to eat, and I’m proven right when I see her door open, and she steps out in the dress she bought yesterday.

She looks beautiful in it, and she has her hair parted differently so that it covers the bruised side of her face. I watch through the peephole as she shuts the door behind her and heads for the stairs. I count to twenty and follow after.

I wish she hadn’t gone out. I know Lars is lurking, and I’m positive he’s looking for her. I don’t know if he knows she’s the princess—if she even is, but how can she not be?—or not, but it doesn’t matter. He wants to fuck me over, and he wants his payday.

Sven will hang back and is likely searching for Marie. They’re a divide-and-conquer duo, so I’m not worried about that.

I head outside and spot Genevieve up ahead. She’s strolling, going slow, and I stay close to the buildings. I don’t have a hoodie on or anything that would hide me because people look harder when you dress like that. Look like everyone else, and no one pays you much attention. I am wearing prosthetics, though. A nose, teeth, and glasses.

Even so, if she turned and looked, she’d likely still recognize me.

She goes straight for the wine bar because of course she fucking does. Everyone who passes her does a double take. Male or female, it doesn’t matter. She’s that sort of beautiful and has a certain air about her. It makes my teeth clench. I could have been with her tonight. I could have held her close and smelled her neck before I kissed it.

I like fucking, but I never cared much about the other stuff.

I liked kissing her. I could have kissed her for days without getting bored. The way her mouth moved, the sounds she made, and how she held onto me. She made my pulse race. She made me sweat. I got swept up in a way I never have before. It’s why I didn’t notice the cop pulling up behind us.

I wish I could have kissed her after she tasted her cum. Felt it on my cock or fingers or tongue. I don’t like her out here all alone, even with me watching.

The restaurant is up ahead, and she walks in with a confidence that makes me smile. I wait outside, searching everywhere. I don’t see him. Not yet. I do another twenty count and approach, peering in the door. The restaurant is chic and a little upscale. It’s pretty. So unlike the dive I took her to last night. They seat her at the bar, and I release a frustrated breath. It’s crowded, but she would have done better at a table.

Why is she at the bar? Is she hoping to meet someone? Get hit on and go home with a random guy? I’ll fucking kill anyone who tries.

I enter the restaurant and head up to the hostess, keeping my back angled toward the bar. “One, please,” I tell her.

“Bar or table?”

“Table, please. Something in the back.”