Page 195 of Heartless Sinner

Prime Minister Bellamonte waited outside the restroom, one shoulder propped against the ornate molding. He pushed off the wall when our eyes met and immediately blocked my path back to the ballroom.

“Hello, Princess,” he said, his voice edged with hostility. “We need to have a talk.”

“I’m actually on my way to find Brooks,” I said, hoping saying his name would be enough to make Bellamonte back off.

He held up a finger. “I need just a minute.”

“About what?” I snapped.

“Your future with my son.”

“I have no future with him,” I replied with honest confusion.

“You’re going to marry him.”

“Pfft.” I tilted my head. “How many drinks have you had, Prime Minister?”

He splayed his fingers across his mouth, using his index finger to tap his cheek, as if choosing his words carefully.

“We need to make a deal,” he finally said.

That’s my cue to get the hell out of here.

“You can bring any deals regarding me up with my grandfather,” I said before trying to walk around him.

His palm hit my shoulder, driving me backward before he caught my arm and shoved me around the corner.

I wanted to scream, but didn’t dare.

This was the last place I wanted to make a scene.

I crossed my arms, deciding to get this over with. “Fine,” I snapped. “What’s your deal?”

“As soon as Brooks drops you …”

I frowned at his wording.

Way to ruin the high of my night, asshole.

No longer wanting to hear whatever else he needed to say after that insult, I tried to step around him, but again, he blocked me.

“You’ll become Cory’s Fawn,” he went on, spraying my cheek with spit as he spoke. “Then you’ll marry him.” His shoulders squared with pride. “My son will be king.”

His mouth was set in a hard line.

The asshole was dead serious.

Suddenly, all the encounters I’d had with this man made sense. I remembered all the times I’d caught him watching me, like he was always waiting to trap me somewhere.

I gulped. I could argue over something that was never going to happen, or I could tell him what he wanted to hear.

I patted his shoulder. “Fine. Deal.”

“Don’t fucking bullshit me,” he snarled. He gave my shoulder a pat. Or rather, it was more of a shove. “Refuse, and I’ll be sure to let the president find out exactly what you planted in his office the last time you were in this building.”

Every drop of blood drained from my face. I tried to step back, but the wall stopped me.

I dragged in another steadying breath. Then another. And another.