away because of a fetish?” A hollow laugh slipped past her lips. “Bullshit.”
The prince’s gaze became veiled.
“You may not l-love me now, but I can make you love me. I can, and you know it—-”
“If that’s what you’d like to believe,” the prince said quietly, “that’s your choice—-”
She charged to him, slapping him so hard her fingers left an imprint on his cheek. “Stop it!” Her voice shook. “Just stop with the b-bullshit, okay?”
Staring at him, Fawn forgot about Grant being in the same room with them, forgot that the door was still open and that the whole world could hear them. She forgot about everything except the need to make him realize she had to be beside him.
Her fists clenched.
There was nowhere else for her to go.
Staring up at the prince, she said brokenly, “You made me so happy. So happy, prince, without even trying.”
But the prince didn’t say anything, only pulling her into his arms, and this time she could no longer stop the tears from falling.
She felt his lips brush against her hair, and it was almost like hearing him speak.
I’m sorry.
She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she could pretend she didn’t understand, wishing she didn’t love him so much that she was able to hear even the words he wasn’t saying.
“Please,” she choked out. “Please just think about it.”
But the prince only started stroking her hair.
The tears fell faster, and she found herself clutching his shirt. “D-don’t you think that means I can make you happy, too?”
The prince’s fingers slowed, threading through the strands of her hair one final time.
Goodbye.
And then he was pulling away.
“Baby, don’t go.” The words were torn out of her.
But the prince still turned his back on her, and all she could do was stand there, crying.
Surreal, everything was so painfully surreal—-
When the prince started to walk away, her body started to shake with uncontrollable sobs.
Igor, you were wrong.
I’m not his special lady.
And then he was gone.
Time slipped past her, and she started to sway.
Grant caught her before she fell. “Fawn—-” He lifted her up and hurriedly laid her on the couch. Kneeling next to her, he turned her face to him—-
Shiny, shattered eyes stared back at him.
God, God, oh God—
It was like looking into the mirror.
Grant yanked her to him, his arms closing around the only girl he loved.
This was his fault, he thought sickly, all this was his goddamn fault.
His arms tightened around Fawn. She would have never fallen in the prince’s clutches if he hadn’t betrayed her, wouldn’t be hurting if he hadn’t—-
“He’ll come back, w-won’t he?”
The sound of her voice made Grant want to weep, and he could only hug Fawn more tightly, telling himself that he was just imagining it.
Dear God, please let me be just imagining it.
Please let her not be as broken as me.
“You b-believe the same thing, don’t you?”
Oh God.
Fawn pushed him away, her shiny, shattered eyes looking up at him with the need to hear a lie. “He’ll come back. Right?”
God, oh God.
Once, Grant had thought nothing could be worse than what he had gone through at the prince’s hands.
But now he knew he was wrong.
Seeing someone as kind and as innocent as Fawn drowning in a sea of pain the same way he had—-
This was worse.
A thousand times worse—-
“You b-believe me, d-don’t you?”
Grant swallowed hard. “I b-believe you.” He might be broken beyond repair, but he wouldn’t let the same thing happen to Fawn. “He’ll come back.” His voice tightened. “I promise.”
****
The prince didn’t allow himself to think but instead threw himself into work, both the real kind and the secret type, saving and destroying lives, knowing from experience that it was the only way to move on.
It was how he had survived the loss of his parents.
It was how he had coped with Georgie’s death.
And this one wouldn’t be any different.
One day, the devastating pain that kept him awake every damn night would pass.
One day, he would find it in himself to be glad that he had done the right thing.
One day, he would be able to breathe without thinking of her.
One fucking day.
But until then—-
He would continue to pretend.
Because pretensions made the world go round.
When Grant Bennett contacted him, a month had already passed without the prince remembering a single fucking day. The text message the younger man had sent him was irritatingly cryptic, and for one moment he was tempted to ignore it altogether.
Showing it to Noah and Igor, he asked flatly, “What do you think of it?”