X: Command Me through Alexander's Eyes - Geneva Lee Page 0,11

feel her slipping under my control. She’s going to be mine. And then pain flickers through her eyes.

“No,” she whispers.

I don’t want to let her go. I want to kiss her until her no becomes a yes. I’d seen it there. What changed? Lowering her to her feet, I spot the tremble of her legs, but I don’t trust myself to steady her.

“You’re a smart girl.” I pause, wanting to ask her why. Instead, I kiss her forehead. One final taste. “Norris will see you home safely, and I’ll have my people work on getting rid of those reporters.”

“Thank you.” The regret I feel coats her words.

“Goodbye, Clara Bishop.” I stop myself from telling her I don’t want her to go.

She backs away from me as though she can’t trust me not to follow her. When she reaches the door, there’s nothing left to say except one thing. “Goodbye.”

The glass panel closes behind her, and I force myself to stay here. In this room. In this spot. It’s more difficult than I’d imagined. Maybe that’s because this is the second time we’ve walked away from each other. Maybe because this time she said no. I respect that. At least, I want to. I’ve almost fooled myself into thinking I could let her go. I’m out the door and on my way down the stairs before I realize I can’t.

I can’t explain it—to myself or her. But I’ll make her understand.

Clara Bishop belongs to me.

Chapter Four

Pushing my way through the crowd, I make my way through Brimstone. But I’m caught in an endless, circular hell, glimpsing Clara and Norris but never quite reaching them. Around me, mobiles come out, but I don’t give a fuck if I’ve been recognized. I can only think of getting to her before she leaves again.

And then I make a decision.

If I do, I won’t let her go again. If I don’t, it’s a sign. I’m playing a stupid game with myself, but I’m a man who’s willing to gamble. I’ve never believed in destiny, but since I met Clara, I’m starting to have a little faith.

Spotting Norris’s salt and pepper hair in the crush of club-goers isn’t difficult, given that he’s got twenty years on everyone else. Forcing my way to him, I discover he’s alone.

“Where is she?” I demand, the noise carrying away my words. He gets the point and gestures toward the main entrance. I can’t hear him, but I know what he’s saying.

She ran.

Smart girl. Stupid girl. I don’t know how to feel. She listened to my warning and took action. I just wish she hadn’t run outside where a swarm of paparazzi has been camped out all night.

I don’t think. I follow. There’s no time for apologies when I push people to the side or shove between couples. Norris catches up and helps to clear the path.

When we reach the door, the bouncer’s attention is on the scene unfolding on the street. I hear the reporters before I see them.

“Miss Bishop! Smile, love!”

“Miss Bishop, how long have you been involved with the Prince?”

“Miss Bishop, is it true that the King has condemned your relationship?”

“Were you secretly married in Oxford?”

I open my mouth to redirect their attention to me—to give Clara a chance to run. I didn’t reach her first—they did—and it’s all the reminder I need that I won’t drag her into this. I won’t let her endure the mud-slinging and invasions of privacy. Clara wasn’t cursed with this life; I was. It’s not her burden to bear. But before I get one word out, she steps in front of the lot of them.

“I’m sorry to inform you all that I have no relationship with Prince Alexander. Someone has made a dreadful mistake. I do not know the Prince. I am not in love with him. And I highly doubt the King gives two figs about me.”

Something inside me snaps into place as I watch her, but there’s no time to consider what it is. The paparazzi surround her within seconds, followed by onlookers eager to get a glimpse. Clara disappears from view, and my heart vanishes along with her. In its spot, anger blisters and bursts from me. “Enough!”

Questions die on lips. People back away. No one here will dare question my authority, nor will they keep me from her. I take a step and pause, waiting for self-preservation to kick in. When it does, a path clears for me, and I see her on the ground, her hands covering