X: Command Me through Alexander's Eyes - Geneva Lee Page 0,81

My father needs to see that Clara will be at my side whether he wants it or not. “Don’t tempt me, or we’ll never make it to our scheduled appearance.”

“So I’m not the only one with a printed itinerary?”

“Unfortunately not.” I offer her my arm. At least, hers doesn’t include a bloody fox hunt. “To the Billiard Room?”

“Yes. I was lost.”

“I would have found you.” I would always find her. In a crowd of people, she will always be the first one I see. It’s as though there’s a thread attaching her to me, always tugging me in her direction. I can’t explain it.

I sure as hell can’t ignore it.

The usual wankers are present in the Billiard Room. The only friendly faces are Edward and David, who are making a good show of being there alone. Although as we enter, I catch Edward’s eyes sweep toward David as though he’s checking on him. I want to wish he’d come out and say what everyone suspects, but I know all too well the position that will put David in. It’s why I edge slightly closer to Clara now as though I can protect her from the vipers circling around us.

I lead her into the room, dropping my voice to a whisper. “An hour. Do you want a drink?”

I’m not sure if that’s good self-preservation instincts or not. I’m about to tell her just that when a valet enters the room, glancing around until his eyes fall on me. I’d expected my father to raise a bigger fuss about Clara’s presence. The valet comes to me and whispers, “Your father would like to speak with you, your highness.”

Of course, he would. I grab Clara’s arm as he adds, “Alone.”

Naturally. “I need to attend to something. Edward will look after you.”

I motion for Edward, who strides toward her. I’m already thankful I spoke with him earlier. I don’t have to explain in front of her where I’m going or worry that she’ll be left to deal with the rest of these snakes.

It’s not just my father waiting. His mother is there as well. My grandmother Mary looks like what happens if you leave a princess out in the sun too long. The skin around her lips is pinched from age into a permanent scowl of disapproval. Her once blonde hair is now silver, carefully styled into a helmet of curls. She sits across the desk from him.

“Grandmum.” I move to her, kissing her cheek before taking the other vacant seat. “You look well.”

“You brought that girl,” she responds disdainfully.

I force a tight smile.

“I told father I invited Clara. We all have friends here.” I don’t look at him as I say it, but I saw Pepper in the Billiard Room. It’s no surprise that she’s here, but it’s hardly his place to lecture me on bringing a woman for the weekend.

“She’s just a friend then,” Grandmum says carefully.

“A girlfriend,” I admit.

She gasps as though I struck her, and my father grunts something under his breath.

“Would you rather I call her a friend and take her to bed in secret?” I ask him pointedly. Our eyes meet, the one trait we share, and he knows I’m calling him out. I have no idea if his mother knows that he’s screwing Pepper, but I doubt he wants me to bring it up.

“You have responsibilities,” he says, his face returning to a more neutral passivity. “Clara is very pretty, but you can’t make life decisions based on what your dick wants.”

I cross my arms to keep myself from lunging across the desk to strangle him. “This is the twenty-first century. Clara is well-bred—”

“She’s American,” my grandmother says like I’ve invited a mutt into the house.

I turn my glare on her, challenging her to continue explaining what she means by that statement. The Royal family are the original snobs, but nothing gets under their thin-skin more than Americans. The country didn’t have the decency to close their eyes and think of England.

“You need to be prepared to assume my role—” my father continues.

“Are you planning to retire?” I half expect him to live forever to prevent me from ascending the throne. I want him to, actually. I have no desire to be king.

“I do not approve of your flippancy,” Grandmum lectures.

But my father looks as though he’s got a headache. It’s how he’s looked most of my life. I recognize the temple-rubbing frustration from every conversation we’ve ever had. “There are situations that you need to be