Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 141385 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141385 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
“The real me? Does that mean you think I’m acting right now?”
“A little bit.” He peers over a me with a smile toying on his lips. “But then again, I believe little parts of the real you are in every act you put on. That’s how I know you’ll be fine tonight. You’re resilient, and you have what it takes to deal with the arse-licking and bullshitting that comes with this position. Do you think I’m going out here and showing these people who I truly am?”
That’s an annoyingly good point.
“You have a lot of faith in me for someone who just admitted he has no idea who I really am.”
“Does anyone know who they really are?” That smile tickles at the corners of his eyes again. “In your case, I wager you’ve just never felt safe enough to truly find out.”
I swallow. What is he, a fucking therapist? “You—”
“But that changes tonight.” He slips my hand from his elbow and raises his arm, then lays my hand softly on his forearm. “Whatever happens out here, whatever they say to you... You’re safe. Nobody will ever hurt you again, Hattie. I promise.”
“You can’t promise that,” I say quietly. “Nobody can.”
“You’re right.” There’s an edge to his voice—a dark, chilling sharpness that makes my skin prickle. “Then I promise that if they do hurt you, they won’t have a chance to make that same mistake twice.”
I lift my gaze to his face right as he looks down at me. As if a switch is flipped, his eyes are bright, and his lips are curving into a warm smile that dampens down any chill I felt at his words just now.
Huh.
I’m not the only one with a dark side.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he murmurs. “Are you ready?”
“You’ll stay with me, right?” I glance at the door, wishing I could clench my fist and dig my nails into my palm. “You won’t... Leave me alone?”
“I’ll be with you.” He faces the doors. “You won’t be alone anymore.”
I nod, swallowing back the lump in my throat. “You promise?”
“On my life.”
And, for the first time in my life, I believe a promise.
I believe—no, I trust—that he’s telling me the truth. That he won’t leave me to face this alone. As if this isn’t a situation entirely of my own making, of my own machinations, of my own sick desire for revenge.
As if this isn’t something he didn’t have to have anything to do with at all.
“Just like we practiced,” he murmurs, leaning in.
“Don’t let me trip on the stairs this time,” I mutter back.
He stifles a laugh. “Don’t worry. I’ll catch you if you do. It’ll be quite the show.”
“You aren’t helping.”
The doorman nods at us, and I draw in a deep breath.
It’s go time.
There’s no backing out now.
When these doors open, my entire life will blow up. Everything as I know it will shatter into millions of irreparable pieces, and the cogs of my dreams will finally begin to turn.
I will draw the first weapon. I will take the first blood.
And I will show the Sinclairs exactly who I am.
I’ll show them that my childhood traumas didn’t weaken me. They strengthened me.
They didn’t make me fear.
They made me feared.
And if they don’t fear me, then they’re going to learn to. Very, very quickly.
“Introducing His Royal Highness the Crown Prince and his fiancée, Miss Harriet Sinclair!”
The doors before us are opened, and we take our first steps into the ballroom. There’s almost a hesitation, as if the echo of my name haunts its way around the room. The silence holds, thickening almost suffocatingly, as the air ripples with tangible shock and surprise.
Then, slowly.
Clap.
Clap.
Clap.
Just like that, raucous applause drowns out the classical music being played in the corner.
And, just as Her Majesty promised they would be, my family are at the foot of the stairs.
My father with his face ashen, his jaw slack, his eyes glazed with shock.
Rosalyn with her flushed cheeks, furrowing brow, and clenching jaw.
And Jasmine.
Poor, sweet, innocent Jasmine, gripping onto her mother’s arm, staring up at me as her world crashes around her, as all the pieces of her carefully constructed fantasy melt away into nothingness.
Shock.
Anger.
Hatred.
It emanates off them in waves, thick and stomach-twisting, a bitter ripple I can almost taste in the air.
But me?
I feel only one thing.
Euphoria.
It’s the only way to describe this… this… this.
The rush hits me like a drug. A sweet, heady, dangerous hit of delight that hurtles through my body, touching places I didn’t know could feel so good.
It’s satisfaction.
Pure, unadulterated satisfaction.
The ultimate ‘fuck you.’
Everything I’ve ever dreamt and more.
Finn leans in, bringing his lips close to my ear. “Well?” he murmurs, his voice rough. “How does it feel?”
I turn my face towards his, meeting his apprehensive gaze, and let my lips curve into a full smile. “Better than I ever dreamt it could.”