The Controversial Princess (The Smoke & Mirrors Duology #1)(31)
I shouldn’t think of Josh Jameson ever again, because despite him doing everything he could to make me feel less precious, he actually made me feel more precious. Treasured. And that is dangerous territory to venture into, for no other reason than I know I cannot sustain a long relationship with Josh Jameson. He’ll be taken away from me faster than he caught my attention in the first place.
OF COURSE, MY SLEEP IS restless, and I wake too many times with a startle, echoes of our cries of pleasure and visions of our tangled bodies invading my slumber. By dawn, I am utterly exhausted, aching, and as I stare at my reflection in the full-length mirror in the dressing area of my suite, I’m horrified by what I see. Bruises, welts, and red, tender skin. I’m disturbed I let him do this to me. And, worse, I loved every minute, almost goaded him, pushed him on. What on earth? Shame engulfs me. It is a misplaced emotion, and I really have no idea what I should do with it.
“Your Highness?” Kim’s voice drifts into my suite, and I urgently scan the room for something to cover my naked, marked body. Oh my goodness, I cannot let anyone see me like this.
I spot my robe lying across the back of my velvet couch and quickly snatch it up, throwing it over my shoulders. “In here.”
“As ordered, not too early.” She stops at the door and runs eyes up and down my body, settling on my wrists. “What the hell happened to you?” she screeches incredulously, pointing at my arms.
I look down and cringe when I see the angry marks, not even remotely concealed by the sleeves of my robe. Because my robe has three-quarter length sleeves. Bugger. I take my arms behind my back and scan the floor at my bare feet. “It’s nothing.”
“Nothing?” Kim marches over to me and seizes my arms from their hiding place, gasping when she gets the full visual force of the welts. “Oh my God.”
I reclaim my sore limbs and head for the bathroom, pulling my hair into a ponytail as I go. “I’ll be going to the stables.” I tell her, my curt tone making sure she dares not interrogate me further. “Please ask Damon to have the car ready in an hour.” I shut the door behind me, just catching sight of Kim’s dropped jaw.
Letting my back fall against the wood, I sigh, inspecting my wounds. Christ, I look like I’ve been brutally beaten. Not that I need to remind myself of the state of my arse, I lift my robe and turn toward the mirror over the vanity unit, staring at the lash marks across my bottom and upper thighs. They seem to be getting fiercer. Maybe riding isn’t such a good idea.
“Adeline?” Kim calls through the door. “Your phone is ringing.”
“Take a message,” I reply, flipping the shower on and letting my robe fall to my feet. I make sure the setting is cool, flinching at the mere thought of hot water on my sore skin. I hear Kim greet my caller as I walk into the shower stall, but a knock on the door stops me from reaching the spray. “Yes?”
“I believe you’ll want to take this,” Kim says, almost dryly.
“Who is it?”
“Josh Jameson.”
My eyes bug at the closed door. I gave him my number! I fumble for my robe and sling it on, yanking the door open to find Kim with high, interested eyebrows. Her red hair—as usual, pulled back—ensures every disapproving line on her face is visible. “The actor?” she hisses, thrusting my mobile at me.
I snatch it and push it into my chest to muffle what he will hear. “Yes, the actor,” I answer indignantly. “What of it?”
“Did he do that to you?” She motions a limp hand up and down my body.
“Of course not,” I snap, looking down at my phone, wondering why on earth I gave him my number. I certainly don’t want to talk to him. So in a moment of impulse, I disconnect the call.
“Who gave Mr. Jameson your number and why would he be calling you?”
I cringe on the inside. “I don’t know, probably Eddie. Mr. Jameson attended the garden party at the palace by invitation of the King. His father is an American senator. Knows my father.” My phone rings again, and my jaw clenches as I reject the call.
“So, again, why is he calling you?”
“I don’t know.” My shortness doesn’t affect Kim in the slightest.
“Do I need to call a meeting with Felix?” she asks, going into fixing mode without even knowing what needs to be fixed. Goodness, she would disintegrate with panic. I’m halfway there myself.
“No, you do not.” It’s my body that needs fixing, and Felix can’t help with that. And maybe my willpower, too. “Now, can I please take a shower in peace?”
“Sure. Jenny’s on her way up to do your hair.”
“Send her home. I’m only going to the stables, and I have no arrangements for this evening.”
“As you wish.” Kim nods in feigned obedience, her eyes constantly falling to my wrists. “I’ll see you downstairs, Princess Adeline.” She’s being sarcastic, placing emphasis on my title as if it is a joke that I am royalty. I guess it is.
“Very well.” I shut the door and look at the screen of my phone where a voicemail is waiting for me. Perhaps it’s stupid of me, but I click and raise my phone to my ear. His deep voice sinks into me like I could be a sponge, reviving every wonderful feeling I felt with him.
“Your Highness, I hope you slept well and woke feeling as satisfied as I am.” I scoff, tempted to delete his message before listening to any more. But I don’t. Of course I don’t. Damn me. Satisfied? More like really dissatisfied. I listen on. “I’m ready for round two of our game. Call me.”