The Controversial Princess (The Smoke & Mirrors Duology #1)(62)

“What?” Eddie asks, his attention divided between the back of Damon’s head and the back window. “What is it?”

“A fan,” Damon quips.

“Keep driving,” I order, but a red light flashes up ahead and Damon starts to slow the car. “No, keep driving.”

“Ma’am, we’re on Oxford Circus. You want me to run someone down?”

I slowly turn back and look out of the window. I find Damon’s men exiting the car behind, blocking someone from coming to the car. What is he doing? I quickly ring him, and he’s just as quick to answer. “Josh, are you out of your mind?”

“Yeah, I am.” There’s a few scuffles and a few curses, and I see Josh’s own security wrestling with mine. “Get the fuck off me,” Josh yells.

“Oh my God,” I breathe.

Eddie laughs, a short sharp laugh that’s loaded with sarcasm. “Nothing to tell,” he mimics in a silly female voice.

I put my hand on the door to get out, but Eddie dives across the car and stops me. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to sort this out.”

“Adeline, don’t be stupid. We’re in the middle of Oxford Circus, for Christ’s sake. He’s causing enough of a scene already. Add you to the mix and all kinds of shit will hit the fan.”

I throw myself back in the seat and grudgingly admit he’s right, though not out loud. “Get me home,” I order shortly, before I dive out of this car and give onlookers the show of the year. Maybe even the decade. Josh Jameson, my drug of choice, is a few meters behind trying to get to me, and there is nothing I can, or should, do about it. I feel like I’m going cold turkey. Being starved of something I so desperately want. Or, more disturbingly, something I desperately need.



BY THE TIME I MAKE it to my suite, ignoring everyone who tries to talk to me for the rest of the journey, I’ve had numerous missed calls from Josh. But I wanted privacy to speak to him.

I shake my head at Olive as she goes to follow me into my bedroom after I darted past her at the entrance, where she was waiting to take my coat. I shut the door, kick off my shoes, and accept the next call from him.

“Josh.” I drop to the couch in my room and wait with bated breath for what he has to say.

“You drive me insane,” he informs me frankly.

“This has to stop.”

“No.”

“Yes. You leave London next week, anyway.”

“This isn’t stopping. You don’t want it to. I don’t want it to. I’ll admit, Adeline, at first you were a great fuckin’ challenge, no matter how attracted to you I was. But now …” He drifts off, and I defiantly force down my hope. Now? Now, what? I shouldn’t ask.

I push the tips of my fingers into my temple in despair. “They will—”

“I don’t give a fuck about them,” he spits angrily. “I didn’t think you did, either.”

“I usually don’t.”

“Then tell me, why now?”

The truth is my only option. “Because I think I would care if they took you away from me.”

There’s a long pause down the line, one that seems to stretch for an eternity. He finally speaks. “You think you will care?”

I close my eyes and reach up to massage my chest. This is all too much. I’m drowning and flying, and it is hurting my mind. “I know I’ll care.”

“We’ll be discreet.”

My eyes spring open in shock. “What? Like trying to storm my car on Oxford Circus? Like turning up at an art gallery that I’m opening?”

“Like I said, you drive me insane. And in case it’s escaped your notice, you are the Princess of fuckin’ England, Adeline. A man has to think outside the box if he’s going to get to see you.”

I laugh, despite myself. “And you are Josh Jameson. Don’t you see how much this can’t work?”

“No. I only see you. It would seem you have become a bit of an Achilles heel, Your Highness.”

My heart flutters as I get up and start to pace my room, my head in bedlam. “Josh, I …”

“Do you want to see me?”

I come to a stop and squeeze my eyes shut, my mind vehemently demanding I say no. “Yes.” My heart wins easily.

Josh breathes out. “Jesus, Adeline. I can’t even begin to explain how into you I am. I want to tie you up and whip that fine ass of yours to kingdom come.”

“Josh—”

“Don’t try to fool me that you don’t love the sense of freedom you get from me restraining you, of letting me have all control over you.”

He’s right. I go into my bathroom and put myself in front of the mirror while I work my way out of my dress, turning to see the fading evidence of Josh’s heavy hand on my backside. The marks will be gone soon. “Why do you like that?” I ask. “Why do you like whipping me?”

He’s silent for a few moments, contemplating his answer. “You need it.”

Again, he’s right. I zoned out and strangely found peace in my crazy world. He knows what he does for me.

“Have dinner with me,” Josh suggests, gentle and pleading.

I can’t help the small disbelieving laugh that escapes me. “Where?” I ask. “It’s not like I can wander into a local restaurant and order the daily special.” Grabbing my robe, I slip it on.