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He squeezes, letting me know just how serious he is. My eyes sting. My heart starts to race. My feet kick as my hand scrabble for purchase. Pinpricks dance behind my eyes as I reach for andfail to find purchase on the sleeves of his tunic. I can hear my heart in my ears. A heavy thud pounds in my head like a sluggish drum. Tears run in heavy streams down my face.
Just as I’m about to black out, he tosses me back onto the sofa. I bounce, roll, heaving huge gasps of air. I’m about the fall on the floor when powerful hands pull me back.
Dark spots dance in front of my blurry gaze before his face comes into focus. His mouth is a grim line.
“Don’t make me punish you, Lyric. I will make your life a living hell.” He promises.
“You already have.” I say, curling away from him, burying my face into the cushions, allowing the devastation to fully cover me as sobs wrack through me in vicious waves.
Chapter Thirteen
SHE AIN’T NOTHING BUT GOLD DIGGER?
LYRIC
Trouble at the Palace?
Reports are flooding in that there is trouble in the fragile paradise of His Royal Highness, Prince Hassan, and High Consort, Lyric. Several palace sources make claims of a huge fight the night of the earthquake. How in the midst of this devastation did the couple find time to have a domestic squabble leaves many in dismay. Some say the High Consort was upset about the lack of attention the prince has given her after he did the honorable thing and married her, giving her child the highest of honors, naming him heir. Others claim High Consort Lyric is demanding more trinkets along with properties and even a yacht of her own, calling the one His Royal Majesty the King already owns an antique. Many are tiring of the tactics they say are of a gold digger, or is it the adulation of her millions of fans that she misses?
“Man, fuck them.” Fi hisses, throwing the folded newspaper on the ottoman beside us as we lounge in the garden.
“Don’t let it bother you.” I wave dismissively. “So, how are things with you?” I lift a brow at her, smiling when I see her blush.
“Good, but you should have let me come clean.” She chides, pouring us both a tea.
“He wasn’t in the mood to listen.” I say low, plucking a rose petal from my kaftan. I lift my hand, letting the wind pick it up and take it. Briefly I watch it dance away, a little jealous of its freedom.
“Girl, what did he do? He didn’t —” Her voice sharpens in horror.
“No, nothing like that. I’ve never seen him so mad. Not even when I first got here.” I shake my head, remembering that night a week ago, like it happened just moments before. “Anyway, I haven’t seen him since that night. He’s only in long enough to give Ayaan a kiss, then leaves. Always when I am otherwise occupied.”
“He’s a demented motherfucker,” she hisses. Her vehemence making her beautiful face even more expressive. “We have to get you and Ayaan out of here.”
“I notice you’re leaving yourself out of the equation, friend.” I smirk at her. “Listen, when I’m ready to leave, I’ll let you know. Don’t you do anything else on my behalf. You’ve helped enough.” I dead-eye her, pressing my lips in a hard line to let her know I mean business. “Prosper’s out of commission, anyway.” Lowering my voice so the nosey-Nellys lurking around who are making it their business to make me look like a fucking clown ass gold digger don’t overhear what I have to say. I inform Fi about everything Hassan told me about Prosper’s plight.
“That’s so messed up.” She shakes her head in stunned disbelief. More than a little afraid for our friend.
“I know, so imagine what Hassan will do if I leave or even try to again. He’s all powerful here.” I don’t add that leaving wasthe last thing on my mind. Now, I’m not so sure, but I know a fruitless cause when I see it. I’m only a consort, not his queen. I have no power outside of this suite of rooms and even then, it’s limited.
“So please chill because all of this is falling back on me.” Reaching out, I squeeze her hand. “I know y’all meant well. Getting caught cost me what little trust he has for me. Now, I’m back to square one.”
“Man, I’m sorry.” She squeezes my hand back, regret doing nothing to mar her pretty face.
Releasing my grip, I grab the cool glass of mint tea and sip it, letting the refreshing taste soothe me.
“Has he come back since that night?” I’m already shaking my head.
“I saw on the news he’s staying close to the sites instead of coming all the way back here.” I leave out the fact that he could take a helicopter home if he wanted to. He doesn’t. Maybe he doesn’t trust himself to be around me. I don’t trust him being around me, either.
That night created a chasm between us I’m not sure can be mended. With our attraction, sex is probably the easiest thing between us. Sex is not a cure at all — especially when trust as fragile as ours is broken.
“It’s fine.” I shiver even though it’s not cold, recalling the pure antipathy of his gaze when he accused me of trying to take Ayaan away from him. “It’s probably more convenient for him. It’s better for him not to waste resources coming home every evening.”
“Umhm.” Pursing her lips in a ‘yeah, right’ kind of way, Fi drinks her mint tea and doesn’t comment further.
“Excuse me, Mistress,” I nod, letting the attendant come forward.
“Her majesty would like to join you and Miss Fi for a brief moment.” Smiling at us both, she retreats because it’s not an ask. The queen does not ask, especially to a lowly consort who everyone knows her son only married out of duress. That is what the people believe, and I’ve seen nothing from the palace’s press office to set the record straight. There has been nothing reiterating that he chose me, though both his parents know he kidnapped and forced me here. Like I get defending your son at all costs, lady, but don’t throw me to the wolves in the process.