Page 67 of Princessa
As I explained much of that to Arabella, a visible shudder ran through her. “How much do you want?”
“What?” Her ridiculous assumption made me choke back a scornful laugh. “You think this is aboutmoney? Oh, please. I’ve plenty of that. This is about you…leaving to save face.”
Hands dropping to her hips, she blinked several times. “I’m not going anywhere. It’s not like me suddenly out of the picture will make him run straight to you. Breaking news: Graysonhatesyou.”
It was a pitiful sight to see—the poor, unworldly woman glaring at me like I had no fucking sense. I knew he hated my guts.
But I hated him more. I wanted to kick him where it mattered.
His heart.
Grayson lovedPrincessa—that much was obvious.
Her leaving, weeks before the Gala, no less, would’ve utterly destroy him.
“I don’t need to save face.”
She had balls to not back down, that was true. Yet, I knew better than to think she’d be shallow-minded enough to only save herself.
Arabella cared way too much about her family’s image and I had a strong hunch that her unwavering concern about image crossed over to the man she loved.
Rising from the chair, I made slow, calculated steps toward her as she stood, motionless, in the center of the living room floor. “This isn’t about you,Princess of Savannah. If this video—hell, even the audio alone—gets in the hands of, say, The Royal Buzz, TMZ, Wake Up America”—I paused as we stood face-to-face—“or your fan-flooded Instagram, think about what its release will do to not only your squeaky clean image, but your family, your parents’ prized hotel chain, yourGrayson.”
Tears welled up in her eyes and it was obvious she was fighting to keep it together.
So, as if beating a dead horse, I continued to wear her down. “The video is pretty graphic, in high-def resolution. There would be no mistaking it’s you. Tits bouncing up and down as you straddled him reverse-cowgirl style. I must say, watching the two of you come together got me all worked up. Although”—my gaze crawled down to her chest before resting back on a set of tear-dampened eyes—“I prefer my women to have a little more tits to bounce. Regardless, this is not the sort of thing we’d expect from a girl like you. Surely, your naughty sexual appetite will be a shocker for the nuns at Savannah Smiles or even the ones at Castle Primo.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “I seriously doubt the Royal Priest will bless your engagement at the Gala. And how will Prince Grayson show his face in a country that was founded on a strict set of morals?”
I played their sexcapade-filled video one last time.
“Oh yes, Grayson! You like it when I ride your—”
“Shut it off!” Arabella clipped.
“Oh, what an international scandal this could cause,” I pressed on, the lewd sounds of their unfiltered fucking playing in the background. “The headline would say something like: Andorra’s beloved Prince Grayson caught on video getting busy with an American, Social-MediaNothing.”
“Tell me what you want me to do.” Her words came out breathless, defeated.
“Leave. Go back home. Hide out in Timbuktu. Have Elon Musk strap you to his next expedition to Mars. I don’t fucking care, as long as it’s far away from here. Far away from Grayson. Because if not, so help me,A-ra-bell-aRoyale, all of theworldwill see this sex video, and believe me, it will destroy the image of every single person you love.”
