Page 19 of Stolen Princess

“How come?”

“I don’t like fighting with you.” It’s the truth. I don’t. I’m alone here ninety percent of the time, and when we fight, it makes my week even worse. Plus, part of me wonders if I’ll see her again after this. If I’m severing the only person in my life by being selfish and chasing something I know I shouldn’t.

She releases a sigh and sits beside me. “I don’t either. I reacted strongly. A lot of bad things have been happening all at once.”

“Your best friend? The one who died?”

“She was the only person in my world who understood me.”

Her words cut deeply, but I don’t focus on that. “What was it like?” I ask. “Having a best friend?”

She falls silent for a moment, and my tears finally fall. I wish they hadn’t. She hates it when I cry. Calls it a weakness, and I typically only allow myself to do it when she’s not home. Today I’m overwhelmed.

“It was nice,” she answers. “But that’s the reality we live in. People die every day. Oftentimes violently. Loving someone is a liability. It’ll also only hurt you in the end. You have me, and I’m all you need. The rest will only be painful.”

“What if something happens to you?”

“Nothing is going to happen to me,” she promises. “You keep me young, and I hide away from the other dangers.”

She takes a sip of her coffee, and that’s that. Discussion over.

Part of me thinks I should reconsider, and that’s a thought that holds on tight through breakfast and cleaning up the kitchen. My mother leaves, promising she’ll return next Saturday and that she’ll bring me a cake.

I smile and hug her extra tight, but the moment the door closes and the chime sounds indicating she’s gone past the shrub line, I make Rhys a coffee and bring him up a tray of food.

I set it down on the table, the sofa empty, but my bed’s not. He’s leaning against my pillow with his legs stretched out in front of him, a hand behind his head, while his other holds up one of my paperbacks.

“I’ll be honest with you,” he starts, setting the book down on his lap. “This is my first fantasy romance book, and it’s pretty damn good.”

“That’s one of my favorites,” I tell him.

“I can see why. You read some hot stuff.”

I don’t blush this time. I’m here alone. What else do I have but fantasies?

“Still time to reconsider.”

That’s what I’ve done all morning. But if he leaves and I stay and I’m alone again, I’m not sure I’ll survive the week. “I’m good. Your food is in the other room. I’m going to finish getting ready.”

He stands and heads in there, and I gather the rest of my things, throwing in last-minute items I doubt I’ll need. Dishes clatter around and silverware scrapes porcelain. Nothing was moved. Nothing appears to have been touched.

“You didn’t look for it?” I call out, almost disappointed.

“You told me I’d never find it,” he replies around a mouthful of food. He groans. “You make the best food.”

“Why are you being nice to me?” I stare down at the indentation his body left on my bed. I had a man in my bed, and this is not how I ever thought that would go.

A chair grates against the tile floor before his head pops around the wall. “I’m not. You’d be wrong to think of me that way.”

“Why’s that?”

He wipes his mouth with a napkin and balls it up in his fist. “If you want the truth, I’m a con man. A thief. One who is brilliant at social engineering.”

“Social engineering?”

“I know how to be charming and say exactly what someone needs to hear in order to get what I want.”

My eyelashes flutter as I absorb that. It also makes me sick and feel stupid. “Why are you telling me this?”