Page 80 of X: Command Me through Alexander’s Eyes

Chapter Thirty

Ilounge in the hall, hoping to catch Clara before anyone else does. When she finally emerges, she steals my breath from me. There is something effortless about her. She’s not trying to impress anyone. She is simply beautiful. Her navy gown skims along her curves, pulling my thoughts in indecent directions and bringing out her blue eyes. It reminds me a little of the dress she wore that first time—in the lift. Thankfully, it’s not that exact same dress, or I’d already have her against the wall. “Poppet?”

She sighs as I find my way to her side. I hate that I’m not the one making her make those sounds. “Save those for me.”

“I’m not allowed to sigh?” she asks sharply.

“Oh, I insist that you sigh.” I lower my lips to her jaw and whisper the words across her skin. “And whimper and moan when I’m fucking you. I demand it. I’m a selfish man, and those noises belong to me.”

“I’d be happy to comply.” She grabs my suit jacket, and I’m struck by how forward she’s becoming, channeling the possessiveness I display toward her back at me. I rather like it.

I have to pull away to keep myself from carrying her off to a room, locking the door, and not leaving the bed the entire weekend. It’s what I want. I don’t want to waste time on the simpering idiots that finagle invitations to the country every year, but I also need to prove a point. My father needs to see that Clara will be at my side whether he wants it or not. “Don’t tempt me, or we’ll never make it to our scheduled appearance.”

“So I’m not the only one with a printed itinerary?”

“Unfortunately not.” I offer her my arm. At least, hers doesn’t include a bloody fox hunt. “To the Billiard Room?”

“Yes. I was lost.”

“I would have found you.” I would always find her. In a crowd of people, she will always be the first one I see. It’s as though there’s a thread attaching her to me, always tugging me in her direction. I can’t explain it.

I sure as hell can’t ignore it.

The usual wankers are present in the Billiard Room. The only friendly faces are Edward and David, who are making a good show of being there alone. Although as we enter, I catch Edward’s eyes sweep toward David as though he’s checking on him. I want to wish he’d come out and say what everyone suspects, but I know all too well the position that will put David in. It’s why I edge slightly closer to Clara now as though I can protect her from the vipers circling around us.

I lead her into the room, dropping my voice to a whisper. “An hour. Do you want a drink?”

I’m not sure if that’s good self-preservation instincts or not. I’m about to tell her just that when a valet enters the room, glancing around until his eyes fall on me. I’d expected my father to raise a bigger fuss about Clara’s presence. The valet comes to me and whispers, “Your father would like to speak with you, your highness.”

Of course, he would. I grab Clara’s arm as he adds, “Alone.”

Naturally. “I need to attend to something. Edward will look after you.”

I motion for Edward, who strides toward her. I’m already thankful I spoke with him earlier. I don’t have to explain in front of her where I’m going or worry that she’ll be left to deal with the rest of these snakes.

It’s not just my father waiting. His mother is there as well. My grandmother Mary looks like what happens if you leave a princess out in the sun too long. The skin around her lips is pinched from age into a permanent scowl of disapproval. Her once blonde hair is now silver, carefully styled into a helmet of curls. She sits across the desk from him.

“Grandmum.” I move to her, kissing her cheek before taking the other vacant seat. “You look well.”

“You brought that girl,” she responds disdainfully.

I force a tight smile.

“I told father I invited Clara. We all have friends here.” I don’t look at him as I say it, but I saw Pepper in the Billiard Room. It’s no surprise that she’s here, but it’s hardly his place to lecture me on bringing a woman for the weekend.

“She’s just a friend then,” Grandmum says carefully.

“A girlfriend,” I admit.

She gasps as though I struck her, and my father grunts something under his breath.

“Would you rather I call her a friend and take her to bed in secret?” I ask him pointedly. Our eyes meet, the one trait we share, and he knows I’m calling him out. I have no idea if his mother knows that he’s screwing Pepper, but I doubt he wants me to bring it up.

“You have responsibilities,” he says, his face returning to a more neutral passivity. “Clara is very pretty, but you can’t make life decisions based on what your dick wants.”

I cross my arms to keep myself from lunging across the desk to strangle him. “This is the twenty-first century. Clara is well-bred—”

“She’s American,” my grandmother says like I’ve invited a mutt into the house.