Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 141385 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141385 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
“Good work,” I say, scanning the room. “Did they cause you much trouble?”
“It was no problem,” he replies, head still bowed. “Just one bloody nose for Sterling, but I doubt he even felt it.”
Alec snorts. “Good. Are they restrained?”
“Yes, they are, Your Grace.” Preston motions for us to follow him, and he leads us into another room where three haggard, beaten men are each chained to a wooden chair.
The tangy, cloying scent of blood hangs in the air, and one look at each of them confirms it’s coming from them. The guy in the middle’s arm is hanging at the kind of angle that makes my toes curl, and there’s a semi-crusty trail of blood plastered to the side of his face that seemingly originates somewhere on his scalp. The guy on the left has one eye swollen shut and his lip sliced in two, as well as a torn t-shirt revealing the beginnings of a bruise on his chest. The final guy, on the right, seems to have gotten off best—a bruise is blooming on his jaw, but that’s all I can see.
Alec is completely unbothered by the sight before us as he produces a cigarette box from his chest pocket and pulls one out.
It stays unlit, as always, with the cigarette nothing more than a prop for him to fidget with.
“So,” he says nonchalantly, pulling up a chair and sitting down with the air of someone without a care in the world. “Lovely weather we’re having.”
The guy on the left chair opens his non-swollen eye and scans us, then scoffs. “Fancy company.”
“Oh, this guy?” Alec cocks his thumb towards me. “No. You’re seeing things.”
“Didn’t think we’d meet the Crown Prince like this.”
“Well, you fucked with the wrong person.” The air chills with Alec’s cold smile. “See, the woman you tried to trick into a newborn photo shoot today happens to be very important to His Royal Highness. You really should have done your research before you agreed to that job.”
He laughs, a gravelly sound that grates on my nerves. “That so? Funny, ‘cause the person we hired said they were acting on his orders.”
“Interesting,” I say, stepping out into the light a little more. “Tell me; why would I have someone hire a few cheap bastards to hurt my fiancée?”
“Yes, darling, why would you?” Harriet’s voice rings out from behind me, and when I turn, I see her leaning against the hidden doorway, examining her nails. “You know, if you don’t want to marry me, I won’t hold it against you.” She pauses, peering up. “Well, on second thought, I might.”
I simply stare at her. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Why not? My day freed up, you see, and I thought I’d pay a visit to the half-arsed thugs who intended to hurt me.” She pushes off the doorframe and walks over to us. Her light blonde hair seems to glow in the low light, and the heels of her boots click against the solid flooring. She casts her sharp gaze over the three immobilised men and raises her eyebrows. “Oh, is that it? How disappointing.”
The guy in the middle leers at her. “Shame we missed out on you.”
I take a step forwards, but she’s closer, and in one swift move, she stabs her heel into his foot. He cries out and doubles over, but the chains stop him being able to reach her as she keeps pressing her weight into the point of the stiletto.
Alec looks at me with a grin on his face. “I like this one.”
“Then all of my goals for today have been achieved,” Hattie says dryly, digging her heel into the man’s foot one more time before stepping back. “There. Now you haven’t missed out on anything, princess.”
“I really like her.” Alec chuckles and stands up. “Alec—”
“Alecsander, Duke of Kilon,” Harriet says, turning and holding out her hand. “Thank you for what you’ve done for me today, Your Grace.”
Alec pauses, then takes her hand. Instead of shaking it, he draws it to his lips and presses a kiss to the back of her hand.
I glare at him.
That’s my hand to kiss, you bastard.
“The pleasure was all mine, Miss Sinclair.”
“Call me Harriet. ‘Miss Sinclair’ makes me nauseous.” She smiles coolly, taking her hand from his.
“Then call me Alec.”
“Happily,” she says, finally stepping away from him. “Have you found anything out?”
“You arrived quicker than we thought,” I say. “We just got here ourselves.”
“Oh.” She looks at me. “I’m surprised to see you here. Don’t you have anything better to do?”
“Other than deal with the motherfuckers who thought they could harm my fiancée?” I cup her chin, tilting her head back. “I think not.”
“Stop. You’re giving me a whole bunch of warm, fuzzy feelings,” she says flatly. “Well? Which idiot in my house hired them?”
“We were getting there before you arrived in a ball of venomous delight,” Alec replies, putting the cigarette back in its box.