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Reluctantly Royal(18)

By:Nichole Chase


“Not the first time he’s done this?” I growled the words. “He’s hit you before?”

She looked at me with large eyes and I could see her trying to close doors, lock away the emotions, but it was all too raw, too real. And she was failing. The perfect image she had crafted for herself had been blown to bits by her father.

“Of course he’s hit me before. Didn’t your parents spank you?” She stepped away from me and I let my hand fall to my side.

“You know what I mean.”

She shrugged and walked over to the couch, where she fixed a pillow that had been knocked over. “He’s a drunk.”

“Meredith.” I ran a hand over my face. “You can’t live in these conditions.”

“I don’t. I live in England.” She frowned and a shudder racked her body. Her voice sounded tiny and distant. “Well, I did.”

“Did your grandfather approve of this?”

“He saw the best in my father,” she said. Never once looking me in the eye, she fiddled with things that had been knocked astray. “He saw the best in everyone. It never got this bad when my grandfather was around. It was like my dad knew better.”

Looking over my shoulder, I nodded at Charles, my bodyguard, to let him know that he could leave. I turned back to look at Meredith as she continued to work around the room, righting what had been upturned in the scuffle.

“Has he ever hit Marty?” The moment she turned around I knew I had crossed the line.

“Who the hell do you think you are? Just because you’re a prince doesn’t give you the right to come barging into our lives, asking personal questions.” She moved across the room to poke me in the chest. Anger filled her eyes with strength and passion. “But for your information, no. He’s never hit Marty. I would never allow that to happen. Do you understand? I would die before I let someone hurt Marty.”

I looked down into her red eyes. “Of course you wouldn’t. But if you let him hurt you—”

“If he takes it out on me, he doesn’t take it out on anyone else. Got it?” She stood up on her tiptoes, her nostrils flaring. Her finger dug a little deeper into my chest.

“Got it.” I reached up and wrapped her finger in mine before moving it down to our sides. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you?” She squinted at me. “Because I’m not sure if you just talk without thinking or if you really think I’d let him hurt my son. Why do you think I moved to England? It wasn’t just to go to school.”

“I have an unfortunate habit of speaking before thinking.” I squeezed her finger gently before letting go. “I’m sorry for implying that you would let someone hurt Marty.”

She snorted but didn’t move away from me. Her delicate features belied the strength in her eyes. This was a woman to be reckoned with, someone who could move mountains by sheer will. She belonged on a stage, bathed in the spotlight.

She was everything I should avoid, but it seemed like she kept ending up in my path.

“What are we going to do with him?” I broke eye contact and nodded my head toward her father. His snore was growing louder.

“Leave him.” She wrapped her arms around her waist and moved a step backward.

“What are you going to do?”

“Go about planning the funeral and ignore him.” She shrugged. “There isn’t much else to do.”

“What about rehab?” I looked at the man and couldn’t help the frown that pulled at my mouth. Someone who put himself above his family was disgusting. It went against everything that Lilaria stood for. I’d grown up learning that family always came first. Always.

“You have to want it to work for it to actually make a difference.” She shook her head. “And he doesn’t want it to work. He doesn’t care.”

“You’re saying that he wants to be a drunk who beats his daughter?” I couldn’t wrap my mind around something like that.

“I’m saying he doesn’t care.” She glared at me. “Are you going to keep on about this? I’m sorry you had to see it, but thankful that you kept him from doing any real damage. But it’s not your problem to worry about.”

“I promised that I would come help you.” My chin lifted. “And I keep my promises.”

“That’s really sweet but I didn’t ask for your help—”

“Yes, you did.” I shook my head. “You asked me to participate in the funeral, and that’s something I take very seriously. I don’t just agree to things. Besides, it looks like you might need a little help.”