Twisted Games (Twisted, #2)

by Ana Huang

I was the future queen of Eldorra. It was time to act like it. I took a deep breath, straightened my shoulders, and lifted my chin, ignoring the stares of the other hotel guests as I walked toward the exit and the beginning of my new life.

If we do this, it stays here. This room, this night. We don’t talk about it again. That was his rule, so why did I feel guilty at all?

Just do it. One tiny kiss. You have nothing to feel guilty about. You and Rhys aren’t dating.

Bridget von Ascheberg was mine and mine alone. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t mine to take. I was taking her anyway, and if I could tattoo myself onto her skin, bury myself in her heart, and etch myself onto her soul, I would. Her eyes widened, but before she could respond, I closed the distance between us and grasped her chin with my hand. “But first, I want to make one thing clear. From this point on, you’re mine. No other man touches you. If they do…” My fingers dug into her skin. “I know seventy-nine ways to kill a man, and I can make seventy of them look like an accident. Understand?”

“Remember. In public, you’re my princess, but in private, you’re my whore.”

“Show some respect. That’s the crown princess.” And you’re not worthy of scraping the dirt off her shoes.

“You asked me if I’d ever been in love. I said no.” He pressed a soft kiss to my mouth. “Ask me again, Princess.”

I should turn the show off because half the shit they came up with was utter crap—like their claims Bridget and I had an orgy with a certain pop star couple in the south of France—but as masochistic as it was, their video clips of her were the only way I could get my fix.

I was addicted to Bridget, and now that I no longer had her, I was going through withdrawal. Clammy skin, nausea, difficulties sleeping. Oh yeah, and a giant fucking hole the size of Alaska in my chest. That wasn’t listed on the Addicts Anonymous website.

I can’t be with a bodyguard. I’m meant to ...

Someone knocked. “Housekeeping.” My spine turned rigid at the familiar voice. Two seconds later, I threw open the door with a scowl. “What the fuck are you doing here?” Christian arched an eyebrow. “Is that the proper way to greet your boss?” “Fuck you.” He laughed, but the sound lacked humor. “Charming as always. Now let me in so we can clean up your mess.”

“I assume things with the princess are over, considering the whispers I’m hearing about her, Steffan Holstein, and an upcoming engagement.” A low growl rumbled from my throat, but he ignored it. “Why are you still here, Larsen? Living like a hermit and drinking.”