“You don’t curtsy to me,” he said into my ear.
“Are you not my King?”
“Are you not my world?”
I pulled away slightly and met his gaze. The conversation I overheard between him and Emily’s father replaying in my head. I wasn’t sure whether to slap him or walk away. Setting aside the fact that I was completely shocked to find him here, that is, because even if he did know where I was I hadn’t expected him to chase after me. Send Pierre after me? Maybe. Call me incessantly the way he had been? Maybe. But not actually show up. He was a King, for God’s sake. Traditionally, the King didn’t leave his throne unless he had important matters to take care of, and even then, the important matters went to him, not the other way around. The pub was so quiet you could hear the dripping of the not fully shut faucet nearby. Elias was still staring at me, waiting, assessing, the way a true King would. I let the silence drag on because I was enjoying his minimal discomfort, which no one else could see but I knew him well enough to take note. Finally, I licked my lips and spoke up.
“You don’t need to sweet-talk me. If you need me to pretend to be your girlfriend, you can just ask me. I would have done you the favor.”
“I don’t want any favors from you, Adeline. And I want you to be with me because you want to be, so I fully understand if you want to walk away from me, but you can’t expect me not to fight for what’s mine.”
“Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe I’m not yours.”
His eyes flashed. “Don’t say that. Say anything but that.”
“I’m not a prize, Elias.”
“To me, you are, Addie.” He stepped closer still. “The ultimate prize. One I don’t deserve, but will work an eternity to earn.”
“Elias.” I shook my head, swallowing back tears. He was impossible.
“Tu me manques, Adeline.” He exhaled lightly, his breath tickling me. He was so close. I could lean in an inch and kiss him, but I wouldn’t, not yet. “You are missing from me when you’re not with me and I don’t want to live in a world where we make this a habit. I want you to be mine. With or without the press. With or without the title. With or without the throne. I want you, Adeline Sofia Isabella Bouchard, to be my Queen.”
“What about Emily?” I asked finally, my voice hoarse as I blinked new tears. “What about going back to her if this doesn’t work out?”
“That’s what this is about?” He frowned, then sighed as he brought his forehead against mine. “Adeline. Adeline. Adeline.
You overheard my conversation with her father?”
I nodded against his forehead, tears still streaming. I wiped them quickly.
“That was careless. I was trying to appease him because he owes me some things. I never . . . ” He pulled away and brought his hand to my face. “I never meant for you to hear that and I definitely didn’t mean to hurt you. I am so sorry.”
“Thank you for saying that,” I whispered.
“I’m not just saying that.” He brought his other hand to my face and used both thumbs to wipe my tears. “I love you. I’m in love with you. There is no after you.”
My heart stopped beating. “You love me?”
“Yes, silly girl. Do you think I’d risk the throne over a woman I wasn’t completely head over heels in love with?”
“I thought I was helping your image.” I felt myself smile. He loved me.
“Well, it could have gone either way.” He tilted his head. “They could have hated me and said I was throwing away tradition.”
“You love me.” It was the one thing I was still stuck on. “A commoner.”
“There’s nothing common about you, Adeline.” He brought his lips to mine and kissed me.
“Sir, public display of affection,” Pierre said beside us. “People are snapping photos.”
“Fuck tradition,” Elias said, bringing his lips to mine again. I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him back with every ounce of devotion I had for him.
My head was pounding. I groaned as I sat up and realized I was in the underwear and bra I had on last night. Where was I? I looked at the wall in front of me, covered in an enormous television. It was a gray room and it smelled like . . . oh God.
“Feeling like shit, I bet,” Elias said from somewhere in the room.
“Oh, my God.” I gasped, bringing a hand to my chest. “You scared me.”
“Don’t tell me you don’t remember last night.”
I sat up in bed and looked over at where he was, putting a shirt over his head. I wish he’d be taking it off instead. He walked over to me, raking a hand through his wet hair, and sat in front of me, the bed sinking with his weight.