Without thinking, I fall to the floor in front of his chair and put my head on his knees, like I did when I was a little girl. “Do you remember when Tamsen and I were small and you’d read us stories?” I gaze into the empty fireplace with blurry eyes. Fairy stories with girls who grew up in rags but then turned into beautiful princesses. That will be you two girls one day, he told us.
He strokes my hair. “That was a happy time, poppet.”
A sob rises in the back of my throat, and I hold my breath and squeeze my eyes shut. I’m not a little girl anymore. I have to face what I’ve done by myself and suffer the consequences. There’s no prince coming to rescue me.
“Dad? There’s something I have to tell you, and you’re going to be so disappointed in me.”
12
Jakob
I glance through the photographs Sachelle just threw at me and then sync the USB drive to my computer. My eyes narrow as I listen to the recording. This is the most inflammatory piece of intel that’s come across my desk. This is bad for Sachelle. Treasonous, life-sentence bad.
I told her she was playing with fire.
I reach for my phone and call Sachelle, but she doesn’t pick up. There’s no point hiding from me now. There’s nowhere in the country she could hide from me and no one who could…
No one who could help her.
I picture her again that night, all those weeks ago, her protective hand brushing her father’s brow. She’ll do anything to protect him. Anything to keep his love. She ran out of here so fast declaring that I’d never see her again, to go where?
Suddenly, I realize what she’s going to do.
“Fuck.” I jump to my feet and race out of the palace to my car. As I drive to Balzac House, I call her, over and over, but she doesn’t pick up.
I reach the mansion a few minutes later, taking the steps two at a time, and pound on the door. A man in livery opens the door, but before he can ask me who I am and who I’m here to see, I push past him and run down the hall, sticking my head into every room. I hear voices, and hurry along the hallway and push the door open.
Duke Balzac is sitting in an armchair, gazing down at his tearful daughter. Her cheeks are wet and her head is in her father’s lap.
Father and daughter raise their heads and look at me, Sachelle’s expression a glare, the Duke’s perplexed.
“Sachelle? What’s going on? Why is Mr. Rasmussen here?”
She turns back to her father. “Dad, I’ve got something to tell you, and I have to tell you quickly because Mr. Rasmussen is here to take me away with him.” She looks down at her white-knuckled hands, as if gathering her strength. “The last thing I ever wanted was to disappoint you.”
Her voice is a broken whisper, and hearing her like that is a knife in my heart. I crouch down on my heels so I can see her face. Fear and dislike flicker over her expression as she meets my gaze.
I reach out and wipe a tear from her cheek. “Sachelle. What are you doing?”
“What you’re forcing me to do,” she whispers fiercely. “I told you I wouldn’t let you get away with this.”
I take her hand and get to my feet, drawing Sachelle up with me. With an indulgent smile, I say, “Sachelle, you’re making something wonderful sound like the end of the world.”
Her hair is in a tangle and I take a moment to smooth it back and pull a tissue from my pocket to wipe her cheeks. I can feel the Duke watching with dislike the overfamiliar way I’m touching his daughter.
I clasp her hand and turn to Duke Balzac with a smile. “It’s my fault Lady Sachelle is upset, Your Grace. She didn’t know how to tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
“Lady Sachelle and I are engaged.”
Sachelle inhales sharply and opens her mouth, but I squeeze her hand in warning and speak over her. “We’re in love, and we’re getting married. It all happened so quickly because, well…” My mouth quirks in a half-smile as I gaze down at her. “Today I made her an offer she couldn’t refuse.”
Sachelle stares at me in shock. She should be more grateful when I’m saving her father’s life.
“Tell your father how happy you are, little fox,” I murmur, returning her look with a meaningful one of my own. “Or he’ll start to worry. You don’t want to worry your father, do you?”
Sachelle swallows, her gaze flicking between my face and her father.
That’s right, my pretty fox. You’re trapped.
Duke Balzac gets to his feet, his nostrils flaring. “Is this what you were trying to tell me, Sachelle?”