“Ella?” I call out.
No answer. Where could she be? A frown tugs at my lips, my eyebrows drawing together. She must've just gone to the restroom or something. My gaze lands on the cracked double doors, and I relax. She must've gone for a stroll in the courtyard.
Just as I start to climb from the bed, the door swings open, and a teasing grin starts to spread. “Get back in this bed and warm me up, baby.”
“Gladly,” a sickly sweet voice says, causing my blood to turn to ice in my veins as I pull the sheet back up to my waist.
Fucking Melissa.
She saunters right on in the room and climbs right the fuck into my bed.
“What the fuck are you doing in here?” I rage, my face twisting in anger as I point to the door. “Get out of my bed and get the fuck out of my home.”
She shrugs, not paying any attention to the warning tone in my voice as she scoots closer to me, her hands coming dangerously close to my chest as her eyes drop to my cock that’s already at full mast in anticipation of thinking it would be Ella walking through that door. Not this psychopath.
“Really, Derek,” she says in disgust. “You’d rather fuck her than have me? Come on, let’s be real. You know you want me.”
I scoff. “No, I fucking don’t, Melissa. It’s Ella I love. And you need to go. Right the fuck now.” I’m barely able to contain my rage, my body shaking with frustration.
She laughs, that same grating sound that drives me insane. “If you’re worried about that tart you were slumming with finding me in your bed, don’t even bother. She already left.” She scoots closer. “It’s just you and I now. Forever.”
I stare at her in horror. She’s crazy. Like, really and truly deranged. I can see it in her eyes.
“What the fuck, Melissa? You know we have no future. No forever. I don’t know how to make this any clearer to you.” I slide away from her in the bed, reaching down to the floor to find my boxer briefs. My hand searches blindly while I keep my eyes on her, afraid to glance away because she might jump me when I’m not looking. Finally, I find them and put them on awkwardly under the covers. At least my boner has deflated. This bat-shit loon took care of that in a hurry.
A flicker of that crazy flashes in her eyes, an unhealthy obsession I had no idea was this serious until right this minute. Jumping from the bed, I hold my hands out, palms facing her in what I hope is a placating gesture. She keeps slithering my way, though, until she’s on her knees at the edge of the bed, looking at me with wild eyes.
“Look, Melissa. I told you. I love Ella. I’m going to marry her. So do us both a favor and leave before I call security.”
Her eyes flash with satisfaction. “And I told you. She left.”
I was too distracted by her nutty forever comments to register when she said it the first time. “What do you mean, she left?” I ask slowly.
“Come on, Derek, what did you expect?” she scoffs. “That you were really going to pick up some stripper off the street and make her your princess? This isn’t a fucking movie where the prince rescues the hooker with the heart of gold.”
I grit my teeth at her insinuation that Ella is nothing more than that because she is so much more. But I don’t say anything, knowing I need the information that Melissa certainly has.
“Yes, Derek,” she says slyly, a contemptuous grin plastered on her face, “I know she’s a stripper. As soon as I saw her with you last night, hiding out behind that column and then sneaking off, I did my homework. I did some digging.”
She looks like the fucking cat that ate the canary, but I just shrug. “So what?”
It’s not like it matters anymore. She’s here with me in St. Albans. That part of her life is over and she’s going to be my princess. As soon as fucking Melissa tell
s me where the fuck she went.
“Oh, Derek,” she laughs. “You have no idea. I called in some favors with a contact at Royal Intelligence. They told me she was an exclusive VIP stripper in New York. You think that’s going to go over well with your father?”
I don’t say anything. Probably not, but like I fucking care. She’s the one I’m marrying. My father can suck it up and deal.
Melissa climbs from the bed and walks toward me, getting way too close for comfort. I back up.
“None of this shit matters, Melissa. Just fucking tell me where she went. And then get the fuck out.”
Her face hardens, that madness peeking through again. She really has no idea why I’ve never been interested in her? She’s the worst of them all. All the women who just want a piece of me and my kingdom, and she’s the worst.
“You want to know where she is?” Her face shifts again, just as quickly, full of fake sympathy this time, leaving me struggling to keep up with all her many personalities. But nothing prepares me for what she says next.
“Looks like you can take the girl out of the strip club, but you can’t take the stripper out of the girl. She was a stripper in Manhattan, and guess what? She’s a stripper here now, too! Snuck out of your room to go find her next guy to trick.”