I don’t know either but I’ve asked Sam and Pressly to do a very thorough check of the place after Daphne’s stuff gets brought over.
“I’m so afraid to go back,” she says, and her eyes cloud up with uncertainty and fear again.
Fuck, why does she remind me so fucking much of Alicia? I don’t even know where Alicia is at after she graduated from Yale. But I remember enough about her that my cock stiffens again just thinking about her when she was 18 – before she left St. Livy.
She probably left hating my fucking guts. Because Prince Sin – the bad boy Prince of the fucking world – was too much of a chicken shit coward to admit his real feelings for her. Because I’d been too fucking scarred by the ill treatment of my mother by my father. Because I was too numb from her eventual death. Because I was too worried about how I had treated Alicia as a kid. Where I had not just treated someone despicably, but wasted an opportunity to tell a woman that I loved her.
Yes, alright. I fucking admit it. When Alicia left, I knew that I loved her. That’s why during her going away party, I conveniently went to Cannes. I didn’t want her to see me and I knew I couldn’t keep that shit to myself.
“You’re a million miles away,” Daphne says and I shoot back to reality. Her eyes are wide and she’s looking at me.
I take a step closer and can feel her breath.
Fuck me. I can’t be falling in love with Daphne. Not after just meeting her.
Not when I’m hoping to find Alicia one day.
My face inches closer to her and I can see her eyelids droop as I get closer.
I don’t care if she’s a fucking stripper. All I want is to fucking be with her.
My arm drapes around her and descends to her lower back.
I feel so at peace when I’m with her. She banishes my fucking demons.
Our lips are centimeters apart.
I’m going to kiss her. She reminds me so much of…
“Alicia.”
Daphne opens her eyes and looks at me. Concern, or jealousy, or fear, or what the fuck I don’t know.
All I know is I’m standing there, like an idiot about to kiss fucking Daphne and I’m mumbling Alicia’s fucking name.
Fuck me.
Daphne’s eyes are wide. She’s studying me. I know I’ve fucked up and for once, I don’t have a fucking one-liner or a comeback.
I’m ready to take this – however it comes. Bring the fucking pain.
But I don’t get a chance to. The door opens and Sam and Pressly walk in. They’re carrying two suitcases each.
“Where should we put Miss Daphne’s clothes, Your Highness?” Pressly asks.
I don’t answer at first, but Daphne clears her throat and moves backwards. Our moment is done. It’s gone. Destroyed by yours truly. With his fucking anti-Midas touch.
“I’ll take them,” Daphne says as she leads Sam and Pressly to the first guest room in the hallway.
All I can do is watch her luscious fucking ass sway as she walks away.
I feel like a fucking idiot. Most likely because I am.
Alicia
As much as I hate to admit it, Derrick’s place is so much nicer than mine.
I mean, I always knew no matter where he lived was going to be luxurious. But I almost jump for joy when Mike tells me over the phone that he doesn’t want me coming in for a few days but to stay at home. “Besides, it sounds like you’re not far from your target anyways,” Mike says.