She was done adhering to his schedule, his way of doing things.
His eyes searched her face. She stared back at him, daring him to stop her. At last, he conceded with a brief nod.
“Of course. Briony, may I introduce King Daxon Van Ambrose and his son, Prince Alaric, of Linnaea.”
She turned to face her father and brother. What should have been a joyous moment was instead one full of pain, fury and perhaps worst of all, embarrassment that she had allowed herself to be duped by their machinations and her own immature hope.
“Hello.”
Daxon started forward. Had she not just heard him, she probably would have been fooled by the wide smile that stretched across his face and missed the cold calculation in his eyes.
“Briony. I’m so glad to finally meet you, my dear.”
Briony stepped back out of reach of his embrace and held out her hand.
“Glad I can be of service, Dad.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
BRIONYSTOODONthe balcony of her private suite. The sun had already started to sink behind the snow-capped peak of the mountains in the distance. Her room overlooked the palace grounds and the hundreds of acres of forest to the west. A stunning view fit for a princess.
As was the suite Clara had led her to after her brief meeting with Daxon and Alaric. Daxon had stared at her after she’d delivered her stinging line. Alaric had stepped in and shaken her hand, introducing himself before suggesting she be shown to her suite.
“It’s been a long journey,” he’d said firmly as he’d steered Briony to the door. “Rest would probably be best before we talk.”
Clara had appeared a moment later. Briony hadn’t been able to stop herself from glancing back at Cass. For once, there had been no smug smile or hint of danger in his gaze. No, he’d looked almost regretful. She’d wanted to lash out at him, to grab the contract from his hands and rip it right in two. But she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her fall apart.
She sighed. Cass had made no pretenses about their marriage being anything other than a contracted alliance. But she’d at least thought his intentions had been somewhat noble. To find out that he was motivated just as much by a personal vendetta as he was supposedly saving the people of Linnaea left her feeling...
Empty. Hopeless. That brief, beautiful burst of confidence and independence on the plane seemed light-years away. Her own father had used her, too. Even after hearing the words from his own lips, part of her wanted to cling to the illusion that it had all been a terrible misunderstanding. That she hadn’t just left the only world she’d known to be confronted with yet another person who just wanted to use her. Remembering the sound of his voice, the disgust in his tone when he’d said “bastard child,” made her sick to her stomach.
It wasn’t just hopelessness. No, it was also regret that she had ever pined for a man like Daxon. If what she’d overheard was any indication, her mother had been right to run.
The regret burned brighter, tightened her throat. How many years had she wasted wishing for a dad when she’d had a mother who had loved her?
Pretty far down the road of self-pity, she thought with a disgusted sigh as she shivered in the winter cold and glanced over her shoulder. Her suite was a vision of royal luxury. A rounded bed dominated one side, raised up on a dais with a peaceful painting of the mountains on the wall. It was covered by violet silk sheets and a thick white comforter. Marble steps led down to a sitting area comprising a red fainting couch and matching chairs done up in velvet and trimmed in silver. Wood roared in a stone fireplace, flanked on either side by bookcases set into the.
Poor little rich girl. She’d heard the sentiment often enough, had done her fair share of eye-rolling when she’d read an interview with the latest actress or model who talked about the hard parts of their lives, the lack of privacy, the pervasive loneliness.
Except now she understood it all too well.
The door swung open. Her eyes narrowed even as her heartbeat sped up at the sight of Cass standing in the doorway. Clad only in his dark trousers and midnight-blue shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal his tan forearms, he looked sinfully good.
She turned her back to him. How could the man be so manipulative and still look so handsome?
The door to the balcony clicked open.
“Cold out here.”
The shiver that traveled down her spine had nothing to do with the freezing winter air tugging at her hair.
She gritted her teeth. Just because her body found Cass physically attractive didn’t mean the man wasn’t a manipulative snake.
“Matches the personalities of most of the people who live here.”
The door shut. She felt him come up behind her, tensed, anticipated...
Nothing. He was waiting to see what she would do. She raised her chin. Two could play at that game. And she’d been letting him call the shots. Time to give Prince Cassius Morgan Adama a taste of his own medicine.