Royal Date (28 page)

Read Royal Date Online

Authors: Sariah Wilson

BOOK: Royal Date
11.53Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

I had to leave then, because this was all feeling too personal and too real. I was worried I might start crying. I didn’t want to go back to the ballroom. It seemed like a too happy and too fake place with all of those costumes. A wave of exhaustion slammed into me. I had remained cool and impersonal in there, not taking the bait and not yelling at her. It had worn me out more than I would have imagined. I sat down on a bench next to the anteroom, my entire body sagging.

Time passed, and Nico came out of the room. He stopped short when he saw me. “I was just coming to find you.”

“Here I am.”

“Violetta agreed to go to a rehab facility. They’re taking her right now. Some of my father’s secretaries are making the arrangements. How did you know that would work?” he asked, sitting down next to me.

“I didn’t. But I know how loving parents are with their druggie kids, and your way obviously hasn’t worked. I thought I would try mine.”

He closed his hand over mine, holding me. “Thank you. Thank you for helping my sister. For helping all of us.” He let out a ragged breath. “You see, I do know what it’s like to watch someone I love slowly killing herself.”

I put my head on his shoulder and sighed. “Life sucks sometimes, doesn’t it?”

He put a finger on my chin and turned my face to look at him. “I was actually thinking that my life right now is pretty wonderful,
cuore mio
.”

“Even with what your sister’s going through?”

His intensity shocked me. “Even then.”

We stayed silent, just looking in each other’s eyes. I felt like I could see his soul. I had never felt so connected to anyone before.

“Do you want to go back to the ball?”

“No. Honestly, what I really want is to go to sleep.”

He nodded. Then he stood and pulled me to my feet, leading me toward the front hallway and the stairs.

I had probably way overstepped my bounds in that room, but it felt good that I was able to help. Pretty soon I’d be doing this exact same thing on a daily basis. It helped to lessen some of my sadness.

The same sadness that nearly overcame me when I realized that this would be my last night with him, and it was all about to end.

“It’s weird to think that this time tomorrow I’m going to be back in Colorado,” I said as we went down the hallway that led to my room.

It was a bit of a desperate ploy to get Nico to DTR. DTR was a phrase that Lemon’s sorority sisters had introduced me to. It meant “define the relationship.”

I waited for him to say something. Anything. To show me that all of this had mattered to him the way it had mattered to me.

I felt like he cared about me. I thought he was attracted to me and liked being with me. But maybe this was the price of inexperience. I didn’t have any past relationships to compare to this one so that I could better understand. I didn’t know what he was thinking. This could all be no big deal to him. Just another girl to hang with until she left.

But it wasn’t that way for me. There was more here. At the snow polo match, when I thought I was going to lose him forever, I was desperate and terrified. Now I really was losing him. This was it. I couldn’t even pretend like he wanted a long-distance relationship. He hadn’t said a single word about it, even though we’d spent so much time together. We just kept going along in our little bubble like life would always stay that way.

It wouldn’t.

If I had more courage, I might have just asked him where he thought things would go between us. I had tried so hard to keep this casual, but I was losing that fight.

We stopped in front of my door, and he took both of my hands. “What if you didn’t have to go?”

“But I do have to go.”

“You couldn’t stay for even a few more days?”

I wished I could. “I really can’t.”

He nodded, not quite meeting my eyes. Did he want me to stay? Would he miss me? I wondered if by cutting him off from more physicality, had it changed how he felt about me? Had it made him not like me as much? He’d been so careful recently to keep me at arm’s length. This was the first time we’d been alone in days.

We heard a loud commotion coming from the ballroom. They were counting down to midnight.

“There’s a myth that says the person you kiss on New Year’s Eve sets the tone for the rest of the year,” he told me.

“Talk about pressure. What if you’re with someone like Lady Claire? Then your whole year would be shot,” I replied. “I wonder if Hershey Kisses would be a good substitute. Then your year would be filled with chocolate-y goodness.”

He didn’t even crack a smile. “Happy New Year, Katerina.”

“Happy New Year, Nico.”

The bells from the town started to ring, and fireworks exploded outside the castle. Then they started exploding and ringing inside me as Nico kissed me ever so gently, ever so softly, as if he feared I would break.

The end of us felt like a living thing. I wanted to chase it away. I didn’t want to face it.

I wanted him to really kiss me.

So I showed him what I wanted. I pressed against him, trying to melt into him. I felt desperate, clinging to him. I kissed him with everything I had, my mouth insistent on his.

It only took Nico a second to realize that I had shifted gears. Then his lips were all urgency and insistence, fierceness and passion.

That wall he’d put up, the one he stayed behind so that he didn’t get too out of control, shattered. He wasn’t holding back.

He kissed me harder, tangling his fingers in my hair. Everywhere he touched and everywhere he kissed scorched me. Like I was being branded. My heartbeat was out of control, my breathing worse.

His kisses were hungry, his hands impatient. He explored. Tasted. Memorized.

And I gave back as good as I got.

The intoxicating deliciousness of it all consumed me. He kissed me everywhere he could find skin. He lifted me up so that I was flush against him, my curves pressing into his edges. I ran my fingernails along his scalp, and he groaned in response. The sound sent little yummy thrills up my spine. I couldn’t kiss him enough. It wasn’t enough. I wanted more.

I wanted more than just this.

If this was our last night, I wanted this memory of him.

I pulled back. “Nico . . .”

But he closed the distance between us, his mouth hot on mine, searing me. My entire world had turned into overwhelming sensations, rampant fire, and a drowning need. I could feel his restraint slipping away with each moment, each kiss.

He kissed my cheek, my jaw, my neck, my collarbone. “Nico,” I tried again.

“Don’t ask me to stop.” His voice was rough and hoarse.

“I don’t want you to stop,” I told him, and he went still. He pulled his head away to look at me.

“What are you saying?”

I let go of him and gently pushed his arms away. We were both breathing hard and staring at each other. My legs finally obeyed me, and then I went over to my door and turned the knob. I stepped inside a few feet and then turned to face him. He had both of his hands on the doorframe.

“Nico, I’m inviting you in.”

But he didn’t move. I stood there feeling vulnerable and totally out of my depth, needing him to make this okay. My heart hammered in my chest, waiting for him to walk over to me and take me in his arms.

Still he stood. Staring at me. The light from the hallway backlit him, and I couldn’t see his face or his eyes.

I nearly walked back to him so that I could take him by the hand. But I didn’t. I needed him to close this gap between us, to make me forget everything.

“Do you realize what you’re saying?” His voice was low and intense, sending new shivers through me.

“I know exactly what I’m saying.”

I waited and waited. He left me standing there. Alone.

My nerves tensed and my breath seemed to solidify in my throat. Did he not want this? Had I misread the entire situation? Time seemed to both speed up and slow down.

When he finally spoke, he startled me. “I want there to be no misunderstanding between us. More than anything in the world, I want to accept your invitation.” He stopped talking, unmoving. “But I can’t dishonor you and disrespect your values. You would hate me tomorrow for it, and I would hate myself. So I think I should say good night before I lose the ability to walk away from you.”

My soul fractured into a million pieces. My blood pounded in my temples, and I was sure I had turned a bright scarlet red, since my cheeks felt like they were on fire. He was saying no. He was rejecting me.

I had offered him all of me, and he said no thanks.

I had never been so embarrassed, so humiliated in my entire life. A dark anguish spread all over me, weighing me down. My limbs felt heavy, like I was moving underwater.

I slowly walked back to the door, looking up at him.

“Say something,” he pleaded.

I closed the door in his face. And then I locked it.

“Katerina . . . 
cuore mio
, please . . .”

“Go away, Nico. I don’t want you here.” I hoped he couldn’t hear my despair, couldn’t hear how hard I was trying not to cry.

I put my forehead against the door, listening. He stood there for several minutes before he finally walked away, taking my heart with him.

I tugged at the zipper, trying to get out of my costume. I nearly ripped it in my frenzy to get it off. I couldn’t stand it. I had to get it off.

Finally, I was free. I didn’t even bother with pajamas, just crawling into my bed and pulling the covers up over my head.

I could actually taste the mortification. I was not only upset by his reaction, but by what I had done.

How could I have done that?

That wasn’t me. Who had I turned in to?

I had to get back home. To my real self. This was all just a fantasy. I needed my studies, my schoolwork, and my kids. I thought of my plans. My degree, my job, my apartment. Those were things I had dreamed of. Planned for. Worked for. Those things were real. They were what I wanted.

I had never felt so disappointed and ashamed. I always kept my word. Always. And now, the most important promise I’d ever made to myself, the one that had mattered the most, I had just been willing to throw out the window.

For what? For a guy who hadn’t ever even said how he really felt about me? It wasn’t even like I could rationalize it as being in love. We weren’t in love.

Were we?

I finally let the tears loose, big angry ones that covered my cheeks and made my eyes burn. Sobs racked my body, and I shook with the intensity of my pain.

I couldn’t get over what I’d done. What I’d wanted to do. What I had asked Nico to do. I wanted someone to blame, someone to be my scapegoat. But the only one who’d messed up was me. I didn’t need to worry about somebody else, like Lady Claire, screwing up my life. I was doing a pretty good job wrecking it all on my own. I felt like such a fool.

An undesirable, stupid fool.

I must have finally fallen asleep after spending hours running the night through my head over and over again, wishing I could have done things differently. Wishing that I could have retained my dignity and held on to my promises. How sad that Nico had to keep my promise for me! I had never imagined that I could be so weak.

I went to unlock my door and found it opened. My costume was missing from the floor. When I went into my closet, I saw that Giacomo had already packed for me. I opened my suitcase and took out the dresses and all the other clothes they had made for me. I left them on a shelf. I put the Elsa costume on a hanger and left it swinging in the closet. I grabbed some clothes to travel in and put them on. I brought the suitcase out and put it on my bed.

Opening my nightstand, I took out Nico’s gifts and the phone. I was angry, but I couldn’t leave the Barbie behind. Or the necklace. They meant too much to me. I put them in my suitcase. I picked up the phone and thought about leaving it behind. But someday I might want those memories again. Those pictures. I would take it with me.

There was a knock on my door, and my heart throbbed in my throat. I wasn’t ready to see Nico.

“May I come in, Signorina Kat?”

It was Giacomo. I was both relieved and disappointed. “Come in.”

Other books

Blood of Cupids by Kenzie, Sophia
Serafim and Claire by Mark Lavorato
By the Sword by Flower, Sara
Father Mine by J. R. Ward
Eva Luna by Isabel Allende
In the Land of Armadillos by Helen Maryles Shankman
Roast Mortem by Cleo Coyle
Vicious by Sara Shepard