August stares at her in shock. This behavior seems out of character for her, even to me, and I’ve never seen her around her parents. I’ve seen glimpses of sass beneath her shy exterior, flashes of spirit that hinted at a hidden fire, but this… this is pure disdain, and August’s reaction makes me think she has never shown it this openly before.
“What was that?” Mr. Stanley growls.
“Nothing, Father,” Amelia replies, her voice hollow, devoid of the spark that had momentarily flared to life.
I want to intervene, to tell them it’s fine and that we’ll go to a hotel. Anything to get him off her back. But I know this might be our only chance to get close to Amelia, to make things right.
Even if it looks like it could get her in trouble, I can’t pass up this opportunity. And if she does get into trouble, we’ll get her out. I’ll carry her out myself if I have to, damn the consequences. But first, we need to get close.
To fix everything we broke.
Swallowing my reservations, I force a smile. “Thank you so much for the offer.” As I speak, I catch Amelia’s eye, trying to convey without words that we’re here for her. That we won’t let her face this alone. “We would love to stay.”
Whether she understands or even wants our support remains to be seen, but I’m determined to try.
As we walk up the stairs, Mr. Stanley bellows for the butler, and in a flash,twoof them materialize to whisk away our luggage.
A maid approaches Misha, her eyes fixed on the flowers he’s clutching, seeming unimpressed.
“They’re for Amelia,” Misha protests weakly as she pulls them from his grasp.
The maid ignores him completely, brushing past to stand in front of Amelia instead, whose voice comes out flat and emotionless, instructing, “Put them in water, please.” The maid nods curtly and vanishes with the bouquet, leaving behind a deflated Misha.
“Please, make yourselves at home. Get refreshed,” Mr. Stanley says as we walk into deeper into the entrance hall, his tone cordial but distant. “My wife is hosting a high tea early this afternoon. We’d be delighted if you’d join us as our guests.” With those words, he strides away, his polished shoes clicking against the marble floor.
I notice August eyeing Amelia. The siblings seem to communicate silently, and after a few glances, August nods before following his father, calling out, “Father, a word.”
As Amelia turns to leave, I grab her wrist without thinking. She pulls away immediately as if my touch burns her, and I let go.
My chest tightens, and for a moment, I can’t breathe. “Princess…”
Her eyes narrow, stormy and cold. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“What do I look at you like?” I challenge.
Like I love you?
Like I’m horrified I’ve lost you?
“Like a gloating prat,” she retorts, and I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing.
God, I love her.
She turns on her heel and ascends the stairs. Her short skirt rides up as she takes two stairs at a time, revealing a glimpse of the Amelia I know beneath this polished exterior.
Despite everything, I grin as she disappears from view, my eyes lingering on the spot where she vanished.
One of the butlers clears his throat, startling me out of my reverie. “Gentlemen, please follow me.”
We’re led up the same stairs Amelia just climbed, and I wonder where her room is.
Is it close by?Will I be able to sneak a moment alone with her later?
Misha’s voice breaks through my thoughts, pulling me back to reality as he mocks me. “Immerse the British lifestyle. Soak it all in.Really, bro?”
“Fuck off,” I snap, caught between irritation and amusement.
“This is insane,” Oliver mutters, his eyes wide behind his glasses.
