I should stop him, do something, but I’m frozen. I hear his next words and don’t react. I just stare and let it happen. Because Richardson is saying exactly what I’ve thought countless times myself. My throat tightens and it feels awful to think this way about Amelia. Still, I let this asshole keep talking.
“But it can’t be denied that suspicious coincidences have been piling up lately, and every time, you’re involved, Lady Amelia. First, the current heir dies while you’re in the car. Then Princess Elisabeth is drugged in a shady club you both visited. Most recently, Senator Robins’ son was attacked out of nowhere by you. This all paints a very questionable picture of you and this engagement.” Richardson grins maliciously, fixing his gaze on Amelia, who has turned pale and looks away. A murmur runs through the crowd, and everyone stares intently at us. No, at Amelia.
She wrings her hands in her lap, and I snap out of my trance, but it’s too late. The damage is done. I have failed.
Full of anger, I look around for Eric, but he’s already on his way to us, giving the security some instructions. My father appears at the side entrance where Amelia and I came in, eyes darkly fixed on Amelia, who now raises her head. And damn, I want to puke. My stomach cramps violently because it hurts to see Amelia so broken. It hurts like hell, and it’s my fault. It hits me hard, and I blame myself for letting this happen.
Her gaze drifts empty and lifeless over the reporters before settling on Richardson, who smirks at her with malice. The turmoil inside me grows stronger, but before Amelia can react Eric takes control and ends the disaster I forced her into.
She stands up stiffly, and I want to reach for her, but she avoids my hand, retreating like a wounded animal. Faster than I can react, she slips out of the hall.
Damn it.
I want to follow, yet I am held back.
Not now!
“Thanks for the invitation, Prince Nicolas. It was a pleasure to speak with your fiancée. So enlightening.” That bastard Richardson grins slyly at me, and I lose it. I jump down from the podium where our table stands, right at him, but Eric and my father intervene.
“Nicolas! A word. Now,” my father thunders.
Eric steps up beside Richardson, whose eyes had flashed with panic, and signals me to back off. My hand clenches and unclenches as I turn to my father.
“You owe me an explanation, son. Fast.” My father doesn’t waste time, but I wave him off through gritted teeth, not ready to engage.
“I owe you nothing. That reporter is talking crap, and you know that as well as I do. So, spare me this conversation. I need to check on my fiancée. You better make sure the press doesn’tstir up more shit publicly.” I look at him coldly and leave him standing.
On the way out, Eric stops me.
“Sorry, I couldn’t intervene in time. I don’t even know how he got in here. I didn’t invite him—the contrary, in fact. But I’ll find out. I’ve got your back as best as I can.” He pats my shoulder, and even though I’m furious, I know it’s not his fault. This is on me alone.
“Thanks, buddy.”
Without paying attention to the others, I leave the hall and go straight to our apartment. I see Amelia’s high heels carelessly thrown in the dressing room, but no one else is here.
Shit.
I run my hands through my hair, my brain racing.
Where could she be?Phil.She’s probably at his grave.
“She ran off with Lizzy, if you’re looking for your fiancée,” Cedric’s voice sounds behind me, and I spin around, seeing him and Damien standing in the door. Both look at me seriously, and I know the news of the shitty press conference has already reached them.
“Fuck, damn it,” I curse and tear at my hair again.
“This shouldn’t have happened. I… dammit, I put her in this situation. The press will hunt her from now on.” My guilt threatens to crush me. I hate myself so much.
“Why didn’t you intervene, Nic?” Damien asks the question I’ve asked myself a dozen times in the last half-hour.
Yeah, why didn’t I stop it?
“I… I don’t know. It all happened so fast… I… no idea,” I reply weakly, knowing how evasive that sounds.
“Bullshit, Nic. You know exactly why you didn’t intervene. You wanted to see her reaction. You wanted to see how she reacts to all those accusations you’ve already been thinkingabout yourself.” He hits me with ruthless honesty, and that honesty cuts like a razor blade.
I want to deny it—everything inside me resists it, wants to reject that I wanted this—but my lips remain closed. I silently stare at him as chaos erupts inside me.
Fuck.
