I quietly make my way to the bathroom for a shower, then head to the dressing room to pack a few things. The rest I’ve already had sent ahead, so no one will find us easily.
I want to get to know Amelia. Alone, without all this circus around us. We only have a few days, but that’s better than nothing.
The backpack is quickly packed, and when I return to the bedroom, Amelia is sitting cross-legged on the bed, blinking sleepily at me. Her eye now shimmers in various shades of violet, but at least it’s not completely swollen shut.
“Hey, how are you feeling?” I sit down beside her on the edge of the bed and lean forward to place a gentle kiss on her. A dreamy smile appears on her face, and my heart jumps because she always manages to stun me like this.
“Surprisingly well, if you ignore that my face probably looks like it got run over,” she grimaces briefly before running her hand through her curls. “God, I really got into a fight, didn’t I?” She looks at me as if hoping I’ll deny it, and I can’t help but smile at her.
“Yep. You did. But hey, the other one looks worse,” I tell her and laugh out loud as she shoots me a deadly glare.
“That’s not funny. She’ll twist this against me or go to the press or…”
“Hey, hey, hey, take it easy, Goldilocks. Sarah won’t do any of that. I’ll make sure of it. Besides, there are dozens of witnesses who can confirm she started it. Including me, Cedric, and Damien. So just breathe. She deserved it,” I reassure her and pull her into my arms. She’s better off there anyway.
“It still shouldn’t have happened. I’m making you look bad,” she mutters into my shirt, and I stroke her hair, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head.
“You do know who you’re married to, right? Prince Selfish Asshole. Nothing’s going to happen. Now, Goldilocks, get dressed. We have to go. Jeans and hoodie will do.” I push her gently away and shoo her off the bed. She grumbles a bit but moves, and within the next twenty minutes, we quietly leave the castle together.
But when she realizes how we’ll be traveling, she stops abruptly.
“Don’t tell me we’re riding that?” She turns to me incredulously, and I laugh because her look is a mix of panic and fascination.
“Yes, exactly. That way, we can get away quickly and stay under the radar. Or were you planning to bring bodyguards and all that fuss with us?”
With a raised eyebrow and crossed arms, I size up my little wife and have to hold back a grin. You can clearly see the angeland devil wrestling inside her, but she finally snorts and nods resignedly.
“Alright, but if I don’t come back in one piece and alive, it’s on you, and if I throw up, that’s definitely your fault.” She looks up at me with a defiant glare, and damn, I’m falling for this woman more with every second. There she stands, in her black hoodie and tight black jeans, her curls casually tied back. She tried to hide the bruise with makeup, not completely successful, but good enough.
“I promise on my life you’ll arrive everywhere alive and in one piece. As for the puking… well, no guarantees there. But please warn me in time.” I grin and give her a playful nudge on the nose, which she promptly wrinkles.
“HA HA, very funny, mister. Easy for you to say, you ride this beast every day. I’ve never even been close to one, aside from your machine,” she retorts with a playful pout, a captivated sparkle already gleaming in her eyes as she steps closer to me.
I’ve specially bought her a helmet in dark purple with a tinted visor, and a motorcycle jacket in her size.
“Put it on.” Her eyebrows shoot up at my command, but she takes the jacket and slips it on without a word. My mouth goes dry as she picks up the helmet—fuck, she looks hot.
Amelia inspects it briefly, shrugs, and puts it on. But she can’t manage to close the strap, so I step close and help her.
“You wanted freedom, Goldilocks… now you’re getting it,” I whisper as I pull down her visor. “You don’t have to do much except hold on tight to me. When we take a curve, just lean with me. It’ll feel scary the first few times, but don’t worry, we won’t fall.” After giving her this last instruction, I sling our backpack over her, and we climb on.
More than skeptical and tinged with panic, I clumsily climb onto this hellish-looking machine behind Nicolas. Even though he’s wearing a helmet, I can clearly see his mocking grin, but I hold back from responding. I’m too busy trying to steady my racing heart as he starts the motorcycle. The engine’s vibrations ripple through my entire body, and when he steps on the gas, I cling to him fearfully like a little monkey. I can feel his laughter shaking through his back, so summoning my courage, I lift one hand off his waist and slap him, which makes him laugh even harder, before he suddenly accelerates.
Asshole.
I’m slammed against him and cling to him even tighter.
Holy shit.
At first, he rides slowly and carefully, guiding us safely out of the city, which still lies quiet and sleepy in the early dawn. But the moment we cross the city limits, he steps on the gas, really steps on the gas. The wind tugs fiercely at me, my stomach flips, and adrenaline surges wildly through my veins. The first curve appears, Nicolas leans the bike sharply, and I scream, whetherfrom fear or the rush, I can’t tell. But as we push deeper into the countryside, I begin to sense his rhythm, his style, and the true meaning of what Nicolas gave me earlier.
Freedom.
He has actually given me freedom. No pressure, no media, no hatred, no beatings, nothing at all. Just me. Me, Nicolas, and this speed.
I begin to understand why he loves it. Why he needs it.
We ride for at least two hours, and I relax more the farther away we get from Harlington, starting to take in the landscape around me. The tall, rocky mountains sharply outlined on the horizon, the green hills rising gently before them, and the sea visible in the distance on the other side.
