“What?” he asked.
“I assumed that... I assumed that royalty would have some sort of exemplary table manners. But, unless your customs are different here...”
He set the meat down onto his plate. “Are you determined to insult me at every turn? I served you dinner. I installed you in a very nice room. All things considered, I find you ungrateful.”
“I’m sorry—am I not expressing adequate gratitude for my imprisonment?”
“You are a prisoner of your own design. You could have left your father here.”
“Right. I could have left my father here to die.”
He lifted a shoulder. “Plenty of people would have. A great many people possess more self-interest than that.”
“My father raised me,” she said, conviction in her tone. “He’s all I have. And it might be easy for you to dismiss him as nothing more than a paparazzo, but he’s everything to me. And you didn’t even let me say goodbye to him.”
“I’m hardly going to keep you captive for the rest of your life,” he said. “Don’t be dramatic.”
“He’s sick,” she insisted. “He might die while I’m away.”
Adam felt an uncomfortable stab of conscience. He was not in the market for his conscience to make any kind of resurgence. Not now. “I truly hope that isn’t the case. However, he was well enough to sneak into my palace and collect photographs of me only a few weeks ago. Then he sold those photos and would do nothing to reclaim them. Tell me,” he said, “since you are so well versed in matters of popular culture, do you know exactly how I got my scars?”
She looked down, shaking her head.
“All it took was a relentless photographer harassing my driver on a night with poor driving conditions,” he said, his tone hard. “And in the end, damage was done that could not be undone.”
He didn’t see the point in bringing up Ianthe. If she didn’t know, he wasn’t going to discuss it. Not something so intensely personal. Not pain that belonged to him, and him alone, so unquestionably.
“I...” She looked away from him, and she had the decency to look ashamed. “I didn’t know. I didn’t. But, my father didn’t endanger you.”
“No,” he said, his tone dripping with condescension. “He only broke into my home and invaded my privacy.”
“He’s harmless,” she said. “I mean, I know that a lot of people don’t understand the paparazzi thing. And I guess it can be a little bit...intense.”
“They are nothing but leeches. Bottom-feeders who leech off the fame of those who have either talent or power.”
“Fine. But my father isn’t a leech. When my mother decided she didn’t want me he took care of me. He’s always taken care of me. And yes, he did it by taking pictures of celebrities. That’s what fed me, all of my life. But nobody else was going to feed me,” she said, her voice vibrating with conviction.
“There are plenty of other lines of work to be in.”
“Says the Prince who was born with his job. Other people have to work. And not only that, they have to work hard to get work in the first place.”
“Are you lecturing me on how hard life can be?” He sat back in his chair. “Excuse me while I get a pen and paper so that I can take notes.”
“I’m sorry about your accident. My father didn’t do that to you.”
“But he was intending to use my personal tragedy for his gain.” He laughed. “In fact, he has succeeded.”
“Yes,” she said, sputtering. “But it isn’t that simple. He isn’t doing it to hurt you. He needs help. He needed to be able to afford his treatments.”
“Your justifications are hardly going to impress me. There is absolutely nothing I hate more than the press. Particularly the kind of fake press your father is a part of. But, it is of no matter to me. There is nothing I can do to prevent the publication of those photographs. Believe me—I have tried. But, I have figured out a way to take control of the situation.”
“What’s that?” she asked, clearly skeptical.
“I have not appeared in public since my accident. That’s why those photographs are so valuable, you know. Because everybody’s curious. How badly am I disfigured?”
She blinked. “You haven’t been in public...at all.”
“No. I think I mentioned when we first met—”
“When you took me captive.”
“If you prefer. I think I mentioned that I have someone ruling in my stead. However, the time frame on our agreement is running out, and if I do not regain control of the country, a general election will result. And so it will be the end of the monarchy as we know it.” He looked at the little woman sitting across from him and twisting her hands in her lap. “I would have thought you would have done a bit of cursory research on me before you tore off to my kingdom and offered to become my prisoner.”
“There wasn’t time. Whatever you think about my father, I hope that you can understand that I love him.”
“Love doesn’t matter except to the people it is between,” he said, thinking of his wife. The press certainly hadn’t cared that he’d loved her. They were always tormenting her, always working to dig up a scandal. “It is precious to no one else,” he finished, the words bitter.
“Tell me. Tell me your plans. Since I clearly factor into them.”
“I intend to keep you here with me, and then I intend to present you to the world as my mistress.”
* * *
Belle felt as though she had been slapped. “Your...what?”
“My mistress. As I said, I have not been seen in the public eye since the accident. But, now those photographs are going to be published, and it is forcing me out of my seclusion. I suppose it had to happen eventually. I dislike greatly having my hand forced, but the timing coincides with an event that is politically expedient for me to attend.”
He began to eat again, just as he had done earlier. There was something feral in the way that he handled his food. In his posture. He wasn’t at all the way she imagined a prince might be. Though, when he talked about how long he had been away from the public eye, it all made a bit more sense. He had been here, she assumed. Nearly alone in this castle, answering to no one but himself. Clearly, performing for no one at all.
His manner was rough, his manners nonexistent.
Of course, she could expect little else from someone who had taken her prisoner over some photographs. Well, as a trade for a prisoner who was imprisoned for photographs.
And he had said he needed her for her beauty. So she supposed she shouldn’t be shocked that this was where it was leading.
But a mistress. Such an old-fashioned word, and certainly not one that had ever been applied to her.
She wasn’t sure anyone would believe it. She didn’t know how to act the part of a vixen. Or even someone mildly flirtatious.
She’d met Tony at school, and if not for him coming into the university library every day around the time she was studying, asking her what she was reading, the two of them would never have started dating. She’d been oblivious, and only his persistence had brought about the first date.
Oh. Tony. He would be...
“I can’t do that.”
“You don’t have a choice. You agreed to be my prisoner, and so, here you are.”
“But...but...