She finishes the song, and I’m in some sort of trance state. My hand even stopped moving, and I hate that it did because I missed so much and could have drawn incredible things.
“You are so beautiful, Marcella. You make the sun rise even on the gloomiest day.”
The phone pulls away from her face, and I’m stuck back in the darkness. “Don’t say things like that to me. I should hang up on you. I never should have answered.”
Yeah, yeah, blah, blah. I don’t know who she’s trying to convince with that routine, me or her. This is why I think she doesn’t want to hurt us. This is why I think she’s running from a past that won’t let her go or is being manipulated by a hand wrapped around her neck.
“I’m sending you some stuff,” I tell her.
And I’m back, this time treated with her annoyed scowl. “What stuff?”
“Stuff.” But there’s no hiding my smirk.
“I don’t need you to buy me things.”
“I know. I did it for me because it makes me happy.”
She snorts a laugh. “Such a selfish, self-indulged prince.”
“The worst sort.” I sit up straighter, the charcoal in my hand moving quickly once more, nervous she’ll ruin the image again, and I’ll be forced to draw from memory. I hate that. I much prefer to draw from a direct visual.
“Do you draw all the women you sleep with?”
“No. I’ve only drawn two. Her and you.”
She releases a heavy breath. “Her?”
“The woman you saw when you snooped.”
“Why her?”
I suppress my grin. “Jealous?”
She laughs, but there’s no humor to it. “Not even a little.”
“Uh-huh. I met her the night of my brother’s wedding to Bellamy. She saw how bored I was. How disinterested I was in every woman there who were only talking to me because I’m the prince and they wanted to be the next princess. That woman didn’t care about any of that. Like you. But that night she gave me something, a piece of herself that was just for me and no one else. I liked her instantly. I liked her before I knew her secret. But after I had it as my own, she had me.”
She swallows thickly and licks her lips. “What happened to her?”
“She ran off, and I haven’t seen her since.”
Marcella’s eyes close tight, her cheeks flushed, and she moves the phone away, having difficulty hiding her expression.
“Then I met you,” I continue.
Wordlessly, she shakes her head.
“My toxic trait is falling for women who want nothing to do with me.”
“Rowan…” She bites her lip and puts the phone down.
“Don’t do that.”
She doesn’t lift it from her pillow, and I’m trapped in darkness. “I’m not someone to fall in love with.”
“So you keep reminding me. Fine. Warning noted. Now show me your pretty tits.”
She giggles, and I smile like a stupid bastard. Her face is back, but the phone is moving, and so is her shirt. She lifts it up, shows me her pretty tits, then says, “Good night, Your Highness,” and hangs up on me.