Don't Promise (Don't 3)

“Let me out of this car.” It sounded more like a whine than an ultimatum. I jerked on the handle again. The engine started and we pulled away from the library. I couldn’t believe this was happening.

We drove outside of the city and

along the steep highway, curling around the low mountainside, until I had a full view of the palace.

I glared at the mass of stone and windows that towered over these grounds for centuries. Galonians loved their palace. It symbolized the richness of the monarchy. It showcased the majesty of the land. The architecture set the tone for the aesthetic of all Freychon. There were touches of the palace throughout the city. It may be reflected subtly in an archway above a shop door, or a column on one of the government buildings, but this palace was the centerpiece of the land.

Right now, it felt like I was being dragged to prison.

We rolled through the private tunnel and the car stopped at the back entrance. The door opened and I scowled at the officer who had taken me from the library.

“Please follow me.” He extended his hand.

“And if I don’t?” I challenged.

“You will be escorted by force,” he stated. There was no change in his voice or expression. I wondered how many people he bullied around like this.

“I will walk.” I scooted to the edge of the seat and stood outside the door. The same one that only two days ago I had walked through in a trance.

Maybe it had been a spell. I was caught up in the magic of the king. Stunned by The Titan’s gala. Overwhelmed by the sovereign.

Inside the elevator I remembered the kiss. The one that had made me breathless. The way my body responded and melted into his.

The doors opened at the top floor, and the officer waved me forward.

“You will wait here.”

I looked around. The residence was empty.

“For how long?” I questioned.

“Until His Majesty is here.”

“And how long will that take?” I crossed my arms.

“Wait here.” He pressed the elevator button.

The doors closed and I was alone in the king’s apartment.

17

Damon

I stared at the prime minister. He read through the final draft of the new proposal. My urge to rush him was at an all-time high. I had catered to this man long enough. The hand carved clock above the mantle ticked with each passing second. The side door opened and Sutcliffe walked in. He placed a folded card next to my elbow and retreated.

I scanned the brief report on the note and smiled.

She was here. Waiting.

Just when I thought I couldn’t be more restless.

My eyes bore into Paul’s. “Do we have a deal?”

He took a long pause, folding the leather cover over the proposal. The seal of Galona was emblazed on the outside.

“I believe I can work with these terms.” He flattened his mustache.

I nodded, concealing my desire to get the hell out of this negotiating room at a breakneck pace. He had consumed enough of my time for twenty-four hours.