The prince and the player - pt 1

2018, December 4th

Caines, Terres Somnia (Zoey)

Three months before the scandal broke

"Are you people out of your bloody minds?" I knew that I was yelling, but I couldn't help it. "I just met the lot of you two days ago, one day really," I sucked in a deep, much needed breath, "and now you want me to marry some guy I have never even met?"

His Grace raised his hand in dismissal of me and said, "Silence. You are of the House of Arden and you will accept the prince's hand. There will be no discussion on the matter."

Duke Arden, however, was not accustomed to my temper.

"The hell I will. You know what? How about you keep your money and I keep my hand and we just call it even? Cool? Dandy."

I stormed off, well aware that I was bound to get lost in the mansion and not caring at all. The nerve of the man. I thought he might want to meet me. That after 23 years, he might like to get to know his only daughter. That maybe, just maybe, he had missed me. It was while I was storming down some unknown hallway that I felt fingers encircle my wrist. I gasped as the stranger pulled me into a room.

I guessed that this must be one of many guest rooms. While I examined the room for the person who had brought me into it, I turned too quickly, and he caught me just as I might have fallen. My eyes widened in panic as he held me, his hands on my arms.

"Shush," he hissed in a hushed tone. He winked at me. That was when I heard it.

"Lady Zoey, Lady Zoey," echoed the maids.

"You are wanted as a matter of urgency. His Majesty and His Highness will be paying us a visit soon. His Grace demands that we make you presentable for the visit. Please say if you can hear us," said the butler, his prudent voice giving way to agitation.

"It would seem that you're a wanted woman, Lady Zoey," the handsome stranger said.

I was a smart woman. I had always excelled in academia. Unfortunately that good fortune did not translate into knowing how to talk to men. Despite ample interest from many suitors, I always seemed to run from the idea. No man, be he handsome or smart or funny, had ever truly managed to capture my interest. Until now.

His alluring, ocean blue, naughty eyes held mine and when I attempted to look elsewhere, I found nothing was safe. His long, sandy brown hair was brushed back neatly without a hair out of place. It made me want to make a mess of it. The way his big hands curved around my arms made me want to take a step closer, to curve the rest of him to me. Even his suit wasn't safe. His jacket was open with the first two buttons of his shirt undone. Seeing this made me want to undo more of them, to explore, discover and for the first time in my life, I found that I wanted for breath because of a man. But I would not remain so for long.

"What do you think you're doing?" I snapped, when the voices had passed.

When I took a step back, he simply took one forward. This was too much for me. All at once, my anger took hold of me and I slapped him. My jaw dropped, and it took everything in me not to apologise. Not to raise my hands and cover my face in horror. He watched a string of emotions dance all over my face for some time before he burst out laughing.

"Feisty one, aren't you?" he quipped, his eyes drowning in mischief.

Seeing the way that he looked at me, I went back to being angry and started to storm off again.

"Wait, wait, wait," he said, still laughing. "I was just so eager to meet you. When I heard that you were at present detained, I thought my heart would burst. I just had to come and find you."

He practically sang the words, holding his hand to his heart in a melodramatic fashion. He jogged a little ahead of me, blocking my path.

I stopped thinking, not seeing the danger that was him. I was all anger. It didn't matter who he was or what he wanted. I just wanted to leave.

"Get. Out. Of. My. Way," I demanded, fiercely yanking at the doorknob.

"Where will you go? Everyone's looking for you. The moment you step outside of this room, you will be found."

The stranger put his thumb and index finger up to his chin and feigned concern. His question gave me some pause. It was quite the conundrum I found myself faced with. I searched my angry brain for the way out, because I had to find the way out. I was not going to be married off, used as some sort of bargaining chip. No, they would have to find another way. I would have to too. Perhaps a part-time job or selling off all my mother's bags and shoes. Yes, another way.

"Do you want to get out of here?" he asked, intruding on my spiralling thoughts.

This caught my attention. With a raised eyebrow, I sceptically looked at him and then at the window and right back.

"Wait here," he said with a nod, as though in answer to my unasked question.

"What? Wait, where are you going?" I called after him, remembering a moment too late to be quiet.