Page 111 of The Royal Art of Revenge

Maybe so.

That doesn’t mean her choices can’t hurt her, either.

“I knew he’d choose them over me when it came to it, but shit.” She finishes her sentence on a whisper. “I thought he might at least pretend. I didn’t think he’d outright come after me to berate me. I thought he might force them to get on with it. He did that with me. When Jasmine crashed her car into the DeLaurentis guy’s and injured his girlfriend and forced me to take the blame, I was told to suck it up. To hand over my licence and get over it.”

Fuck.

I’d suspected they’d scapegoated her, but to hear it…

I close my eyes in a desperate attempt to keep my rage down. I don’t want to hear more. No—I do. I want to know. I want to know what those bastards have put her through since she came home two years ago, but I don’t.

“They acted like they were doing me a favour,” she continues. “Like it was my fault the whole time. When Jasmine damaged a dress that had been delivered for a fitting and decided she didn’t want it, they blamed me. They got a heads up about every negative thing going to be put to press for Jasmine, and they always wheedled their way out of it by blaming me. They even had people photoshop pictures to make her blonde so I could take the fall. I’ve been a dangerous driver, a drunken floozy, a rude diner. I’ve taken the blame for her so, so many times, and I had to be grateful that they never used my name. And yes, I was wrong to go behind their backs and ask you to marry me. I know it was objectively wrong to keep it a secret until the moment we were presented, but it’s the only thing I’ve ever done wrong. And still, it’s my fault.”

I swallow.

All those things.

All those fucking things they made her do.

“Just once. Just once, I wanted my father to choose me. Even if it was only because he’d look bad otherwise. But it still wasn’t enough. I still wasn’t enough.” Her voice is thicker now, like she’s trying to hold back tears.

It takes everything within me not to move, not to speak, to let her truly finish what’s in her heart.

“It’s ridiculous because I did all this. I did all this knowing exactly what would happen, so why am I bothered by it?”

“Because you’re human, Hattie.”

She pauses. “But—”

“You’re human, and you aren’t perfect. You can hurt people and be hurt at the same time. You can make decisions that are right for you and wrong for everyone else, know that, and still be upset when things work out exactly the way you knew they would. You’re not wrong for hoping for a different outcome.”

She tilts her head back, pressing her face into my neck. “I feel so stupid. I just… I just wanted to be enough, just once.”

“You are.” I hold her tighter. “You’re enough for me.”

“No, you’re…” She trails off, shaking her head.

“I’m what?”

“Never mind.” She whispers the words, and I feel it—this is the moment she curls back in on herself, withdrawing from the conversation, wrapping herself in her usual armour.

I’m an idiot.

I never should have said anything.

“Okay. I’ll be here when you’re ready to tell me.” I kiss the top of her head.

Her hand twitches against my back, and she presses her body against mine a little more. “Finn?”

“Mm? What is it?”

“I…” She pauses. “I want you inside me.”

Fuck.

“You just had a panic attack,” I murmur, even as desire bolts through my body, pooling in my cock. “Are you sure?”

“Not like sex,” she whispers. “Just… hold it there.”