Page 171 of The Royal Art of Revenge

“Good.”

“You’re wet,” I mutter. “You’ll get a chill.”

He looks down at his own body as if it hadn’t occurred to him. “Give me a minute.” He disappears back into the wardrobe and comes back out a few minutes later wearing a fresh t-shirt and grey pyjama bottoms.

He sits next to me on the bed and sighs, then reaches over and links his fingers through mine. Warmth radiates up my arm from our connected palms. My gaze lands on a drawer knob on the vanity, and I trace the circular handle over and over.

“Oscar is working with his dad, Rowan, and the legal team to file an emergency order with the courts for a hearing. We’re going to ask the judge to rule that the source of this story should be named,” he says quietly. “Alec has gone on a slightly more unhinged rampage. He commandeered your laptop, by the way, so don’t mind the internet search history when you get it back.”

If I could, I’d smile at that.

“He’s determined to find out who the source is and who put them up to it. He’s as angry as I’ve ever seen him, if I’m being honest with you. I don’t know how you charmed the uncharmable man, but here we are.”

I think it’s more a healthy fear than charm, but whatever.

“The major media outlets are working with us. They won’t report until they have a response from the palace. Partly because they know how serious the allegations are, but also because if they fuck this up, they’ll never get access to us again. That’s probably a good thing for some of them.”

No kidding.

“I’m sorry, Hattie.”

I turn my head. He’s looking at our clasped hands.

“I know what I just said in the bathroom, and I meant it. You mean more to me than any of this.” He motions around the room with his free hand. “I told you at the hotel that you wouldn’t be able to escape this life, but it’s not too late. If this is all too much for you to deal with, I understand if you want to leave.”

“No.”

He raises his gaze to mine. “Hattie—”

“No. I don’t want to leave. I feel that I should, but I don’t want to.” I swallow. “This is the only place that’s ever felt like home.”

His grip on my hand tightens. “Then don’t. This is your home, Hattie.”

I lean into him and rest my head on his shoulder. Those are words I’ve heard a thousand times referring to the house the Sinclairs live in, but they’ve never struck a chord with me.

How strange that here, in this expansive palace, with more empty rooms than anyone could ever feasibly need, there’s more warmth than anywhere else I’ve ever been.

Everything here is a choice. Everyone here cares because they choose to. I’m here because Finn chose me. Even now when this story could cause the Royal Family no end of problems, they’re all choosing me.

“Can I tell you what it was like? When I was younger?”

His breath hitches. “When you were kidnapped?”

I nod. “The stories are believable because while they aren’t true for me, it was the case for others. I’m one of the lucky ones, I guess you could say.”

“Are you sure? If it’s too hard for you…”

“No. I want to.”

“Okay.” He tilts his head and kisses my hair. “I’ll listen to whatever you feel like you can say, baby.”

I swallow. “The kidnappers were traffickers. I didn’t learn that until I was around twelve, and even then, it took another older girl on the island to tell me what that really meant. They were small fish in a huge operation. My memories aren’t complete, especially of during the actual kidnapping, but I remember being passed off to other people before we got to the island. Then we were sent to what they called a ‘safe house,’ but it was really just another pit stop.

“That was Sayana’s house. She was a bit like us—forced into a situation she had no control over. She owed a lot of people a lot of money, and being the safe house for the trafficked kids was how she was paying back some of her debts. The most dangerous ones, anyway. She was tasked with caring for us and making sure we were presentable for whenever they came back to get us. Nobody knew when that would be, and not all the kids made it.

“She had her own connections, though, and every now and then, she’d take a kid from a group and say they died. Nobody ever questioned it. We weren’t exactly well looked after on the road, and kids dying was more normal than it had any right to be. Sayana was good at telling the ‘value’ of a child based on their appearance, and that was what saved me, I guess. I remember being shoved in her secret basement with the other kids who weren’t supposed to be there whenever the group showed up. There was a lot of fighting about me—I think they’d already sold me to someone, so when I allegedly died, it was a huge issue.

“They gave up in the end, though, when we couldn’t be found. Living with her was pretty safe. I learnt from one of the older girls there that she tended to raise children until they reached around sixteen to eighteen then sold them as wives to local leaders. Everyone knew what was going on, but nobody wanted to get involved because of the money behind it all. The local people on the island benefitted from Sayana’s activities, so they turned a blind eye to her cheating the group. Ironically.