Ruthless Empire (Royal Elite #6) by Rina Kent

I gasp, bile rising to my throat at the image he’s painted in Cole’s head about me. “Why did you do that?”

“Isn’t that what you want him to think?”

“Yeah, but not that way.”

“Believe me, he needs to get the crude details to react…” he trails off and brings out his phone. Cole’s name flashes on his screen. “Speak of the devil.”

“Are you going to answer?” I murmur.

“No. It’s better to keep him in suspense, don’t you think?”

“Why, of course.” This is my revenge. I didn’t throw myself away and have sex just to spite him, but Cole thinks that.

That’s the only part that matters.

My phone buzzes with a text from an unknown number. Aiden starts to look at it, but I snatch it away.

I don’t want him, of all people, to know about that part of my life. We might be allies, but I don’t trust Aiden, not even a little. If he thinks disclosing this would benefit him in any way, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

One peek at the text causes my skin to prickle.

Unknown Number: I love the new watch.

I’ve been receiving these types of texts for the past few weeks. At first, I liked how someone praised my piano playing and said I have the best dresses.

It’s when they started to describe my daily routines and the clothes I wore outside that I recognised I might have a stalker.

The only reason I’ve ignored it is because they’ve just been harmless texts. Besides, Papa is preparing for an important internal campaign. I won’t, under any circumstances, divide his attention.

Mum is also in that campaign, and if she knows about this, she’ll raise hell and take it to social media. That’s the last thing I want.

So for now, I’ve decided to keep it to myself. If it gets more persistent or creepy, I’ll tell Papa or maybe Frederic. He’s PR-savvy so he’ll know how to deal with it.

We arrive at my house first. “Derek, please drive Aiden home.”

“I’ll keep Nash on the edge.” Aiden winks. “This is going to be so fun.”

No. It’s not fun. I might want to get back at Cole and I won’t allow him to throw me the short end of the stick, but I don’t enjoy this.

It’s just a necessity.

Aiden, however, is finding the most joy in it.

I’m about to step out when Papa peeks in from the passenger window. “Aiden, perfect. Come join us.”

An automatic smile lifts my face the moment I see him. I barge out of the car and squeeze him in a hug. “Papa! What are you doing home this early?”

He strokes my hair back — it’s a habit he started from when I had a fever ever since I was young, and it usually puts me back to sleep. Even now that I’ve grown up, he still does it.

I’ve always loved it when I’m sick. It’s the only time my parents nurse me all night without fighting.

Papa is a tall man with a darker shade of blond hair than mine. His eyes are a light brown that turn to mesmerising hazel under the sun.

He’s wearing his three-piece Italian cut suit and he still has his leather shoes on, which means he recently got home. He usually changes into a cardigan sweater as soon as he leaves the office. Unless he has company.

His next words confirm my suspicions. “Jonathan and I have something important to discuss with you and Aiden.”

“Is this about a fundraiser?” I ask.

“Let’s talk in the house.” Papa nods at his driver. “Thank you, Derek. That will be all.”

Aiden follows us inside as I keep hanging on to Papa by the waist. I feel like I haven’t seen him in an eternity. Not only has he been busy lately, but Mum has been dropping in unannounced, demanding I spend time with her and complaining that I never do anymore.

The guilt trip frequently works and I end up in her flat before I know it.

We go into Papa’s office. It’s as big as a conference hall with photos in black frames of previous leaders of the Conservative Party who Papa looks up to.

The wood and the chandeliers give a hint about Papa’s ancient roots and how much he believes in classical with a modern twist. Everything in his office has a time and place. You never find papers stacked on top of each other or in disorder.

He’s all about law and order to the point he uses it as the slogan of his campaign.

There’s a conference table in the middle with a presentation board and everything.

We head to the adjacent lounge area that has brown leather sofas and chairs. Uncle Jonathan is already sitting there, sipping from a glass of scotch and scrolling through his tablet on what looks like the FTSE 100 Index.

Aiden is a replica of his father appearance-wise. They share the same black hair and dark grey eyes. Uncle Jonathan, however, has a sharper edge and he’s frightening with his enemies. He’s crushed countless companies and rivals until they either disappeared off the face of the earth or agreed to his conditions. All he cares about is profit and going forward.

I’m glad Papa is his friend, not his enemy. Upon seeing us, he places his glass and tablet on the table. “Wonderful, both of you are here. Saves us time speaking to you separately.”

“Sit down.” Papa motions at the sofa as he settles in beside Uncle Jonathan.

“What’s going on?” I ask after Aiden and I sit next to each other.