How to Love a Prince

NINE

Roselia

The ride back to the penthouse was steeped in a silence so thick, it felt like another oppressive layer of the night pressing down on me. The sleek black car glided through the city streets, the passing lights blurring into streaks of color, a stark contrast to the chaotic, glittering ballroom we’d just left.

I WANT TO TALK BUT I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO SAY.

Alistair sat beside me, his profile etched against the passing city lights, his expression as unreadable as ever. He hadn't spoken since we left the charity dinner, not a word about the waltz, not a word about Damian.

The air between us was charged, humming with unspoken questions and simmering tension. When the car finally pulled into the penthouse garage, the silence of the enclosed space felt even more profound, amplifying the frantic beat of my own heart.

I kicked off my heels the moment I stepped inside, sighing in relief as my aching feet met the cool marble floor. A wave of exhaustion, physical and emotional, washed over me, making my knees feel weak.

Alistair, however, remained composed, his movements fluid as he shed his suit jacket, tossing it onto a nearby armchair with a casual grace I envied. He loosened his tie, his gaze finally settling on me, sharp and unwavering, stripping away any pretense of peace.

“So,” he began, his voice calm, almost dangerously so, devoid of the charming lilt he used for the public, or the commanding tone he’d used during the waltz.

“Care to explain why you were with Damian, of all people?”

My heart gave a sudden lurch, a frantic flutter against my ribs. The exhaustion I’d felt moments ago vanished, replaced by a surge of defensiveness, a desperate need to justify myself.

“I… I wasn’t with him,” I stammered, my voice sounding weak and thin even to my own ears, betraying the tremor in my hands. “He… he found me. I was overwhelmed, Alistair. You left me alone with no other instructions and the guests,” I licked my lips, trying to moisten them as I felt like I was breathing sand.

“They were… they were asking questions, making comments I don’t know how to respond with. And then, all of a sudden, he came and dragged me where you found us—he didn’t tell me his name and you didn’t gave me information about him either.” I ended, trying to meet his sapphire gaze.

“I knew nothing because no one told me anything.”

Alistair merely raised an eyebrow, his expression unyielding, a subtle tightening around his eyes. You are my wife, Roselia. You are expected to handle yourself. Why would you allow yourself to be seen with him, let alone be helped by him?”

“You should know by then that in my world, you shouldn’t trust anyone but me, and when I’m not around, just yourself.” The accusation in his tone stung, making me feel like a child caught misbehaving.

“I know I’m ignorant…but I’m trying,.” The last words were almost a whisper, a desperate plea for him to understand my vulnerability, the profound loneliness that had driven me to seek solace in an unexpected corner.

Alistair’s jaw tightened, a muscle jumping in his temple, a rare sign of his own barely contained fury. “You were supposed to follow my lead. To stay by my side. I left you for ten minutes, and you managed to fall into the viper’s nest.” His words were a lash, making me flinch.

“Ten minutes felt like an eternity!” I cried, my voice rising, cracking with the force of my raw emotion. The carefully constructed composure of the evening shattered around me, fragments of my composure scattering across the polished floor.

“I don’t know the rules, Alistair! I don’t know who’s who, who’s a friend, who’s an enemy! You just throw me into these situations and expect me to be perfect! I’m not a socialite! I’m just… me! And I’m terrified even when I’m aware I walked in your world myself!” Tears pricked at my eyes, hot and stinging, blurring his sharp features.

My throat ached, a tight knot of unshed tears, but I blinked them back fiercely, determined not to break down in front of him. Not now. Not ever. I would not give him the satisfaction of seeing me completely undone.

He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing, his gaze piercing, dissecting me. “Terrified? You always were.” He spoke, causing me to step back with how much his words rang in my ears—because they were true.

“You were terrified when you came to me, begging for money. You were terrified of the loan sharks. And now that I save you, you have to let go of your fears. That is the price, Roselia. This is the world you agreed to enter. There is no room for ‘terrified’ here.” His voice was cold, unyielding, his words a harsh dose of reality that felt like a slap across the face.

“But I don’t know what it means!” I whispered, my voice thick with unshed tears, a desperate plea for understanding.

“You keep me in the dark! You tell me I’m a spy, but you don’t tell me what I’m spying on! You tell me to win over your stepmother, but you don’t tell me why! How am I supposed to play this game when I don’t even know the rules, or the stakes beyond my own debt?” My frustration was a bitter tide, threatening to drown me, making me feel like a child being scolded for a mistake she couldn't have avoided, a puppet without a script.

Alistair sighed, a sound of exasperation rather than sympathy. He ran a hand through his dark hair, ruffling the perfectly styled strands, a rare and telling sign of his own agitation.

“The less you know, the less you can accidentally reveal. It’s for your own protection, Perignon. And mine. You need to trust me to guide you.” His voice was softer now, but still firm, still commanding.

With no words left to say, I looked away and wiped my tears before they could completely fall.

“Damian is a lesson,” Alistair stated once more. “A harsh one, perhaps, but a necessary one. You cannot afford to be naive in this world, Roselia. Everyone has an agenda—you, me, and everyone else around us,”

For a moment, a fleeting, dizzying moment, I saw not the superstar, not the cold businessman, but a man burdened by his own deceptions, trapped in his own elaborate play, perhaps as much as I was. A strange, unfamiliar empathy stirred within me, a tiny spark in the vast coldness.

Just as I was about to respond, a sharp, insistent ring echoed through the penthouse, cutting through the fragile moment like a knife.

Ding dong!

My head snapped towards the front door, my heart leaping into my throat. Who could possibly be here at this hour? It was well past midnight.

Alistair’s eyes, which had softened for a split second, immediately hardened, his guard snapping back into place with chilling speed. He moved with a swift, predatory grace towards the intercom, his posture radiating a sudden, intense tension.

He pressed a button, and a crackle of static filled the air before a voice, smooth and undeniably feminine, purred through the speaker.

“Alistair, darling? It’s Izabelle. I know it’s late, but I simply had to see you. I heard about the… wedding. And I just couldn’t sleep without congratulating you in person. And perhaps,” her voice dropped to a husky whisper, laced with a possessive undertone that curled my stomach, “we could talk about old times, just for a moment?”

He didn’t respond to the intercom. He simply stood there, his eyes fixed on the door, a silent battle raging within him, a storm brewing behind his impassive facade.

Then, he turned to me, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water.

“It’s okay if you want to go and see her,” I spoke, trying to clear a bit of the fog in his head. “I will wait for you if you want.”

Perhaps he heard what he wanted to hear, and finally, he spoke. “If within 10 minutes I still haven’t come back, you go and look for me. Understood, wife?”

I nodded, my throat too tight to speak, my voice caught somewhere between fear and a strange, morbid curiosity.

When he left me alone for the second time this evening, I felt all my strength leave my body, falling to the floor as I heaved deep breaths for support.