HIS PRINCESS

CHAPTER 13

The drive back to her apartment complex passed in silence. Ariana watched the estate's iron gates shrink in the rear window before disappearing around a bend. The car's leather seats creaked faintly as they merged onto the highway.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. A text from Kiara: "How're you doing?"

Ariana typed a quick reply: "Fine. Talk later." She stared at the screen for a moment before adding, "Stay safe Kiara."

The car dropped her outside her apartment building. The elevator ride up was smooth and silent. Inside her unit, Ariana placed her keys on the counter with a soft clink.

She slipped off her shoes, placing it beside the couch as she stared at the contract still lying on the coffee table. The afternoon sun slanted across its leather cover, highlighting the embossed Scott family crest.

She walked to her bedroom, stripping off the sweater that still carried traces of Scotland Mansion's lavender scent. The shower ran hot, steam fogging the mirror within minutes.

Dressed in fresh clothes, Ariana sat at her desk. She opened her laptop, typing "Khalid Scott" into the search bar. The results loaded instantly—grainy paparazzi shots and a single hospital press release about a "private health matter."

She was about to close the browser just before her phone rang.

The phone buzzed insistently in Ariana's hand, the name "Elena Anderson" flashing across the screen. She hesitated before answering on the fourth ring.

"Finally!" Elena's familiar laugh crackled through the receiver. "Two years after school and you forget your best friend exists?"

Ariana's shoulders relaxed slightly. "You're the one who moved to Paris, remember? How's fashion design treating you?"

"It's really exhausting but glamarous at the same time. Exactly like we imagined." Elena's voice softened. "I saw your exhibit in Vogue Italia last month. Those portraits were stunning."

Ariana traced a finger along her laptop's trackpad, closing the browser window about Khalid. "Thanks. Just freelance work though."

A pause. Then Elena's tone shifted. "Ari...Gabriella's engaged."

Ice water trickled down Ariana's spine. "To who?"

"Damon Meyer. The announcement was this morning." Elena exhaled sharply. "They set the wedding date for June."

Ariana's fingers tightened around the phone. Damon. Her childhood sweetheart. The boy who'd promised to wait for her before everything fell apart.

"The irony," she managed to say, her voice surprisingly steady.

Elena hesitated. "There's more. The Byrnes are using the wedding to pressure Damon's family into dropping their shares in Cross Enterprises. Something about your father's legal troubles making the company unstable."

The walls of Ariana's apartment seemed to press closer. She stood abruptly, pacing to the window. The city lights blurred before her eyes.

"Are you still there?" Elena asked quietly.

"I have to go." Ariana's throat felt tight. "Thanks for the heads up."

"Ariana—"

She ended the call, dropping the phone onto the couch. The contract from Madame Flora lay on the coffee table, its embossed crest glinting under the lamplight.

Ariana picked up the contract, running her thumb over the crisp pages. The key to her avenging the humiliation she faced in the hands of the Byme family.

Ariana stood frozen in her dimly lit apartment, the contract still clutched in her hands. The hum of the refrigerator filled the silence as she processed Elena's revelation.

Damon Meyer. Engaged to Gabriella.

Her fingers tightened around the papers, the edges digging into her palms. The past had a way of circling back when she least expected it.

She set the contract down carefully and walked to the window, staring at the city lights. The Bymes had taken everything from her—her childhood, her name, even Damon. And now they were coming for her father's company.

A bitter laugh escaped her lips.

Ariana turned away from the window and grabbed her jacket. She needed air. The night was cool as she stepped outside, the sounds of the city wrapping around her.

She walked without direction, her thoughts churning. The contract with the Scotts was her only leverage now. A way to protect her father, to salvage Cross Enterprises. But signing it meant binding herself to Khalid—a man she didn’t know, a man with a violent reputation.

A shadow moved at the edge of her vision. Ariana tensed, her instincts sharpening. She turned down a quieter street, footsteps quickening.

A black sedan idled at the curb. Ariana slowed her pace as she approached the black sedan. The window rolled down halfway, revealing Spencer in the driver's seat, his usual composed expression in place.

"Miss Ross," he said smoothly. "Need a ride?"

She studied him for a moment before opening the passenger door. The leather seats were cool against her skin as she settled in. "What are you doing here?"

Spencer pulled away from the curb, his gloved hands steady on the wheel. "Meeting with one of the company's partners. The restaurant down the street." He glanced at her. "You looked like you could use a lift."

Ariana watched the city lights blur past the window. "Really?" She asked raising an eyebrow.

A faint smile touched his lips. "Isn't it?"

They drove in silence for several blocks. The hum of the engine filled the space between them.

Ariana finally spoke. "Tell Madame Flora I'll sign the contract tomorrow."

Spencer didn't react beyond a slight nod. "I'll relay the message."

He turned onto her street, pulling up smoothly in front of her apartment building. The engine idled quietly as Ariana reached for the door handle.

"Miss Ross," Spencer said, stopping her. He reached into his coat pocket and handed her a small envelope. "A token. For your time."

Ariana stepped out of the sedan, then leaned back through the open door with a wry smile. "A token for my time? How generous. Should I expect a gold star if I sign quickly?"

Spencer's expression remained impassive. "Madame Flora rewards cooperation."

"Of course she does." Ariana tapped the envelope against her palm. "Tell her I prefer my bribes in chocolate next time."

The corner of Spencer's mouth twitched—almost a smile, but not quite. "I'll note your preference."

The sedan pulled away silently, leaving Ariana standing under the flickering streetlamp. She tore open the envelope as she walked inside.

Cash, as expected.

---

Ariana woke at the first lights of dawn to her alarm's persistent beeping. She silenced it with a sharp tap, blinking against the morning light filtering through thin curtains. The shower ran lukewarm as she washed quickly, the water pressure uneven. She dressed in faded jeans and a plain white button-down, the fabric slightly wrinkled from being at the bottom of her drawer. A single swipe of mascara and she was out the door, skipping breakfast.

The Scott mansion's gates swung open silently as her taxi approached. A uniformed maid escorted her through echoing hallways to a sitting room where Madame Flora perched on a velvet settee, teacup balanced delicately in her age-spotted hands.

"Have a seat," Madame Flora said, gesturing to a stiff-backed chair opposite her. "Khalid will be along shortly."

Ariana sat, back straight, hands folded in her lap. The grandfather clock in the corner ticked loudly in the silence.

After about half an hour, tires crunched on the driveway gravel. Heavy footsteps approached - Spencer's measured tread followed by sharper, more impatient steps.

Khalid Scott entered with the presence of a thunderclap. His navy suit hugged broad shoulders perfectly, the silk tie knotted with military rigor. Dark hair swept back from a face that could have been carved from marble, he took the seat beside his grandmother without glancing at Ariana.

Madame Flora set her teacup down with a quiet clink. "Khalid, this is Ariana Ross. Ariana, my grandson."

Khalid turned his head slowly. Ice-blue eyes raked over her simple outfit - the worn jeans, the off-the-rack blouse, the scuffed flats. His top lip curled slightly.

"I have no interest in playing husband to a charity case especially one who can't even dress up properly," he said, voice like a winter wind. He stood abruptly, bending to press a kiss to his grandmother's cheek. "Find someone more suitable."

His polished Oxfords clicked across the parquet floor. The front door slammed shut behind him.

Ariana's fingers twitched in her lap, but her face remained smooth as glass.

Madame Flora sighed, the first crack in her composure. "Don't mind his...bluntness." She gestured to Spencer waiting by the door. "See Miss Ross home."

The car ride passed in silence. Spencer didn't comment when Ariana declined the offered bottle of water. He simply pulled up to her apartment building and waited until she was safely inside before driving away.

The elevator doors closed behind her. Only then did Ariana's nails leave half-moon indents in her palms.

___

The night stretched on, the city lights casting shifting patterns across Ariana's ceiling. She turned onto her side, the sheets twisting around her legs.

Sebastian's contract sat in her desk drawer—unsigned, but not forgotten.