HIS PRINCESS

CHAPTER 17

He didn't linger afterward. He withdrew, rolled away, and stood up in one fluid motion. Kiara lay still, staring at the shifting city lights on the ceiling, the unfamiliar ache settling low in her body, the scent of him and expensive soap clinging to her skin. The sheets beneath her felt damp and wrinkled against her skin. She shifted slightly, and that was when she saw it—a faint smear of blood, barely noticeable against the charcoal-gray fabric.

Sebastian paused at the edge of the room, his back half-turned as he reached for his robe. His eyes flicked briefly toward the bed. He saw it too.

"Shower's through there," Sebastian stated, pulling on a dark robe, his back to her. His voice was back to its detached flatness. "The driver will be downstairs when you're ready to leave."

He walked out, leaving the bedroom door open behind him. Kiara listened to his retreating footsteps on the marble, then the soft click of another door closing further away. The villa was silent again, save for the distant hum of the city and the frantic pounding of her own heart, slowly beginning to settle. She pushed herself up, her limbs feeling strangely heavy, and headed for the shower, the warm water a welcome anonymity.

Kiara stepped out of the shower slowly, wrapping the thick towel around herself. The water had dulled the ache in her thighs but not the weight of what she had just done. Her reflection in the fogged-up mirror looked unfamiliar—hair damp and clinging to her face, skin flushed in patches, her eyes searching for something steady. There was nothing steady about any of it.

She walked back into the bedroom, now empty, the sheets already straightened by invisible hands. Someone had come in quietly while she was in the bathroom. A silk robe lay folded at the edge of the bed, pale grey with a subtle monogram near the hem. She slipped it on, tying the sash around her waist with a shaky grip. Her dress and underthings had been laid out neatly over a low chair, dry and pressed.

On the nightstand sat a small bottle of water and a white envelope. She opened it. Inside was a single hotel key card and a folded note written in slanted handwriting: “The driver's waiting. Use the back exit.”

She picked up her phone from where she had hidden it inside her purse earlier. No new messages. No missed calls. She pressed it to her chest for a moment before slipping it into her bag.

---

The hallway outside the suite was quiet. The elevator took her down to the ground floor, then opened near a narrow side corridor where a single black sedan was idling near a discreet back entrance.

The driver stepped out and opened the door without a word. Kiara slid in, the leather seat still warm. The car pulled away smoothly.

She didn’t speak on the ride back. Her fingers pressed lightly against the windowpane, watching as the city blurred past—wet pavement, red brake lights, people moving fast beneath umbrellas. Her reflection in the glass looked composed. But inside, everything still felt off-balance.

The car came to a stop near the back gate of the school residence. The driver gave her a glance in the rearview mirror but said nothing. She got out, nodded once, and watched the taillights disappear down the street.

She slipped through the gate quietly, the cold from the pavement rising through the soles of her shoes. Viola was waiting inside the hallway, leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

Kiara brushed a damp strand of hair from her cheek. “I’m fine”

Viola’s eyes lingered on her a second too long. “Was it rough?”

Kiara pulled her coat tighter. “It was expected.”

“You sure he didn’t catch on?”

Kiara walked past her toward the stairs. “If he had, I’d still be there or somewhere else.”

Viola followed, her footsteps light but close. “What did he say after?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing at all?”

Kiara paused halfway up the steps. “He said the driver would be waiting. That was it.”

Viola raised a brow. “Typical.”

Inside the room, everything looked exactly as they’d left it. Kiara dropped her bag by the desk and began peeling off her coat. Her shoulders were stiff.

Viola leaned against the doorframe. “Did you remember everything we planned?”

“Yes.”

“No slip-ups?”

Kiara looked at her. “He didn’t look twice. He just... did what he does best.”

Viola nodded slowly, her face unreadable. “You’re tougher than you think.”

Kiara turned away and sat on her bed. “It wasn’t about being tough.”

There was a pause.

“Are you hungry?” Viola asked.

Kiara shook her head. “Just tired.”

Viola didn’t push. She turned off the light and crawled into her own bed. The room settled into quiet.

Kiara lay still, staring at the ceiling. Her body was heavy, but her mind kept pacing. She could still feel the shape of his hand on her shoulder. The way he said nothing after. The way she’d pretended not to care.

---

The morning light filtered in through the narrow blinds, casting a faint silver line across the foot of Kiara’s bed. She had barely slept. Her body ached in quiet places, her neck sore, her legs stiff. When she sat up, the sheets clung to her skin. She glanced at the clock but didn’t let her eyes linger. Time didn’t matter. She needed to move.

She pulled herself out of bed and stepped carefully over her roommate’s shoes. Viola was still curled beneath her blanket, only a few strands of her dark hair visible above the covers. Kiara slipped into the bathroom.

She locked the door and turned on the tap. As the mirror cleared, she stared at the soft red blotches trailing down her collarbone. There were faint marks behind her ear and one on the side of her waist she hadn’t noticed last night. She opened the cabinet, grabbed a compact and light concealer, and got to work. She dabbed, blended, wiped off, started again. She used more powder than usual. Then she smoothed her hair to fall forward over the more stubborn ones.

Back in the room, Viola was awake, sitting up slowly, her blanket still pulled over her knees.

“Water heater’s slow today,” Kiara murmured, tying the sash of her robe.

Viola nodded. “How're you feeling?”

Kiara gave a short shrug. “Fine enough.”

Viola didn’t press. She reached for her phone and began scrolling. “If you need to rest today, I’ll handle the dorm rep check-in.”

Kiara shook her head. “No, I’m going. If I stay in, I’ll just think too much.”

Viola looked at her then, steady but soft. “Alright.”

Kiara dressed slowly, choosing a high-collared blouse. The fabric itched slightly against her skin, but it hid everything. She pulled on her jacket and adjusted her collar again in front of the mirror.

---

Across the city, Sebastian sat in a private office that overlooked a courtyard below. The blinds were halfway drawn. A tray of untouched toast and black coffee sat on the side table. He didn’t look at it. He was on a call.

“She left without causing problems?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” his assistant said. “The driver said she didn’t speak on the ride back.”

Sebastian leaned back in the chair, his tie still undone. “Send the usual transfer”

“Yes, sir.”

He hung up and picked up a file already waiting on his desk. His initials were stamped in silver on the front. He flipped through it briefly. Pressed papers. A printed schedule. A list of names. He paused when he reached a photograph—Kiara, smiling in some school event snapshot taken months ago. Underneath, the name Ariana Ross was typed cleanly.

He dropped the folder on the table and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. His eyes narrowed, unfocused.

For the first time in a long while, he wasn’t sure if his instincts had missed something.

Still, business was business. He stood and walked to the far corner of the office, where a tall shelf stood with sealed drawers. He unlocked one, pulled out a slim envelope, and placed it beside the folder. The envelope bore the Ross family name.