HIS PRINCESS

CHAPTER 14

A cold shower did nothing to wash away the temptation. She stood under the spray until her skin turned pink, the water long gone icy.

By dawn, she'd made coffee strong enough to stain the mug. The bitter scent filled the kitchen as she pulled out her phone. Her thumb hovered over Sebastian's contact.

Five years of your life, $200,000 each month, he'd said. No romantic expectations.

The coffee burned her tongue when she sipped it. Outside, a garbage truck beeped as it backed down the alley.

She set the phone down. Not yet.

But the seed was planted.

---

Khalid's words lingered sharper -- Charity case. That arrogant jerk!! It was already hard enough; if he had been an old and ugly monster like people thought, she might have gone crazy.

Ariana dressed with deliberate care—black slacks, a silk blouse, heels that clicked like gunshots on pavement. She pinned her hair back tight enough to sting.

At the art supply store, she bought a fresh sketchbook and charcoal pencils. The clerk smiled as he rang her up. "New project?"

Ariana met his eyes. "Some jerk's portrait."

She spent the afternoon sketching Khalid's face from memory—every arrogant angle, that icy disdain in his gaze. The charcoal smudged under her fingers as she shaded the hollows of his cheeks.

By evening, the sketch was complete. She pinned it to her wall with a single steel tack.

Patience, she thought, stepping back to study her work. Everyone has weaknesses.

She just needed to find his.

The phone vibrated against Ariana's kitchen counter. Sebastian's name glared up at her from the screen. She exhaled sharply before swiping to answer.

"You've been avoiding me." Sebastian's voice carried the same controlled chill as always.

"I've been busy," Ariana lied smoothly, twisting the dish towel in her hands.

"Check your messages." The line went dead before she could respond.

A notification appeared immediately: The Grand Marquis Hotel. Presidential Suite. 10PM.

She set the phone down carefully, the dish towel now frayed at the edges.

---

Across campus, Viola's laptop emitted a sharp ping from where it sat on her dorm room desk. The custom tracking program she'd built flashed red - Sebastian Harris contact detected.

Kiara looked up from her biology textbook as Viola suddenly slammed her laptop shut. "We need to go. Now."

"What? Where—"

"Your sister's meeting Sebastian at the Grand Marquis." Viola was already pulling on her leather jacket, the Ferrari keys jingling in her hand.

Kiara's stomach dropped. "You don't have to go with—"

"Shut up and dress up." Viola tossed Kiara a hoodie. "My car's at the back of the dorm garden."

The Ferrari's engine snarled to life, its midnight black paint swallowing the streetlights as they tore through the city. Kiara gripped the door handle as they took a corner too fast, tires screeching.

The hotel's gold-plated entrance loomed before them. Viola parked haphazardly across two spaces, ignoring the valet's protests as they strode inside.

A prim receptionist looked up with a professional smile that froze when Viola slapped a black credit card on the counter. "Sebastian Harris's suite number."

The woman's eyes flicked to Kiara's worn sneakers, then back to Viola's designer boots. "I'm afraid we can't disclose—"

"Try again." Viola leaned in, her neon green hair tips brushing the marble counter. "Or I tell your employer about the affair you're having with one of the hotel managers."

The receptionist's face went pale. "P-Presidential Suite. 43rd floor." She lowered her voice. "But he has...security."

Viola smirked, taking back her card. "Thanks for the info." She turned to Kiara. "Go. I'll get us a room on the same floor as backup."

As Kiara moved toward the elevators, she caught the receptionist whispering to a colleague: "...another one of President Harris's whores..."

Viola spun on her heel. "Say that louder, Patricia." She read the name tag with a vicious smile. "I dare you."

The woman shrank back as the elevator doors closed behind Kiara. The ascent to the 43rd floor took exactly 28 seconds. When the doors opened, two broad-shouldered men in black suits stood flanking a single ornate door at the end of the hall.

Kiara's pulse hammered in her throat as she stepped forward.

The bodyguards stepped aside as Kiara approached, their blank expressions suggesting this happened often. The suite door clicked open before she could knock. The suite was dimly lit just like in his villa.

Sebastian stood silhouetted against floor-to-ceiling windows, the city lights glittering behind him. His crisp white shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled to reveal toned forearms. A crystal tumbler dangled from his fingers.

He turned from the window as she stepped into the room.

Something didn’t sit right.

He didn’t know Ariana well — they’d only spoken twice in person, briefly — but that woman had been direct. She didn’t hesitate. She hadn’t looked at the floor when she talked.

This one… moved differently. Eyes lowered. Shoulders tight.

He dismissed it with a quiet thought: Maybe the deal changed her. People behaved strangely when backed into corners.

Still, he watched her a moment longer than necessary.

Something about her felt... softer.

Almost unsure.

But he said nothing.

"You're early," he remarked, taking a slow sip of amber liquid.

Kiara kept her voice low, mimicking Ariana's measured tone. "There's no point delaying."

Sebastian's eyes narrowed slightly as she entered. The door shut with a quiet snick behind her.

The suite smelled of leather and expensive cologne. A contract lay open on the glass coffee table beside a pen. Sebastian didn't offer her a drink.

He gestured to the document. "Everything's still the same."

Kiara walked to the window, putting distance between them.

"I want modifications," she said, turning to face him.

Sebastian's lips quirked. He looked at her face and nodded. "Go ahead."

Kiara thought for a moment and then listed them one by one: "We cannot live together."

Sebastian frowned slightly.

"No public appearances together and the arrangement should be strictly at night --- I leave before dawn."

A beat of silence. Then Sebastian picked up the pen and scratched through a clause before handing it over to Kiara.

Kiara's fingers trembled as she took the pen. The paper felt unnaturally heavy.

Sebastian didn't glance away as she signed Ariana's name in perfect script.

He took the contract, his fingers brushing hers.

Kiara's phone buzzed in her pocket - Viola's warning signal. She stepped back smoothly. "I have conditions about intimacy."

Sebastian's smile didn't reach his eyes. "We'll discuss that tomorrow. My driver will pick you at nine."

The dismissal was clear. Kiara turned toward the door, her shoulders straight. The bodyguards didn't react as she passed them.

The elevator doors closed. Only then did she exhale.

Viola was waiting in their room. Two suites down the hallway-- She was pacing by the window. "Well?"

Kiara held up her phone - a photo of the signed contract. "He didn't recognise me."

Viola exhaled, then flopped onto the couch. “Thank God. I was two seconds away from kicking that suite door open.”

Kiara sat down on the bed, pulled off her heels slowly, then hesitated. “Can I ask you something?”

Viola stretched out her legs. “You’re already looking off, so go ahead.”

Kiara gave a short smile. “It’s about Rex.”

Viola’s brow lifted. “Okay. What about him?”

Kiara picked at the hem of her sleeve. “How did you two even… meet? People have many things to say about your relationship with him. They say you’re just… dating him out of pity or because it annoys your mum.”

Viola gave a dry laugh, unbothered. “People always talk. My mum hosts officials and oil tycoons. Rex’s dad ran street bets and owed half the casinos in the city. You think she’d accept my relationship with Rex?”

Kiara blinked. “Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah. His dad was a gambler.” Viola shook her head. “We met at a carwash, actually. I was yelling at the guy for scratching my bumper. Rex was washing a car next to mine, grinning. I asked what was funny, and he said, ‘You look like you’ve never had to wait for anything in your life.’”

Kiara laughed. “That sounds like him.”

Viola smiled a little. “He was annoying. But honest. The first person in a long time who didn’t care about my last name.”

Kiara was quiet for a second, then looked up. “Were you nervous the first time… you know…”

Viola raised an eyebrow. “You mean s*x?”

Kiara nodded.

Viola tilted her head. “Are you nervous now? About… this deal?”

“I’m not even sure what I’m supposed to feel,” Kiara admitted. “I’ve never done it. And pretending to be someone who has—it’s like my body doesn’t know how to lie that well.”

Viola’s expression softened. “There’s nothing wrong with you. And don’t let any man make you feel like it’s some kind of test you have to pass.”

Kiara looked down. “But what if he expects something I can’t give?”

“Then he can sign a new contract with himself,” Viola said flatly. “Rex and I… our first time wasn’t all that. We were both clumsy. I kicked him off the bed by accident.”

Kiara laughed.

Viola grinned. “But we figured it out. We cared. That was the difference. There was no formula to it.”

Kiara took a breath. “I wish I had that kind of beginning.”