Leopold: Part Three Read online

  Leopold

  Part Three

  Ember Casey

  Renna Peak

  Casey Peak Publishing

  Contents

  Copyright

  Royal Heartbreakers Reader Team

  1. Leo

  2. Elle

  3. Leo

  4. Elle

  5. Leo

  6. Elle

  7. Leo

  8. Elle

  9. Leo

  10. Elle

  11. Leo

  12. Elle

  13. Leo

  The Royal Heartbreakers Series

  Leopold

  Royal Heartbreakers Reader Team

  Also by Ember Casey

  Also by Renna Peak

  This book is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, locations or incidents are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events, or locations is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 by Ember Casey and Renna Peak

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  First Edition: August, 2016

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  Leo

  I suppose it was inevitable that it would come to this. That no matter how much I told myself otherwise, this thing with Elle would never be more than a fling, a passionate but ultimately short-lived arrangement.

  Now that I’ve spent a night with her in my arms, I realize exactly how much of a fool I’ve been. Before last night it would have been hard to walk away from her—now, though, it will be agony.

  But it’s inevitable. In the few moments during the night when I allowed myself to think, I wracked my brain for an alternate solution. And when I could find none, I considered how it might be done—how I might end this ill-fated affair—in a way that caused Elle the least amount of pain. But nothing came to mind, at least not before I succumbed to either sleep or another round of passion. It was easier to tell myself the rest could wait until morning. To lose myself in her again and experience the exquisite pleasure that would be gone again all too soon.

  But now I’ve said the words out loud. They still hang in the air between us: I’m leaving. Today.

  I’m still sitting in her bed, surrounded by sheets that smell of us and our lovemaking. She’s standing, frozen as she tries to process what I’ve said.

  I’m leaving. Today. The words hurt me almost as much as I know they’ve hurt Elle.

  Still, I can’t help but notice how beautiful she looks. Her hair falls in messy waves across her shoulders. Her cheeks are slightly flushed, and there’s a brightness in her eyes—the same fire I saw in them on the very first day I met her. Her lips are still swollen from my kisses, and there’s a faint but unmistakable purplish mark on her neck from where I was a little too rough with my teeth. I ache to draw her back against me and bite her a few more times there, to leave more marks on her skin that will linger for days after I am gone.

  There’s anger in her eyes. But there’s something else, too—a telltale glimmer making my gut twist. I did not intend for it to come to this. Up until last night, I had—naively—convinced myself that this moment didn’t have to happen.

  Elle shakes her head and blinks, apparently trying to fight back her emotions. Part of me is grateful—I don’t think I could bear it if she broke down into tears in front of me—but another part of me is disgusted with myself for letting things come this far, for bringing her to the point of having to struggle with her feelings at all. I shouldn’t have come here to her house. I should have listened to my father and brother and returned to Montovia, leaving Elle to get on with her life here in Los Angeles.

  I get up out of the bed. There’s a small but sharp throb of pain through the healing wound on my torso—I probably shouldn’t have subjected it to so much strenuous activity last night—but I ignore it.

  “Elle,” I murmur, crossing her bedroom toward her.

  She gives a sharp shake of her head. “You used me.”

  Her voice is soft, hardly above a whisper, but the words cut me deep.

  “Elle,” I say, stepping forward, “let me explain.”

  She moves away from me. “There’s nothing for you to explain. It’s all pretty damn clear now.”

  No—she doesn’t understand that I’m only trying to protect her. That I must leave for her own sake. That my father and brother have the means to destroy her. Now that she’s told me about her past—about that medical school instructor and the boss at her last job, two despicable men who took advantage of her—I realize I’ve put her in a very vulnerable position. I don’t want anyone to have the chance to exploit her pain.

  “There’s a lot you don’t know, Elle,” I say, taking another step. “If I explain, then perhaps—”

  “It won’t change anything. You’d still be leaving, wouldn’t you?”

  God, I wish there were another way, but there isn’t. And she must see the answer in my eyes, because before I can even say a word, she turns away and rubs her forehead.

  “I knew you’d do this,” she says. “I knew it. I let myself believe your stupid lies. I let myself think…” She spins back toward me. “Why did you even bother to do any of this? Why were you such a gentleman on that last night down in Rio de Campo? Why did you beat up Doctor Mitchell in my honor? Why did you come here and take care of my house? Why do any of this if you were going to end things after one night?”

  Because I couldn’t control myself. Because I didn’t stop to think about the consequences. Because before you, it was much easier to ignore this rather inconvenient thing known as a conscience.

  “I didn’t know then,” I tell her honestly.

  Her breath hitches in response to my words. “But you know now.”

  It’s not a question, but I answer her anyway. “I’ve done some thinking over the course of the night, and I’ve realized—”

  I’m cut off by her bitter, half-strangled laugh.

  “Over the course of the night,” she says, and the tears glisten in her lashes. “So you didn’t decide you were going to leave until after we’d had sex?” Her cheeks redden. “I know I’m probably not as experienced as some of the women you’ve been with, Your Highness, but from my point of view, you seemed to be enjoying yourself well enough.”

  Her use of my title stings.

  “That’s not what I meant,” I tell her, taking another step forward. I’m close enough to touch her now, but she flinches away from me. “Elle, I just don’t want to see you hurt.”

  “Well it’s a little late for that, isn’t it?” She refuses to look me in the eyes.

  “Being with me would be…complicated,” I say. Hearing the pain in her voice makes me ache in ways I don’t dare investigate too closely. “Your life would change in ways you can’t imagine—ways that will only cause you pain.”

  “Because of the media?”

  I don’t believe she grasps how cruel the media can and will be if they find out about her. But the press is the least of our worries. My brother and father are a far greater concern.

  Perhaps I should tell her about Andrew’s threats. Maybe then she’ll understand. I risked much by defying my father’s orders and coming here—
but it’s too late to go back and undo the foolish decision I’ve made. Now I intend to do everything in my power to keep her safe from my family’s influence.

  Elle finally looks up at me, her eyes wet with unshed tears. The pain I see in their blue depths makes my chest tight. It takes every ounce of my will not to pull her into my arms.

  “Just go,” she says.

  “Elle,” I murmur, reaching out and running my fingers down her arm.

  She jerks away from me. “Go. Now.”

  If I were thinking only of myself, I’d refuse. But I’ve already been too greedy. I was selfish, a man possessed of a single desire, and I thought nothing of the consequences of my actions until it was too late. Even now, my desire begs me to ignore the inevitable outcome and succumb to what both Elle and I want—a long, heated affair—but that wouldn’t be fair to her. And I’ve played the bastard for long enough.

  “Go,” she begs, her voice breaking. “Please, just go.”

  I don’t let myself look at her as I gather up my clothes. If I do, I might lose the battle with my will. Instead, I force myself to think about what I must do now—I must contact Andrew and my father and do everything in my power to ensure Elle isn’t dragged into this any further.

  I feel her eyes on me as I go to the door. I know it’s dangerous to look back, but I pause at the threshold, turning toward her.

  She’s still standing in the same place. Her face is carefully blank, as if she’s determined to keep her feelings in check, but her eyes are too expressive to hide the intensity of her emotions.

  “I can honestly say I’ve never met a woman like you before, Elle,” I tell her. “And this is not an easy thing to do, walking away from you. I won’t be forgetting the time we’ve spent together.” In truth, I have no doubt the memory of her will burn through my blood for a long, long time—perhaps that agony will help take my mind off the knot of guilt I feel in my stomach.

  I don’t wait for her response. For her sake, I won’t drag this out. I need to get to the hotel in Beverly Hills where Matthias and my jet are waiting.

  And get to Andrew before he does anything I can’t undo.

  I call for a car as I walk out Elle’s front door. I don’t trust myself to wait in her parlor or even on her front stoop, so I start up the street as I make arrangements to get to Beverly Hills.

  What has she done to me? I’ve never experienced this sort of torment over a woman before, and it’s slowly driving me mad. For God’s sake, I feel bloody protective of her, and that never happens. The trip to Rio de Campo was supposed to be dull and ultimately uneventful, a punishment to be endured and then forgotten. Elle was a pleasant surprise, an opportunity for distraction…but somewhere along the way she became more than that. A complication. An obsession. And now I’m here, cursing myself for my shortsightedness. I dragged both of us far deeper into this than we ever should have gone.

  This is new for me, feeling guilt over a woman. I’ve ended things with many, many women over the years and never suffered a shred of remorse for it—I never promised them anything more than I was willing to give, after all.

  But with Elle…

  Something went wrong. I lost my head, and I never lose my head with women. Not like this. I’ve always had the good sense to escape any of my romantic entanglements before things became complicated. In this case, though, I wasn’t prepared. I’ve only known Elle for a week. One week and she’s done this to me. One week, and she’s turned me into a bastard with a bloody conscience.

  After I hang up with the luxury car service, my thumb moves across the screen of my mobile phone again. I need to call Matthias and let him know to prepare for our immediate departure. The best course of action is to return home as quickly as possible and do some damage control with my father and brother.

  And to put as much distance between myself and Elle as possible, I think. Maybe it will be easier to forget about her on the other side of the globe.

  First, though, I should contact Andrew. He’s called me twice since the last time we spoke in Rio de Campo, but I refused to answer. That wouldn’t have stopped Andrew, though—no doubt he’s already traced my plane to Beverly Hills. I’m surprised he hasn’t found me yet.

  I stop dead in my tracks. Come to think of it, it’s probably been at least three days since his last attempt to call me. I was so caught up in my thoughts of Elle that I never paused to think about what my brother’s silence might mean. Now, as I lift my mobile to my ear, I realize that three days is a dangerously long amount of time.

  How could I have been such a fool? This is exactly why I don’t let myself get emotionally invested in women. I turn into a blasted idiot.

  The line rings twice before Andrew picks up.

  “Leopold,” he says, not a hint of emotion in his voice. “I was beginning to wonder if we should send the Royal Military after you.”

  “Have you ever known me to follow orders?” I say, trying to keep my tone light. “Honestly, Andrew, I expected more from you. You know me better than anyone.”

  “I’m not so certain of that,” he says. “I thought for a moment during our last conversation that you might have some genuine concern for the wellbeing of that girl. But based on your actions, I can see I must have been wrong. I told you what would happen if you defied me.”

  My entire body stiffens.

  “I’m on my way back to Montovia,” I say quickly. “There’s no need to do anything drastic. I’m done with her, I assure you.”

  “Given your history with women, I’m inclined to believe you,” Andrew says. “But unfortunately, it’s out of my hands now.”

  My blood runs cold, my fingers tightening on the phone. “What did you do?”

  “Nothing, actually,” he replies. “I wanted to give you a chance to change your mind. Believe it or not, Leopold, I’m not a heartless bastard. I suspected you would come to your senses eventually. But if you think I’m going to keep running around the world after you, cleaning up your messes, you are sorely mistaken.”

  I don’t have the patience for this rambling. “What. Happened.”

  “I don’t know how,” he says, “but I was just notified by our press secretary that the media has learned you have a new love interest. I don’t know how much information they have, but I suspect the story will be hitting the internet as early as today. I’m afraid your little doctor won’t be escaping us just yet.”

  Elle

  I’m not going to cry.

  Unable to move, I stand there frozen. I’m about to fall apart—my hands are trembling, and it’s hard to breathe. And I feel dirty. Used. And so, so stupid.

  My eyes are burning with tears, but I will them not to fall. Leo isn’t worth crying over. If I had been able to keep one shred of common sense in my head when I was around him, I could have avoided this entire situation. I have no one but myself to blame this time. I should have seen it coming—I knew his reputation. I could see the lust in his eyes, the same as with every other man. This is why I swore I wasn’t ever going to get involved with men again—it isn’t worth it, not when I’m the one left hurting when it ends.

  Never. Again. I need to erase the memory of Leo. Try my best to undo everything that’s happened so I can get on with my life, once and for all.

  I pull off my robe, tossing it on the bed before I strip the entire thing—sheets, blankets, and everything Leo touched while he was here. I gather the items to put it all into the laundry. I head back through the kitchen when I’m done—I need to take a shower and clean the smell of him from my body. Better I get it off now than risk catching some random scent of him later, which will only cause me further grief.

  As I walk toward the bedroom again, there’s a sudden sharp pain in my foot.

  “Motherfucker.” A piece of the glass Leo broke is lodged in my foot.

  Just what I need. Another reminder of him being here.

  Droplets of blood from my new wound trail behind me as I tiptoe out of the kitchen. I make it to the bathr
oom and pull the glass out before starting the shower. I don’t even care enough to put a bandage on the cut—all I can really think about is getting in the shower to wash him away for good.

  Stepping into the shower, I let the hot water rain over me. I had to know this was coming. I want to tell myself this is all Leo’s doing, but I know it really isn’t. He never promised me anything. I can’t imagine he’s ever promised any woman anything, ever. I guess I wanted to believe I was somehow different to him, but I obviously wasn’t. I don’t know what would possess a man to behave the way he does—except that he’s immature and has probably never been denied anything in his life. He seems to think that just because he wants something, he should be able to have it and that he shouldn’t have to wait for it—just like a spoiled toddler.

  And I can’t deny that he made it clear from day one that he intended to have me. I really haven’t done very much to stop him, either. I might have insisted he wait a little while, and I think I called him out on the tone deaf way he speaks about women, but I knew all along it was going to end like this. At least, I should have.

  I really wanted to believe that because the sex was so good for me, it must have been for him, too. But that’s almost as idiotic as actually believing there might have been something real between us. He’s been with so many women—so many who are so much more beautiful than me—I’m sure I pale in comparison. Why the hell would a man want to be with me when he could have any Brazilian bikini model he wanted? Or any Hollywood A-list actress? He only flew seven thousand miles to chase after me because of the conquest. Because he didn’t want to admit to himself that he’d failed at seducing a woman. That would have been too big a bruise to his ego.

  I’m an idiot. And I should have known better.

  I stay in the shower for a long time, shampooing my hair three times to be sure the scent of him is gone. When I finally get out, my tiny bathroom is so steamy I can barely breathe. I put a small bandage on my foot—the stupid thing is bleeding again.