Keeping The Royal Treaty CHAPTER 12

“Vince, stop,” I breathe, trying to free my hands from his grip. His knee is right between my legs, grinding against me. As he teasingly nibbles my skin just below my earlobe, I feel his breath on my neck, and the way his teeth graze on my skin sends shivers down my spine. Even his musky smell is enticing. 

My cheeks are burning, and the heat is clouding my head. The alcohol is just adding fuel to my throbbing body. “Vince, please,” I cried. There is no point fighting, so I gave in. My erection is growing larger and harder. 

Vince stopped nipping my neck and moved to my bottom lip, gently biting it. “What do you want?” he asks. I feel my inside is tightening, and my breathing labor. All I can feel is excitement and pleasure. He pulls his face away and stops, and looks me in the eye. 

He let go of my wrist, and I hung onto his shoulders before losing my balance. I swear at him when the warmth of his body slowly disappears. He lifts me off the floor and sets me on the edge of the counter. He spread my legs apart and leaned towards me. And there, I felt him, a hard bulge against mine.

Swiftly, I feel him unbuttoning my pants, and his hand is instantly inside my shirt, caressing my back. “Vince,” I moan.

When he got a hold of my penis, he began moving up and down. His other hand slid down, kneading my arse. He captures my mouth and starts kissing me vigorously.

“Faster,” I demand. It’s so good. His warm hand and the friction are very good. The feeling intensifies and I wrap my hands around his neck pulling his hair. “Vince, I’m close,” I cry. Fluid spills on his hand and my clothes.

I rest my head on his shoulder, panting and catching my breath, but Vince steps back and I rest my hands on the counter. He has an expression I have never seen before. “Get out before I shove my cock down your throat,” he said.

He didn’t have to tell me twice. I hop off the counter and start tucking the bottom of my blouse, but for some reason, I am struggling to do my zipper. “For Christ’s sake,” Vince whispers. He reaches the bottom of my blouse and tucks it inside my pants. “While I take care of this (motioning to his bulge), find Dominique and stay with him. He will entertain you for a bit,” Vince said, finally zipping my pants. “Find Dominique and stay with him,” he repeats. 

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I made my way back to the courtyard. I am trying to control my breathing and not act as if I ran a marathon. I can’t believe I just did that. I took several deep breaths to calm myself. It’s been so long since I had anything sexual. And now that it dawns on me, it is easy to be drawn into temptation, especially if it’s Vince. But I know there is something wrong. There is something going on. Vince has been acting strange, the same person but a different persona. Unlike before, when he couldn’t stand to be in the same room with me, Vince has been invading my personal space. I still hate the man, although I can’t help but feel a little ecstasy as he slowly opens up to me. 

I look around, and Dominique is nowhere in sight. Neither is my dad. Guests are serving themselves around the food table, and I am hungry myself. After what happened a few minutes ago, I am longing for a drink of water. I haven’t eaten anything since this morning, and the alcohol is not agreeing with my empty stomach. 

I made my way to the table and began stacking my plate with whatever I found appetizing. “You must be hungry,” said the woman beside me. I looked at her, and just like most people, I don’t think I’ve seen her before. “Are you okay, dear? You look flushed.”

I cleared my throat and smiled at her. “I’m okay. I must have a little to drink,” I answer, going back to adding more food on my plate.

“Not only that, but your clothes are a mess. You are making a bad impression on your guests,” she continues. Again I look at her, and this time from head to toe. A typical rich woman. I don’t think I have to express more of that. A luxurious dress and an impolite manner. 

“I’m sorry, but I am not trying to impress anyone at all,” I retort, a matter of fact. “I may not look impressive right now with a plate overflowing with food, but I am famished. So if you’d excuse me, I’ll be going. You have yourself a goodnight,” I said, dismissing the conversation. 

“That’s a sad excuse. I came all the way here, and this is what I see,” she continues. “I’m quite disappointed.”

I took a deep breath and set my plate on the table. This woman is asking for trouble. “Is there a problem?” I ask. 

“Oh, there are tons. The moment I set my eyes on this place, I knew you didn’t take time to plan this party,” she replies. “Everything looks rushed.”

“Look, I’m sorry I did not meet your expectations, but I don’t see why your opinion matters. And with all due respect, you can always exit the way you came in. No one is forcing you to stay. So please, feel free to leave, the gates are open,” I said, politely as I could. “Again, you have yourself a good night.”

“Really? Don’t you know who I am?” she asks, lifting her chin and eyebrow as if she expects everybody to know who she is. 

“You heard the boy. Leave him be,” my father interrupts. 

“This young man asked me what the problem is, and I simply answered,” the woman argues, stating it as a matter of fact. 

“Vecchio hag. Quella faccia disgustosa mi fa sempre venire voglia di mettere una pallottola proprio tra quegli occhi incrociati (Old hag. That disgusting face always makes me want to put a bullet right between those crossed eyes),” my dad said. 

“I can speak Italian fluently,” the woman replies.

“I know,” is what my dad said. 

And on cue, Vince waltz and looks slightly annoyed. “Enough. You can threaten each other after the party, but not in my house,” he demands. 

“I am not threatening anyone nor do I feel threatened. It takes more than that,” the woman replies. “Anyways, I was telling this young man how things look impromptu. These people belong to a high level of wealth and social status. I’ve hosted a number of various occasions, and I thought I’ve taught you well enough that details make an impression to your guests.”

Vince did not look bothered at all. But I am more bothered that this woman talks such confidence and casually with Vince. No one dared to speak in such a way to him. They even look comfortable towards each other. There could be only one answer to this. 

“I know, mother. Forgive me,” Vince said.

In a split second, my palm came in contact with my forehead. The slap was loud enough to make the people turn their heads towards me. Of course! It has to be her mother. 

Every Donovan I met or have met detests me instantaneously. It runs with the family. The only exception was Lucien. And here I am with my eyes closed, too afraid that if I open my eyes, his dad will magically appear in front of me. I don’t think I can handle that for one day. 

My mind is starting to wonder if I should have stayed in the bathroom with Vince and fool all night long. I don’t know which is better anymore. 

“And why are you looking annoyed? Are you not happy to see me?” she asks Vince.

“Francis,” my dad calls, resting his hand on my shoulder. “Can you show me around? I like to speak with you alone. It’s been a while since I’ve spoken to you,” he smiles.  

“Sure,” I reply, finally opening my eyes. I strode straight ahead and didn’t bother to look at Vince. I know I’ll be in trouble after this, but I can’t stand to be near Vince or mother anymore. Or anyone at all. 

I led my dad inside the house, away from the crowd. He said he wanted to speak with me alone, yet his men I assume, are still behind us. We went into the library: the safest and most quiet place I can think of. Not many people are allowed to come inside. If I recall correctly, Hans mentioned that only a few servants were permitted to clean or even enter the room. 

“Have a seat,” I told my dad. The two men following my dad closed the doors behind them and stood guarding the doorway. “Is that necessary?” I ask. 

“One thing you should remember is that you must not let your guard down. After all, this isn’t my territory,” he argues.

“Ye-Yes. I understand,” I reply. 

“I’ll get straight to the point. I knew what you were doing while you were in the bathroom. I’m glad you’ve established such a good relationship with that boy after all this arrange marriage. Now that you’ve turned twenty, I’m afraid he might use you against me,” he said.

“What do you mean ‘use me’?”

“Oh, I’ve never trusted that boy. Just like you, he despises the idea of this treaty. He made offers, proposals, and many more. But I was not stupid, and I declined and proceeded.”

“What proposals?”

“To put it briefly, Vince knew how precious you are to me. He went behind his parents and meet me secretly. He believes that there won’t be any treaty if one submits to the other. He wanted me to submit to him and take all my possessions, and I get to keep you.”

 “That doesn’t make any sense. You can’t just say no to the treaty. I tried,” I argue.

“As I said, just like you, he despises the treaty. But treaties are not simple as saying yes or no. Vince is a greedy man. I’ve seen the way he treats his people. I’ve seen his deeds, and I know for a fact that Vince is willing to do anything to get what he wants. He could have easily swayed you into believing something a long time ago if I did not negotiate to not involve himself with you until today. And I’ve paid a huge price for that.”

“Wh-what? Dad, you have to slow down. Why are you telling me all of this now?”

He moves closer to me until his lips are above my ears. “Now, I want you to listen carefully. He is outside listening as we speak. Remember Francis, I belong to the high table, and he does not. There is so much more to understand, all the power I can pass to you, and I regret keeping you in the dark. Remember, he will try to get you on his side. Be careful,” he whispers. 

“Why tell me now?” I argue. 

“I’m sorry. I misjudge him and underestimated his abilities. Vince is a smart man, so you have to be smarter than him. Play along, but make sure he’s not playing you. You are so much more than you think, Francis. He was able to keep you away from me this long, and I’m glad I get to talk to you,” he said. “Try your best to keep in touch. I will find a way to get rid of them and take you home.”

I don’t think I’m processing all of this. I know Vince had been obsessing over my dad, but there is much more to it. What is the high table?

“So now what?”

“Now, push me away and yell. Tell me to get away from you,” my dad said. And I understood what he meant. “I love you, Francis,” he says, smiling at me. It caught me off guard when he engulfs me in an embrace. “I will see you again. Be strong,” he murmurs. I return his embrace, and for no reason, I have the feeling that this would be the last time I will be speaking to my dad.

He lets go of me and signals his men. “Vince will be suspicious if I stay too long. Now,” he said. 

So I did push him. “Get away from me!” I yell.

Instantly the door flew open. Dominique pushes the door open, and soon after, Lucien, Zoey, and Vince marches behind him. I ran towards Vince and hugged him tightly enough to let him know how scared I was. He wrapped his arm around me, and I felt his body stiffen.

“What the fuck is going on?” Dominique demands.

“Forgive me, Francis. I’ve overstepped my boundaries,” my father said, sounding apologetic. Even his facial expression has changed. 

“No! I don’t believe you! Get out!” I yell, my voice trembling, and tears start flowing down my face.

“Get the fuck out! And don’t ever show your face again!” Dominique yells. 

“I’ll talk to you soon, Francis.” My dad didn’t argue anymore. My father walks away with his men, and all I can see is his back fading away. Tears are still flowing. I won’t be seeing him for a long time. And just the thought of it makes my heartbreak, tearing it into pieces. It feels terrifying, but he made a promise that he would take me home.

“What did he say to you?” Vince asks, releasing his hug so he can see my face.

“Horrible things,” I reply. 

“You won’t be seeing him again. I’ll make sure of it,” Vince said. “I know this is a bad time, but you holding me tight with that face is making me hard again,” he continues. 

Zoey whistles. “You sadist,” she mumbles.

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Hello readers,

I like to remind everybody that this is a fictional story – created from imagination.  It is disheartening to continue writing when some readers argue and insult each other because of a particular scene in the story. Again, it is fictional, I can manipulate the characters and the events in the story. In real life, I do not tolerate violence. In my head, I view every character as an actor. Please do understand, and thank you.