Page 73 of Broken Desires
Settled into the plush comfort of the palace’s private jet, I find myself caught between the thrill of the journey ahead and the shadow of past hardships. The revelation of my relationship with Alexander to my parents has brought them unexpectedly back into my life, their sudden warmth tinged with opportunism rather than genuine affection. It’s a stark reminder of how they’ve only begun to see my worth through my association with royalty, a realization that diminishes my respect for them further. Yet I push these thoughts aside, filing them away for another day. Neither this moment nor this flight is about them—it’s about the new chapter I’m stepping into.
As the plane descends, my heart races with anticipation and a touch of nerves. The future with Alexander, filled with love and challenges, awaits, and the closer we get to landing, the more real it all feels. When the aircraft finally touches down and the door swings open, I catch sight of him—Alexander—waiting for me with open arms, his presence a beacon pulling me forward.
Without a second thought, I rush down the stairs, decorum forgotten, and launch myself into his arms. “My king,” I whisper, the words a declaration of my love, my commitment, my everything to him.
“Welcome home, wild rose,” he responds, pulling back, his words wrapping around me like a promise, a confirmation of belonging. Our kiss, passionate and reaffirming, seals the commitment we’ve made to each other to face the future together, united in love and purpose.
Chapter 25
Alexander
Holding her in my arms, I barely notice the paparazzi snapping away as we stand by the airfield. The public’s response to my candid interview has been more positive than I dared hope. While detractors and opposition to Nessa’s presence in my life are inevitable, the vast majority seem eagerly anticipatory of her arrival. I can almost predict tomorrow’s headlines, dubbing our story a real-life fairy tale.
Never wanting to let her go, I clasp her hand firmly in mine as we make our way back to the palace, maintaining that physical connection as a tangible affirmation of her presence.
Upon reaching a door next to mine, I pause. “So, this will be your room,” I announce, attempting to gauge her reaction.
She cocks an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. “My room? As in, not with you?” Her question hangs between us, challenging yet laced with humor.
I can’t help but grin at her reaction, squeezing her hand gently to lead her forward. “Come, let me show you something.” Guiding her through the walk-in closet, I open a door at the end, revealing a direct path into my own closet.
“I expect you to sleep in my bed every night. In fact, I might just issue a royal decree to ensure it,” I jest, trying to lighten the mood with a bit of royal humor.
Her laughter, a sound I’ve grown to adore, fills the space between us. “I think there are a few royal decrees I’d like you to consider drafting on my behalf as well,” she quips, her words sparking a playful exchange that feels both intimate and profoundly right.
Laughing, I nod, already envisioning the absurdity and beauty of drafting decrees for each other. “Anything for you, my wild rose.” The world beyond these walls, with its expectations and criticisms, fades away, leaving just the two of us in our own little universe.
Holding Nessa close, feeling the warmth and solidity of her against me, it’s as if everything else momentarily fades into the background. The future looms with its challenges and demands—her studies, her integration into royal life, the inevitable public scrutiny—but for now, this moment of reunion overshadows all.
“I’ve arranged a little something for you,” I say, anticipation lighting my words. “But first, do you think you’d like a rest? Dinner with my mother is later. It’ll just be us three.”
At the mention of my mother, her grip tightens, and her skin turns clammy, a hint of anxiety betraying her calm exterior. I remember then the words she overheard, the misunderstanding that nearly cost us everything. “She’s eager to make amends,” I reassure her, hoping to ease her worries. “Despite how it might seem, she holds no ill will. On the contrary, she’s quite interested in getting to know you.”
Her lips twist skeptically, her trust in my reassurances wavering. Yet, curiosity wins out. “I’m intrigued by your surprise,” she concedes, her resolve melting into a genuine interest that outweighs her fatigue. “I don’t think I could rest now, even if I tried.”
Leaning in, I kiss her softly, having a hard time not touching her when she’s near.
“Come, time to show you your surprise.” I intertwine our fingers and walk down the private aisle to the lower floor. I’m aware of the staff sneaking glances at us, their curiosity piqued by our obvious affection—a departure from the palace’s usual decorum. It’s a change I’m more than happy to champion. In my family, expressions of love were often private, but with Nessa, I want our future family to know love openly and without reservation.
“Are you taking me to the throne room again?”
I squeeze her hand and turn toward her, my desire at the mere thought of what we’d previously done in that room hardening my cock. “Behave, we can’t just now.”
Her laughter serves as a gentle prelude to the surprise awaiting her. As we step into the room, a fresh, vibrant scent envelops us—a mix of varnish and paint settling into its new home.
“I remembered the sensory studio in Vegas, how it brought you joy,” I explain as we enter. Her hand slips from mine as she takes in the room, mirrors doubling as screens, ballet barres lining the walls, and a floor equipped with a vibration sound system. “It’s modeled after the Vegas studio, down to every detail. And it’s all yours, completely soundproof, to dance freely.”
Her reaction—a mix of awe and tears—sends a jolt of panic through me. “If it’s not to your liking, you don’t have to use it,” I offer hastily, eager to ease any discomfort.
But her response is immediate and heartfelt. “I don’t just like it, I love it. You’ve given me back a piece of myself.” Her words, sincere and moving, leave no room for doubt.
“I’d do anything for you, Vanessa. You should know that by now.”
Emotion propels her into my arms again, a gesture I’m becoming pleasantly accustomed to. Her hands find my face, drawing me into a kiss filled with a passion we both know we can’t fully explore just yet. But in this moment, with her affirmation and the promise of countless dances in her new sanctuary, everything else fades away.
Nessa yawns, and I take her back to my room, where she settles for a nap. By the time we’re ready for dinner, she’s fidgeting with the collar of her light-purple dress, so I take her hand, kissing the back of it as we walk into the small dining room already set up for us three.
“You’re perfect,” I reassure her, but to be fair, she’s perfect in whatever she wears, even if I prefer her when she wears nothing at all.