Chapter Three

Out from under his family's close watch, Richard let himself go completely at Harvard.

As he grew into his frame, the commanding presence of a grown man blended perfectly with a boy's wildness, and his striking features turned heads wherever he went. He still ordered me around without a second thought, and I kept playing the perfect sidekick.

His first year, his social calendar was fuller than his class schedule. One day he was at a fancy restaurant in Manhattan, the next on a yacht in Miami. The beautiful women around him still came and went like scenery out a car window.

Until Christmas of our second year.

The Duke of Cavendish's mistress, who apparently had a death wish, showed up at the Kensington estate with his thirteen-year-old illegitimate son and made a scene. Lady Cavendish crushed the scandal with ruthless efficiency and ordered Richard not to come home and make things worse.

So I spent New Year's Eve with him in his penthouse in New York.

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the neon of Times Square blazed. Richard held a crystal glass, then turned to me and asked out of nowhere, "Do you think people's feelings really change?"

I didn't hesitate for a second. "Of course they do."

He gave a low, self-mocking laugh. "I just realized I can't even remember what Jane looks like. Back then, I thought she was the only one for me, for the rest of my life."

What kind of undying love was that? He'd just gotten tired of hothouse flowers and wanted to conquer a wild weed on the edge of a cliff. But I couldn't be bothered to say so, because no one had ever taught either of us what real love was.

Fireworks burst outside the window, the light tracing his face, so handsome it was almost wicked.

Before I knew what I was doing, I grabbed the collar of his silk shirt, rose up on my toes, and kissed him.

In the adult world, once a spark falls, the fire spreads in an instant.

At first, Richard froze. By the time he caught up, his breathing was a mess. Something like a struggle flashed in his eyes, and he looked down at me. "Are you sure about this?"

The workload at the Ivy League was brutal, and on top of it, I was managing his entire life. I desperately needed some kind of release. Richard, consider this your payment.

I ran my hand over the firm muscles of his stomach and gave him my answer that way.

That night, I ate very, very well.

Richard was arrogant, picky, and spoiled rotten, but I had to admit his body was an absolute work of art. All the years of living under someone else's roof, all the suffocating weight of class, I let it all out on him without holding anything back. And he answered with a fierceness I hadn't expected, as if he wanted to devour me whole.

"You love me that much?" he asked, breathless.

I nodded vaguely.

"Don't regret it." He stared into my eyes, as if he were trying to see through me.

From that night on, we lived together without either of us ever saying a word about it. No confession, no promises. But there was never another woman around him again.

Once, an Asian girl from the business school chased him relentlessly. He finally snapped at her, "I already have a girlfriend."

The news made its way back to London. A few days later, Lady Cavendish wired me a seven-figure sum in pounds. Before she hung up, she said evenly, "Thank you for taking such good care of Richard."

In that instant, I understood exactly where I stood. I was a high-end tool, there to take care of the young lord's physical needs and serve as his shield until he married.

My last two years at university, I did whatever I pleased. For all his romantic history, Richard was surprisingly innocent in bed. Every time I made the first move, his ears turned red.

Near graduation, I happened to overhear him on the phone with his mother, fighting about an arranged marriage for the family. In the end, he smashed his phone in frustration.

That night, he held me with unusual tenderness and said into my hair, "Let's stay in America. Just the two of us. Forget all of them."

For one moment, a ridiculous flicker of temptation crossed my heart.

Until Jane appeared in front of him again.