The-Sinful-King-By-Claire-Contreras-PDF

C H A P T E R 4 3
A D E L I N E
O
ne good thing about having Mayra as my security
was that even though she was definitely reporting
our every move to His Majesty, she was doing it hours after
we left places and giving me the freedom to do whatever the
hell I wanted—like get drunk on wine in a pub in Marbella.
I’d driven straight to the meeting in London and flown right
back out to Marbella on a commercial flight. As it turned out,
there were no paparazzi following us there or here. I’d made
it right on time for my uncle’s bookstore opening and now I
was just drinking. With my bodyguard. Because that wasn’t
the loneliest thing in the world.
“I’ll tell you what. Men absolutely have no brains.” I set
down my wine. “I mean, they do, but they have no common
sense.”
“Not where women are concerned,” Mayra said. She was
drinking water, despite me pouring her two glasses of wine,
which I’d drunk, because I wasn’t going to let it go to waste.
“Especially not where women are concerned.” I took
another sip. “I just . . . I thought it would be di erent, you
know? I was ready to give up everything. Everything. My life
in London, my company, my friends.”
Mayra handed me a napkin. I looked at it in confusion,
until I realized I was crying. Then, I wiped my face and cried