LONDON'S POINT OF VIEW
Two contradictory characteristics in a single man. It made no sense.
The kiss lasted for a few seconds, which felt like an eternity to me. Then he pulled back, his warm lips leaving my mouth. He shot me one last dark look before grabbing my hand and dragging me toward the helicopter.
Come on, Beautiful.
Glasgow was a major city in western Scotland, split by a river that stretched all the way to the coast. When we landed, I noticed the distinct architecture of the surrounding buildings. They were Victorian-style and breathtakingly beautiful. It felt like stepping into the eighteenth century, with modern cars as a backdrop.
The chopper came to a halt, and Crewe's men greeted us on the platform, each carrying a rifle at their hip. Dressed in dark gear, they looked like a SWAT tactical team. They escorted us into the back of a black car with tinted windows, and we drove off toward the city.
Crewe stared out the window, legs spread, fingers resting on his lips. I remembered the sensation of sitting on him, straddling his lap, and taking his massive cock inside me. It was the biggest that had ever penetrated me, and while fucking him, I had felt like a virgin all over again. I wasn't used to sleeping with this kind of man.
We drove along the highway until we left the city behind, then crossed vast green fields dotted with trees until we arrived in front of an ancient gray stone castle.
I could hardly believe my eyes.
"Is that where we're going?" I asked, immediately feeling stupid for asking.
There was no other place on the horizon. There was nowhere else to go.
"Yes," he replied without looking away from the window.
"Doesn't this property belong to the monarchy?"
"No."
I stared at the immense historic monument as we drew closer, realizing it was ten times the size of an average mansion. The fortifications were indestructible. They had withstood the test of time for hundreds of years.
"Is it yours?"
"Yes."
I knew he was rich, but who on earth could afford a castle?
"This place must have cost you a fortune."
"It didn't cost me anything. I am a descendant of the House of Alpin."
I wasn't going to argue; I knew absolutely nothing about Scottish history.
"I'm sorry, I don't know what that is..."
"I belong to a royal dynasty. My ancestors ruled Scotland. I am the last descendant of the House. So, it belongs to me."
My jaw dropped. I knew there were royal families in the world, like in England for example, but I never thought I would meet the descendant of a monarchical lineage.
"Wow... That's incredible."
He shrugged as if it were nothing interesting.
"I don't mean to insult you, but... you don't look Scottish."
"Because I'm not a redhead?" he asked in a weary tone. "Because I don't have freckles or blue eyes? It's called evolution, Beautiful. I thought you'd know about that, being a future doctor..."
"No need to be a smartass," I snapped, annoyed. "It's one thing to be Scottish and not look like it. It's another thing to be the descendant of a royal bloodline and not look like it. Like I said, I didn't mean to insult you."
The car entered the front driveway loop and parked. The fields and trees stretched as far as the eye could see around us, making it feel like we were alone in the world.
"It's so beautiful..."
"You haven't seen the inside."
The car came to a stop, and the driver opened the back door for Crewe.
He took my hand and helped me out, then placed a hand on my waist as soon as I was on my feet. I looked up at the high walls and the pathways around the castle. I felt like I was in a different era, in a different universe.
I ignored his hand on my waist, taking in the spectacular view. I had never seen anything like it, and witnessing it alongside a royal descendant made it even more remarkable.
"Did you have it renovated?"
"A little. But overall, it has held up well."
Crewe watched the other cars pulling into the driveway with the rest of his men. His hand was resting just above my hip, his fingers wrapped around my waist.
"Why are you touching me like that?" I asked, looking at him.
"So they understand you're not available. Would you prefer they think they can fuck you whenever they please?"
He dropped his arm and walked toward his men, leaving me behind.
I absolutely did not want them to think that, but I would tell them myself—with my fists.
We arrived in front of the castle entrance, two huge wooden doors at least three meters high. We stepped into the grand foyer, highlighted by a high ceiling and a gigantic fireplace. The furniture was Victorian and blended perfectly with the castle's architecture. Ahead of us were two staircases winding up in opposite directions and a burgundy carpet featuring a lion in the center.
"Where do we put the girl's stuff?" asked Dunbar, who was carrying one of my bags.
"I have a name," I hissed. "London—and you know it."
He shot a look filled with suppressed hatred at Crewe, silently asking for permission to slap me.
"In my quarters," Crewe commanded.
"Uh, wait a minute."
I walked over to Crewe so we could have some privacy.
"I am not sleeping with you."
He frowned.
"You think I'm letting you out of my sight? You're wrong."
I didn't know what else to say, so I repeated myself.
"I am not sleeping with you. Besides, you don't even want to."
He leaned into me, his lips inches from mine.
"Maybe we won't be sleeping."
His quarters looked like they were straight out of another era. The bed was the largest piece of furniture I had ever seen in my life, the fireplace was wider than a large-format flat-screen TV, and the wood of the ancient wardrobes and dressers looked beautifully restored.
While he worked downstairs with his men in one of the lounges, I stayed in the bedroom, which had its own sitting area, a balcony, a walk-in closet, a fully renovated bathroom, and another lounge area, though I couldn't tell what it was used for. It was larger than most houses.
I got goosebumps as I sat on the edge of the bed, wrapping my hand around one of the posts. Was this the bed the last king had slept in? I wondered how many generations the objects in this castle had outlived. The historical significance of the place deeply overwhelmed me, which was saying a lot, considering history had never interested me. But I could appreciate the value of two-hundred-year-old things.
I got ready for bed, putting on the loosest t-shirt and the ugliest sweatpants I could find. The clothes Crewe had given me were tight and feminine, way too sexy. So instead, I slipped into his. I hoped it would deter him from trying to seduce me. Even if he was a wealthy, gorgeous, unofficial monarch of Scotland, I wasn't going to sleep with him again.
I was lying in bed, wide awake, staring out the window when he walked in. He quietly closed the door as if he thought I was asleep, then stripped down at the foot of the bed, removing his tie first, then the rest of his suit.
It must have been two in the morning, and I was surprised he was working so late. What were they talking about down there? Did they really spend all those hours discussing intelligence? I wasn't asleep yet because I wanted to be awake when he got back. I knew I could trust him to some extent, but I would feel more comfortable when he was in bed—asleep and still.
He lifted the blanket and slid in next to me. He stayed on his side of the bed, not touching me.
"Can't sleep?"
How did he know I was awake?
"I was waiting for you."
Arrogance crept into his voice.
"Oh yeah? Well, I'm here, Beautiful."
He moved closer to me.
I turned around and thrust my arm out in front of me, hitting his chest.
"That's not what I meant, and you know it."
He chuckled, keeping his distance, and laid on his back to stare at the ceiling, one hand resting on his chest.
I wondered if he was naked. He usually was at night.
"Why are we sleeping together?" I asked. "You threw me out of your room the other time."
"That was different."
"How so?"
"I don't want you sleeping alone here. One of my men might sneak into your room and try to tap that little ass of yours..."
I tensed at his words.
"For loyal men, you don't seem to trust them much."
"I trust them. But it's when you trust someone that you have to be the most vigilant."
I raised an eyebrow.
"That makes absolutely no sense."
"It does. Think about it. If my men know I trust them, they'll get comfortable. And if they get comfortable, they might try something just because they think they can get away with it. And afterward, they might lie, knowing they're in my good graces. So, in my opinion, it's better to be safe. I prefer having you within arm's reach. If you want something done right, do it yourself. Isn't that what they say?"
Strangely, his theory suddenly made a lot of sense.
"Fine, I don't want to share a bed with you. But this mattress is big enough that I'll barely notice you're here."
He turned his head toward me, his hair slightly messy from running his hand through it.
"You don't snore, do you?"
"No. Do you?"
"No."
He looked back up at the ceiling.
I eyed his muscular chest, noticing the sheet was pulled up to his waist.
You're not naked, are you?
😂😂LONDON is something else too... What kind of question is that again? 😂 So tell me in the comments... Is Crewe going to end up losing control with his own men?