Pulling me back against his chest, Max let Father stagger past us before letting me go and pinning my father’s arms.

“Let me go, ya bas’ard.” Father struggled uselessly.

I sucked in a deep breath, my composure cracking. It had been years since he had hit me, but I still remembered that moment with fear. It felt like someone had broken my face and I had thought my eyeball would explode. My cheek had been swollen for weeks. The bruises had taken forever to fade and I’d had to lie to all of my friends.

“That’s enough.” Max’s words rang with authority. “Stop struggling or I will have you escorted to the jail.”

“This is my home, you stupid git.”

“And I’m a prince of this country. Who do you think the police will listen to?”

“Someone will listen to me!” Father’s movements turned sluggish. “Someone should but no one does.” Tears filled his eyes and I had to look away from him. I should feel pity for someone so out of control, but all I could muster was hate. And shame that Max had seen just how horrible my father really was.

“Easy now.” Max half dragged, half carried my father over to a chair. “I’m going to put you down now, but if you make any more trouble, I’ll have my bodyguard take care of you.”

I hadn’t even realized that a large man filled the empty doorway my father had just vacated.

“I jus’ wanna be left alone, ya hear me?” My father’s voice grew quiet before turning into a snore. I stood there for a moment, completely at a loss for how to handle what just happened.

“Are you okay?” One of Max’s hands gripped my shoulder with gentle fingers while the other lifted my chin so that he could look in my eyes.

I nodded my head but couldn’t hide the tears. I wasn’t a good enough actress after all. There was too much happening to and around me. I wasn’t strong enough.

“I—I’m fine.” I shook my head and his hand slid from my chin but he kept his grip on my shoulder. I couldn’t meet his eyes. I was so embarrassed for myself and my family. “Thank you for stepping in.”

His eyes searched my face, worry creasing his brow. I felt exposed, na**d under his scrutiny. He had just seen my darkest secret.

With his free hand he reached up and brushed away a tear. “You’re not fine and I’m staying. You need the help and there’s no way I’m leaving you here with him.”

SIX

RAGE FLOWED THROUGH my veins, accompanied by the strong desire to protect Meredith. I stared down into her brimming eyes and fought my need to wrap her in my arms. It was hard, though, because she looked so delicate and frail. Nothing like the firecracker I had seen in the past.

“Thank you, but you really don’t have to stay. This isn’t the first—” She stopped and looked away from me. Her cheeks colored a delicate pink and my fury boiled just under the surface.

“Not the first time he’s done this?” I growled the words. “He’s hit you before?”

She looked at me with large eyes and I could see her trying to close doors, lock away the emotions, but it was all too raw, too real. And she was failing. The perfect image she had crafted for herself had been blown to bits by her father.

“Of course he’s hit me before. Didn’t your parents spank you?” She stepped away from me and I let my hand fall to my side.

“You know what I mean.”

She shrugged and walked over to the couch, where she fixed a pillow that had been knocked over. “He’s a drunk.”

“Meredith.” I ran a hand over my face. “You can’t live in these conditions.”

“I don’t. I live in England.” She frowned and a shudder racked her body. Her voice sounded tiny and distant. “Well, I did.”

“Did your grandfather approve of this?”

“He saw the best in my father,” she said. Never once looking me in the eye, she fiddled with things that had been knocked astray. “He saw the best in everyone. It never got this bad when my grandfather was around. It was like my dad knew better.”

Looking over my shoulder, I nodded at Charles, my bodyguard, to let him know that he could leave. I turned back to look at Meredith as she continued to work around the room, righting what had been upturned in the scuffle.

“Has he ever hit Marty?” The moment she turned around I knew I had crossed the line.

“Who the hell do you think you are? Just because you’re a prince doesn’t give you the right to come barging into our lives, asking personal questions.” She moved across the room to poke me in the chest. Anger filled her eyes with strength and passion. “But for your information, no. He’s never hit Marty. I would never allow that to happen. Do you understand? I would die before I let someone hurt Marty.”

I looked down into her red eyes. “Of course you wouldn’t. But if you let him hurt you—”

“If he takes it out on me, he doesn’t take it out on anyone else. Got it?” She stood up on her tiptoes, her nostrils flaring. Her finger dug a little deeper into my chest.

“Got it.” I reached up and wrapped her finger in mine before moving it down to our sides. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you?” She squinted at me. “Because I’m not sure if you just talk without thinking or if you really think I’d let him hurt my son. Why do you think I moved to England? It wasn’t just to go to school.”