According to the terms and conditions I basically didn't read, I had to stay in the Palace until I married the Prince. So here I am, in this gigantic guest room—twice the size of our entire house. The bed is the fluffiest, softest thing I've ever seen. Even though I'm seriously disappointed about not getting my money, I have to admit, living in luxury isn't so bad. I curled myself into a white silk blanket like a burrito, trying to drift off to sleep.
Suddenly, I heard the windows open with a soft whooshing sound, and cold wind swept into the room. My eyes snapped open. Heart pounding, I tried to unwrap myself, but I was too startled. I rolled off the bed and hit the floor with a thud.
"What the... who is that?" a deep male voice exclaimed, surprised and tense.
Panic flooded my veins. Without thinking, I yanked the blanket over my head and scrambled to my feet. My heart pounded so loud I thought it might explode. I barely had time to register my surroundings before a loud gasp echoed through the room.
Then—bam! Something soft struck the side of my head. I cried out in shock and agony, clutching my scalp.
"Awwww!" I shouted, staggering backward.
A large, soft hand suddenly covered my mouth, and I froze in horror. "Whada fa aw you dow-in?" I mumbled, panic choking my voice.
Before I could react further, a hard, muscled body pressed against me, lifting me off the floor and dropping me onto the bed with a force that made me gasp. My heart thumped wildly in my chest.
"Keep your mouth shut or I'll hurt you!" the male voice hissed, threatening. I instinctively tried to shout again, but he slammed himself on top of me, his hand grabbing my throat and squeezing tight. Fear exploded through my veins—I couldn't breathe.
He pulled the sheet from my face, revealing a face so strikingly handsome I froze. It was regal, commanding, with features that seemed almost too perfect—similar to the King himself.
"Who the fck are you?" he whispered loudly, eyes narrowing as he stared at me.
I shook my head desperately and, in a split second, bit his hand. He grimaced, a flash of pain crossing his face, and he shouted silently, frustration flickering in his eyes.
"No, seriously—who the fuck are you? Are you a thief or a murderer?" I demanded, voice rough and harsh.
He pressed his hand over my mouth again, his grip firm and threatening. "Are you fucking crazy? I live here! Are you an intruder or what?" His eyes bore into mine, furious and suspicious. "I'll let you speak, but if you shout, I'll smack you hard."
Terrified by the threat of violence, I nodded quickly, feeling trapped and helpless.
He slowly took his hand away, and I gasped for air. My voice trembled as I whispered, "I am a guest!" I pushed him away, the closeness making my skin crawl with unease.
He exhaled heavily, a mixture of relief and apology. "Oh, I apologize," he muttered, reeking of alcohol. "Please don't tell the staff about me. I'll just sleep in the other room."
Under the faint, soft glow of the lamp, I could see his eyes fluttering, bloodshot and unfocused. He staggered backward, circling around the bed, swaying from side to side. I clutched the sheet tightly around me, trembling.
If he lives here—and judging by how unfamiliar and out of place he looks—he must be either a guest or somehow connected to the royal family. Wait. He looks so familiar… I try to place him, but my mind is foggy.
He took another uncertain step away from the bed, but instead of moving forward, he suddenly collapsed onto the mattress, falling onto his back. Seconds later, he was already snoring—deep, loud, and completely out cold.
"That's great!" I whispered, frustration bubbling inside me. I scrambled to push him off the bed, but he was too heavy—like lifting a sack of rice on my back, which I'd done plenty of times but definitely couldn't manage now. His weight was relentless, and I knew I needed a different plan.
I glanced around the room, my eyes landing on a large sofa by the window—an elegant, plush piece that looked surprisingly sturdy.
"Well, sofa it is," I muttered under my breath, determination hardening my voice.
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A blinding sunlight hit my face, forcing me to blink rapidly. When I tried to move, I felt a heavy weight pressing against my body—something warm, breathing, and unmistakably alive. My heart hammered in my chest as I slowly opened my eyes.
What I saw made my breath catch—curly, black hair sprawled across my chest, and beneath it, mountain-tanned, naked flesh. The huffing and breathing told me I was not alone. For a split second, shock froze me—there was a large human being on top of me.
Panic threatened to take over. My mind raced—who was this? What was he doing? Was I in danger?
Before I could react further, the large double doors swung open with a clatter. Miss Julia, a tall, stern woman I recognized from the palace staff, stormed into the room followed by a line of female maids in uniform. They halted in front of the bed, eyes wide with surprise, but when they didn't find me, they turned around, and a cascade of expressions flickered across their faces—surprise, fear, and something else I couldn't quite place.
One server accidentally dropped a tray, a glass of water shattering on the floor. The rest gasped in unison.
"Prince Hudson!" Miss Julia's voice rang out in fear, sharp and commanding.
My mind scrambled to catch up. I looked down—only to realize the man pressed against me could be Prince Hudson - the one I should marry.
I shot Miss Julia a frantic look, heart pounding. "You got it wrong, Miss Julia! I don't know how he ended up here!" I stammered, voice trembling.
With all my might, I shook him, feeling a surge of disgust. But he remained unmoving, as if carved from stone. Frustrated, I wriggled beneath him, trying to free myself. Suddenly, a loud thud echoed through the room. I sat up quickly, clutching the blanket to my chest, heart pounding.
Miss Julia and the maids were frozen in shock, eyes wide and faces pale as they stared at the half-naked man sprawled on the floor.
A grunt escaped him. Without hesitation, Miss Julia snapped her fingers sharply. The maids hurried forward, gathering around him to help him up. But instead of cooperation, the man waved his hand dismissively, pushing himself to his feet effortlessly.
We all watched in stunned silence as his muscles rippled under his tanned skin, moving with grace and strength. He rose to his full height, steady and poised, as if he wasn't a drunk or a mess. He took a deep breath, then exhaled with a huff. The sunlight caught his tousled black hair, casting a halo around his face, half-obscuring his features.
He turned to me, almost towering over my small frame.
"Did you… just… push me to the floor?" His voice was deep, commanding, with an echoing menace that reverberated through the palace halls.
My heart thumped wildly. Instinctively, I straightened, defiance flaring. "You were invading my space! Did you even realize that you slept on top of me?!"
His lips curled into a smirk as he brushed his thick hair back, revealing a face that seemed like a youthful mirror of the King himself—arched eyebrows, a fine nose, and striking, full eyes.
My gaze drifted downward, taking in his toned arms, chiseled chest, and stomach. I'd seen plenty of muscle from the farm workers, but this was different—refined, dangerous.
"Like what you're seeing?" he asked, voice dripping with confidence.
I scoffed, crossing my arms. "As if!"
He turned sharply to Miss Julia. "Who is this disrespectful guest?"
Miss Julia's face flamed with panic as she scrambled to find words. "She's your… bride," she whispered hurriedly, eyes darting nervously between us.