FORBIDDEN- 3

~Grace's POV~

I sat in front of my parents in my father's study. It’s like were having an intervention, two against one. I’m sitting on one side, my father's sitting there, my mother's standing beside him. "What are you talking about?" My father let out a frustrated sigh, rolling his eyes.

"I'm talking about getting a different bodyguard," I repeated for the third time.

"Why?" My mother whined. "He's the best guard we could possibly have for you after what happened last night."

"He's worked in all neighbouring kingdoms and everybody recommends him. He's worked with all royal families for long periods of time. He's the best to keep you safe," my father added.

"I don't like him," I said through gritted teeth.

"You're being ungrateful," my mother scolded. "We didn't raise you to be a br@t."

"Judith," my father said sternly. He sighed again, looking at me. "Why is it such an issue? Honey, Finn was with you for so long, I’m sure it’s hard to adjust, just give it some time."

I bit back a groan and sunk further into the chair, looking around the room. He's fvcking cold. I’m not being a br@t and whining about it, I can see it already. He's cod-stone and heartless. How could he say all those things right after Finn passed away? There are some basic, unspoken rules after someone dies. You don't say anything to upset those who were affected!

His words hurt even if they should mean nothing. They angered me, made my blood boil. Who does he think he is, coming in and throwing his opinion at me like confetti? I didn't ask for it, and he's wrong! It’s not my fault. In fact, I did everything he said I should have. I noticed it all weeks ago. The dark corner, the glass doors, the lack of security, and I had told my parents to change it. They said they would and then forget about it, and that now cost Finn's life.

"Fine," I sighed, standing up. It's pointless.

My father is certainly nicer between my parents, we have a better relationship. It’s weird to say, but I feel like my mother thinks of me as competition. It's twisted, it might not even be true. But I can't help notice the little things, for instance, if I ever visit town, she makes it a point to visit the very next day, bringing photographers for the paper with her. If I'm talking to a guest at a party, she makes it a point to interrupt and talk about something else entirely, desperate to have the guest's attention. It's bothersome, but it's not worth my energy. And neither is trying to convince my parents of anything, ever. Because even if my dad agrees, my mom persuades him to agree with her instead.

I stood up and spun around, walking to the door and pushing it open with more force than necessary. I froze in my tracks, seeing Ronan standing right in front of me, waiting.

He smirked, sending me a small wave and I rolled my eyes and shut the doors, heading up to my room. "What's wrong?" He walked beside me. "Your parents didn't listen?" he teased. "Well, you can't get rid of me that easily, sorry."

"Stop talking," I groaned, reaching the first floor and then continuing to make my way upstairs. We made it to my room and I stopped in front of my door, turning to him with a huff. "Stop," I said, deciding to be nice. At least try being a little nice. "Please stop." I swallowed, staring at his eyes. "You're my bodyguard, right? So, let’s keep this professional. Guard the door, scan a room before I walk in, do background checks on people, whatever. Do your job. That doesn't include tormenting me. Especially right now."

He watched me blankly, not a single emotion visible on his face. "You're being dramatic," he finally said.

I closed my eyes, trying not to lose my temper.

"He was just a bodyguard."

"So?" I snapped.

He blinked, pocketing his hands and trying to read me. "Did you... No, he was too old for you."

I scoffed, staring at him in disbelief. "He was a friend! Family! God's sake. You have no right, whatsoever, to tell me how to feel about someone's death. You have no right to give your opinion on it when I didn't ask."

"Everybody loses people. You have duties to focus on."

"Everybody loses people and everybody copes in different ways. If I want to be alone, I will be alone. Do you understand, Mr. Ronan Stone?" I bit out. "Or do you not? Because you probably have no idea how I'm feeling. Because you probably haven't lost anybody."

His eyes went colder, darker. I could feel the anger radiating off of him now. Good. Tit for tat.

"Or actually," I chuckled dryly. "You've probably never cared about anyone enough to hurt after losing them." I pushed my door open and walked in, not taking my eyes off his until I slammed the door in his face. I leaned against it, closing my eyes and taking a wobbly breath. I glanced at the clock. It was nearly three.

I flipped the light switch off, I drew the curtains shut, I changed into a fresh nightgown, and I climbed in bed. I blinked, staring at the door and the light creeping out from under it. It would darken every so often, meaning he was pacing in front of my door.

This was one thing I hated, always would hate, no matter who my guard is. The stationing right outside my door. I remember at the beginning, I would make a little noise, a squeal while reading a book, or a small 'ow' if I fell off the bed or hit my elbow on the nightstand, and Finn would come barging in as if the sky had fallen on me. I wonder if he'd do that.

I looked around the room for something to help me test it out. I spotted an ugly vase that my mother had insisted I keep on the dresser right by my door. It was ugly, beige, and had a cracking effect. I despised it. I grabbed a small cushion from the right side of the bed since I slept on the left, and I threw it at the vase, full force. It fell to the black marble floor, shattering. I didn't bother pretending to be asleep.

He stopped pacing. There was a minute of utter silence, no movement before my door opened and he stood in the doorway, looking right at me. He looked down at the shattered vase, then at the cushion I threw. He looked back at me, flicking the lights on. I squinted, but I still glared at him.

"Do you have a problem?" I asked. "I’m trying to sleep."

"Do you have a problem?" He glanced outside where I could hear footsteps. "Your highness," he spat, walking in and closing the door behind him.

I propped myself up on my elbow, all princess etiquette forgotten. "I do, actually." He continued glowering at me but I refused to back down. "You make my blood boil."

"Hmm, mutual feeling’s," he chuckled dryly, squatting down and gathering the larger pieces, dropping them in my trash can before dusting his hands and walking over. He stopped at my nightstand, looking me dead in the eye while pressing the button on the remote, ringing the bell.

Throughout the palace, in every bedroom, we have a service bell that connects to monitors in the kitchen and foyer. It’s like a doorbell but it only signals Ms. Bella or our butler, Mr. Garry, that someone needs their assistance.

"Just to be clear," I said, keeping my voice as cold and emotionless as possible while my eyes narrowed. "I want you gone."

He stared back at me with the same intensity. "Just to be clear," he mocked, "I’m not going anywhere."

I worked my jaw as the door opened and Ms. Bella walked in. "You called, your highness?"

"I did," Ronan said, turning to her. "The vase fell." He nodded toward the table. "I cleaned up the larger pieces, but could you please give it a quick clean? Just so she doesn't get hurt accidentally."

Ms. Bella nodded and then left to grab a broom.

He turned back around and faced me. You can't get rid of me, your highness. This job pays way too well for me to let it go so easily."

All royal families pay way too well, work with another one."

"I've worked with every single one already."

I rolled my eyes and lay back down. "Just get out."

He didn't move until he made sure not a single, microscopic shard was still on the floor. Ms. Bella left and he turned the lights off on his way out, leaving me to sleep.

I rolled onto my stomach, hugging the pillow under me, going back to staring at the bottom of the door where the light peeked through. He wasn't pacing anymore, just stood still.

Is it my luck? My fate? Or simply my unavoidable destiny? If it's luck, it's bad luck. If it's fate, it's ill-fated. And if it's destiny, it's a curse.

Ronan Stone is my misery. I can feel it, I can see it, I know it! He will make this process more difficult than anything, and God knows how long he’ll be here.

Ronan Stone will ruin everything. He might even ruin me.

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