Chapter 129: You Are My Possession

Chapter 129: You Are My PossessionOriana knew in her head what she had to do, but she was frozen in place, unable to move. The moment she removed her clothes, there was no turning back. She didn’t want to think about what would happen next.

Seeing her acting like a scared rabbit, Arlan strode towards her and she took steps back instinctively, making sure the distance between them remained the same.

"Y-Your Highness, I can’t..."

Arlan continued to step forward as she continued to move back.

"Seems like you plan to waste time and delay me going to bed."

His words panicked her more. "I...let me..."

"Didn’t Roman teach you how to attend to me at night?"

"Mister Roman? He also...?"

"Isn’t it his duty to serve me?"

Her mind drifted to the interactions she observed between Arlan and his butler. Roman Chadwicke was an attractive older man, and though he did not look muscular nor imposing, his kind demeanor... and his seemingly odd sense of humor to the prince’s jokes about marriage...

’This pervert and Mister Roman have that kind of relationship?!’

Oriana had her mind blown away by the discovery. No wonder the Ahrens included warnings about being tight-lipped in their training— the scandals of the royal palace would alter anyone’s perception of the world.

She was too shocked to even realize that she had been cornered against the door.

Arlan leaned closer, his one hand resting on the door behind her. The intoxicating scent of red wine coming off him forced Oriana back to reality. He was too near for comfort.

He peered closely at her pale face and asked in a low yet calm voice, "Are you going to keep me waiting?"

"Apologies, Your Highness!" she cried out. "I can’t do it! I really can’t! I don’t want to remove my clothes. You can punish me in another way instead."

She closed her eyes shut, knowing she was done for disobeying her master.

On the other hand, her master had a wicked smile on his handsome face. He looked at the thin sheen of sweat on her forehead, as well as her trembling form. Realizing he had scared her enough, it was time to stop playing with the poor girl.

He moved close enough to whisper in her ears, "I was talking about you helping me remove my clothes so that I can change into my sleeping robe, Shortie."

An indefinite duration of time seemed to have passed before a small, puzzled "Huh?" escaped her mouth. She opened her eyes and blinked. "Huh?" she dumbly repeated.

Arlan took a step back, appreciating the adorable expression of bewilderment on her face. From shock, to confusion, to embarrassment, it was entertaining to see the myriad emotions passing through her, allowing him to read her like an open book.

"What were you thinking, Orian?"

"I..."

"Let me guess. Something improper?"

She could feel her face burning at the misunderstanding.

The prince offered her a seemingly innocent questioning look, as if it was all her fault for reading too much into his instruction and he did nothing wrong to lead her mind to its desired outcome.

"A-Apologies..."

"Pervert," Arlan muttered under his breath, shaking his head in disappointment.

"I am...not..."

"You still dare deny it?"

Oriana felt frustrated. She wanted to scream her heart out saying, ’You are the pervert, the real pervert!’ but she could not. Things always somehow ended up with him calling her a pervert when she had been the innocent party all along.

"Or perhaps, this is your way of hinting that I should be the one removing your clothes instead? Is this a new way of seduction?"

"No, no, I never meant that, Your Highness!" she exclaimed.

Arlan stared at her panicked and guilt-ridden face, and again, he lowered his head so that their gazes would meet eye to eye.

In a slow and seductive voice, he added, "But if you wish me to, trust me, I won’t say no to it."

His deep blue eyes, his husky voice and the smell of wine mixed with his own manly scent made her heart flutter.

This man was the real seducer —a rake who knew exactly where his charms lay and what to do with them. How dare he claim it was her doing the seducing?

Oriana gulped, but not a single word could come out of her throat.

"Do you want me to?" she heard that deep seductive voice once again. His gaze felt like it would suck her soul out of her body and make her obey him without resistance.

As if hypnotized, she continued to look at that handsome face, unable to form a coherent thought.

Arlan could hear her loud heartbeats, could smell her scent which was getting unusually stronger... and it was starting to mess with his senses.

’This village girl, does she really want me to do something with her?’

Unknown to him, his hand moved towards her face. Something about her always pulled him towards her and he found it becoming more and more difficult to control.

His hand rested on her cheek and a light gasp left her lips, suddenly heating up the air around them.

Cupping her face, his thumb caressed her soft skin where the mark of slap had almost faded to nothing. Her cheek felt cold under his warm palm.

His gaze soon landed on her slightly parted lips.

The moment he did, Oriana could sense it, her intuition as a woman telling her his desire to lean closer and remove that gap between them. She was tempted to give in, to surrender, but then his next action was like ice cold water splashing on her head.

His lips curved into a mocking smirk, and those blue eyes were filled with mirth and laughter.

"You really want it, don’t you? Yet you deny being a pervert?"

She turned her face to the other side in embarrassment.

"Guilty, huh? Can’t dare meet my gaze."

Oriana clenched her fists. He was the one to cross the line and seduce her like this, yet this shameless man claimed it was her fault. He was surely playing with her!

She faced him, anger evident in her hazel eyes. "Don’t you have a shred of dignity? No master treats his servant this way!"

He smirked as his gaze turned intense. "Since the moment you entered my palace, you became one of my possessions—"

Oriana was absolutely fuming, she no longer cared about his status as a prince at this point.

"—and I, Arlan Cromwell, can do whatever I want with my possession."