Escape: A Royal Tom Holland Romance

Perfect

Spending day after day with Princess Zendaya began to take its toll on Tom. The endless, miserable dates continued to prove to him what he already knew. She was sensational (he honestly expected less of her), but he couldn't find feelings for her even in the innermost depths of his heart. He didn't feel like himself around her; he felt like a prince. A puppet. A meaningless facade it was, always having to "act", hiding how bored he was of their routine. They strolled through the same gardens everyday right before nightfall, consistently. Regardless of his efforts to keep up appearances she missed nothing, which scared him. He could clearly see her growing agitated by his lack of attentiveness.

"Thomas, I see you have very little experience in how to flirt." She smiled, attempting to poke fun.

He shrugged, unamused. "Where's the fun in flirting? We're already promised. Flirting is all about chase, Zendaya. When there is nothing to be caught, why chase?"

Her humorous demeanor was fading fast as he mindlessly pushed her buttons. "Am I not a prize?"

"To be frank, Zendaya, you should concern yourself with something more worthy of your time than your own property value. You are more than just a prize to be won."

Zendaya was taken aback, but rationalized the sentiment rather quickly. Her smile grew again, despite the harshness of his tone. "You have your faults, Thomas, but I find your way with words to be quite captivating."

"Thank you." Tom almost shuddered as she began to lean in, their faces mere inches apart. She hadn't initiated anything intimate since the night of the ball, several days before. His mask melting, Tom instinctively pulled away. He immediately realized his mistake when she struck him square in the jaw. "Agh—"

"I am amazed by your effrontery!" Zendaya spat, made furious by his volatility. "I may be quite taken with you, God knows why, but I will not be made a fool of! I am more than suitable for you, so I see absolutely no reason why you should be so scarce with your affections!"

"Zendaya, I apologize." Tom huffed. "If that is how you feel, perhaps I am not suitable for you. I'm sure you have plenty of other suitors you would be more compatible with."

"You detestable boy! How dare you mock me with that notion. We are engaged to be married and that is all there is to say about the matter. The sooner you come to terms with it, the better." She turned to storm away, but was quickly stopped in her tracks by Tom's not so innocent inquiry.

"Why marry me if I make you this angry?"

She turned slowly to him, smirking. "I have many doubts, but I intend to squash them. The gain is far too great for my kingdom as well as myself to miss this opportunity."

"Gain? What gain is there for you? If anything you hold the ace, Zendaya. You must know of our desperation."

"Oh, I'm quite aware." She got closer to him, her eyes intense with desire. "Your kingdom, even in its vulnerable state, has much to offer still. As you know, your kingdom is only second to mine in strength and power. It has very unique resources. We've been trading for many years already. And, despite your coldness, you have much to offer me, Thomas. I have always been far from indifferent to you ever since your portrait arrived. You are the most attractive man I've ever seen. And your letters—I fell in love with you before I even met you. You were perfect."

Tom furrowed his brow. "You fell for me because of my portrait and from reading those false letters. You're in love with the idea of me. You're in love with an illusion! You don't know me, princess." He walked past her, his face hard. The entire essence of his being was suffocating and he needed air—fast.

Tom sent the nearest guard to fetch Harrison and send him up to his chambers. Once he reached the safe haven of his room he stripped off his semi-formal attire and pulled on a riding shirt, stuffing it into a worn pair of trousers. He was tugging on his boots when Harrison was announced and brought in. Harrison quickly shut the door, seeing Tom in his getup. He was clearly distressed and completely worn out from trying to keep up his charades.