by Casey, Ember
You agreed to this, I remind myself. You said you’d do anything for Sophia.
But honestly, I can deal with the frills of the wedding—that’s not really what I’m worried about. I just have to make sure Abby doesn’t show up. The king’s demands—that it be outside, that anyone and everyone can attend—make it all too easy for her to sneak in. I’m going to have to have a private chat with His Royal Snootiness and explain the situation—maybe then he’ll be more reasonable. Even he must put his daughter’s safety above all else.
After the tailors’ I’m sent to another room in the palace. I expect to find Sophia waiting for me, but instead, it’s a young man about my age with a long white apron.
“This way, Mr. Donovan,” he says, gesturing to a chair before a big mirror.
I sit. “What’s going on?”
The man whips a pair of fine shears out of his apron pocket. “Your haircut, sir.”
I almost leap up out of the chair right then. “I’m fine with what I have, thanks.”
The man gives a little shake of his head. “I’m under strict instructions to make sure you’re polished for tomorrow’s portrait—”
“Portrait? What portrait?”
He blinks. “Why, for the official royal wedding announcement.”
I should have known this was coming. Of course a royal wedding isn’t just about the wedding itself—there’s a bunch of bullshit leading up to it, too. I almost storm right out of the room, but I stop myself.
Remember, this is for Sophia. Besides, hair grows back. One haircut isn’t going to kill me.
With a sigh, I collapse back into the seat and close my eyes. Might as well get this over with.
“Go ahead,” I say. “Do your damage.”
While he clips away, I keep my eyes shut and try to think of pleasant things. Like Sophia naked. And Sophia lying on the bed, waiting for me. I lose myself in image after image after image of her: Sophia in the shower. Sophia bouncing up and down on top of me. Sophia with her mouth around my—
Something buzzes against my jaw, and my eyes fly open. I jump up, and the man falls back. He’s got an electric razor in his hand.
“What are you doing?” I demand. “I never said you could touch my beard!” Doesn’t he know how much work it takes to maintain this perfect level of stubble?
I glance in the mirror. There’s a huge smooth patch along my jawline on my right side now. The fucking bastard shaved my stubble!
“What the hell!” I curse as I inspect the damage. The patch is several inches long. There’s no hiding it.
“I’m sorry, sir,” the man says. “I was told you needed to be clean-shaven for the portrait—”
“I never fucking agreed to that!” Fuck, I’ll look like a preppy little fuckwad without my stubble. Especially with this haircut he’s given me. I twist my neck, examining my haircut in the mirror. I look like one of Sophia’s stuffy brothers now, even with what remains of my stubble.
The poor bastard with the razor looks absolutely terrified. I’m not sure whether he’s scared of me or of what’ll happen if he disobeys his orders, but I almost feel bad for the guy. Almost.
“Please, Mr. Donovan,” he says. “I was told to shave you. I had no idea you hadn’t agreed.”
With a heavy sigh, I flop back in the seat. The king wins again. He’s probably sitting back in his office, waiting to hear that I’ve refused his demands. Well, I’m not going to give the bastard the satisfaction. Besides, what can I do? It’s not like I can walk around with a huge chunk taken out of my beard.
“Fine,” I say. “Just shave the damn thing.” It’ll grow back soon, too, just like my hair. And next time I’m not letting anyone near it.
I close my eyes again as he flips the razor back on. I can’t watch this.
I try to think of Sophia again, but even images of her naked can’t distract me. My beard is disappearing. This is bullshit.
Finally, the man steps away. “You’re done, sir.”
I peel open my eyes, looking in the mirror. I don’t even recognize the guy who stares back at me. He looks like a pompous buffoon.
The things I do for love…
I stumble out of the room, making my escape before anyone else finds me and tries to maim me again. What’s next—they cut off my balls?
It’s by sheer luck that I manage to find my way back to Sophia’s rooms. It helps that there’s a portrait of a woman with four chins at the head of her hallway—it’s hard to forget a mug like that. I race to the suite and close the door behind me, safe for the moment.
Sophia is already there. She looks up at me, her nose wrinkling in confusion, and then she bursts out laughing.
“Oh my God,” she says. “I didn’t even recognize you! What did they do to you?”
“They mutilated me, that’s what they did.” I try to run a hand through my hair, to ruffle it up a little, but it’s too short to do much but stay exactly where it is. “They fucking destroyed me.”
She’s still laughing as she comes over to me. “It’s not that bad.”
“You haven’t stopped laughing since I walked in the door.”
“Because it’s different, that’s all.”
“I look like one of your brothers!”
“That was probably the point—to make you look more royal.” She purses her lips as she examines me up close. “It’ll grow back.”
“Yeah, I know. But after this silly wedding portrait of me is broadcast to the world. Fuck, what’ll my fans think?”
“They’ll think you look very handsome. And royal.”
“That’s not my image.”
“I know, but…” She looks up at me. “It could be worse, couldn’t it?”
My arguments die. She’s right—it could be worse. Only a few weeks ago I was in a hospital bed, clinging to life. If this is the price of remaining to live—and living with Sophia—then I guess it could be a lot worse.
“I still don’t have to like it,” I grumble.
“No,” she says, smiling. “And as a thank you, I’m going to give you an extra special reward tonight.”
She has my attention. “You are?”
In response, she takes my hand and leads me toward the bedroom.
Maybe I can get used to this princely life after all…
Sophia
It’s been two weeks since the wedding announcement photos were taken—and there are only two weeks more until the big day.
I grab my toothbrush after entering the washroom, and I stand next to Pax.
He rubs at his jawline. “It still isn’t right.”
“It’ll grow back,” I say as I brush my teeth. It seems like I’ve spent the past two weeks assuring him that both his hair and his beard will eventually return to their normal state.
“You keep saying that. But look at this spot.” He tips his chin toward me, pointing at a bald patch on his jawline. “This might never grow back.”
I try not to roll my eyes as I finish brushing my teeth. As soon as I’m done, I turn to my husband. “I think you look very handsome.”
“Yeah, right. Not with a patchy beard.”
“I’d love you even if you couldn’t grow a beard.” I reach up to touch his face. “Or even if you had one of those horrible goatees.”
He chuckles, rubbing again at his face. “That would be even worse than this.”
“I will say I’m quite liking your hair, though.”
He makes a face. “It’s still too short. And somehow, I think your family is going to insist on cutting it again before our wedding.”
“Probably.” I hop onto the sink to sit in front of him. “But it will grow back. And we’ll have a month-long honeymoon to celebrate it.”
He grins. “Have you decided where you want to take me?”
I slap at his chest. “Have you decided where you want to take me?”
He slides his arms around my waist. “I thought maybe I’d take you right here.”
Pax tips his head to kiss
my neck, but he’s almost immediately interrupted by a loud knocking on the door of my suite.
We both stop what we’re doing.
He lifts a brow. “Important enough to stop?”
“This early? Probably.” I slide off the counter, pulling my robe tighter around me as I make my way for the door to my suite.
I pull open the door and find my brother Andrew standing on the other side.
“Sorry to wake you, Sister.” He glances over my shoulder. “Is your husband still sleeping?”
I shake my head, stepping aside to let him in.
As soon as I close the door, I turn back to my brother. “What is it?”
“Your husband should probably be present for this.” His brow furrows. “Where is he?”
“Obsessing over his facial hair.” I turn toward the bedroom. “Pax!” I call.
Andrew rolls his eyes. “Very princess-like of you, Sophia.” He shakes his head. “Perhaps we need to send you back to etiquette classes with Monsieur Bonnaire as long as we have him here.”
Pax enters the room and gives Andrew a look. “Is that why you’re here? To tell me I have another lesson?” He shakes his head. “What’s next? Learning how to fold napkins into farm animals?”
Andrew looks at him for a moment. “We have staff for that. But if that’s the role you’ve chosen for yourself, I’m sure our father would approve.”
“Fuck, that’s why you’re here?” Pax drops onto the sofa. “I haven’t decided.”
“I thought we discussed it…” I force a smile, looking up at my brother before turning to my husband. “We had discussed—”
“I’m not going to be some court jester, Sophia.” He leans back, staring up at the ceiling. “Believe me, I’ve given it a lot of thought.”
“I don’t think that’s what we decided at all.” My smile falls instantly to a frown as I turn back to my brother. “We had talked about—”
“Entertaining. Or being some sort of official musician.” Pax shakes his head. “It’s going to turn into me making a fool of myself.”
“Pax…” I sit beside him, taking his hand in mine. “That isn’t what we talked about at all.”
“Whatever. Being some idiot entertainment public relations dipshit—”
“Arts liaison. Or advisor.” I force my plastic smile again for the sake of my brother. “Pax seems to think we don’t need this sort of service in our country.”
“Because you don’t. And what the hell would I do? Schedule bullshit symphony performances? It’s kind of a worthless thing.”
“Nonsense.” Andrew glances between the two of us. “Though, I’m sure we could enhance the idea a bit.”
“Enhance…” Pax rolls his eyes to the ceiling. “Yeah, I’ll probably get the keys to the concert hall or something.”
“Will you stop? Please?” I try to keep the emotion from my voice, but it’s proving difficult. “You aren’t a victim here, Pax. It seems like a perfect fit—”
“It would be a perfect fit for Mick. Not for me.” He looks at me for a moment before he stands, turning to face Andrew. “You come to fetch me for your dad?”
“No.” Andrew’s brow furrows again. “I came to make sure you’re ready for your meeting this afternoon. To be sure you had a concrete plan to present when you meet.”
“Or…to make me look like an asshole in front of my wife?”
I stand. “Why are you doing this? You’re frustrated—I get that. But we’ve already come this far. You’ve already—”
“Had my hair cut?” He runs his fingers through what’s left of his hair. “My beard shaved…what’s next, Sophia? Seriously? Your father doesn’t want us to have kids for a decade—do you think the next step is to have my balls cut off?”
I stare at him for a moment. And when I speak, my voice is so quiet, I barely recognize it. “If you didn’t want to do this, all you had to do was say so—”
“No, I don’t think that was one of the choices, Sophia. I wanted to be with you. And to be with you, I had to jump through every single hoop your dad set in front of me. And I have. Many times.”
“I know. And I appreciate it—”
“I know you appreciate it. But no one else does.” He turns to Andrew. “You assholes come to these stupid lessons and stand on the sidelines, making fun of me—”
“We’ve done nothing of the sort. We’ve encouraged you—”
“Encouraged me? You stand in the doorways pointing and laughing. At that stupid fencing lesson yesterday, I thought you were going to piss yourself, you were laughing so hard.”
Andrew sighs. “That was William. I don’t believe I’ve ever laughed that hard—”
“Whatever. You know exactly what I mean.” He frowns at Andrew for a moment before turning to me. “I’m done, Sophia. I don’t know what else I can do.”
“You can marry me—”
“I already married you! And I still don’t see why that isn’t fucking good enough!” Pax’s hands clench into fists at his side.
“We’re almost done. We’re so close—”
“Two more weeks of this shit?” He shakes his head violently. “I don’t know how I’ve survived the last fourteen days. And now…” He rubs his jaw. “Now I have to go accept some stupid job that I don’t need or want.”
“It isn’t a job.” Andrew’s voice is even, almost comforting. “It’s a role—”
“It’s a job, and you both know it.” He walks over to the wall, and I could swear he’s about to punch it, his fists are clenched so tightly. He turns back to face me. “And I’m not going to do it. I’m not taking some stupid fucking job. Either you and your family take me the way I am—and for what I am—or I give up. I’m done.”
Pax
I thought I was doing okay, really I did.
I’ve been going to all of my “prince lessons.” I’ve been wearing a stiff, stuffy suit to dinner every night and using the right piece of silverware most of the time. Hell, I’ve even cut way back on the number of times I’ve called Sophia’s brothers by the nicknames I’ve given them. I’ve played along, followed the rules, mostly stayed within the lines.
I had no idea how close I was to snapping.
My outburst is out of the blue, even to me. All this time I’ve been telling myself that this is what I wanted—that I’m doing this for Sophia. For us. A few weeks of bullshit and we could live happily ever after.
I guess all that stress has built up.
Andrew and Sophia are both looking at me like I’ve gone insane. I should’ve known they wouldn’t understand—they grew up in this life, with these rules. They haven’t spent the last couple of weeks trying to be someone else. Still, I know I’ve overreacted. Two weeks of stuffy suits will do that to you.
I run a hand through my hair, trying not to notice how short it feels. Trying to calm myself.
“Do you mean that, Pax?” Sophia says. Her eyes are locked on my face.
I can’t even remember the last thing I said. I rack my brain and take another deep breath.
Oh, that’s right. I told her I was fucking done. That I’m tired of playing her family’s game and pretending to be someone else. And while that’s true, on many levels, there’s no reason for me to be a jerk about it.
“Look,” I say in defeat. “I’m just exhausted, okay? Lately my entire life has revolved around trying to be someone else. I’m trying, Sophia. Really, I am. But it wears a man down, trying to do that day in and day out.” I step closer to her, take her hands in mine. “And is that really what you want? The man your father wants me to be? That’s not who I am, Sophia. That’s not the man you fell in love with.” I crack a half smile. “I know that you women love to change your men, but—”
“I’m not trying to change you,” she says quickly. “That was never what this was about.” She squeezes my fingers. “I’m not ashamed of who you are, Pax. I just wanted you to get along with my family.”
“I want to get along with them, too,” I say, gla
ncing at Andrew. “But I’m not sure they feel the same way about me.”
“Why do you think I’m here?” Andrew replies. “Do you think this is part of my job description? No, I’m here because I want what’s best for my sister. And whatever my personal feelings on the matter, she loves you. She deserves to be happy. So I’m helping you.”
“Yeah, you really sound like you like me.”
“Our father is…very traditional,” Andrew goes on as if I haven’t spoken. “And I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t always agree with his choices. But I also recognize when it’s futile to try and change his mind. But even if you can’t argue with him, you might still be able to…persuade him.”
“All right, prince-y boy. Lay it on me. How do you persuade His Majesty?”
“To start, by courting his good favor,” Andrew says. “What do you think you’re accomplishing by begrudgingly forcing your way through all of this? Do you think you’re impressing him? By doing the bare minimum and making it obvious to everyone every chance you get how much you hate it? Do you think that’s winning you any points with him? No—if you want to win him over, you have to go bigger.”
I’m a little terrified of where he’s going with this. “What are you suggesting?”
“Our father lives and breathes politics,” Andrew says. “And the way to accomplish anything with him is through politics. He doesn’t care about how you feel. He cares about what you choose to do. He wants to see you play his game, and he wants to see you do it willingly and with skill.”
“I’m working on my skills,” I say. “My schedule is full of lessons every day.”
Andrew shakes his head. “That’s not what I mean, though I think what you’re learning there will help you. You have to make an effort. A grand gesture, if you will. You need to court his favor.”
“Court—like date him?” I ask incredulously.
Andrew doesn’t look amused. “I mean the way you would a potential business partner, or in your case, I suppose, a record producer you’re trying to impress. Think of it as the ultimate audition.”
