But this? Alone in the back of the limo. What is this? Is this real?
I blink and push the thoughts away. There are more pressing questions to answer.
“I will announce to the country and my family that ‘Lady Callister’ and I have entered into an engagement,” I explain. “The press conference tomorrow seems like a good time to spread the word.”
“But your family already thinks that, right?” she asks, pulling away from me. Only an inch separates us, but it feels like a mile.
“They suspect,” I say. “And expect it to happen soon. They will be thrilled, though not surprised.”
She looks out the window so I can’t see her face, her blond hair falling from her shoulder to tumble down her back in shiny waves. After several seconds, she turns back to me, her face creased and concerned. “So, everyone will know about our engagement? I’ve only been here two days. Can’t we wait longer?”
“You will not be staying in Sigmaran very long,” I say, the reminder landing like a punch to the stomach. “I want my people to see you as my intended for as long as possible before you leave for Texas. Given my reputation, I don’t want anyone to write this relationship off as frivolous.”
She bites her lower lip, and I have to look away. It has been eleven months since I’ve kissed her lips, but the memory of it burns across my skin.
“I didn’t expect to have to play your betrothed in front of the entire country. I thought our engagement would be announced later, once I’d left, and then be called off.”
“Is there any difference?” I ask. “Either way, we won’t be getting married.”
I see it. Only a flash, but it is there. Sadness and longing flicker in Jane-Ann’s eyes before she looks away. I recognize it because it matches my own.
“I know,” she says quietly.
I close the gap between us before I can think. My knee slides between hers, the slit in her dress opening to let me in, and my hand wraps around her neck, drawing her near to me.
“What are you doing?” she breathes. Her eyes are wide, but she doesn’t resist me. Instead, her hands rest on my shoulders and then slide down across my chest.
“What I should have done months ago.” I lean in until I’m too close to see anything but her eyes and the pink of her lips. They part, and I take it as an invitation.
Kissing her feels exactly like I remember. It is soft and warm and urgent. I grab fistfuls of her hair and tip her head back so I can have more of her. All of her.
Her fingers tangle in the hair at the back of my neck, and her legs open to let me in. Our bodies are pressed together, and I want to look out the window to see how close we are to home. How much longer we have before the window separating us from Gunner comes down, and my driver sees more of me than I’m certain he has ever wanted to, but I can’t bring myself to end this kiss. If I do, I’m afraid it won’t happen again.
Jane-Ann and I are in a bubble. Perfectly insulated from everything, but the oxygen is limited, and eventually, it will burst. Soon, in fact. But I plan to use up every last breath of it. Because being with her feels good and natural and more right than anything I’ve ever experienced. I know because I’ve thought about what would have happened if one of the random hookups I’ve had over the years had gotten pregnant.
I’m ashamed to admit that I would have done what royalty have done for ages. I would have paid her for her silence and swept them under the rug. It would have been a distraction. But when I found out about Jane-Ann and Tyler, it became the only thing that matters. But they aren’t. My brothers, my country, my duty—that all matters, too. But right now, there’s only the two of us.
She sighs against my mouth, and I run my hands down her back, pulling her close to me. There are too many layers between us. I search from her hip and across her ribs for a zipper but don’t feel one. Then, my fingers find the neckline of her dress, and I follow it down, lower across her chest. She is breathing heavily, her breasts straining against the fabric, and when I swipe my finger across her hot skin, I feel goosebumps.
“What are we doing?” Jane-Ann presses her palms on my chest and leans away, looking up at me.
“You already asked that,” I say, swirling my finger across her skin, enjoying the feeling of her.
“And you didn’t answer,” she says. “Not really. This is a bad idea.”
I know she’s right, but the moment is slipping away from me, and I just need to say something to keep her here with me. So, I tell the truth. “I want you, Jane-Ann.”
She tilts her face to the side, her lips pulled down in a sad frown. “I want you, too.”
I haul her against me with the arm wrapped around her waist, my other hand now pinched between our bodies. Her fingers brush across my jawline and my cheekbones. There is longing in her touch, but then her fingers are gone.
And she pushes me away.
When I open my eyes, Jane-Ann is shaking her head, her lower lip trembling. “Wanting you isn’t a good enough reason to put myself through this.”
“Isn’t it?” I ask, desperate.
“No,” she says firmly, swiping at her eyes.
The car comes to a stop, and I know we only have seconds before the door opens and the bubble bursts, but I don’t have anything to say.
“I can play the aristocrat for a while,” she says, lifting her chin and straightening her shoulders. Her eyes are red and her lips are swollen. She looks like a mess, but Gunner will just assume we’ve been kissing. Which is true. Though, not the whole story. “I can pretend to be your fiancée for your sake. And Tyler’s. But this can’t be real, and you know it. Pretending otherwise is too painful.”
As soon as the door opens, Jane-Ann swings her legs out and marches away from the car. She cuts a beautiful figure in the gown, the hemline trailing a little behind her as she mounts the steps to my house. I hate that she looks so good walking away. I hate that she’s walking away at all.
It feels like I’m carrying an anvil behind me as I mount the stairs. My body is heavy with disappointment and dread—for tomorrow, for my future. A future that won’t include Jane-Ann. Not in the way I want it, too.
I fall asleep with the ghost of her lips against mine, a reminder of what could have been but will never be.
Chapter 27
Christian
My father is waiting for me in the receiving room when I arrive. I left a note for Jane-Ann to meet me there at the main palace in an hour. When I knocked, there was no answer. Either she did not want to see me or she was still in the bath, so I slipped it under the door.
“You’re early,” he says, checking the clock on the wall against his wristwatch. “This is a first. Maybe Lady Ann is doing some good for you.”
I don’t have the energy to play along or defend myself, pointing out that I’m never late for official events or meetings, so I just smile and nod.
“I didn’t receive a write-up of the announcement you plan to make today,” the King says.
I recognize the sentence as a question. Where is it? Why have you not sought out my approval?
“Correct,” I say simply.
A servant walks in carrying a tray of tea and leaves it on the small table between us. Father prefers to host official press events from the comfort of a tall-backed armchair. Today, there are two of them, one for him and one for me. As soon as the servant pours us each a cup of tea, bows, and disappears through the double doors, Father takes a sip from the steaming cup and turns to me.
“What are you going to say?” he asks.
“And ruin the surprise?” I tease, trying to sound natural. I didn’t sleep at all last night, and my nerves are fried.
“Christian—” he starts.
“I will rule this country one day,” I say, interrupting him. “If you cannot trust me to offer an official update on our continuing relationship with Sweden despite the fallout with Lady Freyja, then how can you ever trust me to run the country?”
“I will be dead when you become King,�
�� he says sharply. “I will not be capable of trust.”
My father is older, though not old. He has many years of leadership ahead of him, and I will be middle-aged before I can even think about inheriting his title. My brothers will be young, though. In many respects, it makes more sense for Erikson to inherit the crown. He could serve the people of Sigmaran longer than I could and provide long-term stability. But the rules of succession point to me.
“Then allow me to help you utilize the ability while you still can,” I say, straightening my tie. “You will hear my news when the rest of the country does.”
There is a long silence where I expect to be smacked across the face with the back of my father’s teacup, but instead, he chuckles. The sound is so alarming that I turn to him, eyes narrowed.
“Lady Callister has given you courage,” he says as way of explanation. “She is good for you, and she will be good for this country.”
When I say nothing, my father tilts his chin down and looks at me from beneath his bushy brows. “That is your news, is it not? That you intend to marry Lady Ann?”
My father is happy. Even though he isn’t smiling, I can tell. He is looking at me the way I’d always hoped he would. He is looking at me with pride in his eyes. Proud of me for putting my partying days behind me and finding a suitable blue blood to marry. It is everything I’d ever wanted from him, but it is bullshit.
Not only am I deceiving my father and am about to deceive my people, but I’m hurting Jane-Ann. She ran from the car last night and refused to open her door this morning.
I know when she leaves Sigmaran, we won’t stay in touch. It will go back to the way things were the last two months—a picture of Tyler and a paragraph about his day. And as Tyler gets old enough to talk on the phone, even that will stop. She won’t have any reason to talk with me. And that idea kills me because I’m falling for Jane-Ann.
I hadn’t wanted to admit it to myself before because it was futile. And it still is, but the feeling didn’t go away when I ignored it. Instead, my affection for Jane-Ann has intensified, making it impossible for me to push my feelings down and lock them away.
“You do not have to tell me,” my father says finally when I still don’t respond. “You still have the ring your mother gave you, don’t you? It will suit Lady Ann well.”
This might be the most pleasant conversation I’ve ever had with my father. I smile at him and decide to enjoy it while it lasts.
Chapter 28
Jane-Ann
When Christian knocked on my door this morning, I froze. I was sitting on the edge of my bed getting ready to pump, and I stopped breathing and waited for him to leave. Even when the note slid under my door, I didn’t move for fear he would hear my footsteps and open the door. I wouldn’t have the power to resist him again, so it was better if we weren’t alone together. When his footsteps faded to silence, I got up and read the note.
“Meet me at the palace in one hour. Gunner will drive you.”
It wasn’t an apology or a love note. Disappointment and relief mingled together and left me feeling confused, replaying the events of the previous night in my head over and over again as I slipped into a navy-blue gown that I knew was meant for this occasion.
As opposed to all the other cleavage-bearing outfits in my closet, this one barely reveals my collarbone, and the cap sleeves give it an air of innocence and class. I pair it with a nude heel and a low bun gathered at the base of my neck, hoping if I keep my looks understated enough, I can somehow manage to blend into the scenery.
Gunner is waiting in front of Christian’s house when I come outside. If he noticed anything strange about my flee from the car the night before, it doesn’t show. I wonder briefly how many women he has seen Christian with. How many times he has rolled down the window dividing the front and back seats and caught Christian in a similar position to the one we were in last night.
I push the thought from my mind as I get into the back seat and the car takes off down the drive. There have been countless women, I’m sure, and there will be more after I am gone, but I will not think of them. Not now, at least. Not when I’m going to have to stand in front of a wall of cameras and pretend we have a future together.
Cameras flash as soon as my car door opens, and I keep my knees together as I climb out of the car to be sure no one will be able to sell an upskirt shot of me to a local tabloid. One of the family handlers, a man with a gray mustache and a lined face who I’ve rarely seen separated from the King, comes out, white-gloved, to lead me inside. He makes idle chitchat about what a circus the palace becomes on press release days, and even though I know he’s being nice, I can’t manage more than a paper-thin smile. After several uncomfortable pauses, he stops talking and focuses on keeping me from falling over.
My legs feel wobbly. I thought I was fine with the lie. I don’t owe anything to the people of Sigmaran or Christian’s family. I didn’t even know the country existed a year ago. Yet, the idea of lying on such a large scale has my moral scale tipping in a direction I’m uncomfortable with. And on top of everything, I know what the lie means.
Yes, Christian and I have lied about my identity to his family, but there have been no public proclamations. Most of the articles Blakely has screenshotted and sent to me during her late-night Sigmaran internet dives list me as Christian’s “mysterious American sweetheart.” Technically not a lie. But after Christian’s official announcement of his engagement to Lady Callister, any possibility of a romance between Christian and the real Jane-Ann will be over.
How could the people of Sigmaran ever except a commoner as their Queen Consort, and worse than that, a commoner Queen who deceived them? They couldn’t.
Though, I know I’m getting ahead of myself. Christian said he wanted me in the car last night, but that could mean anything. It could mean he wanted me physically. Or he wanted me for the next two weeks until I leave Sigmaran. Or it could have meant he wanted me in the exact same way I want him, but that doesn’t change anything. We are still following through with this plan, and his family still won’t let him marry a commoner and become king.
So, it doesn’t matter anyway. Christian would never marry me.
The acceptance of that reality steadies me more than I expect. Pushing moral gray areas aside, Christian and I have been doomed from the first time I saw him across the dance floor at Jimmy’s. It was never going to work, and whatever happens in the next half hour will do nothing to change that.
The acceptance and steadiness last ten seconds until the handler turns the corner, and I see Christian standing next to his father. He is in his military dress uniform, and I remember him mentioning his service as a lieutenant. He looks commanding in the silhouette, his shoulders wide and square, his waist tapering down to sturdy hips and muscled legs. He looks like a dream, like the angel I thought he was when I saw him through the honky-tonk crowd, and just like that first night, I feel drawn toward him.
The handler says something as I let go of his arm and move toward Christian, but I don’t hear it. I don’t hear anything until I’m standing in front of Christian, and he is looking down at me, his brows furrowed.
“Ja—” he stops himself and clears his throat. “Lady Ann?”
I realize suddenly that I interrupted his conversation with his father, the King, and I turn quickly and bow deeply. “His Majesty.”
The King tips his head to me.
“Sorry to interrupt,” I start, unsure what to say.
I glance around the room, and the sheer amount of people in the space makes me want to wrap my arms around myself and curl up into a ball. The morning has been overwhelming, and despite every doomed thought I’d just reminded myself about Christian, I couldn’t help being drawn to him. But it’s time to start helping it.
He places his hands on my shoulder, and tilts his head to the side, his smile sad. “That’s okay. I’m glad to see you before we start. Let me take you to your seat.”
Christian turns me toward the
rows of white wooden chairs arranged in the middle of the room, and I hear the King joke loudly to a nearby diplomat about love making even the most polite women forget their manners.
Love.
I know Christian hears it too because he quickly pulls his arm from around my shoulders and simply walks next to me, as if breaking physical contact might break the emotional binds that seem to tie us together.
“What are you going to say?” I ask quietly.
I want to be prepared. There may very well be cameras trained on me during his speech to capture my reaction, and I don’t want to look like I’m struggling to keep down my breakfast.
He lowers his head, his blond hair falling over his forehead, and runs a hand across his neck. “I’m not sure exactly.”
“Hasn’t this been planned for a couple weeks?”
He offers me a hand as we reach a chair in the front row and helps me sit down. Then, he sits next to me, his body turned toward mine. Our knees touch like they did the night before in the limo, and he quickly pulls his leg away.
“I haven’t been able to find the right words, but I’m pretty good at speaking off the cuff. I will lightly touch on our continued friendship with Lady Freyja’s country and family and then move on to our engagement.”
The King loudly clears his throat, and when I look up, I see he is gesturing for Christian to rejoin him. When Christian looks over at me, his wide mouth is pinched, and his eyes are pulled down at the corners. He is looking at me like I’m an abandoned puppy on the side of the road.
“Good luck.” I pat his shoulder and push him toward his father, a fake smile plastered on my face.
“It will be over in half an hour,” he says, standing up and straightening his uniform. “Then, we can talk.”
Talk about what? What is there to talk about that we haven’t already discussed? Things simply are the way they are, and there is nothing either of us can do about that. Still, I nod to let him know I’m fine.
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