by S. L. Scott
Her lips crash into mine, causing me to hit my head on the stone. Our tongues meet in a sudden rush together, and I’m now thinking I could be persuaded to take her hard and fast in this pitch-black room. She pushes off me, pulling out of my grasp, and says, “Tonight. All night.”
Her warmth covers me again, and I hear the excitement in her voice even if I can’t see it, making me smile. “All night.”
“I can’t wait. Come on.” She takes my hand and leads me out of the room. The light in the far distance is enough to guide us back the thirty or so yards we traveled. When we reach the stairwell, she smiles, admiring me. Running the pad of her palm over my cheek, she says, “That’s better.”
I don’t mind her marking me any way she wants to, but the guys might wonder what I’ve been up to if she doesn’t wipe off her lipstick this time. Giddy, she lifts up and down on her tiptoes several times. “See you later.”
“See you later, Princess.”
She waves and then runs into the dark. This is the creepiest-ass place I’ve ever been, and she knows every part of it. Damn, is this what royal kids do for fun when they’re little? Or is it required learning from the book Beginners Guide to Being a Queen—learn the secret passages in your castle?
Something buzzes by my ear, so I rush up the stairs, wanting to get the fuck out of here as I swat whatever it is away. When I reach the ground floor, I walk back toward the entrance but pull my phone out and call Ethan.
“Thought you were avoiding me,” he answers lightheartedly.
“No,” I reply, stopping in the courtyard inside the tall walls. “We’ve been buried here. I emailed you about making it to the next round, but Yamagata is working them hard to bring them to his firm.”
“He’s solid competition. With his remarkable career, I’m surprised our startup has made it as far as we have. You and Bennett must be doing something right.”
“Bennett may be a real pain the ass sometimes, but he’s been an asset in the meetings. He’s a real innovator. He’s creative like you.”
“You underestimate yourself.”
“I appreciate the compliment, but I’m a numbers guy and happy to be so. I’ve shown Everest Enterprises is a solid investment, but Bennett’s given them a lot of new ideas to consider, projects that we can take the lead on for them to bring them into the digital age and make money doing it.”
“The reports are great. I’m comfortable with the numbers you’ve sent for the bid. What will it take to close the deal?”
“I should have a better feel of where we stand by the end of the day. I think it comes down to experience versus vision and feelings. I hate to say that since feelings are the last thing that should come into play in business, but if the connection isn’t there on an emotional level, we won’t get it.”
I see the guys return from an arched doorway. I nod once. Ethan asks, “Should I ask about Ally?”
“Depends on what you want to hear.”
“How about starting with how are you doing?”
Kicking up dirt with the toe of my shoe, I smile, feeling ridiculous. I guess being happy over the girl you like liking you back makes you do crazy stuff, and feelings are the last thing that makes sense, so I go with it and stop overthinking. “Unexpected.”
Ethan laughs. “Okay, care to elaborate?”
“No. Not quite yet. I’m cautiously optimistic.”
“I hope you’re more than cautious when it comes to the optimism of the deal.”
Now I chuckle. “Don’t worry. My head’s in the game.”
“Good. Hey,” he starts, shuffling some papers, “I have a meeting to get to. Shoot me an email in the morning.”
“I will.”
“Oh, and when are you returning?”
“I’m here through tomorrow, then I catch my flight early the next morning. I’ll stop by the office before I go home.”
“No, it’s fine. Come over for dinner. Singer’s dying for an update. You know how much she loves to read romance books. Hate to put the pressure on, but you’re like a real-life fairy tale for her.”
“Are you slacking, bro? Romance the woman and then she won’t worry about my love life so much.”
“Hey, hey, go easy. But you’re right. The woman’s a saint for putting up with me. I already made surprise plans for her this weekend, but I think I’ll bump them up. Hey Cheryl, cancel my six o’clock meeting and all my meetings tomorrow.”
“That’s a step in the right direction.”
“By the time we return to Manhattan, she will have forgotten all about you and the princess. Gotta go.”
I chuckle. “Have fun.”
“I plan to.”
Hanging up, I walk toward the drawbridge. There’s unfinished business with Ally, but I need to close the media deal first. Time to put the Everest negotiation and innovative skills to work. “Hey Dick, what exactly does your Duke-ship entail? Do you own the coastline or rent it or what?”
“Well, it’s not true ownership. Queen Aemilia owns all the land. As Duke of Wenig, I’m the guardian of the province.”
“And you are the first duke in your family?”
“It’s an inherited title. My son will be the guardian after I pass.”
I watch with rapt fascination as this drawbridge that’s more than six hundred years old lowers before us from a pulley and chain manpower system. “And if you have a daughter?”
“Which is likely in these parts,” he says with a goofy laugh and a nudge to my arm. “The Vaughns have managed to outwit the Bruden waters and birth males.” In irritation, he motions for one of the guards to latch the chain. Seeming satisfied, his untrustworthy smile returns and he says, “I’ll carry on that tradition, although the weaker sex must be birthed to rule Brudenbourg.”
My eyebrows shoot the sky. The weaker sex? If I wasn’t so angry, I’d laugh in his face. He doesn’t understand women at all. If he did, he’d know they hold all the cards.
He continues even though I wish he wouldn’t. “I’m hoping to work on changing the worthless law that prevents a king from taking the throne.”
Arrogant. Small-minded. Little Dick just like his name says. That law is in place for that exact reason—to protect women from the little dicks—and even bigger assholes—of the world. And as if I wasn’t irritated enough, I decide to push some more buttons. “How do you feel about the chastity law?”
Just inside the castle walls, he stops and looks at the cloudless sky, seeming to think before he speaks. That’s a good sign. Maybe he’s not too far up his own ass yet. “Reputation matters.” And then he speaks. “If she has a bad reputation, it can stain your own. The Vaughn family name will not be tarnished on my watch . . .” He stops to gripe at a man with a clipboard, then claps his hands to make him hustle. Asshole. “I would think you, Mr. Everest, would be well informed on the matter of reckless women wreaking havoc on the family name, considering your brother’s misfortune.”
“A woman having sex prior to marriage isn’t a stain on my name. Only I can ruin that.”
Though I have the height advantage, his eyes stay on mine. “Very well. I’ve just never been inclined toward loose women.”
Wow.
Bennett comes through the entry to the fortress with Jakob trailing while on the phone. “So what are we discussing, gentlemen?”
When I don’t reply, Dick does. “Loose women and the volatile nature of their emotional cycles.”
“Whoa!” Bennett’s hands go up. “I was not expecting that.”
Then Dick has the balls to finish. “Women are too volatile to rule fairly.”
I hate him. I hate every fucking little thing about him. How can her parents believe this egotistical dickwad should marry their daughter?
I check to see if Jakob heard. He’s busy on a call still, but I imagine Dick wouldn’t be so cavalier about women rulers if Jakob were here. I ask, “And that’s what you would do if you were the crowned prince? Rule fairly?” By how he treats everyone around him, I th
ink the answer is obvious, but I poke the bear anyway.
“That’s what I will do,” he insists. “I just have to handle the situation delicately.”
Situation? Is he referring to my Ally as a situation? His arrogance needs to be cut off at the knees. I’m about to knock the fucker in the face when Bennett steps in, and says, “Let’s talk business,” and leads the Duke off to chat with Jakob.
I stand there, turning my back to them. Three deep breaths and three exhales to dispel the anger that’s built up. Business. I need to focus on business because personally, I will never let him marry Ally.
That is a deal I’m willing to wager my life on.
18
Princess Arabelle
Something is wrong.
A last-minute meeting was called when normally my parents would be napping before supper. And the fact that Margie, in her secretarial role, summons me makes me nervous. “Are you sure you don’t know what it’s about?” I ask her before we reach my father’s office.
“I don’t know. No clue at all.” She looks as worried as I feel and holds her tablet to her chest. “Your father just rang me and asked me to bring you.”
“Maybe it’s good news. Maybe they’re moving forward with the coronation.”
She nods enthusiastically. “That could be it. This could finally be what we’ve been waiting for.” My mother isn’t ready to retire anytime soon, being quite youthful for a queen, but she has to put the plan in place just in case.
It’s a little thing that is big to me, but seeing her excited for me gives me hope that we can get our friendship back on track. We’ve had a lot of ups and downs in the past few years. She hated being in Texas because she hated living the lie we both had to for me to be there. I even asked my parents to let her return, but as is customary, I had to travel with a companion, which meant she was stuck with me. Heaven forbid I’m allowed to live a life without the watchful eyes of the monarchy.
She was bitter because when I was exiled, sent away, or whatever nicer term my parents used, she was basically banned too. I looked at it as an adventure. She viewed it as a punishment. We still were making the most of it.
I became Ally, and Margitte became Margie. Over the two years I was there earning my master’s degree, our once thick-as-thieves friendship started to unravel. Soon, she wasn’t my friend but my babysitter. Or at times, my gatekeeper.
When we’d first arrived, it had felt like us versus them. We spoke our own language, ate our own style of food, and went out together. Over time, especially as I made more friends, she began to resent me. She saw our time in the States as my time where only I got to spread my wings, which was essentially true. And at times, I didn’t make her job easy, and I knew that. But once I met Hutton, she turned on me completely.
Margie saw how I felt about him from the beginning. Hutton and I were fireworks waiting to explode. Since we’ve been back in Brudenbourg, the tension has lessened, but it hurts my heart to know we may never get our friendship back.
As the family’s official secretary, a job she inherited from her mother, she manages all of our schedules. Sometimes I miss her just being my friend. Like how before we became adults and took on life’s responsibilities and before I experienced new things.
“Real quick.” Tapping on her tablet, she then turns it toward me. “You’ll be wearing this emerald dress tonight. I’ve had it steamed, and your shoes are pulled. Your mother told me you’re to wear your great-grandmother’s tiara. I’ll receive it from the vault right before dinner, and I’ll bring it up when you’re ready to leave. Just text me.”
“When’s my pee break?”
“Not funny,” she singsongs, but we still laugh because it is.
That’s not ominous at all . . . My brow furrows. I see a color-coded chart on the tablet, and from the looks of it, each color is a member of the royal family. “You’re very organized.” Taking the grand stairs to the lower level, I ask, “Jeez, what else is on that thing?”
“Everything.” She pulls up a different chart. “Not to creep you out, but we even track your menstrual cycle.”
“What?” I stop and look down at it. “How do you know that?”
“You don’t even want to know.”
“Who’s we anyway?”
“Everyone who needs to know.”
I try not to freak out that the staff and I can only assume my doctors and parents are all in cahoots when it comes to what my body is doing. But I have bigger concerns than worrying if they’re digging through my trash.
Down the blue hall, I see the gilded double doors at the end that lead to my father’s office. Butterflies begin to flutter in my stomach. Margie’s a nice distraction. She says, “I’ve updated the entire system. We’re not living in the Stone Age anymore.” We reach the closed doors, and she adds, “Fingers crossed.”
“Yeah, fingers crossed.” I straighten my shoulders and raise my chin as I knock on the door.
“Come in,” my father calls from the other side. He’s a very formal man—not the most cuddly but always caring. I walk in and close the door behind me quietly. Quiet. So quiet like a lady is supposed to be.
I stand with my hands clasped behind my back until my parents look up. “Come in. Come in,” my father says impatiently, waving me over.
Sitting on the couch opposite the one they occupy, I quickly take a mental note of the surroundings: a fire roars in the fireplace in the middle of summer, and books are stacked in the corner ready to tip over. My mother’s ankles are crossed, so I cross mine to match. My dad pushes a pair of reading glasses up the bridge of his nose but still manages to look at me over the top of them. “Dear Arabelle, how are you acclimating to Brudenbourg since you’ve been back?”
“Quite well. Thank you.”
He opens a file on the coffee table dividing us, flips through a few pages, and then says, “We want to discuss the coronation.”
“Yes, I’m ready to discuss it.”
Sitting back, he grasps my mother’s hand, and says, “As you’re well aware, we’re young at heart and hopefully have a lot of years ahead of us, but we are getting older. Now that Marielle is twenty-three and seems to be on a good path, and Jakob is doing a fine job handling our family’s affairs, those are years we would like to spend traveling and relaxing a bit more than we can with our current situation.”
When he pauses, I speak up, “Yes, you’ve both worked very hard for a long time now. Taking time to relax and do what you want would be a wonderful way to spend life.”
My mother says, “We agree, but we’re not quite sure what to do about you.”
“What do you mean?”
“As you know, your role in the family is much more complicated.”
“I’m very aware of my role in the family. It’s one I’ve been training for my entire life.” I hate feeling like I have to defend myself, but I will if it helps me.
I hate the pauses in conversation. I see where Marielle gets it from. My mom finally says, “We’ve had several offers come in—”
“Offers? For what?”
She studies me, and then my father replies, “For your hand in marriage.”
“What? What do you mean? What offers? From whom?”
He continues, “Two actually.”
“I had five,” my mother interjects. “You’re very beautiful, Arabelle, but I have to say I expected more.”
“Two or twenty. It doesn’t matter to me. I’m not flattered. Those offers didn’t come because of my looks. They came because they want the connection, the throne, the money, and to take over our country.”
“Don’t be so dramatic, Arabelle,” my father says.
“Me? Have you met your middle child?” I know I shouldn’t have said it. Sarcasm is probably not the best route to take with this conversation. After all, I’m trying to figure out why the hell I’m here.
“Please be good,” my mother says. Good? She adds, “We’ve been reading the decrees and bylaws, and although we’ve read
them a million times, we wanted to make sure everything was in order before we spoke with you.”
My stomach turns from the tone she’s using. It’s not filled with the happiness it should be. It’s the opposite, in fact.
“Speak to me about what?”
She shuffles papers from the file, and then I see an image of me drinking beer from the pub in Luxum. “We thought you had made the necessary changes for us to move forward with our early retirement, but clearly, you’re not ready to wear the crown.”
Panic fills my veins. “It was a beer. That’s all.”
“It’s not just the beer,” my father says. “There are rumors you were seen in an alley with a strange man.” When I start to speak, he holds his hand up to stop me. “I don’t care if the rumors are true, but we can’t have stories circulating about our queen. Let me correct that. We do care if the rumors are true. Were you in an alley with some strange man that night?”
“No,” I plead. “I wasn’t.” A dark doorway? Yes, absolutely, but the man is not a stranger. But none of that matters as I see my inherited future slipping through my fingers. “What are you saying?”
Sympathy shines like tears in my mother’s eyes, and she leans on my father’s shoulder. He says, “We’ve accepted one of the offers.”
“What? No.” I stand, my hands fisting at my side. “You can’t.”
“Yes, we can. It’s for the betterment of Brudenbourg. You know that your time away was to curb your rebellious ways, but it seems your behavior hasn’t changed. Judging by these photos, you’ll still be viewed as a princess with a tarnished crown, so that leaves no choice but to marry you into a prominent family.”
“Prominent family? Not for love. Not for my dignity. You’re marrying me off for image alone?”
