Royally Relinquished: A Modern Day Fairy Tale

by Hayley Faiman

  “You’re a right fuck up,” Philip announces as soon as I close the door to his office behind me.

  “Yeah,” I sigh as I sit down on his plush leather sofa.

  “Grandfather?” he asks, arching a brow.

  “Grandfather.”

  “How will you fix it? Or do you even want to?” he asks, eyeing me suspiciously.

  “I made a mistake. I went to that gala last night thinking I would stay for a few hours and then go home to Riona. Grandfather had Nicoline waiting for me. I couldn’t just abandon her, not like that. So I took a few photos and ate next to her at dinner. We didn’t speak more than ten words to each other the whole evening,” I sigh.

  “You had me right until the point where you agreed to take pictures with her, pictures that were public, that you knew would raise speculation,” Philip says.

  “I wasn’t thinking,” I practically shout.

  “You’re going to have some serious groveling to do, brother.”

  “I don’t know how to make it up to her,” I mutter running my hand through my messy hair, tugging on the ends in frustration.

  “Ask her out on a proper date. Woo your wife,” he suggests.

  “She’ll say no,” I firmly state.

  “Women are different than us. You can’t always tell what they’re feeling or guess their next move. If I were you, I’d move forward to make this right before she’s not as easily attainable and moves back to her friends in the states.”

  “Date her, then? That’s all I need to do?” I ask hopefully.

  “Oh, you’ll need to wear some holes in the knees of your trousers as well, but I think a good start is to date her, publicly. Let not only her, but the world see how much you care for her.”

  “Are you sure you’re not a marriage counselor?” I ask on a chuckle.

  “Go home to your wife,” he shoos.

  “Thank you, Philip, truly,” I say, lowering my voice.

  “If you want her, absolutely want her, then you’ll put in the work to keep her.”

  I leave without responding to his parting statement—there’s no need to speak. He’s right. If I want her, then I’ll put in the work to keep her. And I do—I want her. She’s my wife, and there is no other woman for me.

  I start to head toward my car before I decide on a detour. I text Robert my plans, and I head away from home and on toward my next stop—Grandfather.

  I look at my watch as I ring the bell to his private residence. He should have already eaten and is probably settling down to watch some tele before bed.

  Grandfather is an early riser and is always in bed by seven in the evening. I’m positive this will rile him up and he’ll be annoyed by me, but I don’t care. This issue needs to be resolved before I commence wooing my wife.

  “Henrik, what’s this about, then?” my grandfather says on a cough as I enter his sitting room.

  “I’ve made a decision and you’re not going to like it. I hate that I have been put in the position to make it,” I say.

  I’m standing in the middle of his sitting room, too amped up to even try to take a seat. He sits up and his beady eyes narrow slightly.

  “I’m going to stay married to Caitriona. I’ll not be annulling my marriage, and she will not be hidden, nor sent away. She’s my wife,” I say before exhaling a breath that I didn’t realize I was holding throughout my short speech.

  “Your decision is final, then?” he asks.

  “It is, grandfather.”

  I’m standing firm and tall. For the first time in my life, I’m not cowering down to him. I’ve always been the screw up, mucking up everything, but not today. My choice in a wife is not approved by any of the family, save Philip and perhaps my mum. The fact is, I don’t care anymore.

  My title doesn’t define me. It never has. Sure, I’m a prince, but at the end of the day, I’m only a man; and I only want one woman to lie beside me, and that’s Caitriona.

  “I won’t touch your trust fund, nor will I require you to quit your work for the crown. However, I will be petitioning for your title to be stripped, renounced, along with any heirs you produce with the embarrassment you’ve chosen to be at your side,” he announces. “Is it all worth it, Henrik? All the things I’ve said?”

  “Is Riona worth it?” I ask. He nods and I grin. “She is. She’s everything,” I admit.

  I watch as his lips quirk and he nods.

  “As a grandfather, I’m happy for you. You have to believe that. As a king? I’m disappointed as hell. My original statements about her stand. She’s unpolished, comes from trash, and is overweight. But if she makes you happy, and you’re willing to give up not only your title but your legacy, then Godspeed.”

  I don’t say anything else to him. Nothing else needs to be said. He’s already voiced his opinions.

  I don’t know if what I have for Riona is love yet. I do think that just the basic lust I had for her is gone, and as each day passes, it begins to morph into more.

  Seeing her hurt, because of me—again—it crippled me in a way that I never want it to happen again.

  I’ve made my decision, and my decision is her.

  I just hope that it isn’t too late.

  I stand at the entrance to my personal walk-in closet and stare. None of the items in here are mine, not really. My clothes are still neatly packed in my suitcase, just another reminder that all of this is nothing but a dream—a bad dream.

  A knock on the door startles me, and I hurry to answer it, looking through the peephole before I do. It’s Beatrice. She looks nervous as she twists her fingers together, waiting for me to open up.

  I sigh heavily before opening the door, knowing that none of this, absolutely none of this is her fault. I’m not mad at her—I’m angry with Henrik.

  “Beatrice,” I murmur as I hold open the door.

  Her head comes up and she gives me a shaky smile before she makes her way inside of the apartment.

  “I didn’t know if you’d allow me in.”

  “Of course, come and sit,” I offer, waving my hand toward the sofa.

  I follow Beatrice and sit across from her in a chair. She opens her mouth as if she’s going to speak and then closes it. She does it a second time, and by the third, I tell her to just spit it out.

  “He’s an arse. A rightful arse.”

  I’m unable to hold it in, to stop myself from giggling, and then from that giggle turning into a full on belly laugh. Once I’ve controlled myself, I catch my breath and I smile.

  “He is,” I agree.

  “I was there. I didn’t agree with it, but it wasn’t a planned thing on his part. He looked absolutely miserable the entire time,” she murmurs.

  “He didn’t look miserable for the pictures.”

  “We’re all taught how to turn emotion off, or how to play up our features when the cameras are pointed at us. It’s PR 101. I know it doesn’t take any of the pain or the anger away, but I thought you should know,” she says softly.

  “I should leave him, go back home,” I announce.

  “You could, or you could stay. Make him beg, make him work to be back in your good graces. In the meantime, meet with Helena and I next week and we can get started on your children’s charities,” she offers.

  “How’d you know?”

  “Henrik was so excited, he told me what it was you wished to do. I absolutely love the idea, and Helena has already found some wonderful charities. She has meetings and ideas already gathered for you. You round us out nicely, Cait. You’re strong, independent, and you have a heart, which is so important,” she says with a smile.

  “If I stay, if I want to stay married to Henrik, he has to give up so much. I don’t think I can ask him to do that, no matter how angry I am with him right now,” I confess.

  “You’re worth it. And if he doesn’t believe that you are, then he doesn’t deserve you,” she states before she stands. “Now, I expect to see you for tea on Tuesday. Helena is most excited.”

  She
doesn’t give me a chance to tell her my answer before she is walking out of the door. When it clicks closed behind her, I think about her words.

  If he doesn’t believe that you are, then he doesn’t deserve you.

  I can’t help but think that if he gives all that up for me, if I allow him to do so, does that truly mean that it’s me who doesn’t deserve him?

  I stay seated on the sofa as the first tear falls, then the next, until I’m sobbing uncontrollably. I don’t think that the answer is clear here. Not at all. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what is right or wrong.

  I WALK INTO THE FLAT quietly. I don’t know exactly what I’m going to say, so I’m being contemplative as I set my keys and wallet down on the kitchen bar. I start to walk toward the Master Suite when I notice something out of the corner of my eye. It’s Riona; she’s curled into a ball in the corner of the sofa.

  With quick strides, I make my way over to her and sit down on the sofa where her middle curves, placing my hand on her hip. She doesn’t move. Instead, she stays silent, sleeping.

  I take a moment to look at her face, really look at it. Her lips and eyes are swollen, and there are red streaks on her cheeks. She’s been crying, for a long while, and it’s all my fault—mine. I did this to her. I’m a bastard of epic proportions.

  I decide to carry her to bed, sliding my arm under her knees, and the other underneath her back. Picking her up, I look down at her face again, needing to see her, and I feel a tug on my heart. Knowing that I’ve caused her this pain, it hurts me in a way I have never felt before.

  She’s right. I’ve been a pussy. I let my grandfather push me, push me into hurting her. Not anymore. She’ll never feel pain like this again—I won’t let her.

  “Henrik?” she asks once I set her down on the bed.

  “You’re not leaving me,” I murmur.

  “I can’t talk about this right now,” she whimpers.

  I run my fingers down the sides of her face and shift her soft hair over her shoulder. I miss her wild curly hair, and the thought dawns on me that I miss it because it was her, one hundred percent her, and not a fake persona.

  “I’ve spoken to my grandfather. He’ll be petitioning to have my titles stripped. As a king, he’s most disappointed in my choices. As my grandfather, he wants me to be happy,” I explain.

  “All those things he said about me?” she whispers.

  “He said those as a king. Regardless of how my family behaves, at the end of the day, without the pomp bullshit, they want me to be happy. You do that, Caitriona, you make me happy.”

  “I wish I could pretend that I never saw those pictures, that I didn’t know. But I can’t,” she whispers.

  “I know. A mistake that I will always regret. You don’t have to welcome me with open arms, Riona. However, I would be eternally grateful if you wouldn’t completely close the door on me—on us,” I murmur wrapping my hand around the side of her neck.

  She closes her eyes for a moment, and when she reopens them, they’re full of fire. If I weren’t so worried she was about to tell me to fuck off, I’d be hard as a rock. She looks damn sexy. Then she opens her mouth to speak and blows me away with every word.

  “I’m so damn angry with you, Henrik; but beyond that anger, I’m hurt. I’m crushed and devastated by your actions. These are feelings that will not just go away, not anytime soon. But there’s a reason I’m here at your side. There’s a reason I married you. Maybe, one day, we can get back to where we were, but that day is not today, and it will not be tomorrow either.”

  “I’ll jump every hurdle you throw at me, Riona. I’ll take every test to earn your trust and your heart again,” I murmur. “Just give me the opportunity.”

  “I’m not asking you to jump over hurdles, and I won’t be putting you through any tests. I’m asking for time and loyalty, nothing else,” she offers.

  “You have it. They’re yours. You also have space. I would like to court you, properly. I would like to have you by my side, to take you out and get to know you the way it always should have been.”

  “Okay,” she says hesitantly.

  “Sleep,” I murmur, pressing my lips to her temple before I stand and leave the room.

  I decide to go to my home office and do some work. I also call Sarah and my publicist to schedule a meeting. I have statements that need to be made and a wife to completely claim and support, not only personally, but publicly as well.

  I also have to make a statement about the renunciation of my titles. I have to figure out how to word that, how to do that, without making my grandfather look like the arse he is.

  I stare at the empty doorway and wonder what on earth has just happened.

  Henrik just told me that he’s accepted his titles being stripped from not only him but his heirs as well. It’s too much, too much of me to ask.

  If I were less selfish, I might just leave in the middle of the night and never look back. I don’t think I could do that, though. I don’t think that I could just leave, never knowing what could have been between us. When it’s just us, not anything from the outside, but just the two of us—it’s heaven.

  I know that I cannot just forgive, accept, and move on from what he did. He didn’t just go to a party without me; that would be hurtful in and of itself, but I could get over it. He wrapped his arms around another woman, he touched her and he socialized with her, all while hiding it from me.

  I don’t think of myself as one of those crazy jealous people, but that, what he did, was enough to drive the calmest woman to crazy.

  I close my eyes and try not to think about the pictures, about the media or the tabloids. I know that the next time I’m in public I’ll have to deal with it. But for right now, all I want is sleep.

  “I don’t care. I need to issue a press release, and I’d like to have you look over it before I do. Unless you want me to just issue it without your approval?” Henrik’s voice floats through the room, waking me from my slumber.

  I sit up slowly, looking at the windows and seeing that the sun is up. A sunny Sunday morning has never felt so gloomy. The weight of yesterday settles down on my shoulders again. I look over and Henrik is lying beside me, the sheet pulled up to his waist and his chest bare.

  I wonder if he slept in this bed last night. It appears as though he did, and if so, it’s the last time. I may be willing to work on things and accept his vow of courting me properly, but I’m not accepting him back inside of my body anytime soon.

  “I’m holding a press conference tomorrow morning, grandfather, time is of the essence,” he murmurs. “Yes. Right,” he mumbles before he ends the call and tosses his phone onto the nightstand.

  “I hope I didn’t wake you,” he sighs without even looking in my direction.

  “You slept here,” I announce.

  “I did,” he admits as he turns his head to face me.

  “We’re not together, not like that, anyway.”

  “I’ll not be sleeping anywhere other than beside my wife. That is non-negotiable. However, I’ll never pressure or force you into anything, Riona. We’re married, we sleep in the same bed, but I’m giving you time and loyalty just as I’ve agreed to.”

  I hate that he makes logical sense. I want to tell him to get his own room, to leave me alone, but the determined look in his eyes tells me not to even broach the subject.

  “Henrik,” I whisper.

  I watch in fascination as he maneuvers himself, rolling to where half of his body is pressed against mine. I can feel his hard muscles above me, pressing against my softer body. The green in his eyes has intensified, and the look on his face is sheer determination.

  “You’re mine, my wife—my Riona. I will give you time and loyalty, as you’ve asked. I’ll not be giving you space to retreat from me, from us. We’re here, in this bed, in this marriage, for a reason. I believe that with my whole heart. You’re my precious girl, and I’m going to win all of you back.”

  I feel my nose tickle as my eyes s
ting with tears. I didn’t know that I had anymore tears left to cry, but here they are.

  Without thinking about my actions, I wrap my arms around his shoulders and bury my face into his neck.

  I cry.

  I cry out of a mix of emotions, but one of those is happiness. Out of everything that’s happened the past couple of days, happiness is not an emotion I thought I could feel anytime soon, but here it is, bubbling to the surface.

  “Precious, what is it?” he murmurs as his fingers comb through my hair.

  “I want to hate you so badly, but I can’t. Your words are too beautiful, Henrik. I just hope that you mean them,” I whisper hopefully.

  “Every fucking word. I mean every single fucking word, precious.”

  We break away from each other and Henrik stares at me. He looks like he’s lost in thought, and I wish I could read his mind. I wish I knew what he was thinking while he’s looking at me the way he is. There’s something working behind his green eyes, and when he grins at me, it’s confirmed.

  “Spend the day relaxing, my Riona. I want to take you out, but I’m afraid the paparazzi will be insane. I’m making a statement to them tomorrow, so perhaps I’ll order some food in and we can eat dinner outside on the balcony?”

  “Are you asking me out on a date?” I ask, arching a brow with a smirk.

  “Indeed, I am. Candlelit dinner with a beautiful woman; I can think of no other way I’d rather spend my Sunday evening,” he grins back at me.

  His green eyes sparkle, and I find that I couldn’t deny him even if I tried.

  “Then, yes, I accept.”

  “Take a bath, read, watch the tele, or do absolutely nothing. Whatever it is that you find relaxing, spend your whole day doing it.”

  “Is this your way of saying that tomorrow may not be so relaxing?” I ask.

  “Perhaps, not so much; at least, not after the announcements I’m going to make.”

  “I wish things could be different,” I say, furrowing my brows.

  Henrik presses his thumb between my brows and grins down at me, shaking his head once.