With the sunlight beaming down on them and flushing her cheeks pink, the sky a pleasant, if strong, blue that had her squinting at the brightness, and a piece of gravel stuck in the tread of her shoe making her toes ache, Perry felt the exact opposite of perfect. Between the sweat gathering at her brow, and a wedgie—a constant state of affairs now—lodged in her ass crack… the last person she was emulating was Marianne.
Blowing out a breath to move a piece of hair that had glued itself to her brow, she watched as Marianne motioned to the footmen standing beside the car. He closed the car door, sealing her into the low vehicle.
“I’d best show you, Perry. Forewarned is forearmed, and you can be surprisingly hapless for a scientist, dear child,” Marianne murmured, with the same shade as a southern mama could throw when hollering, "Bless your heart,” at someone she loathed.
“Thanks,” was all she mumbled, and she shot Cass a despairing look.
The other woman hid a smile. “Watch. You’ll appreciate the lesson.”
Huffing, Perry did as bid.
With great flair, the footman opened the car door. Marianne kept her knees tucked together, pinned her ankles close, too, then swept her legs out, while using one hand on the seat to pivot.
“I’d advise you carry a clutch purse, dear,” Marianne carried on. She held out a hand. “Imagine I have one in my hand. You place it here,” she advised, resting it between the slight swells of her breasts, “and it covers your cleavage so that when you bend over to climb out of the vehicle, there’s no chance of any mishaps.” She placed her weight on the hand burrowed in the cushion, then propelled herself upwards.
Considering that the part about the clutch purse was actually sound advice, even if the rest was quite mundane, Perry tilted her head to the side and nodded.
The rest of it couldn’t be that hard, could it?
Of course, she was proven wrong.
Somehow, what she’d been managing to do since she was a child was surprisingly difficult in “princess mode.” It was difficult not spreading her legs, placing one on the ground and then using that to propel herself upwards. Mostly, it was about breaking the habit.
Again, easier said than done.
Cass huffed out a breath. “Jesus, Perry. Concentrate. I’d like to see my firstborn sometime before he has to leave for college.”
Perry squinted at her. “Remind me why you’re here again?”
“Moral support,” was the retort.
“Next time, remind me to invite George.”
“There won’t be a next time, dear,” Marianne said, her tone like steel. “This is the last comportment class we’ll be having. You’ll be moving onto more important subjects after the wedding.”
Perry scowled. “Like what?”
“Politics, history. Culture.”
“I’ve already been having those classes!” she complained, her tone more of a wail than anything else.
Christ, it was like being back at school, and the only light at the end of the tunnel was the idea of the wedding bringing an end to the classes.
But Marianne broke her heart. “No, indeed. There’s plenty to learn. Philippe and I will be watching over those lessons, dear. We’ve covered the basics these months past; next, we’ll be moving onto the things that actually matter.”
Just when Perry thought she’d burst—because if all the crap she’d been learning didn’t actually matter, why the hell had she had to waste so much time on it?—Edward appeared.
With him in sight, and like a shining beacon of hope that spoke of escape, she motioned to the footman to open the door to the Jaguar. She climbed out of the car to her husband-to-be, her savior, her end destination.
Of course, the minute she had both feet on the gravel and was striding toward him, applause sounded behind her.
“You did it!” Marianne boomed contentedly.
She had?
Edward jerked at his mother’s holler, then grinned widely. Perry blinked. Had she just mastered the princess equivalent of first grade?
Spinning around to spy the wide grins on her friend and mother-in-law’s faces, she realized that, holy shit, she had!
Huh.
Maybe this princess shit wasn’t too hard after all?
“Look, I know you don’t like me. You don’t have to like me to realize that my statistics are right. My conclusions are right. And my forecasting is right.”
Xavier hid a smile. Perry’s arrogance might have irritated the ruling council of Veronia’s Environmental Agency, but the truth was, her words were fact.
He’d looked over her speech, over the presentation she was giving today, and had to concur with her facts, findings, and forecasting.
For whatever reason, the ecological crisis that was affecting Veronia and Veronia alone?
It didn’t exist.
Xavier was still scratching his head over it. But Perry’s findings were concrete, and there was no denying that what she was saying was the truth.
The dams were at fault. The infrastructure was at fault. Every experiment she’d run, every fact-finding mission she’d been on, and every interview with key personnel onsite at the dams confirmed it.
The dams were old. Crumbling. There were many issues with them. However, something else was exacerbating the issue.
“Your reputation precedes you, Dr Taylor. However, you must understand that we require a national to go through the evidence you have uncovered.”
“I’m marrying your Crown Prince,” Perry said on a huff. “I guess I’m not a national yet, but surely you can see that my future here is as on the line as yours is.
“I don’t understand what the problem is,” she continued, glowering at the vice president of the EA who’d countered her arguments. “Everything I uncovered is good news. Manmade problems can be resolved. Naturally occurring problems? Yeah, not so much.”
“We appreciate the time and energy you spent on researching this issue for us…”
Perry held up a hand. “You paid me. Fair and square. And I’m telling you, you might want to believe that this issue is environmental, but that’s nonsense. You’re pulling the wool over your eyes, and causing untold damage, by perpetuating this belief.”
The vice president narrowed his eyes. “As I was saying, we appreciate your input, and now have other means of investigation we need to put into practice.”
“What does that even mean?” she snapped, slamming her hand on the table in front of her.
Xavier’s heart sped up at the sight of her all fired up and practically vibrating with energy.
She was a pocket rocket in the staid meeting room.
Around a black ash round table, in a white room that screamed administrative block, and surrounded by a bunch of no-hope bureaucrats with no real interest in their posts save for the fact they’d been put into their positions by the current government… Perry was the only one truly impassioned by what she was discussing.
In her neatly tailored, cream silk suit—another one of George’s investments if the length of the skirt was anything to go by—she looked bright and vivacious. Her shirt was bronzy, and it offset the dark locks that bounced on her shoulders as she throbbed with each passionate word she uttered.
He watched her stand there at the head of the table, her hands out, her body language imploring and… “Enough.”
He had to speak.
The words wouldn’t stay contained.
The vice president, on the brink of saying something else moronic, no doubt, jerked to attention. “Excuse me, Your Grace?”
Xavier narrowed his eyes and scanned his gaze over the eight-strong team the EA had sent to watch this presentation.
“Enough,” he repeated, this time silkily, getting to his feet and striding to the foot of the table where Perry was standing.
At her back, there was a blank wall loaded with the projections and diagrams she was using to back up her conclusions.
As he approached her, he saw her frown, and knew she wa
sn’t pleased about his weighing in on this. But she stayed quiet. A fact he was infinitely grateful for.
“What’s the politics here, Charles?” Xavier asked the vice president. “Is there a reason an ‘environmental crisis’ is more auspicious than the truth?”
“Don’t be ridiculous Xavier,” Charles bit off, but he pulled at his tie nonetheless.
A tell if ever there was one.
In a tone that was conversational, Xavier murmured, “You do know you’ve been doing that ever since you were at school.”
“Doing what?” Charles snapped.
Xavier mimicked the VP, who was as much of a prick today as he’d been as a child. Pulling at his tie and fingering his collar, Charles flushed.
Carefully putting his hands on the table, Charles retorted, “Xavier, you and Dr Taylor are being ridiculous. It’s well proven that the reason for the drought…”
“The evidence you have has been nobbled. There’s no other answer for it.”
Perry’s words were incendiary. The minute she dropped them, in the mushroom cloud came a shower of voices, each one barking over the other.
“Enough!” More exasperated than he remembered being for a long time, Xavier half-roared the single command, but the instant he spoke, the others fell silent. “If your name isn’t Charles Françoise, then clear the room.”
The other seven members of the EA gaped at one another, umbrage making them bristle, but begrudgingly got to their feet.
Xavier didn’t watch them trudge out, but Perry did. She folded her arms across her chest as she watched the top dogs of the EA depart, leaving them with the vice president.
“Charles, I want to know why Veronia’s most pressing ecological matter isn’t being handled by the president of the agency.”
The other man cleared his throat. “Justin, as you can imagine, is a very busy man.”
“Too busy for the nation’s biggest crisis?” Perry scoffed. “Something stinks here, and it isn’t your shitty aftershave.”
Charles flushed once more, and Xavier had to hide a grin—she wasn’t wrong. The man had overdosed on sandalwood this morning.
“Dr Taylor, I fail to understand why—”
Xavier sliced a hand through the air. “No. I fail to understand why you’re here and Justin Montrail isn’t. I fail to understand why you’re not seeing the bigger picture, and why you’re intent on trying to sell snake oil to me.” He cut Perry a look. “You should have told Philippe or Edward that the EA was being so unreceptive to your conclusions.”
She blinked, but her cheeks tinged with pink. “I wanted to handle it by myself.”
He cocked a brow at that, unsure as to whether or not he believed the simplicity of her answer.
Maybe that was the whole truth, but somehow he didn’t think so.
Rubbing his chin, Xavier watched Charles carefully as he spluttered, “This has nothing to do with the Crown Prince or the King.”
“It has everything to do with them. If one arm of their government isn’t working, then they need to know. Especially if that arm is actively sabotaging the nation.”
Charles’s eyes widened. “Sabotage?”
“Yes, sabotage,” Xavier retorted. “What else do you call it, man? Perry’s findings are concrete. There is no crisis.”
“Well, there is. But it’s artificial,” Perry butted in. “And for some reason, your organization is content with allowing that particular status quo to carry on.”
Charles’ mouth flattened as he got to his feet. “I don’t have to listen to this.” He buttoned his suit jacket, his hands jerky, the motion agitated. Then, reaching over, he collected a few of his papers and stacked them together. “You think we’re going to take your word on something because you’re the Crown Princess-to-be?”
“No. I expect you to take my word on this because the evidence is right in front of your damn eyes,” Perry snapped. “I’ve taken information from your sources, I’ve found my own. Everything points to the real issue at hand. Someone is purposely damaging the dams. They’re old, yes. But old and, until recently, well-maintained. Something has changed that, and you’re idiots if you aren’t going to look into that.”
Before Charles could speak, Xavier inserted, “Oh, don’t worry, Perry. If Charles isn’t going to look into it, I know a few other people who will.”
“You think because you fucked Laurenne Jonquil you can get her to speak to the president on your behalf?”
Though Perry stiffened at his side, Xavier ignored her. That was the past, and the past had no say in his present. “I think she has a surprising amount of clout in this agency, you’re right. However, I’m talking about my uncle. I think he might be able to scurry up some interest in what Dr Taylor has to say.”
Charles grabbed his leather briefcase. “You’re trying to create a conspiracy where there isn’t one.”
“No, you’re trying to hide from or shield a conspiracy that’s been long in the making. This is a long con,” Perry spat at Charles. “If George hadn’t brought me here, who knows how long you could have swept this under the carpet for? It’s only because I’m totally impartial that I’m saying any of this. And it’s only because of Xavier and his apparent ties to Ms. Jonquil that you even agreed to this presentation.”
“I read your report,” came Charles’s bored reply. “There was no need for a presentation on findings that are completely ludicrous.”
“I’ll be sure to tell my future father-in-law that,” she retorted sweetly. “I’m certain he’ll appreciate your opinion.”
“My job here is secure, Dr Taylor,” Charles hissed.
“Secure until the next government sits in place. Well, that would ordinarily be the case. With De Montfort resignation on the cards?” Xavier shook his head. “We both know there’s going to be a cabinet reshuffle. Maybe you’ll be shuffled off the political playing field altogether.”
Charles’s jaw clenched. “You always were a prick, Xavier.”
“Funny that, Charles. I always thought the same about you.” Xavier folded his arms across his chest and watched as the pipsqueak shot off out of the boardroom.
When the door closed behind him, the bang resounding and impossible to mistake as being made by anything other than one pissed-off official, Perry shot to life.
However, she surprised him.
He expected her to ask him about his “ties” with Laurenne Jonquil; instead, she fell silent and began shutting down her computer. Her movements were precise, neat. They weren’t jerky, but he knew her well enough to read her.
He knew she was containing her irritation and uncertainty within the everyday actions she was undertaking.
He sighed when she remained quiet, refusing to meet his eyes when he said her name.
“It was a long time ago,” he told her when she maintained her stubborn stance.
“I’m sure it was.” Her bland tone had him gritting his teeth. Then, she amazed him by asking, “Did you know Edward was going to come to the States to meet with my parents?” Taken aback, Xavier just studied her a second. Uncertain whether she’d be angry for admitting that he had known, he nevertheless went with the truth.
He nodded.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I only knew he intended to go. I wasn’t sure if he’d be able to make it happen.”
“Isn’t it funny how he’s going to be the future King and yet he has to answer to Drake?” she murmured, tone pensive.
He shrugged. “I suppose. But if he wants something badly enough, he’ll fight. And here, it would seem, we have proof that rebellion works.”
She blinked, then put the lid to her laptop down. “True. Handy for future reference.”
His lips twitched, but he just asked, “How did the first meeting between him and your parents go?”
She shrugged. “Quite well.”
“Only ‘quite well’? I’m sure Edward will be upset to hear that. He wanted to make a good impression.”
“Oh. He made a good impression. Apparently, I didn’t.”
“What?” Xavier demanded, as a scowl puckered his brow.
“My father told me I’m getting ‘too big for my britches,’ as he lovingly phrases it.” She pursed her lips as she shoved her laptop into its case.
“Why did he say that?”
“Because we were discussing the wedding and Edward was teasing me, saying that I wasn’t interested in the event like a lot of women might be. Then my father said I’d always been ungrateful, and that he was sad I hadn’t grown out of it.”
For a second, Xavier just gaped at her, his mouth working. That, however, seemed to be all he needed to do, because after staring at him for a handful of seconds, she started giggling.
“Your face is a card.”
“You’re lying?” he said, somewhat relieved, then astounded once more when she shook her head.
“Nope. He’s mad at me, I guess.”
“For what?”
“Keeping them out of the loop. There’s a lot to be mad about, I suppose. I haven’t been home in four years, then when I do get in touch more frequently, it’s to tell him I’m about to get married to a man they’ve never met. Not only that, but the man lives across the world. He’s going to be King one day, and worse still, that means I’m going to be a Queen.” She blew out a sharp breath that morphed into a chuckle. “It’s no wonder he’s pissed at me.”
He frowned at that, then reached over and pressed a hand to her shoulder. He wanted nothing more than to tug her into his arms and hug her, but the truth was, he daren’t. Anyone could be watching through the transparent wall of glass behind him, and anyone could walk into the boardroom.
Though an embrace between him and his cousin’s fiancé might not be too bizarre an idea, the sight of one might raise suspicions.
That was something they couldn’t afford.
Irritated because he couldn’t act on his feelings, he instead squeezed her shoulder. “He should be proud of you. Look at you, two days until the wedding itself and here you are, working. That says a lot about the daughter they raised.”
“You’re forgetting,” she said wryly, “This, to them, isn’t all that important. They’d have preferred for me to be a happy housewife than a stressed scientist.”
Her Highness, Princess Perry: Contemporary Reverse Harem (Kingdom of Veronia Book 2) Page 24
