by Casey, Ember
Justine rushes on as if she never paused. “Have you finalized the guest list for the keynote luncheon?”
“Yes, Your Highness,” Gustav says. “Here it is. We redid the floor plan as you suggested.”
“Thank you,” she tells him. “Let me know if you have any further questions.”
He rushes out—pausing to give me a quick bow—and I take the chance to stride over to the desk. Justine is nose-down in her work again, somehow trying to scroll through something on her computer and sift through a pile of papers at the same time.
“Good morning, Princess,” I say to her.
“Good morning,” she says without looking up.
“I trust you slept well?”
Her cheeks color slightly. She nods. “Well enough. But as you can see, I’ve got a lot to do today. The conference begins tonight, and there are a thousand little things left to do.”
“Anything I can help with?”
Her fingers pause on the keyboard—I think my question surprised her.
“No,” she says. “I have everything under control.”
“Are you sure?”
She hesitates, then finally looks up at me.
I’ve only known Justine a short while, but it’s obvious to anyone paying attention how much this conference means to her—especially now that the money it will bring has become even more important. When I look at her now, I see a woman who’s trying to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders, a woman who’s taken on so much—who wants, so much, for this to succeed—that she looks as if she might crumble at any moment beneath the weight. A rush of sympathy—and admiration—surges through me.
Her mouth opens, then closes again, as if she can’t decide whether or not to speak.
I step closer, lowering my voice so that the people speaking in the corner can’t hear.
“Anything at all,” I tell her softly. “I’m at your service, Justine. Just tell me what to do.”
Her eyes soften. She really does need help, but perhaps not with the conference—she needs someone to take some of the weight off of her shoulders, to help her carry some of the burden she’s taken upon herself. Not just today, not just in this.
I realize with a start that I want to be that man. Somehow, without realizing it, I’ve started to see her burdens as my own—when did that begin? I have no idea whether to be upset or pleased by this realization, but the warm glow of admiration still fills my chest, and I know I can’t turn away from her now.
“Anything,” I say again, and I know she catches the full meaning of the word because she flinches.
“I need…” She glances at the people in the corner, then back at me, lowering her voice. “I haven’t had a chance to eat breakfast yet. If you could send to the kitchens—”
“Done.” I pause. “But I meant something a little harder than that. Truly, Princess—you don’t have to go easy on me.”
She hesitates again. “Then I’d like you to make a promise to me.”
I smile—I’m finally getting somewhere. “Anything.”
“I want you to promise you’ll stay away from James Camden while he’s here. Don’t seek him out, don’t speak to him, don’t even be in the same room as him if you can help it.”
I feel as if I’ve been punched in the stomach. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m perfectly serious.” Her eyes shift to the people in the corner, but they aren’t paying any attention to us. “You said you’d do anything.”
“Yes, but I didn’t mean…” I run a hand through my hair. “You can’t expect me to just ignore that man.”
“I don’t expect it. I’m asking. You said you were willing to do anything—”
“Not this,” I growl. “I’ll get your damn breakfast, but fuck me if I’m going to prance around pretending that man isn’t a giant prick, letting him do whatever he likes with you—”
“You don’t get it, do you?” Her eyes drop back to the stack of papers in front of her, and her voice loses some of its fight. “Please, William. It’s all I ask of you.”
“I’m sorry, Princess. I can’t promise you what you want.”
“Can’t? Or won’t?”
“Can’t,” I say stubbornly. I also can’t bear the sad, heavy look in her eyes, but I know I could never keep such a promise. “I’m sorry, Princess.”
So much for lifting her burdens, I chide myself. But I refuse to make a promise I know I won’t keep. And I don’t trust James Camden—not one bit. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect Justine, even if it means angering her.
And before she can argue anymore, I turn and stalk out of the room.
Justine
The last thing I need today is William starting a fight again with James. It’s clear my husband still doesn’t trust me with my former lover, even after we finally spent the night together.
And after I allowed him in my bed after he picked a fight. I shake my head. I have no idea what I was thinking last night, allowing him into my bed. It was a nice diversion, I suppose, but that’s all it was. And William had to go and ruin even that with talk of future heirs.
If he only knew… Well, he’d never forgive me if he knew what had really happened between James and me. William might have read my poetry and my journals, but I’m not dumb enough to have written anything specific about that incident—about most things, actually. Surely he knows that. I suppose if he cared about me at all, he might have tried to see through the abstraction in my words to find out what really happened—what truly broke my heart.
But William doesn’t care about me. Clearly. There was a moment last night that I thought he might have cared—a few seconds when I thought we could have been much more than what we’ve become.
He cares about his chance to rule a country—and the only way he’ll ever have that chance is to plant baby after baby inside me.
Perhaps he was only joking last night, but that thought does little to comfort me—his comments about making heirs snapped me out of my thoughts of what could have happened between us. Thoughts of wanting more than just sex—much more. And for a single moment, I didn’t feel so alone. For a single moment, I thought he was actually going to help me—to be my husband. But it’s become quite clear that we can never be anything more than adversaries. And perhaps that is for the best—I definitely won’t be having my heart broken again if I keep William at arm’s length.
Thankfully, I’m too busy today to fret about what was said last night. I’m too busy to even think about what happened last night, much as I might like to savor the memory of the actual act itself. It was nice to lose myself—even if it was only for a few minutes.
I don’t think anyone can understand the importance of this conference. It probably seems a silly thing to be worried about, considering the state of Rosvalia after the recent storms, but this conference is a light in an otherwise bleak situation. The money it will raise will be appropriated to complete the much-needed repairs around the city—I’ll see to that myself.
And after this conference is over, perhaps I’ll have the time to locate my father and beg him for some additional funds for our people. Truthfully, I have no idea where it is he’s gone to now, nor do I really care. His presence here would only complicate matters, though I’m sure there will be those who wonder why he doesn’t show up for the conference.
I suppose one good thing about the conference is that I’ll be able to reconnect with my friends from college. I’ve invited all three, but only one, Carter, has confirmed. And of my few friends from that time in my life, he was the one who saved me. Unfortunately, we never felt anything more for each other than a sibling-type bond. But that bond rescued me when my life fell apart at the end of my time at university.
But I have no time to reminisce about my college years now. I spend several more minutes finalizing details with the team helping with the conference preparations—giving final approval for menus and seating arrangements, mostly.
I’m shuffling papers on my
desk again when I sense the presence of someone in front of my desk.
There’s only one bare spot on my desk, and I point to the corner. “You can set my breakfast there. And if you’d like to go help with setting up the chairs, I’m sure it would be appreciated—”
“I hardly think I have time to be setting up chairs, Justine.”
My stomach hardens when I realize to whom the voice belongs, and my heart pounds in my chest when I look up at James. “You shouldn’t be here. I—”
“I’m only asking for five minutes.” He smiles at me, the same smile that used to make me melt into a puddle. “And I’m sorry, but I don’t have your breakfast. Maybe one of your assistants—”
“Never mind that. I thought you were…someone else.” I frown. “And I don’t have five minutes to give you. Not today.” Not ever.
“Three then. You owe me at least that much.”
I rise from my chair. “I owe you?”
His smile falls. “You know what I mean.”
“I’m afraid I don’t.” I motion to the door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me—”
“Two minutes then, Justine.” His steely gray eyes bore into mine, and I’m a little surprised that he still has any power over me at all.
“Fine. Two minutes. And not a single second more.” I motion to an empty corner of the room, and he follows me there. “What is it?”
He looks down into my eyes for a long moment. “You’re looking exceedingly lovely.”
I shake my head. “Just go—”
He grabs my hand, pulling it into his grasp. “We shouldn’t have left things the way we did.”
“Really? You’re coming to that conclusion now?”
“I…I heard you applied for graduate school at Yale.”
I don’t even flinch. “What I do with my life now is none of your concern—”
“I can help you. I know the Dean of the English department personally. I can give you a recommendation—”
“I don’t believe I require your assistance.” I try to wrench my hand away, but he keeps it firmly in his grasp. “And I believe your two minutes are up.”
“They aren’t even close to up, and we both know it.” He stares at me again. “You owe me an apology.”
“I owe you nothing, James.” I narrow my gaze. “And we both know that, as well.”
He nods. “You lied to me. You never…” His gaze narrows. “You lied to me.”
“You have no idea what happened. You believed what you wanted to believe. And you weren’t there.” I shake my head. “And I can’t believe you would take their word over mine. After everything that happened between us.”
He seems to ponder my words for a moment, rubbing at the spot on his chin where William hit him last night. “Well, you left me little choice. Regardless of what you say happened now, it’s all in the past. And even if things were as you claim, it’s better now that they turned out as they did. Don’t you see—?”
“Yes. I do see now, James. How thoughtless of me to only be thinking of myself in that situation.” I finally am able to twist my hand away from his. “I’m sorry you were ever inconvenienced.”
“Don’t be a petty brat, Justine. You know precisely what I’m talking about. Even if it happened as you say, it was best for both of us. For all of us.”
There’s a clearing of a throat behind James, and I know immediately who it is.
I step to the side to face William and see him holding a tray with an assortment of breakfast foods. He glares at me. “Where would you like your breakfast, Princess?” He almost hisses my title.
I set my jaw before I motion at the clear corner of my desk.
William shakes his head and sets the food down before returning to me. “I thought you didn’t have time for conversation this morning.”
“I don’t. I was giving our keynote speaker two minutes to run something by me—”
“Yes, I heard,” William interrupts. “Something about you being a petty brat.”
“This is a private conversation. One I wouldn’t expect you to understand.” James glares at William. “So if you’ll excuse us—”
“I’ll not.” William almost growls. “Anything you might say to my wife, you may say in front of me.”
I glance between the two men, hoping to stop the fighting before it begins. “I—”
James interrupts before I can get another word out. “Well, if you must know, I was about to ask Justine about the ridiculous pageant she participated in during her stay in Montovia.” He glances at me. “And I was meaning to ask her if you were some sort of consolation prize for her losing the contest.”
William’s hands ball into fists, and I can tell by the tightness in his jaw he’s about punch the man again.
I reach for his forearm, wrapping my hand around it. “William—”
“In fact,” James continues before I have a chance to finish my thought. “You aren’t even much of a consolation. You’re not even one of the notable Montovian princes, are you? Your two older brothers have much more power than you. And I hear even your younger brother is at least doing something noteworthy with his life…”
I can almost hear the grinding of William’s teeth, his jaw is clenched so tightly. I almost wish I could punch James myself at his words. He has no idea what sort of man William is—and William is a far better man than James will ever be.
But at least there has been no alcohol consumed this morning… I’m saddened for a moment that I’m relieved by the lack of alcohol in William’s system. But at least he’ll be able to show some modicum of restraint, even at James’s baiting, though part of me knows William’s heart is in the right place.
“You should leave my wife’s office.” William’s voice is controlled—polite, even. “Before something…unfortunate might happen.”
James rubs his jaw again at the spot where William punched him last night. “Is that a threat? Because I believe the Royal Guard might also work in my favor—”
“Don’t get your hopes up about that, asshole. I have friends in the Guard, and I can assure you, they won’t take kindly to you touching their princess.” William clears his throat. “My princess.”
William
Just give me one more reason to hit you, I think, staring down the man in front of me. Go on—I dare you. I’ve managed to restrain myself so far, but my control is slipping fast—and I’d love nothing more than an excuse to punch him again, to give him another black eye to match the one he’s currently trying to hide under what appears to be quite a bit of makeup.
The bastard glares at me. From even our two brief interactions, I can tell this man is used to being the smartest and most respected person in the room—but he’s not used to facing down a prince.
What did Justine ever see in this bastard? I think. But I already know the answer to that—a man doesn’t grow up in politics without seeing the way people react to power and confidence. If this was the only man Justine has ever loved, she was obviously quite inexperienced—and quite innocent—when she met him. And considering how her family treats her, it’s no wonder she fell hard for the “brilliant” authority figure who showed an interest in her. He took advantage of her, plain and simple.
Rage on her behalf bubbles up in my stomach—as does a twisting, nauseating pain that anyone could treat her in such a way. Justine is strong and intelligent and stubborn, but beneath that she’s raw and vulnerable, and it makes my chest hurt to imagine this man taking advantage of that.
The man’s eyes shift from me to Justine, then back again. “I should go look over my keynote address,” he says finally, his jaw tight.
I continue to stare him down. “Yes, you should.”
He looks back at Justine. “Though I still think we should have a private word later. Personal issues aside, I have a few suggestions for how you might expand upon your efforts here this week—ways you might bring additional awareness and funding to your cause and your country. Judging by the current state of things, I
suspect you might find such advice extremely useful.”
“Justine doesn’t need your help,” I say. “She can manage everything herself.”
“I can speak for myself, too,” she cuts in with a sharp look at me. To James, she adds, “I appreciate the offer, but I’ll have to give it some thought.”
“Please do,” he says. “Trust me, Your Highness, you’ll want to hear what I have to say.” He gives an almost mocking bow to the pair of us then turns and saunters out the door as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. My fists tighten at my sides, but I resist the urge to charge after him and finish the job I started last night.
As soon as he’s gone, I turn back to Justine. “You aren’t honestly considering accepting his help, are you?”
“What I decide to do isn’t your concern. I have work to do, and if he can help—”
“Of course it’s my concern. I’m your husband!”
“In name only. And—”
“I wouldn’t say it’s in name only. Not after last night.”
Immediately, that pink, glowing flush returns to her cheeks. “This is not the time nor the place to discuss that. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a million things to do before tonight. I can’t have any more distractions right now.” She sits back down and begins sorting through things on her desk.
For a moment, I just wait. I’m not sure whether I’m hoping she’ll speak or if I’m just trying to calm my temper, but I don’t want to leave the room right now, not until we’ve settled whatever is happening between us.
After a few minutes, she can’t seem to take it any longer. She looks up at me, but there’s no longer any anger in her eyes—just the stress I saw earlier.
“Please, William,” she says quietly. “This conference is important to me. I’m not lying when I say there’s still a lot for me to do today, and I really need to concentrate on getting it done.” She looks down at her hands and then back up at me. “Earlier you offered to help me. I don’t imagine I’ll get you to promise to stay away from James, but there’s something else you could do for me.”
