Perry and Her Princes (Kingdom of Veronia Book 1)

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Perry and Her Princes (Kingdom of Veronia Book 1) Page 12

by Serena Akeroyd


  George sounded far too satisfied for Edward’s own good. “Don’t look so smug.”

  His brother shrugged. “Why? I’m feeling smug. You buried your instincts away when you married Arabella. It’s about time you started living again, dammit.”

  “I live. See?” He sucked in a breath. “I breathe.”

  George rolled his eyes. “You know how to party.”

  Edward huffed out a laugh, then his smile faded as George’s presence here made him question things he truly didn’t have time to question. With a sigh, he murmured, “I heard you arguing. I didn’t think anything of it, until she yelled again, and I wanted to make sure everything was alright. Seeing Xavier there, well, it changed things.”

  “You’re preaching to the converted,” George pointed out. “You don’t think I already know how you felt?”

  “You love her, George. I don’t.”

  “Not yet,” his brother said softly, soft enough to make Edward’s throat close. “But you will.”

  The prophetic tone pissed Edward off. George always had been an arrogant bastard. When it came down to it, Edward was often the one wondering exactly who the elder brother was in the family, when George always seemed to have all the fucking answers.

  Agitated at George’s prediction, he demanded again, “Why are you doing this, George? Why not just be with her yourself?” He knew he’d already asked, but Edward just couldn’t compute why someone would put the woman they loved through the ringer. If Perry had known the score from the start, then he’d be able to get his head around it. But she hadn’t. She was a relative innocent. And that was when he thought about life in the royal sphere, sex notwithstanding. He scowled at his brother. “She can’t be happy being mine. You and I know that. There’s too much of a chasm between her current job and that of being the girlfriend of the Crown Prince of Veronia.”

  He said girlfriend but they both knew he meant wife.

  Veronia was a little more antiquated than the rest of Europe when it came to the romantic lives of their royals.

  They expected them to live like nuns and monks, and when a girlfriend was outed to the press, the people waited for news that a marriage was on the cards.

  With a foreigner for a girlfriend, such expectations would hit soon.

  “Perry needs me,” his brother said softly, plucking at the crease on his trousers. “She probably needs me far less than I need her. Some days, I swear to Christ, she’s the only reason I get out of bed on a morning. When I’m down or just feeling pressured at work, she’s my breath of fresh air.

  “But, I know I’m that for her too. She tells me everything. I’m her confidante, her best friend. Yes, life in the spotlight isn’t ideal. And I wish to hell it would never have to be an issue, but I wish that for more than just her, Edward. I wish it for you too. For me. For mother and father, Xavier as well. I wouldn’t wish this life on our enemy.”

  “So, why wish it on the woman you love?” Edward retorted with a snap.

  “Because with Perry, this life won’t be misery.”

  “That sounds very fucking selfish, George. You’re bringing her into this shitstorm for our benefit, but what happens when she burns out? When it gets too much for her?”

  “It won’t. I’ll make sure it won’t. Perry will have us. She’ll have the pair of us as her support and as her shield. We’ll make sure she never regrets being with us. I’ll spend the rest of my goddamn life making up for the fact we live in the spotlight.” George shot him a look. “Why settle for being happy when the three of us could be delirious? Together?”

  Edward grimaced. “Delirious? You always did exaggerate.” He scratched his forehead trying to process his brother’s words. In many ways, George was an idealist. That blazed through his comments like a fire. “There is no being happy in this world of ours, George. Haven’t you realized that yet?”

  George narrowed his eyes. “If I didn’t think you were being a tad dramatic, I’d say you were depressed.”

  “I’m not depressed.” He gritted his teeth. “I’m a realist.”

  “Why deny something that could lighten the misery then?” George argued. “Perry will certainly do that. She makes me happy.”

  “You’re you. You’re not me.”

  “What? Because you’re Crown Prince, it’s impossible to find someone who won’t turn that frown upside down?” he scoffed. “Bullshit. Arabella burned you. I know that. A lot of shit has happened before and since, but there’s no reason whatsoever to turn your back on someone who could make you happy.”

  “Just because she works miracles on you, doesn’t mean she can do the same for me.”

  “How do you know? Have you spoken to her?”

  “Not outside of meals.”

  “Why not? Don’t you think it’s cruel to have gone to her the way you did, then to ignore her?”

  “I suppose, but I’ve been busy.” He sought George’s gaze. “Genuinely. There’s a situation with Monaco.” He rubbed his forehead again. “An international incident.”

  “Inciting?” George asked with a scowl. “We’re not going to war with them, are we? Or are our tax evaders and theirs about to square off on the football pitch?”

  “Of course not, but it requires me to lick a lot of diplomatic arse.”

  George grimaced. “Exactly.”

  Edward sighed. “Plus, there’s what father told us.”

  “That does change things, I suppose.”

  “You suppose?” Edward barked. “The guards find evidence Arabella was murdered, and you only think that changes things?”

  George held up a hand. “I’m sorry, I know it does.”

  Edward released a slow, aggrieved breath. “Why would anyone target her, George? If not to get to me? To us?”

  “I don’t know,” George said softly. “They’ll figure it out. They always do.”

  “It’s taken them three years to uncover this,” he snarled. “What makes you think they’ll find any more evidence that isn’t long since buried in the past?”

  “Because they managed to find this. That says a lot. Plus, if you’re in danger, then this is their priority from now on. The guards aren’t going to stop until you’re safe.”

  “I’m not the one who was targeted, George.”

  “You’re scared Perry might be caught in the crossfire.”

  Edward caught his brother’s eye. “Aren’t you?”

  “No. I’m not.” George shrugged at Edward’s aghast expression. “I disliked Arabella. I was sorry when she got sick, and I’m sorrier still now we’ve found out she was murdered, but her unfortunate passing doesn’t make her a great human being.

  “She was a bitch. She was cold. She treated you like shit. Nobody liked her. Not really. The public were in the dark, mostly, but that was only because you’d been married for such a short time. If she’d been around longer, news would have spread about her tantrums and horrible nature. Such gossip was bound to become widespread.”

  “Aside from slandering her name, is there a point to this?”

  George ignored Edward’s snappish tone. “Yes. I’m saying that Perry is the exact opposite. She makes friends wherever she goes. Hell, her spirit animal is a Golden Retriever. She’s just one of these people that others love.”

  “What the fuck is a spirit animal?”

  George grinned. “It’s the animal you embody. She says I’m a drop bear.”

  “A drop bear?” Edward blinked, wondering if his brother was on an acid trip.

  “Yeah. She says I look pretty and cuddly like a koala, then if you piss me off, I’ll bite.” At Edward’s confused look, he continued, “Koalas are actually aggressive. They’re not cute and cuddly as you might think. But drop bears are more of an urban legend.” He snorted at Edward’s puzzled look. “Google it.”

  Edward merely sighed. “And you don’t mind her thinking you’re a type of legendary koala?”

  “No more than she minds it when I say she’s like Marley.”

 
“Who the hell is Marley?”

  “A Golden Retriever in a movie,” George huffed. “Jesus, Edward. Don’t watch much TV, do you?”

  “Yes, George, because I have plenty of time to watch stupid movies.” He patted just one of the piles of papers on his desk—one of four, each half a foot thick.

  George just shrugged. “Anyway, in comparison to that barracuda, Perry isn’t going to make any enemies just by breathing.”

  Edward clenched his jaw. He knew he should defend Arabella, but… it was hard when his brother spoke the truth. She might have been gently reared, attended the best schools in Europe, and was friends with some of the wives of the continent’s most powerful businessmen, but that didn’t make her a good woman.

  She had been snappish, and her treatment of the staff had made him apologize on her behalf to them countless times.

  He’d been grateful when, every month, her period had come. Having a child with such a temperamental woman was his duty, but not a fate he actively wished for. Of course, with every passing month she wasn’t enceinte, her mood swings and bad temper had only been exacerbated.

  “Look, I’m going to say this again. You don’t have to be with Perry. But, I want you to at least try to make an effort.”

  “Why, George? Why is this so important to you?”

  “Because the minute I make it official, the minute mother and father know I’m with her, that’s the moment you can’t be with her anymore. I’ve held off all these years because I know she’s perfect for you too. I can wait a little while longer to make her mine. Being with her will make me happy, but it’s never going to be as fulfilling as sharing her with you.” He rubbed his temple. “Don’t you think I didn’t wish I was like this? That I didn’t need this? I’ve made things with the woman I adore a thousand times uncomfortable, could potentially have knocked us off track and destroyed our relationship in the process, simply because I need this. I don’t know why. I’ve never understood it. It’s just in my blood. But…” His nostrils flared. “Xavier’s waiting too. I saw him with her today. He brought her home. There’s a timeline now.”

  Scratching his jaw, Edward nodded. “I saw too. Just happened to catch a glimpse of them coming back in his car.”

  George scowled. “I don’t know what Perry’s thinking meeting up with him. I thought she was still thinking about what we discussed.”

  Edward sighed. “Maybe she’s burying her head in the sand like we are?”

  “I’m not,” George retorted. “You are. I think you should talk to her.”

  “I can’t. Not yet.” Before George could argue, he held up a hand. “I seriously have too much business to handle. But I promise, I’ll talk to her soon.”

  The promise almost choked him, but George had put his life on hold with the woman he loved for him. Would continue to do so if Edward just gave him the word. That George was thinking so far ahead made Edward cringe inside.

  He truly expected Edward to take Perry as his own. To marry her.

  Because he couldn’t stop himself, he whispered, “You’d be willing to live back in the palace to stay with her? What about your life in the US?”

  “I stayed as long as I did because of her.” He shrugged. “When the situation with the drought cropped up, I thought about bringing her in for a consult. She truly is an expert in the field. But, something happened at her lab a few months ago, and it just cemented the idea in my head.”

  “What happened?” Edward asked with a frown.

  “Her grants suddenly came under threat.”

  “From whom?”

  George shrugged. “It happens. There’s nothing shady going on, if that’s what you mean. I checked it out. It’s just academic politics. If she doesn’t bow and scrape enough, she can lose funding.”

  “So you thought bringing her here would… what? Cement her position by bringing some prestige to her name and her university’s if I decided I didn’t want her?”

  George grinned. “You know me so well, brother.”

  Edward rolled his eyes. “You’re a pain in my ass, George.”

  He winked, then got to his feet. “The feeling is mutual.”

  Chapter Ten

  “Perry.”

  She jolted in surprise at the silken lash of Edward’s voice. Turning in her seat, she peered at him in the doorway, wondering what it was about him that put her so on edge.

  George was a Prince, and Xavier was a Duke. They were both powerful men. Both handsome creatures that would make most male models weep in envy.

  But Edward? God, there was just something about him. Something that stirred her up and scared her.

  She bit her lip. “Edward,” she replied, politely.

  Something flickered in his eyes as he waved a hand in front of him. “May I come in?”

  “Of course,” she told him, though she didn’t particularly want him to enter her office. Still, it wasn’t like she could refuse.

  He tilted his head to the side as he approached her, studying her like she’d just been studying the statistics before her. According to the data, Veronia had forty years of drinking water left.

  Forty years might seem a long time, but it wasn’t.

  The notion that a European nation, as cosmopolitan as this one, could be without water in her lifetime was…Well, to be frank, it was terrifying. The very idea had her stomach churning with nerves, and she dealt with this kind of information on a daily basis.

  Cape Town had been plagued with these woes recently, but it was Africa. Africa was hot. Most people associated Africa with drought and a lack of water. Few would even think Europe could eventually suffer similar consequences.

  It wasn’t exactly prejudice just what people associated the continent with. Only southern Europe was warm, after all. The center and northern regions were frigid come winter, and barely temperate in summer.

  It was an attitude that wasn’t exactly fair, but perceptions weren’t always just, were they?

  “I’ve lost you without even starting to talk,” Edward murmured, a wry smile on his lips as he broke into her thoughts.

  She jolted. “Sorry. My mind’s elsewhere.”

  “On your work?” He frowned at her in sudden concern, and she felt it sweep over her in a great wave. He perched his ass on the side of the desk. “The statistics aren’t good, are they?”

  “They couldn’t be much worse, Edward, if I’m being honest.”

  He ran a hand through his silky hair then placed it on the table. As he did, a welter of brochures scattered about and she flushed. “Sorry. I’ll just clear that.”

  He picked one up, cocked a brow at its contents. “You like butterflies?” he asked, eying the exhibit at the country’s national science museum.

  She cleared her throat. “They’re just things I thought I could see while I’m here. In my own time, of course,” she said stiffly.

  He sighed. “I never doubted it, Perry.” He eyed her tiredly. “Do you mind if I take a seat? I don’t want to make more of a mess.” He waved his hand at the chair opposite her desk.

  Philippe had given her a small office just off the private quarters. It was neat and well-appointed with a desk made of walnut that gleamed—she could even see her face in it.

  The moldings on the wall were gilded—she was about to die of gilt overdose—and opposite her desk was a picture window with a view of the Ansian mountain range where Xavier lived, and to her left, an honest to God, Rembrandt.

  She was working in an office with a Rembrandt. It beggared belief.

  “Is there any way you can help us?”

  “We’re talking massive overhauls of infrastructure, Edward,” she murmured, leaning back in her seat. Where she’d been uncomfortable a few minutes before, now she was well at ease. This was her world.

  He was asking for her expertise, and she was more than willing to impart her knowledge to save the nation from suffering down the line.

  “I’m talking trillions invested here.”

  He shrugged. �
��We’re a wealthy nation, and we’re discussing projects that can occur over the span of decades. We have time and the funds.”

  Because he was right, and she’d seen Veronia’s very, very healthy GDP, she murmured, “Your sewerage system is atrocious. Your reservoirs and dams are outdated.” She shrugged. “Certain parts of the country are going to be uncomfortable for a while.”

  His lips twitched but his face was somber. “Uncomfortable?”

  She sighed. “That’s the nicest way I could think to phrase it.” She rested her elbows on the armrests of her antique desk chair that came with a cushioned backrest decorated with embroidery—of a bouquet of roses.

  This place wasn’t to her taste at all, but she was charmed by it nonetheless.

  “Have you seen our underground in the capital?”

  She shook her head. “I’m due to visit next week. You’re fortunate that the Romans constructed the aqueducts, as it means you can work without having to totally dig up the cities, but improvements to them over the past two thousand years would probably have been advisable,” she said wryly.

  “Not every part of them is Roman,” he retorted, but she could see he was teasing.

  “No? What’s the youngest part? Two hundred years old?”

  He wrinkled his nose. “It’s not like other capitals are any better. I know London has a Victorian sewerage system.”

  She shrugged. “They’re not running out of water, are they?”

  He sighed. “No.”

  “I’ll list it all in my final report. I’m still collating data, and I haven’t visited half the dams and reservoirs in the nation.”

  He nodded. “I’m looking forward to reading it.”

  Her brows arched. “You’ll be reading it? I thought it would go to some bored minister.”

  “I’ll be sure to CC him a copy.” When she just stared at him, he shrugged. “The family takes a heavy interest in topics such as these. We haven’t handed over all our powers to the government, more’s the pity in their eyes.”

  “George says your prime minister is anti-royalist.”

  He nodded. “He’s right. But, the nation isn’t. They’re very proud of their heritage.”

 

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