Royal Ruin

by Jessica Peterson

  The room had been cleared of construction debris. There was indeed a string quartet set up in the corner. They smiled when they saw me, not missing a beat of the song. They sounded incredible in this room. The notes echoed off the high ceiling, filling my ears, my head, my heart.

  I was enthralled. But I was also very confused. I didn’t get what this was all about. Had Aly met some British guy she hadn’t told me about? A guy who’d decided to propose to her today or something?

  Why the Bieber, then? None of it made sense.

  “Emily.”

  I looked up at the sound of a familiar voice. My heart dipped.

  Kit was standing in a far corner, hands in the pockets of his jeans, one ankle crossed over the other. His eyes shone in the twinkling lights as he met mine. He had this look on his face. He wasn’t smiling, exactly. But there was this softness in his eyes and around his mouth that made me think he was equal parts happy and scared.

  My first thought was holy fuck he’s here.

  My second thought was why didn’t I shower this morning? I should’ve showered. Even in his jeans and crisp white button down, Kit looked good enough to eat. I was wearing dirty leggings and an oversized sweater. I hadn’t slept, and I definitely hadn’t washed my hair or bothered to put on makeup.

  My eyes filmed over. I blinked the tears away.

  “Hey,” I said, wiping my nose on the sleeve of my sweater. “What are you doing here?”

  Kit pushed off the wall and started walking towards me. My entire being pulsed with longing. The way he moved—the way he looked—the way he was looking at me right now, like I was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, even though I looked like hell. It was all too much.

  He met me in the middle of the room. I could smell his aftershave. I wavered on my feet.

  Kit pulled an envelope from his back pocket and held it out to me. “I’m here because I wanted to give you this.”

  “What is it?” I asked, glancing at the envelope.

  He held it up a little higher. “Take it. Read it. Please.”

  “Okay,” I said slowly. I took the envelope and opened it. Inside was a carefully folded letter, printed on Kit’s official letterhead. My eyes moved over each line, faster and faster, tears welling up all over again the more I read.

  To Her Majesty Queen Margaret,

  I cannot fulfill my duty to my country and my crown if I cannot be with the woman I love…therefore, I humbly renounce my right to my titles, positions, and place in the succession…I make this decision willingly, with clear eyes and a clear heart…I plan to live a happy life with my wife, with whom I hope to dance with every night. We shall have many, many, many children, and it is my sincerest hope they like Monty Python as much as we do…

  I looked up at Kit, too shocked to formulate a single thought, much less a word. He was biting back a grin now. His eyes were wet.

  “Kit,” I breathed, letting the hand I held the letter in drop. “What is this?”

  “It’s my abdication,” he replied.

  I stared at him. “Your abdication?”

  “Yes. I put it on the Queen’s desk first thing this morning. I’m removing myself from the line of succession, Em.”

  “You can do that?”

  He shrugged, a smug, self-satisfied thing. “I’m a prince. Of course I can.”

  I looked back down at the letter. “You want to do that?”

  Kit took a step forward, touching his thumb to my chin, urging me to look up at him.

  “I want to be with you, Em. More than I want anything else,” he said, his eyes searching mine. “If that means giving up my life as a prince, so be it. I am not Luke, Emily. I am not leaving you.”

  My throat closed in. “You’d give all that up? For me?”

  He nodded. “Without a second thought. Although I hope you make a decent salary at EP Designs, because I’m out of a job.”

  “But what about my divorce?”

  “What about it? There’s no rule that says I can’t marry you.”

  I stared at him again in disbelief. The crown—his family—the foundation—I knew how much it all meant to him. I knew how badly he wanted to use his position and his power to continue his parents’ legacy. The fact that he’d sacrifice all that for me…

  It was overwhelming.

  I didn’t know humans were capable of that kind of sacrifice. That kind of selflessness.

  A tear slipped out of my eye, rolled down my cheek. Kit reached up and caught it easily with his thumb. Just like he did that morning he showed me his baby pictures.

  “Why?” I managed, crossing my arms. “Why are you doing all this?”

  “Because I want you to be with me,” he replied. “And I don’t want you to have to give up your job to do it. So I figured I’ll give up mine.”

  I closed my eyes. Tears fell out of them anyway.

  He ran his finger along the edge of my face, moving my hair out of the way. “I’m sorry I asked you to choose. That was shitty of me. Let me make it up to you, Em. Let me show you it doesn’t have to be that way. I’m sorry.”

  I opened my eyes. Met his. “Why?”

  He held a finger up to the ceiling. “Because Justin Bieber says so. Obviously.”

  I laughed, even as new tears spilled out of my eyes.

  “But really,” he said, settling his feet on either side of mine. “Emily, I’ve been in love with you since the moment we met. You’re the only person who’s ever gotten a rise out of me. Well, except for my brothers and my sister, but they don’t count. You get under my skin. You open me up. I was so closed off before. So scared of letting people in. But you showed me the risk was worth it—you showed me that I couldn’t get what my parents had by keeping everyone at arm’s length.” Kit rested his forehead against mine. Closed his eyes. “You showed me how much I was missing out on. No one’s ever breached my walls before, Em. But you did. You are ambitious, and smart, and beautiful, and I find that combination so bloody sexy. You’re my person, Emily. You always have been. It’s just taken me a while to figure it out.”

  I was really crying now. Big fat tears, swollen throat, runny nose, the works. But I didn’t care.

  “You’re so excellent,” I breathed. “So freaking excellent, Kit.”

  I knew—in my gut I knew—I couldn’t let someone as excellent as Kit abdicate the freaking throne to marry me. Having someone like him, someone as thoughtful and dedicated and intelligent, inherit a position of power was a once-in-a-millennia event. I’d watched enough Game of Thrones to understand that natural leaders like him didn’t come around all that often.

  If I wanted to be with Kit, I had to give up my firm. I didn’t want to. Of course I didn’t want to. But my business was as successful as it had ever been, and I was unhappier than ever. Maybe it was time to move on. Time to try on something new. Like Kit had told me, it wasn’t like I’d be giving up a career altogether by marrying him. I’d just be trading one career for another.

  Maybe I really could make a difference at the helm of The Prince’s Foundation.

  Maybe I really could let go of everything I thought I should accomplish and just be happy.

  There was no guarantee that this would work out. There was no safety net here. Nothing to catch me if I jumped. But my gut was telling me to jump anyway.

  “I love you, Em,” Kit breathed.

  I tilted my chin forward, kissed his mouth. “My God, Kit, I love you too.”

  Before I knew what he was about, Kit was falling to one knee. A familiar box suddenly materialized in his hand.

  He met my eyes. I saw that he was crying, too. My heart burst.

  “Miss Emily Kilpatrick, would you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?” Kit popped open the box. His mother’s emerald ring—the same one he’d given me the first time around, the one I’d loved so much—was inside.

  I smiled. Laughed. Cried.

  “Yes,” I said. “Yes, yes, yes!”

  I held out my hand, and Kit slid
the ring on my finger for the second time.

  The last time.

  Then he stood and ducked his head and crushed his lips to mine. I tasted the salt of his tears and the heat of his relief. I tasted him, the sweetest taste I’d ever known.

  I pulled away. “But only if you do one thing for me.”

  “Anything.” His eyes were wild. “Just name it, and I’ll make it happen.”

  “You can’t abdicate. Kit, you’re too damn good at what you do. You can make a difference as King. A real impact. I can’t ask you to give that up.” I took a deep breath. “I’m going to give EP Designs to Aly.”

  His eyes widened. “Em—”

  “No, I’m serious. We can do a lot more good together if you keep your position.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m sure.” I smiled. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life.”

  He smiled, too. Gah, that smile never got old. I thought about the Ice Prince. Thought about how far Kit had come since then.

  “We could really use someone like you at the foundation,” he said. “And the monarchy—hell! Think of all the things you can teach us. Think of all the things you can do, all the lives you can change.”

  “The sky’s the limit, huh?” I teased.

  “The sky, the stars, the sun.” He drew his thumb over my lips. “You’re a universe unto itself, love. You’re my universe.”

  I was crying again, and so was he. He pulled me to him, our tears mingling as our mouths met.

  There was a sudden commotion behind Kit. I drew back to see Rob, Jack, and Jane hurtling into the great hall. Rob had a magnum of champagne in his hands. Jane was carrying champagne flutes. Jack was dancing to the latest classical Bieber interpretation (“Where are Ü Now”).

  “She said yes!” Jack said, jamming his fists into the air.

  “Thank God,” Rob murmured, carefully pouring champagne into the flutes. “You had us worried there for a moment, Emily.”

  I bit my lip, met Kit’s eyes.

  “Sorry,” he said, shrugging. “I may or may not have enlisted their help in making all this happen.”

  I grinned. “I’m glad they’re here to help us celebrate.”

  Jane handed us glasses, and Rob set down the magnum.

  “A toast!” Rob said, holding up his glass. “To the newest member of the family. Best of luck to you, my dear, you’re going to need it.”

  Kit elbowed his brother none too gently. Then he turned back to me, pressing a kiss onto my lips.

  “You make me so fucking happy,” he murmured. My heart soared. “Now let’s live happily every after, shall we?”

  “Let’s,” I said, clinking my glass against his.

  THE END

  Epilogue

  Kit

  Three Weeks Later

  Scrolling through the newsfeed on my phone, I couldn’t help but smile. Emily had just finished up her third official engagement as my real fiancée, and already her picture was everywhere. She’d gone to visit a primary school to chat with students about mental health awareness. According to the headlines I was reading, Emily had made a real impression.

  Princess-To-Be Emily Kilpatrick Brings Cheer To Local School

  Emily Kilpatrick Stuns In Alexander McQueen Coat and Dress

  Future Royal Follows in Princess Caroline’s Steps in Outreach to Children

  Not that it was any surprise. As soon as the transition was complete at EP Designs, Em took the bull by the horns and dove headfirst into her new role at Primrose Palace. We were unbelievably lucky to have her. In the few short weeks she’d been with us, she’d managed to take on more patronages and raise more money than I’d done in months. She was constantly taking calls, constantly reaching out to charities in need, museums, cultural heritage sites. At The Prince’s Foundation, she was an absolute force of nature.

  My heart swelled. Together, we were going to do great things.

  “What’ll it be tonight, sir?” Brendan asked, settling his hands on the bar.

  I was at Jacob’s Club. Emily and I made it a habit to come here for date night every Friday. I was waiting for her to arrive, giddy with excitement like the happy tit I was. I loved our date nights. Actually, I loved all our nights together.

  “I’ll just stick with water for now, thanks,” I said, nodding at the glass Brendan had set in front of me.

  “He’ll take a bourbon,” a voice said behind me. “I’ll take one too, if you don’t mind, Brendan.”

  Brendan smiled as Emily slid onto the barstool beside mine. “Hello, Miss Kilpatrick. You’re looking lovely as always,” he said.

  “Thank you,” she replied. She turned to me. Her face was lit up with a megawatt smile. Her eyes glittered. “Hi.”

  For a moment I just stared. Would I ever get over how beautiful she was?

  I took her face in my hand and kissed her. Her lips were soft, warm. Immediately a pulse of desire moved through me. I was no better than Pavlov’s dogs. I’d trained my body to become aroused the second Emily stepped into the room.

  The hunger I had for this girl was surreal. I kept waiting for it to fade, for the initial rush of excitement to peter out. But it only seemed to get stronger the longer we were together. I lived in a constant state of half-arousal.

  I didn’t mind that, either.

  We’d fucked everywhere. In the throne room at Buckingham (couldn’t resist). In my car. On the private plane we’d taken to Paris.

  I glanced around the club. But we hadn’t fucked here.

  Sipping the bourbon Brendan had slid across the bar, I nudged my nose against Emily’s ear. “Meet me in the loo.”

  Her eyebrows shot up, understanding flashing across her green eyes. Her perfect lips moved into a small, secret smile. She nodded.

  I didn’t hesitate. Excusing myself, I headed to the back of the club and pushed into one of the posh bathrooms. The loos were small rooms unto themselves, exquisitely decorated. In this one, the walls and ceiling were covered in antiqued mirrors. The lighting was low. Moody.

  Perfect.

  Emily slipped into the room a minute after I did, a glass of bourbon and her mobile in one hand.

  “You think they know what we’re doing?” she whispered.

  I stepped forward, pressing my body to hers as I tucked her hair behind her ear. “Probably.”

  She bit her lip. “I should go.”

  “You should.”

  Meeting my eyes, she took a sip of her bourbon.

  “Put it down,” I said.

  One side of her mouth kicking up, she set the glass and the mobile on the edge of the sink. She leaned her hip against the counter. Turned to face me.

  “Awful bossy tonight, aren’t we, Mr. Thorne?”

  I rolled back my shoulders and took off my coat. I hung it on the hook on the back of the door.

  “Is that going to be a problem, Miss Kilpatrick?”

  She shook her head. “Not in the slightest.”

  “Good,” I said.

  I moved across the room in one, two strides. I grabbed Emily by the hips and spun her around so she was facing away from me. Facing the mirrored wall in front of us. Our eyes met in the mirror. Hers danced.

  She sucked in a surprised, aroused breath when I pressed her against the wall. She put her palms against it, her eyes never leaving mine in the mirror.

  I reached down, reached inside her dress. She was wearing stockings, a thong. I tugged them down, working them over her ass, down her legs. Cupping her ass, I slid my hand between her legs from the back. Her eyes went glassy, dark, when my middle fingers met with her pussy.

  My dick leapt. She was already soaking wet, slippery with arousal. I watched my nostrils flare in the mirror.

  I wanted to make her slippery with my cum.

  “How long have you been like this?” I growled.

  Emily’s lips fell open. “Since I got in the car to come here.”

  “Jesus Christ,” I said.

  “
Please.” She rolled her hips against me. “Touch me, Kit.”

  Slowly, I sunk my middle finger inside her. Then I moved my index finger to her clit, stroking it, toying with it, all the while pressing my middle finger to the front wall of her pussy, just like she liked it. Her eyes fluttered shut. She started to pant, louder and louder.

  I was already so hard I couldn’t see straight.

  I needed to fuck this girl, now, quick and fast before we got caught.

  She moaned when I pulled away my hand. My fingers shook with impatience as I unbuckled my belt, worked at the fly of my trousers.

  “Kit,” Em was saying. “Please.”

  Taking my dick in my hand, I gave it a quick tug. Emily watched in the mirror, breathing hard.

  I stepped forward, wedging my leg between hers to spread them wider, pressing her against the wall. I slid my cock between her ass cheeks. Slid it all the way down her slit. Fuck, she was soft. Hot.

  Perfect.

  She moaned again, so loud I worried we’d get caught.

  Positioning myself at her entrance, I met her eyes in the mirror. Then I bucked my hips and buried myself inside her, capturing her moan with my hand as I put my palm over her mouth.

  With my other hand, I reached around to her front, pressing my first two fingers against her clit. Her eyes squeezed shut. Her cunt contracted around me.

  Holding her against me, I began to slam into her, again and again and again, pressing her against the wall, making her cry out against my hand. She opened her eyes and watched in the mirror as I fucked her. I watched as she fucked me back. I looked like a man possessed. I was delirious, impatient. I was dying of pleasure inside her. She was so tight and so close—

  Emily’s cunt gripped me, and then she came, biting my hand as the waves hit her. I pumped into her again, and again, and then I was coming, too, the roar of blood enormous in my ears, my chest.

  I pulled out of her. Spun her around so she faced me. Her skin was flushed. Her eyes sated.

  She smiled. “God, you’re good at that.”

  “I know,” I said, leaning down to kiss her mouth. I tasted the bourbon on her lips. It burned.