Scandalous Box Set

by Layla Valentine

  My legs feel wobbly. I thought I was fine with the lie. I don’t owe anything to the people of Sigmaran or Christian’s family. I didn’t even know the country existed a year ago. Yet, the idea of lying on such a large scale has my moral scale tipping in a direction I’m uncomfortable with. And on top of everything, I know what the lie means.

  Yes, Christian and I have lied about my identity to his family, but there have been no public proclamations. Most of the articles Blakely has screenshotted and sent to me during her late-night Sigmaran internet dives list me as Christian’s “mysterious American sweetheart.” Technically not a lie. But after Christian’s official announcement of his engagement to Lady Callister, any possibility of a romance between Christian and the real Jane-Ann will be over.

  How could the people of Sigmaran ever except a commoner as their Queen Consort, and worse than that, a commoner Queen who deceived them? They couldn’t.

  Though, I know I’m getting ahead of myself. Christian said he wanted me in the car last night, but that could mean anything. It could mean he wanted me physically. Or he wanted me for the next two weeks until I leave Sigmaran. Or it could have meant he wanted me in the exact same way I want him, but that doesn’t change anything. We are still following through with this plan, and his family still won’t let him marry a commoner and become king.

  So, it doesn’t matter anyway. Christian would never marry me.

  The acceptance of that reality steadies me more than I expect. Pushing moral gray areas aside, Christian and I have been doomed from the first time I saw him across the dance floor at Jimmy’s. It was never going to work, and whatever happens in the next half hour will do nothing to change that.

  The acceptance and steadiness last ten seconds until the handler turns the corner, and I see Christian standing next to his father. He is in his military dress uniform, and I remember him mentioning his service as a lieutenant. He looks commanding in the silhouette, his shoulders wide and square, his waist tapering down to sturdy hips and muscled legs. He looks like a dream, like the angel I thought he was when I saw him through the honky-tonk crowd, and just like that first night, I feel drawn toward him.

  The handler says something as I let go of his arm and move toward Christian, but I don’t hear it. I don’t hear anything until I’m standing in front of Christian, and he is looking down at me, his brows furrowed.

  “Ja—” he stops himself and clears his throat. “Lady Ann?”

  I realize suddenly that I interrupted his conversation with his father, the King, and I turn quickly and bow deeply. “His Majesty.”

  The King tips his head to me.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” I start, unsure what to say.

  I glance around the room, and the sheer amount of people in the space makes me want to wrap my arms around myself and curl up into a ball. The morning has been overwhelming, and despite every doomed thought I’d just reminded myself about Christian, I couldn’t help being drawn to him. But it’s time to start helping it.

  He places his hands on my shoulder, and tilts his head to the side, his smile sad. “That’s okay. I’m glad to see you before we start. Let me take you to your seat.”

  Christian turns me toward the rows of white wooden chairs arranged in the middle of the room, and I hear the King joke loudly to a nearby diplomat about love making even the most polite women forget their manners.

  Love.

  I know Christian hears it too because he quickly pulls his arm from around my shoulders and simply walks next to me, as if breaking physical contact might break the emotional binds that seem to tie us together.

  “What are you going to say?” I ask quietly.

  I want to be prepared. There may very well be cameras trained on me during his speech to capture my reaction, and I don’t want to look like I’m struggling to keep down my breakfast.

  He lowers his head, his blond hair falling over his forehead, and runs a hand across his neck. “I’m not sure exactly.”

  “Hasn’t this been planned for a couple weeks?”

  He offers me a hand as we reach a chair in the front row and helps me sit down. Then, he sits next to me, his body turned toward mine. Our knees touch like they did the night before in the limo, and he quickly pulls his leg away.

  “I haven’t been able to find the right words, but I’m pretty good at speaking off the cuff. I will lightly touch on our continued friendship with Lady Freyja’s country and family and then move on to our engagement.”

  The King loudly clears his throat, and when I look up, I see he is gesturing for Christian to rejoin him. When Christian looks over at me, his wide mouth is pinched, and his eyes are pulled down at the corners. He is looking at me like I’m an abandoned puppy on the side of the road.

  “Good luck.” I pat his shoulder and push him toward his father, a fake smile plastered on my face.

  “It will be over in half an hour,” he says, standing up and straightening his uniform. “Then, we can talk.”

  Talk about what? What is there to talk about that we haven’t already discussed? Things simply are the way they are, and there is nothing either of us can do about that. Still, I nod to let him know I’m fine.

  “See you in thirty minutes,” he says, lips turning up in a smirk.

  I wonder how many more of those smirks I’ll see aimed my way, and then push the thought away when my throat gets tight with unshed tears. “Goodbye, Christian.”

  His eyes widen, the sea-glass blue giving way to a darker shade, like the water after a storm, and I know he is thinking the same thing I am. This is goodbye. To what we might have been, had things been different.

  He swallows and opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but then he pinches his lips together, pivots, and moves quickly across the room to the two armchairs arranged in front of the crowd and the cameras. The press conference is starting.

  Christian doesn’t look at me as his father is speaking, and I don’t look at anything else. I memorize the shape of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the serious set of his brow. I wonder how much Tyler will grow to look like his father. How much of the man I love I will see in our child. I hope it is a lot.

  “And now, I believe your Prince has an announcement to make,” the King says, extending an open palm to Christian. “Son, the room is yours.”

  Christian bows his head to his father. “His Majesty, thank you.”

  His eyes flicker toward me, and then away as he begins to speak. “I won’t take up much of your time, as I am here only to make an announcement in regards to my private life, and I know none of you care about that.”

  A gentle laugh moves through the room.

  “Many news sources in previous months have linked me with Lady Freyja of Switzerland, and while we are indeed close friends, I would like to formally put an end to those stories. In fact, many of you may have heard of her recent engagement. The royal family has already sent our deepest congratulations to her on this happy news.”

  Christian sounds poised and calm, like he is reading from a written speech rather than coming up with the words on the spot. However, the next sentence comes out in starts and stops like a skipping record.

  “Now, I wish to…speak about a development, or um, change in my life recently.” He looks up at me, and his eyes are blown wide.

  I feel a few people in the crowd next to me follow his gaze and look at me, too. Several seconds pass with no words, just a few coughs from people in the room and the click of cameras flashing, capturing Prince Christian’s stricken expression as he looks at me.

  I pull my brows together and nod, trying to tell him it’s okay. That he can say whatever he needs to say, but just…say it. If we stand in this silence any longer, I’m going to run across the room and throw myself at him because Christian is light and laughter and fun—and seeing him so upset is hard to bear.

  The King clears his throat, and finally Christian starts. He blinks and looks away from me. When he takes in the room, I see his confidence
return.

  “Usually I run these speeches through several levels of review, but I am speaking to you directly from my heart today, so forgive me my ineloquence,” he says with an easy smile. Then, he extends an arm to gesture at me. “Many of you may have noticed the presence of the beautiful woman in the front row. She has been introduced as Lady Ann Callister, an aristocrat from America and a longtime friend of mine.” Christian turns to me, his eyes taking in every inch of me, and smiles. “But that is a lie.”

  My heart stops. I’m frozen, staring at him with wide eyes, my hands cemented to the tops of my thighs.

  Gasps and murmurs move through the room, and I barely notice the King snap his attention to his son. But Christians stands up and continues, moving toward me.

  “I have lied to my family, but I will not lie anymore. Lady Ann Callister is, in reality, Jane-Ann Callister of Round Rock, Texas. Her mother volunteers for the local school board, and her father is the deacon at her church, but otherwise, they hold no positions of power. They are commoners.”

  The King stands up. “That is enough, Christian. What is this about?”

  “But there is nothing common about Jane-Ann,” Christian continues, ignoring the King. “She is the mother of my child.”

  The room explodes, cameras flashing, and the King is gesturing to anyone within his line of sight to stop this, to shut everything down. I can’t move or breathe.

  “You’ll hear more on this later, I’m sure,” the King shouts above the roar. “But for now, this press briefing is over.”

  Christian is in front of me within seconds, his hands on my elbow, and I let him pull me from my seat and across the floor. Guards arrange themselves around us to keep away the cameras and the crush of people now fighting to get close to Christian. To me.

  “What did you do?” I ask, certain he can’t hear my voice above the questions being shouted down at us from the press.

  He wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me against his side. “What I should have done months ago.”

  Chapter 29

  Christian

  Fifteen minutes later, Jane-Ann and I are brought before the King and Queen in the same room where I made my confession. The press are gone, but the evidence of the chaos remains. The neat rows of chairs are scattered and pushed aside from the scramble of reporters trying to get a quote and then being forced out of the room by security.

  My parents are sitting in the chairs where my father and I had been sitting. My mother is clinging to a tissue, her eyes puffy, but my father is more stoic than I’ve ever seen him. I’d expected red-faced anger, but he is perfectly cold. It is unnerving.

  “Explain,” he says, refusing to look at me, instead focusing his eyes at the wall over my head.

  So, I tell the story. Of meeting Jane-Ann in a bar, sleeping together, and then finding out about the pregnancy nine months later. Jane-Ann looks like she might faint, so I explain her side of the story, as well. I tell them that she was afraid what would happen to the baby, and that based on my previous words and actions, she had no reason to believe I would be interested in raising a child. I explain to them that she had no political motivations and no desire to cause our family any trouble.

  “And presenting yourself as an aristocrat named Lady Callister is causing no trouble?” he asks her, lip pulled back in a sneer. “You made us look like fools.”

  “That was my idea.” I move to stand in front of Jane-Ann but keep her hand firmly in mine the entire time. “I thought if I could show you I’d put my old ways aside and was willing to make a serious commitment to someone, that you would allow me to choose my own bride. Jane-Ann and I would have ended our fake engagement in a few months.”

  “This was all a game to you, then?” he asks.

  “It was never a game,” I snap. “It was about choosing my own path and finding a way to be in my son’s life. You may not understand my motivations, but they were pure.”

  My father snorts. “Bullshit.”

  “Ranell,” Mother says, her voice raspy. She dabs at her eyes and looks at me. “You have a grandson.”

  “I wanted to tell you a hundred times,” I say. “He is perfect, but I knew it could look bad, and I didn’t want to bring more negative attention to our family.”

  “Do not lie to me,” my father roars, standing from his chair. “Your announcement today showed you exactly as you are. A careless prince with a flair for the dramatic. You have embarrassed our family. You have tied yourself to a commoner and lied to your people. And more than that, you have made us look complicit.”

  “I’m sorry if you feel I was being dramatic,” I retort, “but I couldn’t lie in that briefing. Not anymore. Not about my son…or Jane-Ann.”

  Jane-Ann shifts nervously behind me, and I step back to her side, wrapping an arm around her waist.

  Father purses his lips, his eyes hard as marbles as he studies our body language. “You are not seriously suggesting that this relationship will be allowed to continue.”

  It is a statement, not a question.

  “She is a commoner,” he says with obvious disdain. “She is an American woman you met in a bar.”

  “She is the mother of my child,” I say as calmly and clearly as I can. “And the woman I love.”

  Jane-Ann turns to me, and I look down at her. Her eyes are wide, tears gathering in the corners, and I reach down to brush my thumb across her cheek.

  “I love you, too,” she whispers. But the room is large and silent, and her words echo.

  “Absolutely not,” my father says, dropping back down into his chair. “We will provide for the woman and her son as duty dictates, but you will not be allowed to marry.”

  “Ranell,” Mother warns, her fingers tangled nervously in her lap.

  Father continues without paying her any mind. “If you insist on being with her, you will be disowned. I will not allow our family’s reputation to be tarnished by this scandal. This woman’s son will never be heir to my throne.”

  For the first time in my life, I have complete clarity. There is no war in my mind between duty and desire. No fork in the road where I must decide whether to follow my heart or my mind. Finally, my heart and my mind are aligned. My duty and desire are one. There is no choice to be made, for there is only one option.

  “Then I will make this easy on you, Father,” I say, stepping forward to stand in front of my parents for what may very well be the last time. “I renounce my right to the throne.”

  My mother gasps and my father’s face goes pale, though his expression does not change.

  “My duty is now and will forever more be to my son, and if he will not be welcomed here, then I must go to him. There is no other choice.”

  “Christian,” Jane-Ann whispers behind me.

  When I turn around, her mouth is hanging open, and she is shaking her head. I walk to her, grab her face between my palms, and bring her lips to mine. It is a brief, sweet kiss, but I feel the foundation of the earth shudder.

  When I pull away, I turn back to my family. I walk toward my mother to say goodbye, but my father stands up and moves in front of her, so I stop and bow deeply instead.

  “Your Majesties.”

  Then, I turn on my heel, grab Jane-Ann’s hand, and walk out of the room.

  Chapter 30

  Christian

  Neither of us says anything until we are standing outside the front doors of the palace. The day is still warming up, the sun nearing the middle of the sky, and I tip my head back and take a deep breath. The press have all been ushered away, and a perimeter around the gates keeps any cameras from getting close. The King will shutter the palace from the press until he can spin this story into something positive. I should have wished him good luck before I left. He’ll need it.

  “What are we going to do?” Jane-Ann asks, holding my hand in both of her own.

  Despite what just happened with my parents, I feel light. Free. I bring our hands to my mouth and press a kiss to her knuckles. “We c
ould get married for real.”

  She jerks to a stop. “What?”

  I move in front of her, my hands settling on her waist. I can see the excitement of the day weighing on her. When she looks up at me, her eyes are red, her pouty lips pale. But there is a light in her I haven’t seen since the night we met. A spark of possibility.

  “I’ve known you were special since the moment we met,” I say, squeezing her fingers. “And I’ve only grown more certain with every minute we spend together. I brought you here to give me more time to find a woman I could love. A woman who would let me be with Tyler. And now I know, you are that woman, Jane-Ann. It has always been you.”

  Her lip trembles, and she shakes her head. “I can’t let you give up your crown.”

  “It’s done.” I wave a hand behind me, dismissing the importance of the thing I’ve spent my entire life preparing for. It feels trivial in the face of this. Of her.

  “But it can be undone, Christian. You could go back in there and take it all back.”

  “Is that what you want me to do?” I ask, bending down so my face is level with hers, so our lips are only inches apart. She smells like vanilla, and I think what it would be like to press my nose to her neck whenever I wanted. To smell and taste her freely. Desire coils in my gut. “Do you wish I had lied to the press?”

  “No,” she says quickly. She closes her eyes and takes a breath. “Well, I’m not sure. Your father might be right about one thing. You have a flair for the dramatic.”