“Dahlia Raventhal? Really? One Raventhal bitch wasn’t enough? We invited the girl to the Prince’s Ball, but I wasn’t expecting you to fuck her.”
“Excuse me?”
“I know you’ve been sneaking around with someone, but I didn’t expect it to be Raventhal filth,” he spits.
“You think I’m sleeping with Dahlia Raventhal?”
“Don’t play innocent with me, Charles. How many times do I have to tell you that you need a suitable wife?”
“Suitable for who, Father?”
“For the Kingdom!” His voice booms as it echoes around his office. He huffs, his neck wobbling as he glares at me.
I flop down onto one of his chairs and stare at my nails. I can feel my father’s anger ratchet up a couple notches, and my lips twitch.
“You are the Crown Prince of—”
“I know who I am, and I also know that it’s the twenty-first century. You don’t need to marry me off to some princess for political reasons. We have actual politicians for that, now.”
The King’s face turns bright red. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Don’t be naive, Charlie.”
“Naive? You think I’m being naive?”
“You were naive when you almost impregnated your governess, and now you’re going to bring dishonor on our family by doing it again.”
The air between us grows tense.
My eyes narrow. “Why are you so worried about my marriage all of a sudden?” I glance at his desk and catch a glimpse of some contract documents. My blood boils. “The Farcliff Dam Project? That was thrown out fifteen years ago. Mother saw to that. We would need to relocate the entire population of Grimdale.”
“Things change in fifteen years, Charles.” He waves a hand. “And I’m worried about your marriage because it’s time. The law states that you need a wife to become King, and I’m sick of you being such a fuck-up. Dahlia Raventhal is just another one of those fuck-ups of yours.”
The King shuffles the papers away, shoving them into a drawer in his desk. My father is planning something, but I don’t know what. Something about him pushing this marriage all of a sudden—it makes the hairs on the back of my neck prickle.
Something doesn’t add up, and my father is a dangerous man.
Dahlia Raventhal is from a suitable family—but I’m not sleeping with her. She’s not the reason I went to that house today.
No, the truth is much, much more damning.
At least Dahlia Raventhal is from an old family. My father wouldn’t dare do anything to hurt her. Elle, on the other hand…
Elle doesn’t even know who her parents are. If my father is following me, he’s up to something, and I don’t trust him to be an honorable person. The last thing I want to do is put Elle in danger. The King could hurt her without any repercussions. If he knows that I care about her, he could throw her in jail or pull her scholarship—or worse.
He could make her disappear without a trace.
I swallow and square my shoulders. If my father thinks I’m interested in Dahlia Raventhal, then at least Elle is safe from his wrath.
“What are you going to do about Dahlia?” I ask. “Since you seem so sure that I’m seeing her.”
A smile twists his lips. “I’m going to invite the Miss Raventhal to the castle, and you’re going to declare your intentions with that Raventhal swine.” My father sits down again and waves a hand. “You can go.”
Talin opens the door and I storm out without another word.
I walk straight to Damon’s chambers and push the door open. He looks up from the stack of notes and books on his desk, tucking a pencil behind his ear.
“Charlie, what’s up?”
I look at my brother and take a deep breath. “I need your help.”
Damon and I park the car in front of Elle’s house, and my brother looks over at me.
“You sure about this?”
“No, but it’s the only solution I can think of.”
“You owe me one.” Damon grins
“I know.”
We exit the car and walk up to the house. The lawn needs to be mowed, and the paint is peeling. I wish I could use the resources of the Crown out here to get Elle living in a half-decent place, but I can’t. Now that I know my father is watching me, no one can know about her.
When Elle opens the door to see me, her eyebrows shoot up. “Hey. What are you doing here? Is that…?”
“Elle, this is my brother, Damon.”
“Miss Valencia,” Damon says with a deep bow. Elle looks at me, surprised.
“Uh, hi. Come in.” She opens the door wider for us and we step into the narrow entryway.
“Who’s there?” A voice sounds from down the hallway. Dahlia Raventhal’s multicolored head appears from around the corner, followed by the rest of her completely naked body. She glances at the three of us and waves a hand. I look away, but not before I learn that Dahlia Raventhal dyes her pubes to match the hair on her head.
Lovely.
My brother doesn’t look away so quickly. His eyes bug out of his head and he stares at her until she disappears into a side room.
Elle sighs. “That’s my roommate, Dahlia,” she says, glancing at Dahlia’s doorway with a sidelong glance. “She doesn’t really believe in clothing, in the traditional sense.”
“That’s totally fine,” Damon says, still staring at the room where Dahlia disappeared.
Elle leads us down the hallway toward the kitchen. I slide my hand down her lower back and she nudges into me. “What’s going on?”
“I need to talk to you… and Dahlia.”
She frowns, but gestures to the kitchen table before going back to knock on Dahlia’s door. When the two of them reappear, Dahlia thankfully has a robe on. I’m not sure Damon would be able to focus long enough if she were still naked.
The girls offer us water and coffee, but I shake my head. Elle takes a seat next to me and slides her hand over my thigh, her eyes questioning. Dahlia hums to herself as she rummages through the refrigerator. My brother’s eyes are glued to her robe-covered ass.
I take a deep breath. “Dahlia, I have a favor to ask.”
“What is it?” She asks without looking back. She pulls out a leftover rotisserie chicken from the fridge, ripping off a chicken leg before taking a bite. Munching on it, she turns to the rest of us and arches her eyebrows.
Elle stifles a smile and I exchange a glance at my brother. Dahlia holds out the plate of chicken. “You guys want some?”
“Uh, no. Thanks.” I clear my throat. “Listen, Dahlia, I was wondering if you’d mind pretending to be in love with my brother.”
“What?” Elle turns to me, frowning.
Dahlia shrugs. “Sure.” She tosses a chicken bone into the garbage and licks her fingers. Damon licks his lips.
“Wait, no, Dahl. Don’t just agree to this. What are you talking about, Charlie?”
“Charlie?” Damon’s eyes finally leave Dahlia and come to rest on Elle. He knows that no one calls me Charlie unless they’re very, very close to me.
I take a deep breath. “My father saw me come here. He thinks I’m here because of Dahlia, which would understandably cause some controversy. He’s going to invite you to our place for dinner, Dahlia, so I was thinking if I say that I was here to come get you for Damon…”
“… your place as in, the castle?” Dahlia asks, her eyebrows drawing together. “I don’t know. I’m not…”
“Yeah. Is that a problem?”
“Can we just back up for a second?” Elle stands up, putting a hand to her forehead. “What the hell is going on?”
“Look, it’s no big deal,” Damon interjects. “My brother likes you, but he’s the Crown Prince, so it’s complicated. He needs a bit of time to figure out how to make that work. If my father thinks he’s into Dahlia, it means you’re safe. If my father thinks he’s into nobody, even better. I’m going to buy him some time by saying that I’m the one who’s into Dahlia,” he swings his eyes t
o the short fairy-like girl who’s still munching on rotisserie chicken, “and then you’ll be free to keep seeing each other without fear of retribution. Simple.”
Damon smiles at Dahlia, who nods and smiles back.
Dahlia looks at Elle. “Seems simple to me.”
“What do you mean, if he doesn’t know about me it means I’m ‘safe’?” Elle says, looking from me to my brother. “Am I in some kind of danger?” She stands and starts pacing the room. I can see the panic mounting inside her.
“No,” I answer, standing up to stop her pacing and put my arms around her. “No. You’re not in any danger. I’ll protect you.”
“From what?”
“Look, Elle, I just need time to figure this out. I want…” I take a deep breath. “I want you. For real, I mean—in public, for everyone to know. I don’t want to sneak around anymore, but there are traditions that go back centuries, and ignoring them will cause… ripples.”
“Ripples?” Elle’s eyes widen. She bites her lip and looks at her friend. “And you’re okay with this, Dahlia? What about going to the castle?”
“Is that a problem?” I ask, pulling away from Elle. I wasn’t expecting this kind of pushback when I thought of this plan. I thought Dahlia Raventhal would be more than willing to play along.
Dahlia shifts her weight from foot to foot and puts the plate of chicken down. “It’s not a problem, per se. I just… I’m not really a castle person.” She smiles awkwardly. “You know?”
“Definitely,” Damon says, running his hand through his hair. “I know what you mean.”
Dahlia’s eyes brighten. “You do?”
“You do?” I say, arching an eyebrow.
Dahlia chews her lip and looks at Elle. “I’ll go, if it means it’ll help Elle.”
I exhale in relief and Damon smiles. Elle frowns, but finally nods at her friend. “Okay, but only if you’re sure, Dahlia.”
“I’m sure,” Dahlia says. She turns to Damon and smiles. “Maybe we should come up with some kind of back story.”
“Yeah, definitely. What are you thinking?” Damon’s face brightens as Dahlia sits beside him.
Elle still looks unsure, so I lead her into her bedroom and wrap my arms around her. I kiss her forehead and hold her tight. “I’ll figure this out, Elle.”
She forces a smile and nods. “Okay. Just don’t hurt Dahlia for my sake.”
We stay there, arms around each other, and I’m not sure how to respond. The more time I spend with Elle, the more strongly I feel about her. But things aren’t as simple for me as they are for commoners.
I do know one thing, though. I want to be with Elle, and no one—not even my father—will stop me. Traditions be damned—I’ve chosen my woman.
24
Elle
When Prince Damon and Charlie leave, Dahlia doesn’t seem bothered at all. Me, on the other hand? I’m very disturbed. I knock on Dahlia’s bedroom door frame and poke my head through the opening.
“What do you think they meant by ‘keeping me safe’? Do you think I’m in danger by sneaking around with the Prince like this?”
Dahlia is in bed reading a novel. She puts the book down on her side table and pats her bed for me to come and sit down next to her.
She takes a deep breath. “I don’t really know. If Charlie wasn’t the eldest, it would probably be easier. He’s the heir to the throne, so who he dates is a big deal.”
“No one seemed to care before.”
“He wasn’t twenty-five before. You know the traditions. He was also never with the same girl for more than a night or two until he met you.” She smooths her hands over her robe and takes a deep breath. “I think he likes you.”
“I should never have gotten involved with him.”
“Don’t say that,” she says, smiling at me. “You’ve been happier than I’ve ever seen you. And you said yourself, your training is going well, even though you’re always tired from your marathon sex sessions. I think having regular sex has helped you relax.”
I can’t help but chuckle. “Does everything always revolve around sex?”
“Sooner or later, yeah,” Dahlia shrugs, “but I think Prince Charlie likes you a lot.”
“It’s kind of irrelevant, though, isn’t it? Even if he does like me, this is what has to happen. He has to pretend he doesn’t even know I exist.” I shake my head and sigh. As much as Charlie makes me feel amazing—sexy, smart, womanly, you name it—I just can’t shake the feeling that this relationship is doomed.
If he can’t tell anyone about me… what’s the point?
I should have more self-respect. A little voice in my head gets louder, screaming that this is the same thing that always happens with men. Charlie doesn’t actually like me enough to go public with me, and there’s no future for us. I’m just a fun distraction, and when he gets bored with me, it’ll be over.
If he can’t introduce me to his family, where is this relationship going?
Nowhere, that’s where it’s going.
Dahlia nudges me. “Hey,” she says. “Get out of your head. It’ll be fine.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No, but I know the regatta is in a month, and you need to focus on your training. I’ll go to this dinner, and the Prince will come here and tell you how much he loves you, and everything will work out.”
I scoff. “He doesn’t love me.”
Dahlia just rolls her eyes. “Uh huh.”
“You’re right, though. I need to focus on training. I had a bad session on the water this morning. I think I was stressed. I’m not used to feeling like this… all out of control and off-balance.”
“I know,” Dahlia says with a smile, “but you also haven’t been sleeping as well. You should go to bed earlier, you’ll feel better. This whole insomnia thing is no bueno. Just focus for one last month before the end of the season. We can deal with the Prince afterward.” She wraps me in a hug.
“You don’t mind going to the castle?”
Dahlia sighs, looking away from me. “It’ll be fine.”
“What happened with you and your family, if you don’t mind me asking?” I look at my roommate and I realize that I don’t really know that much about her. “Why are you so apprehensive about the royal family?”
I only learned a few weeks ago that she comes from an aristocratic family, and now I’m realizing that there’s more to her story. Her mother used to be the Queen’s best friend, but there was some controversy when she died. Raventhal became a bad name in Farcliff.
I only learned who Dahlia really is because of the Prince’s Ball, and I never would have known her last name was Raventhal if I hadn’t seen that invitation. I’m starting to think there’s a lot about her past that I don’t know—I just know she doesn’t want to be part of the royal world anymore.
The fact that she’s willing to go to the castle to cover for me is a testament to what a great friend she is.
Dahlia smiles sadly. “I’ll tell you some other time. I just don’t like castles and traditions and rules. They don’t really work for me.”
I grin. “Yeah, I can see that. Well, thank you. I appreciate it.”
She sighs, putting a hand to her chest. “I’ll do anything for young love.”
“You keep saying that word,” I laugh. “I don’t think…”
“… oh, shush,” she interrupts with a laugh. “Love is love whether you want to admit it or not.”
Over the next few days, I follow Dahlia’s advice. I focus on training, and put in some decent sessions on the water. I go to bed earlier and try to shake this persistent tiredness that seems to have settled deep in my bones. Prince Charlie and I still see each other every day, but I can feel my heart starting to close itself off to him. I know that this is going nowhere, and I’m preparing myself for the inevitable—for the day he’ll tell me it’s over.
Self-sabotage, anyone? Yeah, it’s my specialty.
The regatta is only three weeks away, and I need to
be focused on rowing, not on my doomed love life.
Dahlia receives the invitation to the royal dinner on a Wednesday evening on the same thick, watermarked paper as the Prince’s Ball invitation. The envelope smells like perfume, and a little tendril of jealousy curls inside me.
It’s just yet another reminder of the world I’ll never belong to.
My life is just one big rejection, from the time I was born and put into foster care, to being the Grimdale outcast at college, to not being able to be out in public with the first guy who seems to really care about me.
But I just tuck the jealousy away and watch Dahlia get ready to go to the castle. She looks gorgeous, and when the limousine comes to pick her up, she steps into it as if she’s always been picked up outside her house by limos.
She looks like that because she has always been picked up by limos. She’s Dahlia Raventhal.
And I’m nobody.
I sigh, pushing the thoughts down. My phone dings.
Charlie: Wish you were here.
I smile, and my heart eases. At least he’s thinking about me.
Dahlia doesn’t get home until almost midnight. I hear her go straight to her bedroom and close the door, and I know I’ll have to wait until tomorrow to hear about the dinner.
Still, sleep evades me, and I know my training session in the morning will be painful.
As it turns out, practice is, in fact, painful. Coach Bernard notices, and he pulls me aside after training.
“What’s going on with you, Elle? Your last few sessions have been piss-poor.”
“I know, Coach. I haven’t been sleeping well.”
He harrumphs, pursing his lips. “This is a crucial time, Elle. I need you at your best.”
I sigh, dejected. I can’t meet his eye. He’s right. I should be pushing myself harder with every practice for the next week, and then ease off the week before the regatta. As it is, though, my peak weeks of training are not going well. My stomach gurgles and I feel sick as Coach Bernard studies my face.
Royally Unexpected: An Accidental Pregnancy Collection Page 13