by Eliza Ellis
She chuckled ruefully. “Oh, I’ll be allowed.”
He blasted out a breath. “You can’t expect me to believe that you came into this completely naive of what was expected of you.”
“That’s just it! I didn’t know. Not completely. I expected having to meet the king and queen and maybe do a couple of photo shoots, but you live here, in D.C. I thought we would remain here.”
“Once I’m back in Degonia, it will be difficult for me to leave without my brother’s approval.”
She silently studied him. Maxim looked away. “Did you really live so recklessly that they want to keep tabs on you for the rest of your life? You’re not even forty.”
Thirty-five to be exact. And yes, he had considered the length of time he’d be under lock and key. The royal men of Degonia—excluding his father—were known to live exceptionally long lives. Barring any unforeseen circumstances, Novak would rule for another sixty years, unless he retired the crown to his firstborn son.
“My reckless living,” he began with a tight jaw, “has allowed me to amass a fortune and business contacts that will no doubt help save Degonia from ruin.”
“I had read the country was under some financial strain.”
He flicked a crumb that had landed on the table next to his plate. “That’s not even the half of it.”
She rubbed her bare arms. He observed her dress now that her jacket was off. She’d chosen an understated purple color that complimented the mocha tone of her skin. It was a simple dress that came around one shoulder, leaving the other bare. “You look lovely.”
“Don’t try to win any favors.”
He smiled gently. “I’m not. I should’ve told you earlier.”
“There’s still time for me to call this off.”
He stiffened. “You wouldn’t,” he breathed.
She raised her chin. “I…could find another man.”
He laughed harshly. “In”—he glanced at his watch—“four hours? Good luck.”
Her shoulders dropped. “There’s so much I haven’t done,” she whispered. She picked up a piece of bread and rotated it in her fingers.
He was confining her to a life of a royal. His stomach twisted uncomfortably. “I understand how you feel,” he said softly. “Why do you think I came here? I didn’t want that life. To be told what to dress, where to be, when to be there, what to say. But I’m the spare heir. I justified my life could be different because there’d be no chance I could take the throne.” Her eyes met his. The look of desperation deepened his sense of guilt and regret.
He reached across the table for her hand, crushing the bread. “I’m sorry, Deanna. I should’ve mentioned it…maybe in the letter. All I can do is try to convince Novak that…that we could better serve the monarchy by not being there,” he ended with a lopsided grin.
Her face held none of the amusement he tried to interject. She slipped her hand away and placed them, and the crumbly bread, into her lap. Maxim cleared his throat. “Will you…” No, that was wrong. If he wanted her respect, he’d have to start this marriage off right.
He got on one knee beside her. “I know I’m asking you for a lot. All I can offer is one day at a time. I promise to be true to you. If you could find a way to stand beside me, we can take on Degonia together.”
Her brows meshed up at an angle, worry in her eyes.
“Will you marry me?” he asked, the words slipping easily from his lips. He’d never thought he’d hear himself say them. Let alone to a woman who wasn’t royal-born. Never to a woman undoubtedly more intelligent than him. She needed him to win a bet, but he wanted her to save his life.
She nodded slowly. “Okay. Okay, I’ll marry you.”
The tightness in his chest settled, and his lungs moved fully again. “Good. Thank you, Deanna.”
“No more secrets.”
He shook his head. “None.”
“I mean it,” she said firmly.
“Okay. Well, you should probably know that I’m disobeying a direct order from the king and I could probably be killed.”
Chapter 8
She had every reason to call it off.
Maxim had wanted a wife of his choosing but mainly to avoid the princess that had already been destined for him. He was bold, reckless, a risk-taker…
The complete opposite of her. The only bold thing she’d ever done was claim her algorithm could match anyone. And to prove it, she’d marry a man by midnight.
She wasn’t reckless. Everything had order, just like mathematics. There weren’t fifteen different answers for a problem, only one.
But taking risks… She had done so by accepting Dr. Allen’s challenge. She’d also done it once before.
When she married her ex.
Deanna closed her eyes to the suitcases strewn around her bedroom and blew out a long, slow breath. She had to steady her raging heart. It rammed against her ribs like it had grown wings and wanted to take flight. Was that a sign? Should she run? Protect herself from Maxim?
His Royal Highness. And they would leave tonight for the Kingdom of Degonia. Deanna’s eyes flew open. Was he serious when he said disobeying his brother’s order meant death? She’d lost all ability to speak, and then the food arrived. Appetite nearly gone, it was all she could do to force herself to eat.
Grace came from behind and gripped her shoulders. She hopped up and down, a large smile on her face. “Isn’t this exciting? You’re getting married!” She stopped bouncing and rested her cheek on Deanna’s shoulder. She stared longingly into the mirror they stood in front of. “You’re going to be a real princess. I can’t believe it.”
“Yeah, I can’t believe he didn’t tell you that you’d have to give up working and move to Degonia.” Rita’s disapproving voice came from Deanna’s bathroom, where she was piling as many toiletries into a bag as possible. Deanna couldn’t leave without her curling cream. It was the only product that kept the frizz out of her curls.
Grace made a face at Rita. “Oh, so he left that little detail out.”
“Little!”
“Of course she would be going to Degonia.”
Rita stalked out of the bathroom. “Did you not hear what I said? She’s moving there. ‘Indefinitely’ is what he said right, Deanna? Indefinitely. What about the business? What about the show?”
Grace rolled her eyes. “What about her crown, what about their babies. It’ll all work out. If he was able to come to America once, the king will likely let him come back. Especially since he’s marrying an American.”
“That’s just it,” Deanna interjected with a sigh. “He wasn’t really supposed to be here. He has a habit of disobeying orders.” Deanna sat on the edge of her bed, staring at several open suitcases at her feet. “Is this all wrong?” she whispered.
“Is what all wrong?” Grace asked from the closet door. Her hands fluttered over the length of the wedding gown the television show had sent over in the last couple of hours. They always had several in the wardrobe department, in case the participants of the show wanted to wear something expensive. “I’ll tell you what’s not wrong. This wedding dress. Does it fit, Dee?”
Deanna shrugged. She hadn’t even tried it on. She looked at the phone and groaned at the time.
“Yeah, that’s right. You have to be at the hotel in an hour. So stop sitting on your butt and help us help you get ready.”
At Rita’s command, Deanna dragged herself off the bed. “I don’t know what I’m going to do about the business or the show,” Deanna answered Rita’s questions. “I’ve sent a note to the producer about how I will be gone indefinitely, but the two of you—”
“Of course we’ll fill in,” Grace exclaimed with a pleased gasp. “Why wouldn’t we? Just because you’re off ruling some foreign land doesn’t mean people here shouldn’t get married.”
“She’ll be the wife of a second-born son,” Rita remarked with a smirk. “They ain’t rulin’ nobody.”
“Gee, thanks for that,” Deanna mumbled.
> “Which is exactly my point. Why couldn’t you come back here? Degonia already has a king. Maxim wants to live here, and so do you.”
“I guess it’ll be up to the king to decide,” Deanna said, dropping her folded flannel pajamas into the suitcase. Degonia was more Eastern Europe than west and likely to be colder most of the year. Although as a princess, she’d probably be provided with the warmest clothes, she preferred to have her own things—her own style.
Much like Maxim.
Deanna walked to her wedding night bag—put together by Rita and Grace—and began quietly removing all the lingerie. No way would she be sharing a bed with Maxim. Not for…years maybe. She didn’t know. She hadn’t slept with a man since her husband and had been content with the solitude. At least she was safe.
When she got to the sixth set, she rolled her eyes. She wasn’t even sure they’d have a honeymoon that would last long enough to try all six of these on, let alone the rest that were still in her bag. From the way Maxim had described his brother Novak, they wouldn’t be leaving the palace for anything but official engagements. Maxim had a habit of running. He had even joked—badly—that he would be confined to the tower when they touched down.
Which would leave her alone with the king and queen. What would they say when they realized he had married an American? Someone who wasn’t Leonor? “They couldn’t kill him,” she said to herself.
“Who couldn’t kill whom?” Grace asked. Seeing the lingerie on the bed, she sucked in a breath and started stuffing them back into the bag.
“Was she trying to get out of here without lingerie?” Rita asked, watching Grace. She snorted. “I wouldn’t wear anything either if I was going to be sleeping next to that—”
“We get it, Rita,” Deanna said dryly. “You can stop putting those in, Grace.” Deanna put a hand on Grace’s arm, stopping her from packing the last lingerie set. Deanna shook her head. “I…I don’t…”
Her heart shuddered painfully in her chest and she began to sweat as her anxiety rose. She collapsed on the bed and put her face in her hands. Grace and Rita were on either side of her in a second.
“Oh, honey,” Rita said, stroking Deanna’s hair. “What’s wrong?”
“You can do this,” Grace said reassuringly. “You’re just…scared because of—”
“He that shall not be named,” Rita finished.
Her ex. When you have a dream that a nameless person is choking you, only to wake up and find that it’s your husband, it makes you rethink your beliefs about marriage. Deanna had sworn she’d never marry again. Her near-death experience had fueled her drive to create a matching system that would pair the right people together, taking in account any sort of mental illness.
Deanna breathed heavily out her nose. In and out. There wasn’t anything scary in Maxim’s family history, except all the inbreeding of first cousins marrying first cousins about a couple of centuries ago. But that had stopped somewhere around the early eighteen hundreds. He was the picture of health—and hotness, as Rita reminded her every thirty minutes—so she didn’t have anything to fear. Her algorithm had been right one hundred percent of the time.
That was why it was so comforting to rely on hard science. It left no room for human error. And the human heart hadn’t been pure since the Garden of Eden.
“What were you saying about murder?” Grace asked softly.
“Why are you bringing that up?” Rita exclaimed. “She’s about to get married!”
“She said someone would kill someone!”
Deanna groaned loudly and launched from the bed. “Maxim said he could be killed for disobeying the king.” The girls sat speechless on the bed, eyes blinking. “Did you hear me?” Deanna cried, arms outstretched.
Rita cleared her throat and slowly stood. “We heard you,” she started in a soft and steady voice, “we’re just having trouble comprehending you. Are you sure he was being serious? He wasn’t joking?”
Deanna shrugged. “I don’t know anymore.”
Rita’s head went back. “Then why are you worried about him dying?”
Grace zipped the honeymoon bag and then started on the luggage on the floor. “Exactly. Look, you’re getting married in forty-five minutes. Just think about…the hot tub. Get in that dress”—she pointed at the gown hanging on the door—“and let’s get you to the chapel!”
Rita stopped packing to scroll through Deanna’s phone. “Still nothing from your parents?”
“They’re somewhere in Central America,” Deanna said with a sigh. As soon as she had agreed to marry Maxim, she sent a text message to her parents. When it wasn’t returned within the hour, she phoned. They were probably underground somewhere exploring the tunnels of lost cities in between providing medical support as doctors with Doctors Without Borders. She typically couldn’t reach them for days on end. Her parents often chose the most remote locations with the least access to modern technology.
“Your parents don’t even know you’re getting married?” Grace said in a shocked tone.
Deanna shook her head slowly. “Probably a good thing. They didn’t approve of my first marriage—with good reason. Telling them I let a computer match me would give them more of a reason to deny their blessing again.”
“But…it’s your algorithm.”
Deanna shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter one way or another. It’s all pseudoscience to them.”
Rita popped her gum. “Even with the math supporting it? I can’t believe your parents still don’t respect what you do.”
Deanna winced. No, her parents didn’t. They’d always dreamed she would follow in their footsteps and be a medical doctor specializing in internal medicine or surgery. Then the three of them would open a practice together or travel around the world saving lives. A real superhero-like family.
When Deanna had decided to study psychology, her parents had a meltdown; especially her mother. Mrs. Pearson declared it had been a mistake having one child and that she should’ve saved more eggs when she had the chance. It had been difficult for her to get pregnant, and from the day Deanna was born, impossible expectations were heaped upon her. Deanna had done her best to meet them, but in her heart she’d believed she had failed her parents.
And then she had married her ex.
And then she had agreed to be a consultant on Married by Midnight.
Surely marrying a prince would forgive her past. Smooth some of that over.
Deanna rotated her engagement ring. A simple stone, yet larger than the one her ex had given her. It didn’t really matter since this marriage wasn’t exactly…real? Well, it was, but it also wasn’t. They were both entering into it with agendas not entirely romantic. Could she really stay with him? Really live in Degonia for who knows how long?
At least until Dr. Allen consented to acknowledge Deanna’s algorithm as superior. Her accomplishments would set the standard for couple psychology for years to come. The idea pleased her but terrified her as well.
In order for her reputation to supplant Dr. Allen’s, she’d have to remain married.
And no matter what the test results showed, Deanna didn’t believe Maxim would stay faithful.
Chapter 9
This wasn’t going to work if she couldn’t make it to her own wedding on time.
Maxim looked at his phone and rolled his eyes. He’d been sitting in a suite the TV show had reserved for the ceremony. It had a balcony that overlooked the D.C. skyline. The Washington Monument stood in the near distance, as did a few other monuments. The lights lit up the lawn, casting a glow on the cherry blossoms in full spring bloom. It was a beautiful sight.
Now all he needed was the blushing bride.
“She’s on her way,” a producer said, checking his phone. The short guy with thick glasses and greasy hair smiled down at him. “Are you ready? This is going to be our most watched episode in the history of the show. It’s exciting!”
Maxim stared at the little man. Poor guy didn’t know Maxim could care less abo
ut the show and almost wanted to call off the production. A third-rate show capturing the marriage of a prince of Degonia? Annoyingly repulsive. But what could he do about it? He’d basically told Deanna that she’d have to move to Degonia. The least he could do was allow her ridiculous show to film their marriage. Good thing it wasn’t live, or his brother would have a fit.
He raked his hand through his hair, and groaned.
“Nervous?” the producer asked.
“Not a bit.” Which was true. What worried his was if he could actually be a couple with her. A real husband who was supportive of her goals and dreams. She already thought him an arrogant prince—and she was right, if she could judge him on thoughts alone. He might be the second-born son, but he still wanted to be treated like he mattered. His mother always did. She had recognized the position of shadow he stood in as a spare and had never let him forget that his pursuits were important.
Would Deanna feel the same? Would she encourage him in his business endeavors? If she loves working for the show, then it will be nothing for me to help her keep working for it.
Well, it was a start at being a supportive husband.
Maxim glanced at his phone again. Speaking of fits, they’d have to cut the ceremony short to make their flight. Maxim was surprised his brother hadn’t called already to see if he was on the plane. Five minutes to midnight. Deanna was supposed to be here ten minutes ago.
He didn’t care what her algorithm said about them being matched. It was wrong. He was a stickler for time management. Late people were categorically inconsiderate people.
Maxim sighed. They were too different. He was outgoing and an extrovert, and she was introverted to the core. He liked to take risks, and she probably planned out every detail of the day the night before. He preferred to enjoy the spoils of life—while he could—and she looked down her nose from her high seat of moral superiority.
He was still waiting for her office to transfer the results of the test matching the two of them. His lawyer hadn’t received it but would forward it as soon as it arrived.