She’d been able to wear heels with Christian. He was tall enough that he made her feel delicate. Beautiful. Treasured.
Ack. Her brain kept traitorously jumping backward. Back to forty-eight hours ago, when she’d last seen his eyes shining with love at her.
Doing the right thing—for a man and for a country? It was freaking hard.
Waiters opened the steel doors to the gym. The big room allowed the crowd to mingle for cocktails, and for dancing after dinner. But first, the big speech to pry open all the wallets.
Theo was at the podium. And for just a second, Mallory admired how well he wore a tux. He’d scraped off his usual scruff for the occasion. His brown hair feathered perfectly, his height popping the top of it into the spotlight to give him a golden glow. They certainly grew men handsome in this country.
Genevieve’s perfect public face melted into a warm, proud beacon of love that she aimed at her boyfriend. Mallory felt lucky to see the transformation. Love was good. She’d had to give hers up, but she wanted everyone else to enjoy that special feeling.
When he saw the princess, Theo huffed out a relieved breath and tapped the microphone. “Your Highnesses, my lords and ladies, esteemed guests, I won’t take much of your time. I want you to spend your time walking through this facility and seeing the needs for yourself. And then I want you to imagine what more could be done.”
Thankfully, Mallory could understand every word. A new royal protocol had been implemented that every event attended by Princess Kelsey had to be in English. Just the speeches and greetings—nobody was policing dinner conversations.
Which was a bit of a shame. Mallory knew just how much useful gossip was exchanged in the pause before dessert, or in bathrooms. Now that her nights were once again completely free, she’d double down on her language lessons.
It promised to be a loooong, solitary winter with only her iPad for company…
Theo brought his hand to his heart. “People who foster have the love to give, but not always the means. They want to provide these children—who’ve already suffered unimaginable loss—a future bright with potential. But so many can’t afford to make those dreams a reality. That is where you come in.”
Looking around, Mallory could tell he had the bejeweled crowd. They weren’t fidgeting or whispering. He had their full attention. Sure, some of that might be curiosity to see what sort of a man Princess Genevieve was dating. But she hoped more of it was them being sucked into the story he spun.
“You can manifest your caring into donations that will let them participate in after-school activities, sports, art, performing—experiences that every child deserves to grow up well-rounded. They have the basics. But they shouldn’t have to settle for basic. We can do better, as a country. We should. With your help, we will.”
Genevieve was the first to clap, but within seconds, the room swelled with thunderous applause. It only grew louder when Kelsey joined him at the podium.
Her sister—Mallory would forever think of her that way—looked stunning. Elegant. Like a, well, princess. Her sleeveless, ice-blue gown fastened at the front of her throat, but then broke into a daring, narrow slit that only stopped at her under-boob. Asymmetrical, wide layers of ruffles spiraled down the long skirt into a train.
And pinned to just below her collarbone was a diamond-encrusted brooch of two peacocks, facing each other, tailfeathers full extended, with a line of three blue pearls. King Julian had apparently put it with his note to Kelsey before he left. In it, he’d apologized for missing her first huge event, and asked her to wear it and know that he’d be thinking of her.
She and Kelsey had both teared up at that.
“Sir Theo’s words have hopefully inspired you to donate. But I want to let you know that his words are backed up by actions. He’s opening up his family estate to host the children for a week-long winter camp in the new year. They’ll learn to ride and do archery and ski on his land, at his expense. They’ll also learn how to make the world’s best hot chocolate on the day I pop in to visit, but keep that a surprise, please.”
The crowd laughed. Mallory saw their reaction released some of the stiffness from Kelsey. She’d been nervous to make the speech, but nevertheless insistent that she needed to personally prod them, as it was her project.
Mallory couldn’t be prouder of her. This, being here to share her sister’s triumph, this was why she would stay in Moncriano. It was the right decision. Even though it meant being constantly besieged by reminders of the man she’d had to give up.
Putting a hand on Theo’s shoulder, Kelsey said, “We are grateful for Sir Theo’s generosity. I hope it brings out your own generosity, as well as perhaps a spirit of competition. Because whoever makes the biggest donation tonight will win the door prize of lunch with me and a few of the children. Thank you for coming, and thank you, in advance, for sharing!”
Mallory led the applause this time, but not by much. There was clapping, but also foot-stomping and shouts of approval. The noise bounced off the walls so loudly it almost became tangible.
She’d just put two fingers in her mouth to whistle—propriety be damned—when she felt a tap on her shoulder. Gregor, Christian’s bodyguard, cupped his hand to her ear. “The king would like to speak with you.”
No.
Absolutely not.
She couldn’t face Christian yet. Of course, Mallory knew he’d attend the event, to support Kelsey. But she’d made elaborate escape plans to make sure she never had to be on the same side of a room as him, if not in it at all.
It was too soon to talk with him like everything was normal. Too soon to be able to pretend that her life was rolling on just fine. Too soon to be able to control her impulse to burst into tears at his voice.
Why? Why now? Why here?
The fun of having a redhead’s complexion was that, if she did cry, her nose and cheeks and eyes would be red for hours. Splashing a little cold water on wouldn’t do a damned thing.
Mallory pointed at the princess on the podium. “I’m a little busy. Please inform His Majesty that I’m running this event, and he should be schmoozing his ass off at it to raise funds. We can talk tomorrow.”
“I’m sure you can. However, the king insists on also speaking with you now. Please come with me.”
Crap.
Clearly she should’ve gone with a red dress, to blend in with what her face would look like in five minutes. Lesson learned for the next gala right after a breakup.
Because evidently this was Mallory’s new normal.
…
Christian set his palm over the top of the mop handle. Then he pushed, and the little yellow cart filled with soapy water squeaked forward. Not far enough, though, so he pushed harder. Water slopped over the edges. Good thing there was a drain in the floor of this janitor’s closet.
At least now he’d made room for Mallory to join him.
Sort of.
If she angled herself to avoid the boxes sticking out off the shelves. And if she wasn’t wearing a full skirt that could brush up against the sink. Or the toilet.
This was a terrible idea.
Who romanced a woman next to a toilet? In a room that smelled of bleach?
He’d followed impulse and emotion, rather than logic and strategy. It was very un-prince-like. Extraordinarily un-kingly.
But that was Christian’s theme for the night, after all. Inspired by his father.
To not be the king everyone expected. To just be the best man he could be. That would have to be enough.
Hopefully.
Maybe.
If he was lucky.
A double rap on the door signaled Gregor’s arrival. No title, no announcement. He didn’t want anyone randomly walking by and wondering why the king was closeted with the brooms and plungers.
The door opened to reveal Mallory, backlit in the hallway
, in a slim column of gold.
No jewels, aside from pearl earrings he knew her parents had given her for college graduation. And his charm bracelet.
She still wore it. He wasn’t too late.
As long as he didn’t fuck it all up.
“Would you join me?” Christian asked, sweeping his hand to indicate the room as if it were the Peacock Gallery in Alcarsa Palace.
“I’m told I don’t have a choice in the matter,” she said tartly. As Gregor closed the door behind her, Mallory wrinkled her nose at the acrid stench. “I realize you’re not trying to sweep me off my feet with wine and roses anymore, but couldn’t our new just-friends relationship have a higher bar than this for a setting? Or, you know, not interrupt me in the middle of my job and maybe wait to talk until we both don’t have already pressing obligations?”
Yeah, she was pissed.
He didn’t blame her. This fell under worst-possible scenario. But timing was everything, and his was about to run out.
“I apologize for the interruption. But if you recall, you interrupted the state banquet that I was hosting to have a conversation. You owe me five minutes during your event.”
Mallory’s head cocked sideways, ready for battle. “This is just to get even?”
“No. This is to get you back.”
Her eyes slitted dangerously. “That’s what ‘getting even’ means.”
Seriously? Of all the times to hit the language barrier. “Will you just hear me out? For two minutes?”
“Of course, Your Majesty.” Mallory dropped into a deep curtsy.
The sass was strong in this one. Which he’d normally enjoy. God, he hoped he got the chance to keep enjoying it.
“Mallory, I want you back with me. I’m asking you to reverse your decision. Please come back to me. I was wrong to let you make that choice unilaterally. I was wrong not to fight for you. Hell, I was wrong to let you think I would be okay dating you for only a month.”
“Christian, no. Don’t do this.” She backed up until her hand was on the doorknob. “Don’t put me through this. It hurts too much.”
“My telling you that I love you hurts? Saying that I want you beside me? That I want the privilege of being next to you?”
“Yes, damn it!” Her teeth bit into her bottom lip. “It hurts to wave dreams in front of someone that can never be a reality.”
Mallory wasn’t listening. She was stuck in the rut of her own pain. He took one step toward her, hand outstretched, hoping to God that she’d take it. “It can. I love you. I hope you still love me. Do you?”
“Christian—”
“Don’t leave. Don’t go back to America,” he pleaded.
She crossed her arms. “I’m not. I’m staying in Moncriano.”
That was as much a sign as her still wearing the charm bracelet. But before he could finish the cold wash of relief sweeping over him, she continued.
“I’m staying even though it means the absolute torture of watching you marry another woman.” She bit out every word, throwing them at him like daggers. “I’m staying because I love my sister. And, well, Genevieve. And Elias.”
“What about me? Do you love me?”
She remained wordless and frozen, a golden statue.
After one swift shake of his head, Christian insisted, “Say it, Mallory. One way or the other, I have to know.”
“Of course I love you.”
His breath came out in a fast rush. Okay. Step one—check. “Then let me finish apologizing. Apologizing for not putting you first. From that night in the bar when you hit me with a dart and we so stupidly agreed that being together was impossible, I was wrong.”
Christian thumped his chest on the last three words, hoping the emphasis would get through to her.
But Mallory’s thin smile portrayed only wistfulness. It showed she didn’t believe him. “You weren’t wrong. You were practical.”
“In this case, that’s just a fancy word for dead wrong.”
Pressing her knuckles to her lips, she said in a cracked voice, “Stop it, Christian, I’m begging you.”
“You don’t understand. I’m begging you to take me back.”
Mallory took three fast steps to come right up to him. “Is it true that you’re King Christian now?”
Fuuuck. Wherever she was going with this, it couldn’t be good. He gave a silent nod.
“Then nothing’s changed. You need a queen. I’m an ordinary girl from Michigan without any noble blood and without a working uterus.”
“Everything’s changed. Because I realized that being king doesn’t define me.”
“Right,” she scoffed, with a hollow laugh. “Says who?”
Good thing Christian had a star witness to back him up. “My father, the previous king. Papa gave me some last-minute advice before he left town. And left me the throne.”
“I don’t understand.”
Neither had he until it was almost too late. “King is just a job title. The position is what the man on the throne makes of it. That only happens if you concentrate on being the best man you can be.”
Crossing her arms, Mallory sniffed, “The best version of you? Did you read that on a motivational poster here during cocktails?”
Christian closed his eyes…to keep from rolling them at her (which would not help his cause one bit). That was precisely the kind of sassy pushback he’d gladly sign up to have for the rest of his life.
It was what he wanted.
It was what he needed.
“I have to be true to myself. I can’t be a good king if I follow some archaic tradition that separates me from the woman I love. A tradition that isn’t even law, it turns out.” At her stunned expression, he smiled. “I never should’ve even thought that was a possibility. I love you, Mallory. You will always be first in my heart, and in my life. If you forgive me for ever thinking otherwise.”
“You can’t choose me over an entire country.” She started to back away again.
Christian snagged her wrist to stop the retreat. “I can. You’re more important. If I’m true to you, then I can be true to the country. To be the best possible king, I need a partner. Someone who will stand with me, not behind me. Someone who I feel safe telling everything to. Someone who listens and laughs and loves me. You’re it, Mallory. You’re the one.”
Even in the dim light, the tears welling in her eyes were visible. “I’m the one who can’t have kids.”
“We don’t need kids of our own.” Christian gestured at the door behind her. “Look around you—we’re at an event for orphans, for Christ’s sake. There are plenty of children out there who need parents. We can adopt. The same way that you’ll always be family to Kelsey, even without a blood tie. It’s about creating a family, not a royal lineage.”
“But what about the line of succession?” Her voice came out as wispy as a cobweb.
“Papa clued me in that there’s no actual rule about that. Just a tradition. An assumption. We’ve got years to decide. But guess what—I’ve got two sisters who could inherit the throne. And given how often I catch them both kissing in corners, I’d say we’ll be seeing baby booties all over the palace in a few years. That’s even more people who could take over my job, when that day comes.”
“You’d buck tradition?”
Hell, yes. He’d start his own new tradition. That of a king who followed his heart. “Mallory, my father just abdicated. Talk about bucking tradition. He gave up the job because he needed to make himself whole again. I want to do the same thing. I can’t be whole again unless I’m with you.”
“You really mean it?”
“Yes.”
“It could be…difficult, Christian. This thing you want to do—others may disagree.”
“Good thing I’ll have a strong, stubborn American by my side. On my side.”
On a choked-out laugh, Mallory wiped her fingertips at the dampness under her eyes. “You’re the strong one here. Strong enough to take a chance. Whereas I gave up on us. Can you forgive me?”
“Only if you forgive me.”
“I wanted to be a strong, independent woman who could make a difference. Then it all fell apart when Kelsey and I came here. I didn’t know where I fit in. I just saw a palace filled with titles and believed I wasn’t as important as all the other people in my new life.”
“You had to learn to believe in yourself again. Same as me.” How had he not seen this before? Christian took both of her hands, kissed the backs of them. “We did that for each other.”
“I thought you were the most impossible person in the world to be with.” Finally, finally a radiant smile broke across her face. “It turns out that you’re the best. That you make me want to be the best version of myself, and help you do the same.”
Christian held up one hand. He’d only executed two steps of his plan. The third step still loomed before he’d let himself kiss her. And he needed to make sure that the woman never left him again.
“Just to clarify, you do still love me?”
“Yes,” she said, nodding repeatedly.
“Then the bigger question is sort of awkward to ask tonight, as you’re clearly killing it with this event. But I need to know if you’d be willing to take on a new job. Twenty-four seven. For life. The hours sound extreme, but the perks are good.”
Mallory double blinked those wide green eyes at him. “I don’t know what that means.”
“It means I’ve got one more bet for you to take. I bet that if you give me another chance, I’ll do my damnedest to make you happy every single day of your life.”
“Hmmm. What do I get if I win?”
“Me.”
Christian dropped to one knee. It didn’t matter what unnamable liquid was soaking through his tux. He pulled the purple velvet ring box from his coat pocket and held it out.
Mallory gasped, a hand flying to her mouth. “This is crazy.”
Tempting the Prince (Sexy Misadventures of Royals) Page 31