by Peak, Renna
“Does it matter?” I ask. “Adam and I weren’t right for each other. And I knew that in my heart for a long time before we actually broke up.” And now he’s a raging psycho who’s currently on the lam.
“Of course it matters,” the king replies. “Everything matters when you’re marrying into this family.”
I nod. “I guess that makes sense. Image is everything, huh? You’re worried about how the public is going to perceive me and my past. Or, more likely, you’re worried about how the public is going to perceive Nick and the rest of your family because of me.”
His eyes widen the faintest bit in what I’m assuming is surprise. Maybe he was expecting me to argue that my public image doesn’t matter, but I know better.
“This was my job before I left New York,” I remind him. “Not PR, not really, but advertising is basically another branch of the same thing. Image is everything. It shapes the way the rest of the world sees you, and that can have a huge impact on your life, especially if you’re in the public eye. If you’re worried about the Adam situation, that’s an easy one to fix—we just tell the press Nick rescued me when I was kidnapped. It’s the truth, and the whole world will see him as the hero he is. If you’re worried about how it looks that I jumped into a new relationship so quickly—”
“I’m not as concerned with how things ‘look’ as you seem to believe,” he cuts in. “What concerns me is the suddenness of all of this. You’re an intelligent woman, Ms. Weaver. And clearly you have talents that aren’t initially apparent.”
“Such as…?”
“There’s no need to play coy, Ms. Weaver. You clearly picked up a number of skills in your former life—the ability to read people, to persuade them to your way of thinking…one might even say to manipulate them.”
“You’re accusing me of manipulating Nick.”
“I’m accusing you of playing my son to your advantage, yes. Don’t get me wrong, Ms. Weaver—in certain situations, your particular talents would be quite admirable. And my son should know better. But you understand my concerns.”
I can’t tell from his tone or expression whether he’s complimenting me or threatening me.
“I love your son,” I tell him. “I don’t know how to be any clearer than that.”
“Maybe you do love him,” the king counters. “Or maybe you’re simply trying to claw your way up in the world. It’s difficult to say.”
“It’s not difficult,” I insist. “I had feelings for Nick long before I even knew he was a prince.”
“I don’t wish to engage in an argument,” he replies as the car rolls to a stop. A glance out the window shows we’ve reached Wintervale Town. “As I said, you’re an intelligent woman. And in many ways, I admire that. But I’ll be watching you, Ms. Weaver.”
The driver opens the door, and the king slides out without waiting for my response. Which is good, because I have no idea what to say. The king claims to admire me, but he also doesn’t trust me. And that’s a very uncomfortable place to be.
Nicholas
Our car pulls up behind the one carrying my father and Clara. I watch as he’s helped out, followed a few moments later by Clara.
Andrew leaves our car first, hurrying to catch up to our father. Leo lifts a brow, studying me for a moment. “It wouldn’t be the first time, you know. It’s happened to the best of us…” He glances out the window and back at me. “Perhaps not to Andrew. But then, I did say to the best of us…” He chuckles.
I watch Clara for a moment—she’s a bit too far away to see the expression on her face, but by the way she’s clasping her hands, I can see she’s not sure what to do with herself.
That’s unlike her, I think. Maybe my brothers are right—maybe there’s something else going on right under my nose, and I’ve been so blinded by lust that I’ve not been able to see it.
Leo claps me on the shoulder. “The best thing you can do is ask her.”
“Oh? Has that worked for you in the past, Brother? Asking if a woman is manipulating you?”
“Fair point…” He glances out the window again. “For what it’s worth, she doesn’t seem like one of those types.” He shrugs. “But then, they never do.”
“That’s quite helpful, Leopold.” I try not to roll my eyes as I leave the car.
Clara smiles at me, walking away from the group of people that now surrounds my father.
“Hey, stranger.” She takes my hand in hers. “I guess we just follow them?” She glances over her shoulder at the group she just left. “I’m not sure what the protocol is here.”
I look down at her for a moment, searching her eyes for any sign of deceit. Considering I have no idea what it is I’m looking for, it doesn’t take me long to decide I’m not going to figure anything out by reading her expression alone.
She’s still smiling, but she’s chewing at her bottom lip. “You want to know what we talked about, don’t you?”
“I…” I’m not certain if I should tell her about my conversation with my brothers or not. On one hand, I don’t want there to be any secrets between us. But on the other, I’m not sure if there might be a grain of truth in their concerns. In truth, I don’t believe that Clara could have known anything about me when she found me in Montana. I’d been very careful to keep everything private and had been even more careful when I traveled there. If anyone had known my whereabouts, there would have already been a media circus outside my ranch when she arrived.
No, of that part I’m quite certain—she just happened upon me in a time of need. It’s possible that she learned of my identity before my sister arrived, but even if she did, she made no attempts to use that information to her advantage. Even after she learned of my identity, there has been nothing remotely beneficial for her. She’s left our life in Montana—same as me—to come here to do the bidding of my family. If there is some gain to her, some benefit, I can’t see what it is.
My family is wrong about her. It shouldn’t surprise me, but I feel a wave of shame nonetheless at having internalized their concerns, even for a moment.
“He thinks I’m playing you. Your father.” Her smile widens, but by the way her eyes glisten, I can see she’s trying to cover her other emotions. “Nick—”
“I don’t believe it.” I squeeze her hand and try to give her a reassuring smile. “I refuse to.”
“Really?” Her voice almost squeaks as she says it, but a moment later her expression changes. She frowns as her brows draw together. “Wait, you talked about it with your brothers, didn’t you?”
“Of course. They voiced their concerns, and I listened to them.”
Her gaze narrows. “You think that I’m…what? That I found you in Montana on some sort of mission? To infiltrate your family?” She shakes her head. “Nick, I—”
“I told you, I don’t believe it.” I squeeze her hand again. “And regardless of what they think…” I motion with my head toward the gathering crowd. “I choose you. I’ve already told you that.”
She cocks her head, still frowning. “You didn’t hear what he said to me. He thinks—”
“Oh, I’m certain I know what my father thinks. If it sounded anything like what my brothers think, they’re all wrong.”
“But—”
“Are you trying to convince me otherwise, Clara?” I tilt my head, still looking down into her eyes.
“No, but—”
“Then I don’t understand why you’re attempting to argue their point.”
Her frown deepens. “I’m not trying to argue their point, Nick. But…but why would you believe me? I mean, your father was pretty blunt—”
“That sounds like him, yes.” I take her other hand in mine. “I don’t believe them because it doesn’t make sense. Because I believe you. Because I believe in us.”
Her eyes begin to shine, and her frown deepens. “Nick…” She barely whispers my name. “I just want you to know, I would never—”
I interrupt her with a kiss, brushing my lips over hers. “
I know—”
“Nicholas.” My father’s voice bounds through the air. His entourage has gathered about us now.
He eyes my fiancée for a long moment before turning his gaze back to me. “Now is not the time.”
Instinctively, I drop Clara’s hands and take a step back.
“I need your assistance, Nicholas.” He looks over at Andrew, and then turns back to me. “You need to make a decision.”
I feel my brow furrow. “Father, I—”
“You’ll accompany me today as we meet with the people of Wintervale.”
My jaw tightens. “Father—”
“You will be at my side as we survey the town and its people.”
I clench my teeth, waiting for another demand, but he says nothing more.
Andrew lets out a breath. “We should get started—”
I interrupt him, still staring at my father. “What is the decision, Father?”
“Pardon me?” He blinks at me a few times, his mouth open ever so slightly.
I can’t say that I’ve ever spoken to my father like this—my few interactions with him have always been polite, if a bit terse.
“You said I needed to make a decision, did you not? I only heard you tell me what I would be doing today—accompanying you about the town. Where is my decision in that?”
Leopold audibly gulps beside me. Andrew’s mouth is hanging so far open a bird could fly into it.
But my father’s eyebrow barely flicks up, and I could swear I see one corner of his mouth twitch in time with it. “You tread on dangerous territory, Nicholas.”
“Do I?” I cock my head as my hands clench into fists at my side. “I merely asked you what my other option was.”
“And we can discuss that at another time, my son.” His eyes flick to Clara and back to me. “In private.”
“No.” I pull her hand in mine. “Whatever you have to say, you may say here. Because you’re wrong.” I look over at Clara, whose eyes have widened to saucers.
I know I’m in over my head—there will be no coming back from this. I’ll likely be thrown out of Montovia on my ear, but I no longer care.
“You’re wrong,” I repeat. “About Clara…about everything—”
“I had a very interesting conversation this morning.” His steely glare bores into me. “Before our meeting.”
My jaw is clenched so tightly I can barely speak—and I’m fairly certain my grip on Clara’s hand is so tight I’ve cut off her circulation. “And?”
“And I think you might find the contents enlightening yourself.”
“Father, there is nothing—”
“I spoke with the parents of your…betrothed.” His brow definitely flicks upward a notch this time. “And while I wanted to verify what they told me myself, I can’t help but think now that their assessment is correct.”
Clara sucks in a breath. “You…you talked to my parents?”
“Indeed, I did.” My father looks almost amused by how she’s spoken out of turn. He looks back over at me. “And I think you’ll find the contents of our conversation most interesting, Nicholas.”
Clara
Oh, boy. This is not going to end well.
“Just so you know,” I tell the king before he can go on, “my parents are crazy. And addicted to drama. You really can’t believe a word they say.”
“That’s interesting,” His Majesty responds. “They seem to have a very similar opinion of you.”
Nick is squeezing my fingers so hard that he probably doesn’t feel my hand tighten in response. But I don’t get a chance to defend myself before the king continues.
“Your mother told me it was quite unlike you, quitting your job and running away from your family,” the king says. “That she and your father are worried for your sanity.”
“Clara is perfectly sane,” Nick says. “You’ve spoken with her yourself, Father.”
“Indeed, I have.” The king regards his son with an unreadable expression.
But Nick isn’t done. “Of course her family was going to be concerned when she ran off. She’d spent years hiding her true feelings. If anything, facing the truth was the rational thing for her to do. The brave thing. She had the courage to make a drastic change, to not simply accept the expectations everyone else had always placed on her. There’s nothing wrong with that. Her actions show her strength of character.”
The king’s eyes never leave his son. “I understand you care about her, Son, but—”
“Did you question my sanity when I ran off to Montana?” Nick asks. “Did you suddenly consider me unstable because for once in my life, I wanted to make my own choices about who I am and what I do?”
The king’s eyes have narrowed. “That is a separate issue.”
“No, it’s not. You just don’t want to see it. I understand you’re protecting this family, Father, but if you don’t trust me to make my own decisions anymore, then why am I here in Wintervale? Why am I even in Montovia? Clearly I’m not responsible enough to handle my princely duties anymore.”
The king’s expression remains mostly unchanged, but I can tell that Nick is getting to him. And Nick’s brothers can, too.
Andrew steps forward. “Perhaps this is not the best place or time for this conversation. Nicholas, there’s no reason to throw around such accusations. You know our father respects your intelligence and your choices, even when he doesn’t always understand them. And Father, surely we can give Nicholas the benefit of the doubt for now. Ms. Weaver as well. There will be plenty of time before any wedding takes place to get to know each other better. In the meantime, we have business here in Wintervale, do we not? I’m sure none of us wants to have this conversation in public.”
I’m impressed that Prince Andrew would speak to his father that way, but it seems to get through to His Majesty. The king simply nods and, without another word, turns and strides down the street. Andrew and Leopold follow.
Nick and I hang back. He’s still gripping my hand so hard that he’s basically cutting off my circulation.
“At least we both know what it’s like to have crazy parents,” I say finally. “That’s why I’m voting we elope.”
Nick looks down at me, frowning. “This is hardly the time to joke.”
“I’m not joking. Seriously, do you want to deal with planning a wedding around your dad? Or my mom? No thanks.”
I begin walking, and in order to keep squeezing my hand he’s forced to walk along with me. But that frown never leaves his face.
“What do you think he meant that I might find his conversation with your parents enlightening?” he asks.
I shrug. “Beats me. No offense, but your father’s a bit of a drama queen.”
“He made it sound like there’s some secret or something I don’t know.”
“If there is, then I’m just as in the dark as you are,” I say. “Adam’s the biggest baggage from my past, and you already know about him.” As if uttering his name might bring him springing from the shadows, I glance over my shoulder, glancing around behind us. We’re in public, with a large royal escort, so I know I shouldn’t worry, but it’s hard to keep my nerves completely at bay. If there’s one thing these last few weeks have taught me, it’s that I didn’t know my ex-fiancé at all.
Nick looks uneasy, too, but I suspect that’s more about the thing with his father than any fear of Adam.
“It’ll be all right,” I say, leaning into his side. “I’ll win your father over eventually. And honestly, I understand why he’s suspicious. I mean, we’ve only known each other a few months. I totally look like a gold digger. He’s just trying to protect you.”
Nick’s eyebrows rise as he looks down at me. “You’re taking his side?”
“No, absolutely not. But I get it, as much as I hate it.” I lift my chin. “I’ll just have to turn on the charm. This won’t be the first time I’ve had to use my personality to win someone over.”
“My father isn’t one of your CEOs, Clara,” he says, bu
t there’s a hint of amusement in his voice now.
“He’s more like them than any of you want to think. And he respects me, even if he dislikes me. I can work with that.”
Nick actually chuckles. “If anyone is stubborn enough to force my father to like them, it’s you.”
“I’m not forcing anyone to do anything,” I insist. “It’s called charm.”
“Ah, well, I wish you the best of luck.” His grip has loosened on my hand, and even though there’s still tension in his face, the humor lingers in his eyes.
I smile back at him. “I don’t need luck. I need—”
My words cut off as a figure suddenly springs out of a nearby alley, right at us.
It happens so quickly I hardly have time to register any of it. One moment I’m walking hand-in-hand with Nick, the next I’m slamming into the ground. Nick wrestles with someone above me, and then something clatters to the cobblestones beside me.
A knife.
Instinctively, I reach out and grab it. Nick is cursing, grunting, and I hear the shouts of the guards.
“Go after him!” Nick yells. “He went that way!”
And then he’s bending over me, rolling me gently onto my back.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his eyes dark with worry.
“I’m fine. Just a little bruised.” And confused. “What just happened? Was it—”
“Adam.” Nick nods. “Came out of nowhere swinging a knife.” His eyes flick down to the blade in my hand. “Are you sure he didn’t—”
“I’m fine,” I insist again. To prove my point, I push myself up into a sitting position. “Honestly. I doubt I even have a scratch.”
The relief is only a faint flicker in Nick’s eyes. Suddenly Andrew and Leo are leaning over us, with the king just past their shoulders. Beyond them, members of the Royal Guard have circled us completely. I can hear the shouts of more guards retreating down a nearby alley.
Nick helps me to my feet, touching me as if he’s afraid even the slightest touch might hurt me.
“Really, I’m okay,” I tell him. “If Adam had a knife, he wasn’t after me.”