Mrs. Lanteri?
I love you?
Husband?
I don’t recognize the woman in the memories. I mean, she’s me, but not a me I’ve ever actually encountered.
I’ve spent so much time thinking I knew myself in and out. And here’s this completely different side of me that I’ve just been ignoring this whole time.
I’ve done some stupid shit during blackouts in the past, but this really fucking takes the cake, the icing, and the fucking fork.
Married Anton?
Professed my love for him?
I must’ve been completely out of my mind.
Well, of course I was. I was fucking blasted on absinthe.
Blowing a mystery guy in a brothel window, I could understand. That’s something I would definitely do.
But this? This is complete and utter insanity.
“Percy!” Anton yells, dragging me back to the present.
My eyes begin to focus, reality solidifying around me.
Anton sits in front of me, his eyes wide with alarm. One of his hands rests on my shoulder, gently shaking me from my stupor.
My heart flickers slightly at his look of concern, my traitorous organ beating harder despite my wishes.
I tamp it down, balling my hands into fists until I feel the bite of my own nails.
“What the fuck did you do?” I growl, zeroing in on him like a predator.
He looks confusedly at me, his hand pulling away from my shoulder.
“What do you mean?”
“I married you?” I ask, my voice taking on a touch of hysteria. “How the fuck did you get me to do that?”
He chuckles humorlessly.
“I didn’t make you do anything. Jesus, Percy. Have you met you? How the fuck would I make you do anything?”
Even through my anger, I see his point. Regardless, this is wrong.
“Well, shit. We have to fix this.”
“Fix what?”
“The marriage, Anton! I can’t be married. I already told you that!”
His face pulls into a scowl, anger flashing hotly in his eyes.
“Are you kidding me? You said you remembered! Don’t you remember how it felt, Percy? We love each other. We’re supposed to be married.”
I roll my eyes, sighing in frustration.
“No, Anton. I was drunk. I don’t love you, and we sure as fuck shouldn’t be married.”
The spark of anger I saw in his eyes before pales in comparison to the fury now burning there.
“Bullshit!”
He slams a fist down on the seat beside him, the impact echoing around the car like a gunshot.
“I refuse to believe this crap, Percy. I was there! I witnessed your vows, and I heard you tell me you love me.” He leans in closer. “I watched you come on your fucking veil while you screamed my name. Who the fuck do you think you’re kidding?”
A voice in the back of my head seems to have very strong opinions as to just who I’m kidding. I ignore the bitch, doubling down on my original claims.
I slam my own fist down, feeling disappointed at the muted noise it creates.
“I’m not kidding anyone, Anton. This is just who I am. I’m sorry that you’re so bothered by that, but you’ll get over it eventually.”
He growls in response, throwing his hands up in exasperation.
“You’re impossible!”
“Exactly!” I scream, mimicking his hand movements. “Which is why I can’t be someone’s wife. Are you getting it now?”
He throws his head back, his body losing some of the tension so obviously coiled within.
When he speaks again, his voice is calm, measured.
“What I get, Percy, is that you’re afraid—”
My cackle interrupts his thought.
Still, he presses on. “And that’s okay. Percy, we can work through this. Commitment doesn’t have to be some terrifying thing. It’s you and me, for Christ’s sake. We can make this work.”
My heart aches at his sincerity.
Right now, I want nothing more than for him to pick up screaming again. Screaming, I can handle.
“Look, Anton,” I say, trying my best to match his calm. “I’m sorry, okay? Really, I am. But you’ve got the wrong girl. I’m not afraid. I’m just—not interested.”
“Percy—”
I quiet him with a raised hand, frankly surprised that it does the trick.
“I know myself, Anton. This would never work. Let’s just save ourselves a lot of trouble and end it now, okay?”
His eyes once again flicker to life.
“No,” he growls.
I ignore him, clearly not getting my point across.
Instead of bothering to continue, I direct my attention back to his driver.
“Paul, is it? Paul, why don’t you pull the fucking car over before I climb up there and do it myself.”
His eyes meet mine in the rear view, a tinge of hesitancy written across them.
Still, he stubbornly continues to drive.
Fuck.
Well, I’m nothing if not honest. He had his chance.
I lean forward, fully prepared to follow through with the threat.
Of course, Anton’s hands wrap firmly around my hips, fingers digging into me as he drags my ass back to the seat.
“Leave Paul out of it, Perce. He’s just doing his job.”
“What job is that? Kidnapping?”
Anton laughs. “You’re being a bit dramatic, Percy. Don’t you think?”
“Well, if it’s not abduction, what would you call it?”
He rolls his eyes. “Taking my wife for a drive.”
“I’m not your—” I growl in frustration. “Well, I won’t be for very long anyway!”
He just sits back into his seat, folding his arms across his chest and glaring at me like he’s making an assessment.
“How did you even pull it off?” I ask, suddenly curious. “The spontaneous wedding, I mean.”
He laughs. “I’m a fucking prince, Percy. I can make anything happen.”
His eyes skate across my body as he says it, creating a hollow ache between my legs.
Like everything else to do with my traitorous body today, I ignore it.
“Not anything,” I sneer.
He narrows his eyes, staring at me with his “challenge accepted” look.
Normally, I find that very sexy. Well, if I’m being honest, I still do. But right now, it also pisses me off something fierce.
“You’re my wife, Percy. Whether you like it or not, I’m your husband. And no matter how much you lie to yourself about it, you are in love with me.”
“We’ll see about that.”
He throws his head back in laughter, the sound rubbing roughly at my senses.
“Go ahead and be stubborn,” he chides. “But I love you, Percy, and you’re not getting away from me.”
If he weren’t so amused with himself, he would notice the look now flashing across my own face.
That’s the thing about men, though—get them just a little distracted and you can sneak anything past them.
In a flash of movement, my hand’s on the door, tugging quickly at the handle.
I see the spark of recognition in his eyes the moment before I tumble through the opening.
My own “challenge accepted” look is still fixed to my face.
25
Percy
Saturday 2:37 Pm
I hit the street with a dull thud, the air evacuating my lungs in a rush.
“Oh, fuck me dead,” I groan, my scattered mind happening upon one of Lock’s favorite phrases.
I roll to my back, my hip grating over the rough asphalt, and wrap my arms protectively around my stomach.
I don’t know why, since the damage has clearly already been done. Still, I find a morsel of comfort in the gesture.
The revelations of my little car ride wash over me anew, anxiety building with each relived memory.
I’ve rea
lly gone and fucked up this time.
I raise my hand, letting the back of it hover before my face. The ring sparkles innocently in the sunlight, as if it isn’t the cause of my current predicament.
“Who do you think you’re fooling?” I ask myself, echoing Anton’s words. “This is all your fault.”
I groan. All I wanted to do last night was have a little fun. I wanted to drop all the commitments I’d fallen into and just fucking live how I’m happiest.
Now I’m married, laying in the street, while bruises sprout up across my body and I chat with an inanimate object.
Yeah, I fucked up big time. It bears repeating.
I let my hand fall back to my stomach, instead staring fixedly at the blanket of sky above me. Fluffy clouds roll slowly across my field of vision, shapes forming in their perfect forms.
I stare at them, willing myself not to think.
I need a moment of peace, and laying in the street might not be the ideal place for it, but you work with what you’ve got. Honestly, if any cars approach me, they can fucking go around me.
I need this.
My eyes zero in on a particularly large cloud, its crisp white body resembling a bear. I trace its shape with my gaze, looking for details in the blank form.
Ding, ding!
The sound of bells assails me, sharp and piercing in the silence.
I tune it out, instead searching for more pictures in the sky.
Ding, ding!
I growl.
Can’t a girl get a moment of peace?
Frustrated, I turn toward the noise, my breath catching in my throat as I witness its source.
Speeding toward me, going much faster than one might expect, is a huge group of bicyclists. Their eyes are clearly fixed on unseen destinations ahead, their feet not even slowing against the pedals.
I cringe, frozen in place like a deer in headlights.
So this is how it ends.
Getting run down in the streets of Amsterdam. By bikes, nonetheless.
Well, at least I won’t have to work through my feelings for Anton; that’s somewhat of a relief.
My stomach lurches as I feel myself being lifted, hands gripping hard to my arms.
I open my eyes, expecting to see Anton. In fact, I can already hear myself forming my snide comment to him despite him saving my life.
My heart wars between disappointment and relief when I instead find my girls.
“What the fuck, Percy?” Sammi shouts, fear etched across her face.
“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” Becky demands, the first vestiges of her disapproving mom face making an appearance.
Mysti just stares at me, her eyes wide and stunned.
“Not trying,” I say. “Just maybe not entirely opposed to the idea.”
I laugh at the disbelief that pulls at their faces.
“Oh, calm down. I was just frozen, is all. I wasn’t expecting a gaggle of bikes to come flying at me.”
“A gaggle is geese,” Mysti offers, her eyes still stretched wide.
“Yes, I know.”
I look pointedly at their hands still clutching me in their panic.
With apologetic looks, they loosen their grips. My arms ache from the intensity of their hold.
I inspect my dress, brushing dirt and God knows what else from the now soiled material.
“What happened?” Becky asks, looking in the direction where Anton’s car disappeared.
“Oh, you know, not much. I just remembered who I married, is all.”
“Oh shit! You did? Who?!” Becky asks excitedly.
I roll my eyes.
“Anton.”
Their faces display varying stages of shock, eyes all locked tightly on me.
“Oh my god,” Mysti chokes out.
“Well, that explains a lot,” Sammi offers.
“Does it?” I ask, only a little sarcastically. “Because honestly, I think I just have more questions now. Like—what the fuck was I thinking? And how did I allow this to happen?”
“I don’t know, Percy,” Sammi says, shaking her head.
“Well, I think it’s sweet,” Becky offers.
I stare daggers at her.
“Sweet? How so?”
“Well, you guys obviously care about each other. Maybe drunk you just knew a little better than sober you.”
I have no words.
Drunk me is an idiot. Clearly.
I shake my head.
“Yeah, I don’t think so, Becks.”
The girls exchange glances. Mysti shrugs in response to some unstated question.
“What?” I demand, taking a step closer to them.
Sammi apparently decides to be ambassador, raising her hands in peace as she steps toward me.
“Nothing, Perce. It’s just—I mean, is it really such a bad thing? Silver Fox seems like a really nice guy. You do seem to like him…”
“Of course I like him. I like all my guys.”
“Yeah, but—”
“No. No buts. I like him just fine. Love, on the other hand? You guys know that I only really love you all. There’s no way I have those feeling for Anton. No. way.”
Sammi shrugs now, looking back at the other girls in defeat.
I groan for what feels like the hundredth time already today.
“Would you guys stop trying to make this into some bullshit love story? We got drunk and decided to get married. It doesn’t mean a damn thing. I’m going to get an annulment. There’s no happy ending here except the one I have myself. Okay?”
“God, Percy. It’s not like anyone here’s ever felt like this before. Did you completely forget who I’m married to?” Sammi says sternly. “Maybe you need to trust yourself a little more.”
Mysti steps forward next, smiling fearfully like I’m about to bite her.
I’m almost entirely certain that I won’t. Though…I guess that really depends on her.
“Percy, I think Sammi’s right. And I’m just not sure that this is as horrible as you’re making it out to be.”
“Of course it’s horrible. I married my fucking fiancé!”
I hear Becky’s muffled laugh. Sammi’s eyes roll in response.
“Oh, shut up. You know what I mean!”
They nod—hesitant, sure—but it’s something.
“Okay, good. Now that we’re back on the same page, I need some help figuring out what comes next.”
They nod again, all of them looking beyond reluctant.
I get it. They’re romantics. To them, every story’s a fucking love story.
I love that about them; it’s endearing.
When it doesn’t have to do with me, of course.
My story’s not one that ends with wedding bells, though. I know this with absolute certainty.
My story ends with screams of ecstasy. It ends with me deep-throating the cock of some other gorgeous billionaire. And then another.
My story’s just that—my own.
I don’t have room for anything more than that.
26
Percy
Saturday 2:42 Pm
I run my fingers through my hair, sighing in frustration. I’m still trying to wrap my mind around this latest development.
So I’m technically a princess. I’m married to Anton in some last-minute ceremony that only he could possibly pull off.
The ring feels heavy around my finger, the implications of its presence giving it impossible weight. It’s like the magnitude of my own crappy decisions has coiled around one of my digits, pulling me down.
“Are you okay?” Becky asks, her face pulled in concern.
“Not really. This is just a lot to take in.”
She nods, looking at me with understanding.
Sammi grips my hand, pulling me toward the curb to sit.
“What next?” Mysti asks, eyeing the group.
I hang my head between my knees, a headache already starting to pound at my temples.
“I guess we have to fi
gure out the annulment thing,” I say, eyes fixed on the ground in front of me.
Without saying a word, I can feel their reluctance. They’re still hoping for a happy ending here—one that no doubt involves my ass in a throne.
It’s not that I mind that idea so much; it’s just everything that comes along with it.
“I have an idea,” Sammi says.
“What?”
She pointedly ignores me, whispering something to Becky instead.
I whip my head up toward them, already not liking the sound of this.
“What?” I repeat, glaring toward them.
As one, they pull their phones from their pockets, fingers flying quickly across the screens. The sound of connecting calls jumps out as they each hit speaker.
Oh no.
“I think you could use another opinion,” Sammi says, looking at me like an unreasonable child.
“Or two,” Becky adds, smiling innocently.
“Don’t you dare,” I warn, quickly jumping to a standing position.
“Percy, just hear them out,” Sammi says. “Maybe—”
“Hello, darl,” Lock’s voice cuts in.
Oh great.
“Hello, love!” I hear Liam echo from the other speaker.
Five against one. They’re really playing dirty.
I scowl at the girls, half tempted to turn and walk the other way.
Undoubtedly, they’d just follow, though. So instead I begin to pace, waiting for the inevitable lecture.
Like I’m not standing two feet away, Sammi and Becks launch into our most recent disaster, recalling the past twenty-four hours in excruciating detail.
The guys listen raptly, Lock’s chiming laugh occasionally interrupting.
When they’re all caught up, both girls hold their phones out toward me.
“Well, that sounds familiar.” Liam chuckles.
“No,” I say, needing to end this before it starts. “I know how it sounds, but this isn’t like Vegas, Okay? Or Bangkok. This was actually a mistake.”
Lock laughs again. “Who are you trying to convince, Percy?”
“You. Obviously.”
“I don’t know,” Liam offers. “Sounds like you’re the one who doesn’t believe it.”
I growl in frustration. There’s just no getting through to people like this. The happily married ones always think they know everything.
The Proposal Problem: A Billionaire Royal Hangover Romance Page 11