I’m not supposed to crave her the way that I do, and yet, I can’t get her off of my mind. I was just Henrik to her, just me, and not a prince. A breath of fresh air that breathed life into me, that’s how I describe Caitriona.
Once my public appearance is finished, I strip off the bullshit sweater, ditch the bitch at my side, and go to my car. I need some fresh air and a long drive to clear my head. I need to get into the right state of mind.
I can’t obsess over a woman I can’t have.
I need to let her go—if only it were so easy.
I wake up feeling terrible, the news of Henrik’s engagement hitting me harder than it should—harder than I have any right for it to. I don’t love him; I don’t know him well enough to love him, but that doesn’t take away my want of him. That doesn’t take away the fact that once he marries this woman, there will be zero chance of us ever being together again. Not that we had much of a chance anyway.
I hear a knock on my door and I grab my robe, throwing it over my pajamas before opening the door. There, standing and looking sadder than they should for people who just found out they’re about to have a baby, are James and Madison.
“Can we come in?” Madison asks.
I already know what they’re going to say, based on their hesitancy.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“I didn’t want to tell you this, but I know you’ll find out sooner or later,” James begins.
I look over at Madison who has suddenly become very interested in the throw pillow on the sofa.
“Just tell me, Jimmy,” I urge.
“He got engaged yesterday. It was announced. Some Duchess or Lady or something or other. I don’t get their monarchy system,” he rambles.
I close my eyes as the pain slices right through my entire body, again. Hearing the words repeated doesn’t dull the pain.
“I know. I saw the news last night,” I murmur. “I suppose he can’t stay single forever.”
“It’s only been a few weeks. That guy is such an asshole,” Madison says.
“It doesn’t matter, Mads. He’s who he is, and I’m nobody. I knew I was never going to see him again, not after all the paparazzi and everything. I just hope that now they’ll leave me the hell alone.”
“That’s the other thing,” James mutters.
“What?”
“They’re everywhere. There’s more this time. I think you should sleep in the house for a while, until it all goes away,” James suggests.
I don’t bother responding verbally. I nod at both of them and then go to my room and pack a small bag with my necessities. When we step outside, I can hear them at the front of the house.
If it wasn’t already bad enough that I watched on television as the only man I have ever felt an electric connection to announce his engagement, now I have reporters and paparazzi all over my best friends’ front lawn, hoping to get a picture and a statement from me about the engagement.
I want to scream and act crazy.
I don’t.
Instead, I go inside, shower and change, thankful that it’s Sunday and I don’t have to leave the house. Then, Madison and I spend the entire day vegging in her bed, eating junk, and watching sappy girl movies, and talking babies in between.
It’s the most relaxing and stress-free day I’ve had since returning from Las Vegas. Henrik isn’t brought up once, and eventually the parade of people leave. I know that it’s only a brief moment of silence, but I’ll take it. I hope that this is all over with soon, and that I’ll be able to move on.
If I can move on.
The next day, I drag myself to work, only to find that the swarm of paparazzi that were at James and Madison’s the day before are now in front of my building’s entrance. I decide that enough is enough. I’ll be silent no more. Madison and James have both told them to go away. But maybe if I tell them, they finally will.
“How do you feel about Prince Henrik’s engagement?” one woman shouts out.
“I’m happy for him,” I say with as much of a genuine smile as I can muster.
“Was it a surprise to you that he moved on so quickly?” a man asks.
“We had one weekend together. It was wonderful, but that’s all it was. He’s engaged now, and I’m glad that he’s found happiness.”
“Did you spend the night with the Prince? What was he like in bed,” a woman shouts.
My face heats in embarrassment, but I ignore her. What we shared was so much more than I could describe in words. I may not remember every detail about the night we shared, but I sure as hell remember how he made me feel.
“Saw your boy got engaged,” Natasha says with a fake pout on her lips.
I ignore her too.
By the end of the day, I feel like if I hear the word engagement one more time, I’ll scream. It’s all everybody could talk about. They all wanted to know if Prince Henrik called me personally to tell me about his upcoming nuptials. I wanted to yell that he didn’t have my number so he couldn’t call me; and even if he did, why would he call me?
My only freaking one-night stand, ever, and it’s bound to haunt me—not only in my mind, but also in my everyday life—forever.
I slump into the sofa in James and Madison’s living room with a heavy sigh, ready to be finished for the day. No, the year. Maybe by next year, none of these people will remember or care who the hell I am anymore.
“What’s up?” Madison asks as she shovels cereal in her mouth.
“Why are you eating Lucky Charms?”
“I’m fucking starving,” she shrugs as she pulls her legs into the oversized chair’s seat.
“I want to disappear for a year,” I admit.
“It’ll die down,” she says sympathetically.
“It’s been over a month, Mads. He’s engaged to somebody else and that freaking sucks, but you know what else sucks? Having to hear about it all day fucking long,” I grind out.
“Robert Dayton begged me to go out on a double date with us and you,” she blurts out.
“Do not tell me you said yes,” I demand, narrowing my eyes on her.
“He’s a partner, I couldn’t say no. I need to make partner, and the sooner the better,” she mutters.
“That guy is a creep, Mads.”
“I know, I know, but James and I will be with you. It’ll be fun. A free meal, if nothing else,” she shrugs.
“When?”
“Friday night,” she says, chewing on her bottom lip.
“Might as well end my week off with a bang,” I sigh.
“I’m sorry. I can come up with an excuse to cancel. I shouldn’t have said yes. I know how he is, and how he is with you.”
“No, I’ll do it. Maybe he isn’t such an asshole when he’s away from the office,” I offer with a fake smile.
“He probably is,” she mutters.
“I know,” I agree.
The rest of the week goes by in a blur. The paparazzi haven’t left me alone, and it seems as though they’ve actually gotten worse since I spoke to them. I thought that by now, by Friday, everything would have died down and they’d be onto something else. Henrik is engaged to another woman, why aren’t they leaving me alone and bothering her?
I groan as soon as I walk through my front door. Tonight, I have to go on a double date with James and Mads, with Robert Dayton. I shiver in disgust. I really hope that he can tone down his douche-like personality for the evening, just one evening.
I flip through my clothes, trying to find something that is nice, but not overly sexy. I don’t want to give the wrong impression. I’m not going home with him tonight.
In fact, I have no desire to have sex again anytime soon, with anybody. Being with Henrik was amazing, but the repercussions of just one night have been a nightmare.
I decide on a black skirt and blouse; the skirt is a pencil shape that skims my knees with a small kick pleat in the back. The blouse has a V-neck front, showing off a little more cleavage than I would like, but it’s c
lassic and nice, with a matching back that makes it sexy without being too sexy.
I grab my nude high heels and slip those on before I touch up my make-up and hair. With just a few brushes of mascara, a darker shade of lipstick, and a refresh of my face powder, I fluff my curly hair and I’m ready.
Just as I’m taking my clutch from off of the bed, there’s a knock at the door. I take the few steps toward the peephole and look out to see Robert waiting. He’s dressed much like he is for work—dark blue suit pants, matching jacket, a black button-up shirt, sans tie, and he’s opened a few buttons to show off his tanned chest. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying not to snarl my lips at the unbuttoned shirt and the slicked back blond hair.
“Robert,” I greet as I open the door, a fake smile plastered on my lips.
“You look delectable this evening, Caitriona,” he says as his eyes narrow in on my cleavage.
This is going to be a long night. Madison owes me big. Huge. I suppress my shiver of disgust at his words and his wandering gaze. Tonight, I have to suck it up. I’m doing this to try and move on and forget about Henrik, but I’m also doing this for Madison and her career. I know Robert’s a prick. If I can have grace for just one dinner, then I’ll have done my part and maybe all of this will help me move on with my life.
Once I’ve locked the pool house, Robert slides his hand along my lower back before it settles on my hip. I repeat to myself, over and over again, that this is just one evening. James and Madison will be there for support.
I can do this.
I will do this.
It’s just dinner, how bad can it really be?
“WE HAVE AN EMERGENCY MEETING with head of security,” Philip announces as he walks into my office.
“About what?” I ask, not looking up from my computer screen.
Today I’m working on my crown duties, instead of my venture capitalist company. I’m looking at a contract proposal for new tactical gear for our military. It’s all very advanced, and very expensive, but this company is amazing. I think investing in them will really be a wise decision.
“Doesn’t matter what it’s about, it’s now,” Philip rambles.
I close and lock my computer before standing up and following my brother. I don’t know what this meeting is about, I sure as fuck don’t care, and neither do I want to go. I hate all this pomp bullshit.
I just want to spend my days alone, hiding from my new fiancée, Eugenie. She’s a pain in my royal arse. Aside from being a general spoiled brat, she’s a complete and total icicle. I always joked that I’d end up with one, now I’ve gone and done it. Reality is a fucking cunt.
Together, we enter the office, and I notice that my father is sitting in one of the two chairs that faces the head of security’s obscene wooden desk; my mother is in the other chair. I’m surprised to see my mother in attendance, as she has never been in on anything that has to do with business matters in the past.
Mother does her own thing; she has her own business to attend to. She enjoys her charity work around the world, something my father rolls his eyes at. Father doesn’t like how her work takes her away from his side. He’s just as spoiled as Eugenie.
Philip and I sit down on the sofa, and I stretch my long legs out in front of me, crossing them at the ankle. I’m ready to be done for the day. It’s past tea time, and all I can think about is going home and drinking a few glasses of scotch before going to sleep, so that I can get up and repeat this mundane day all over again.
“What’s this about, Malcom?” I ask, prompting the head of security, who is sitting behind his desk.
Malcom is short and round, smokes heavily, and drinks like a fish. He’s normally loud and funny, but today there’s no smile on his face, and he looks a bit perturbed.
“Well, Henrik, I was getting all of your wedding documents in order, readying them so that when the date is closer, the process will be speedier. Except, I’ve hit a snag,” he mutters.
I watch as my mother’s eyes grow wide and her lips purse together. I have a feeling she’s hoping something is amiss with Eugenie’s background. She adores her as much as I do—as in, not at all.
“Snag?” I question.
“Seems you will be committing bigamy if you wed Eugenie in six months,” he announces.
Several emotions cross over my mother and father’s faces, but I can’t focus on them. I’m in my own state of shock. Is he really saying that I’m already married? And if he is, then how can that be? I think I would fucking remember getting fucking married.
“What’s this?” I whisper.
“It seems one, Henrik Stuart, married a one, Caitriona Geneva Grace, almost two months ago, in Las Vegas, Nevada U.S.A.,” he says.
In the distance, I hear my mother gasp, my brother groan, and my father growl.
Riona.
I haven’t stopped thinking about the wild, dark haired beauty every single day since I left her passed out in bed. She was gorgeous, and fun, and sweet, but there was no way I married her, is there? I wouldn’t do that to my family, to my grandfather—to her.
If I did, I married her and left her. What kind of piece of shit am I?
“Wouldn’t the paps have gotten ahold of all this?” I ask, dumbfounded. “This must be a mistake. Yes, I was with her, but I don’t recall marrying her.”
“We’ve been trying to keep it a secret, but the paparazzi have discovered her name—not your marriage, but her name. She’s been all over social media,” Malcom admits.
“Why am I just hearing this now? What the hell?” I demand.
“You’ve been staying focused on work, on your duties. I felt it best we not derail you, especially with some little American tart you spent all of one night with,” my father announces.
“I should have been informed,” I grind out, refusing to look my father in the eye. The controlling fucking bastard.
Malcom stands and waddles toward me before shoving a piece of paper at my chest. I take it and look down, a certificate of marriage, complete with my signature. The only girl that has ever plagued my mind day-in and day-out is my wife.
We’re married.
I notice there’s another piece of paper behind the certificate, and I bring that to the front. It blows my mind. There, in color, is a photograph of the two of us.
I’m in my jeans and button-up shirt that I wore on our date, my hair is a mess, my eyes rimmed red from alcohol, and there, standing next to me, is Riona.
She’s wearing that ridiculous scrap of fabric she insinuated was a dress. It’s too short and too small, but there she is, plastered to my side with a gigantic smile on her face.
I look from her back to me and see that I, too, am smiling a wide grin. I look ecstatic. I feel a presence at my side and see that my mother has stood and is now sitting down next to me on the sofa. I watch as she reaches down and takes the photograph from my grasp.
“This is her, Henrik?” she asks, already knowing the answer. “In all the photographs I’ve seen, I’ve never actually been able to see her face.”
The only person I’ve confided in is my mother. She understands me. She knows how I think and how I feel. I told her that I met Riona, that I fell hard for her instantly. She knows that I wish to marry for love and not for status or for the good of the country. She also knows that because of who I am, those things are not possible. She suggested that I date within my circle, and hopefully one day I would find a woman that I could love. My desire to date and love isn’t there. All there is, is Riona, in the back of my mind, filling my thoughts with—what if.
“Yes, mum, that’s my Riona,” I murmur, unable to take my eyes off of her face.
“This tart, this girl, you married her?” my father roars, snatching the photo from my mother’s grasp.
I do not react; I only nod my affirmation.
“You’ll get it annulled. You’ll pay her off, if you have to. This will not reach the media,” he announces before he storms out of the room, dropping the phot
o onto the floor.
Philip reaches down and picks it up. I watch as his eyes scan the image of Riona and me. Then he nods once and looks up.
“She’s beautiful, Henrik. Now I know why it was so hard for you to leave her be,” he murmurs.
My brother has a much softer heart these days. He’s about to be married, in only a few weeks, and he and his fiancée have been talking about children. He loves his wife with his whole heart. He’s been against my engagement with Eugenie from the start. He, like my mother, wants me to marry for love.
“You will go to her, you will tell her everything, and she will sign the papers. You will have this marriage annulled, but you will do it gently,” my mother informs me as she wipes her eyes and practically runs out of the office.
The hesitancy in her voice tells me that she didn’t want to say the words out loud. I know her well enough to assume that she wanted to tell me to go, get my girl, and come home; but she would not, could not, ever verbalize such a thing. She would never go against my father—ever.
“I have her address in America right here,” Malcolm says, handing me another piece of paper.
“Do you know anything else about her life?” I ask, hoping for any piece of her.
“Sorry, Henrik, just her address. I can dig up more, but you’ll be leaving within the hour for America. Philip, I think you should accompany him,” Malcom suggests.
Philip nods as we both stand. I don’t question why he wants Philip at my side. I already know. He wants him to hold me accountable. He wants to ensure that I’ll do what I’m supposed to do.
Philip has always been the responsible brother.
I’ve always been the screw up.
This whole thing proves that, once again, I’m the fuck up.
“You’ll bring Bee?” I ask him as we make our way toward our living quarters.
He nods, never verbalizing his answer. We make plans to meet in twenty minutes and then separate.
As I pack my bags, the only thought that runs through my head is the fact that I’m married. I’m married to the only girl I have ever felt anything for. I’ve been married to her for weeks, and I don’t remember a goddamn thing about it—nothing other than the club and the morning I left her alone, thinking I would never see her again.
Royally Relinquished: A Modern Day Fairy Tale Page 6