Royally Relinquished: A Modern Day Fairy Tale

by Hayley Faiman

  I look from Edward to Henrik, who I assume would be seething at the suggestion, but he isn’t. He looks contemplative.

  Panic enters my body, and I turn to look at Helena, Henrik’s mother, who is watching me with even more pity in her expression than when I walked in just a few moments ago. My eyes swing to Beatrice, who is gazing at me the same way.

  Then I look over to Eugenie, who has been silent this entire time, and she is smirking, looking very pleased with herself.

  A few moments tick by and dread washes over me. Henrik is contemplating this. He brought me here, promised me a wonderful life, and now he is truly contemplating this. I can’t take the silence or the stares any longer. I break away from Henrik and stand.

  “I want to leave, now,” I say quietly but firmly.

  “Precious,” Henrik warns.

  I turn to look at him. He looks regretful. His decision has been made, and it makes me sick.

  “Don’t, Henny. Just don’t. Fine—you all want me to go quietly, live in a modest apartment? To that I say, hell no. I’ll go back to Oregon, to my real family.” I take a step away from him when he reaches for my hand, and I wrench it away.

  “Riona, I never said that was what I wanted,” he says softly.

  “You didn’t have to, Henrik. I sat here in silence for five minutes while you contemplated. That is all the confirmation I need. You promised me things, you ripped me from my life and my only family with a big gesture of grandeur, but it was all bullshit, wasn’t it?”

  The room is silent, to the point where I think if a pin would drop, the sound it would make hitting the floor would be deafening. I look at Henrik one last time, take him in and feel nothing but sheer disappointment in him.

  I’m disappointed in how easily he’s letting me go, after he came all the way to Oregon and fed me line after line of promises. But I won’t be around these people, not one more moment. My trust and faith in Henrik is in pieces.

  I walk away from him, my heart completely shattered, the hopes I had now dashed away. I knew it would happen, but I didn’t expect it to happen so quickly.

  I wasn’t meant to have a great love of my life, or to have an exciting, fantastic journey. It hasn’t been in the cards for me since the moment I took my first breath. I hurry out of the house, following the exact path I took to get the hell out of the front door.

  “Caitriona, wait,” he calls out from behind me as I’m walking down the sidewalk, to where? I don’t know.

  “Please don’t, Henrik,” I say, tears streaming down my face.

  I refuse to turn around and allow him to see me this way.

  “Let’s go home and we’ll talk about this—we’ll figure everything out,” he suggests on a sigh.

  He wraps his hand around my bicep to halt me. I stop, still refusing to turn around. The defeat in his voice is blaring. He has given up on us.

  “No, please just take me to a hotel. I’ll stay there until I’m able to get back to Oregon,” I grind out.

  I don’t want to be anywhere near him. I’m so disappointed, so fucking disappointed. I take a chance and look up into his eyes. They look dead. They’ve lost the sparkle they had just mere hours ago, and it makes my heart ache.

  Maybe I’m being overly dramatic, but the hurt I feel right now, the hurt that his family’s words caused me, and the way he just let them, not refusing to hide me away like his whore? It’s all too much.

  “Precious,” he whispers, closing his eyes. “Let me insure your safety.”

  I nod, not because I want to go with him, but because I have no freaking clue where I am right now. The last thing I want to be is lost in a strange country and heartbroken all at the same time. Now I know where he stands. He wants to assure my safety, not anything else. My heart aches.

  I watch as a car pulls up and the driver from earlier dips his chin as he opens the passenger car door for us. I silently slide into the car. Henrik follows directly behind me, and I hear him rattle off a name of a hotel.

  I’m unable to listen, my heart is thumping too loudly in my ears, my blood rushing through me. I just want to be alone to cry. Not even twenty-four hours together, and my marriage is over.

  We drive to the hotel in silence, separated as much as possible in the back of the car. I’m pressed against the door, praying that we arrive soon.

  The travel time is minimal, and we pull up to a building that looks nothing like a hotel. It looks more like the apartment building that Henrik lives in. The driver opens my door and helps me out of the car, and I wait on the sidewalk for Henrik to join me. Wordlessly, he walks through the doors of the building, and I follow.

  “Welcome to 41 Hotel, how may I help you?” the woman at the front desk greets.

  I ignore the exchange between her and Henrik, opting to look around the lobby instead. It looks like a club lounge, like somewhere you would see old, rich, British men lounging around drinking bourbon and smoking cigars while they talk about finance.

  There are leather club chairs and small tables littered around on gorgeous patterned rugs. I catch a glimpse of a bar with seating tucked in the back. It’s all very luxurious and high end, probably discreet too.

  Henrik hands me my key and informs me which room I’ll be staying in. I turn to walk away from him when I feel his hand wrap around my middle and bring my back into his front. Then his lips graze the shell of my ear and he inhales deeply before he speaks.

  “Let me come up. Let’s talk,” he murmurs.

  “There is nothing left to say, Henny.”

  “Bullshit, there is plenty,” he growls.

  I turn around and take a step back, needing to get away from his touch. That touch of his, it makes me do stupid shit—like go to a completely different country only to be left a few hours later.

  “Are you going to defy your family and be with me?” I ask. I already know the answer.

  I also know that it is a lot to ask. It isn’t black and white. I understand it isn’t something simple, neither is it cut and dry. But I also don’t want to be this second choice, this secret to be shoved away and forgotten about.

  I want a man who is willing to do anything and everything to be at my side. It doesn’t mean that I expect him to walk away from his family completely, but if push comes to shove, I want a man who loves me enough to do it anyway.

  He pauses, and I watch as his brow furrows in concentration.

  “I want to. You have to understand what my grandfather is threatening. I’ll have to relinquish my title, and my heirs’ titles. This isn’t something to decide overnight. Let’s get you settled in tonight, find you a place, and then we’ll move on from there,” he suggests as he reaches out for my hand.

  “Is this where you suggest I become your mistress?” I ask.

  “I wouldn’t quite put it that way, Riona. I adore you, and I so very much want us to be together,” he murmurs, his voice dipping down low.

  I could blame his family for this, but I won’t. Ultimately, it’s his decision.

  Apparently, keeping his title and his family’s approval is more important than I am—than what we are. I shouldn’t even be angry. I understand it. Rationally, I really do. Emotionally, I am still hurt.

  My head comprehends why he can’t just tell them to go to hell, but my heart hasn’t quite caught up yet. I am angry that he promised me a life of togetherness, future love and happiness, and then ripped it all away from me when I had only a glimpse of all that we could be.

  I wanted the fairytale to be true.

  I wanted to be the star in my own Cinderella story. To make the lost, scared, hopeless little girl I once was realize that she is allowed to dream big, and she is allowed to throw caution to the wind, and it doesn’t always have to end in disaster—that there is a man out there for her who will love only her and want only her.

  Unfortunately, fairytales aren’t real, and this is reality, and that little girl is used to being utterly disappointed in life.

  So, I will go on, and I w
ill be fine, and I will survive.

  However, I will not do it as someone’s mistress. Not even if that someone is Henrik.

  “A few days a week, you mean? You want me when it is convenient for you, and then what? Go home to Eugenie and your adored heirs all with fancy titles? No, thank you. I don’t want that for me. I respect myself a little more than that,” I say quietly, as if it hurts to say the words aloud. In truth, it does.

  “You don’t mean that, Riona,” he whispers.

  I can’t believe we are having this conversation in a hotel lobby, but I’ll be damned if I let him up to my room, where he can try and charm my panties off—again. And why wouldn’t he think that I mean it? Why would I want to be a man’s mistress? I don’t want to share my man with any other woman. Hell no.

  “I do, Henrik. I need someone who follows through with his promises. I need someone who only desires me, and who is only with me at the same time,” I say harshly.

  I turn and walk away before he can react.

  I don’t need to hear anything else.

  He didn’t deny that he wanted me to be his mistress. It’s exactly what he wants. To have his family’s approval, but to still have his heart’s desire. Maybe I’m being too harsh, maybe I’m expecting too much from him. I don’t know.

  I do know that I won’t be a dirty secret, not to a man who is supposed to be my husband—not even if he’s a prince.

  WHAT IN THE FUCK AM I doing?

  I am the king of all arseholes.

  I always envisioned that my father would rein that title for life, but here I am, swooping in to claim it myself.

  I walk inside of my flat, completely alone, and I look around, listening to the hollow emptiness that surrounds me, wondering what in blazes is wrong with me? How could I let my family talk to my sweet Riona that way and do nothing—say nothing?

  My grandfather, my father, and Eugenie all degraded her, and I said and did nothing about it.

  And for what?

  All because I was frightened that they would strip me of my title?

  I did what I always do, and I took whatever they dished, knowing that if I fought back, they would spew more venom at Riona.

  Honestly, I could give two fucks about the title for me, but then grandfather had to throw in stripping titles from my heirs, and I fucking froze.

  They have everything on her, and her mother. My poor Caitriona, living such a horrible life, struggling all of these years since childhood. She didn’t deserve that, and it is obvious she wants so much more for her future.

  My father handed me the dossier when Caitriona stormed out of the room. I tucked it into the back of my pants, not wanting her to see it. When we were in the car, I slid it between the seats. I wasn’t going to look at it, I didn’t want to know, but I find myself too curious to stop.

  I sit down on the sofa and I open it, seeing a picture of Caitriona from what looks like her high school yearbook. She’s stunning, even as a girl before adulthood, she’s just as beautiful as she is now.

  Caitriona hasn’t had a boyfriend, or even been seen in the presence of any man other than James for years. She doesn’t date, she works, and she works hard. She’s obviously determined not to turn into her mother.

  Her bank account is as my father had stated, sad. How has she survived all of these years on her own with the meager wages she earns? I look even deeper into the file, seeing photographs of the apartment she vacated when the paparazzi started harassing her. It was indescribable. I have never seen anything so small and so bare. I close my eyes before closing the actual file, unable to look for another minute.

  I call my driver back. He’s going to get an extra bonus this month just for dealing with me on this night alone. I hurry down to the lobby and am grateful to see him already at the curb.

  “Take me back to the 41 Hotel,” I announce as I slip into the backseat.

  I notice his lips twitch, even in the shadows of the front seat. It only takes a few minutes to drive to the hotel. I thank him and get out, slamming the door behind me. I palm the key in my pocket, knowing it’s probably wrong that I had the front desk receptionist give me one while Riona was looking around the lobby.

  I have one thought, and one thought only as the lift climbs toward her room’s floor —I will fix this.

  I will not lose my wife.

  I refuse to lose her over my family problems, over their dramatics. I will earn back her trust in me. If I can’t last hours without her, how am I to last the rest of my life?

  I was stupid to think I could degrade her, even letting the suggestion hang in the air at her being my mistress. I feel dirty and disgusting for even entertaining the idea for the sake of simple convenience—for the sake of avoidance.

  Madison warned me about hurting her. I have done it; in less than two days, I have hurt my sweet Riona, my precious, my wife.

  I slip the key into the door and hesitate, not because I don’t wish to see her, but because I’m truly afraid of what her reaction may be. She’s angry and hurt. She may decide she doesn’t want anything to do with me ever again.

  I was a fucking pansy tonight whilst dealing with my family. I should have stood up. I should have happily relinquished my title. What does it matter when, in the end, I’m without the only person I want? There’s no other woman that makes me feel the way Caitriona Geneva Grace Stuart makes me feel.

  I want more of her. I want more of us. And if that means giving up a piece of my heritage, then I suppose I’ll just have to do that. I’ll do whatever it takes to make her smile, to fulfill the promises I made to her.

  It’s not as though I’ll lose my daytime job. I’ll still work in my field, but I’ll probably be relieved of any of my duties as prince; which, to be honest, may be a relief. Perhaps one day my family will come around. Perhaps they’ll accept us and reinstate my title, or at least adorn my children with titles. I refuse to lose her.

  The room is dark, but the bed is bathed in moonlight, and there is Riona, curled into a ball. Her eyes are closed and I hear her whimper, knowing that she’s obviously been crying. How could I have walked away from her? How could I have left her?

  I quickly toe my shoes off and then strip down to my boxers before walking around the bed and sliding in behind her. I wrap my arm around her middle and pull her into my chest, needing to feel her warmth beside me.

  She sighs before she turns in my arms, and then her eyes open and she looks straight through me, seeing all of me the way she has since day one. To her, I’m just her Henny, nobody else. Right now, in this bed, after everything this evening—that hasn’t changed. I’m still just her Henny.

  “We must make this work, Riona,” I murmur as I rest my forehead against hers.

  “It can’t,” she whimpers.

  “There is no other choice. I’m not leaving you, and you are definitely not leaving me. I refuse to allow it,” I grunt.

  “I wanted this so much. I didn’t think about the reality of any of it. I didn’t think,” she rambles before she closes her eyes.

  I press my lips against hers before I slip my tongue inside of her mouth. Words won’t convince my Riona that she’s mine, only actions will. I’ll show her that we’re meant to be. I’ll convince her with my body.

  I quickly peel her dress down her torso, thankful that its stretchy and easily manipulated. Riona shimmies her dress the rest of the way down, before I remove her lingerie. I roll my body between her legs, breaking our kiss only to pull my own boxers down my legs.

  Sliding my hands up her thighs and her stomach I caress her breasts, before delving my fingers into her mane of wild hair. Keeping my eyes connected with hers, as I slip between the folds of her center, sinking into her wet heat.

  “You’re not leaving me,” I mutter as I thrust in and out of her body, claiming her and taking her as my own—my wife.

  “Henny,” she whimpers as tears slide down her temples, her hips lifting to meet mine.

  “You’re my fucking wife, and you
are not leaving me,” I say, slamming my cock inside of her, my pelvis crashing against her clit.

  I feel her sweet cunt squeezing me, fluttering around me, and I know without a doubt that we are meant to be. She’s mine. “Come,” I rasp against her mouth.

  Her body stiffens and she moans, arching her neck. When her tight body finally relaxes beneath mine, I know that I’ve won, for now. I thrust a bit harder a few more times before my own release fills her, and then I kiss her, my tongue invading her mouth.

  Tomorrow will bring its own set of challenges, but for tonight, she’s in my arms, welcoming me inside of her body, and it’s all I need to feel like a fucking king.

  In the harsh light of day, last night feels like it was a mistake. Maybe we just needed to have one last time together; maybe it was the finality we needed to end this sham, this charade.

  But when I turn my head to the side and see Henrik sleeping next to me, I know that I’m full of it. There will never be closure or finality when it comes to us. We both feel that pull and tug with one another that is unexplainable.

  I exhale a shaky breath and close my eyes. I don’t know what today brings, and to be quite honest, I don’t want to know. Every hour that has ticked by since Henrik came to Oregon is stressful—completely and totally stressful.

  Last night just proved that we don’t just come from different backgrounds and countries, we come from completely different universes.

  “You’re thinking too loudly. You’ve woken me,” Henrik murmurs as he opens one eye and then the other.

  “Our situation is unfixable, Henrik,” I announce.

  “Nothing is unfixable.”

  “They’ll never accept me, and I can’t live with myself if I force you to choose between me and them,” I explain.

  “What if we dated? Lived separately and got everybody used to the idea of you. We could lay low for a while in public, not give the paparazzi any more ammunition, and then my family could get to know you, not your file?” he suggests.

  I think about his suggestion, knowing that it doesn’t really make any of this better; it doesn’t solve a single thing, and yet I want to say yes. I want to say yes just to have him anyway I can get him. I hate myself for contemplating the absurd agreement. He isn’t changing anything, just his words. He essentially wants to keep me hidden as a mistress.