I nodded, taking in every piece of information I could as we approached Amelia...and her mother.
“I wasn’t aware this was a double date,” I said out of the side of my mouth.
Charlotte smothered a laugh, and I felt that pop, the release of tension that had been there since last night’s dinner. Thank God. I needed to move forward with Charlotte, not backward.
“I’ll take care of it,” Georgia promised, bringing up the rear.
Lady Amelia smiled, all teeth, the very image of the Cheshire cat. I peeked at her mother. Make that two Cheshire Cats. Yeah, this one was not going to work.
“Your Royal Highness,” they said in tandem.
I turned my attention to her mother, bowing my head. “Countess Devanny.”
“Your Highness. We’re honored that you would consider our Amelia.”
I nodded to Amelia. “Of course. It’s lovely to see you again, Lady Amelia.”
She dropped her gaze, attempting to look demure, before narrowing her eyes on Charlotte. “Duchess of Corbin. How...interesting that you’re here.”
My fucking hackles rose.
“Charlotte has been one of my best friends since we were children.” I tried to keep my voice flat, but given the way Countess Devanny’s eyes widened, she’d heard the warning.
“Oh, of course,” Amelia said with a fake ass smile in Charlotte’s direction. “Tell me, Duchess Corbin, how is it that you inherited the title when your parents still live? Was that not your mother and father I saw at the Engagement ball?”
How-fucking-dare she. That night was one of Charlotte’s worst ever, and she brought that shit up in what? Hopes that she’d embarrass her?
Before I could take a breath to end this girl, Charlotte gave my tricep a discreet squeeze.
“You did see my parents that night. But the title was my father’s and he died when I was fourteen years old.”
They year after they’d signed the fucking betrothal.
“Since the Corbin title was his, my mother became the Dowager Duchess, and I became Duchess. The man you saw at the party was my stepfather, whom I love just as much as my first father. I can absolutely understand how confusing it can be, and I’d be happy to send you the most recent chart of Ellestonian Aristocracy if it helps.”
Damn, my girl didn’t need me to save her. She saved herself.
Lady Amelia’s face fell, and the Countess rushed in to rescue her. “Of course, Duchess Corbin, she simply forgot.”
“Understandable,” Charlotte said with a slight head nod of forgiveness. In the food chain of aristocracy, Charlotte could eat both of these women for breakfast.
“Shall we?” Countess Devanny asked, ushering all but Oliver away.
I watched Charlotte walk away, her head held high and lost a little more of my heart to her. How could I not? She was the epitome of grace, wit, beauty...and a sharp ass tongue.
Amelia turned to look at the nearest painting, the lights shining on her blue-black hair, and I sighed. Oliver cringed and shrugged.
I stepped forward to look at the impressionist piece.
“That poor girl.” Amelia turned her huge eyes on me.
“Charlotte?”
She nodded. “It must be terribly hard to go from being a breath away from the crown to the Prince’s leftovers.”
So. Fucking. Done.
“What do you think of our alliance with Switzerland?”
Oliver coughed, smothering a laugh.
“I’m sorry?” she blinked in confusion.
“Switzerland!” I damn-near yelled.
I didn’t wait for Charlotte to come riding in on her white steed and stilettos. I simply nodded to Amelia, turned on my heel and left, Oliver close behind me.
“Jameson?” Charlotte asked, halfway back to us with a concerned knit to her forehead.
“Switzerland.”
“A half hour, Jaime,” She said softly, reaching for my arm.
Her touch didn’t calm me, simply made me even more certain.
“Fucking Switzerland, Charlie.”
A tiny smile escaped her perfect lips, and she shook her head. But she took my arm and got me the hell out of there as the Countess of Devanny sputtered.
Wednesday
“The gardens are lovely,” Lady Mary said, stopping to smell the roses. No, literally, the woman paused at every single flower.
We’d been in the garden for twenty-eight minutes and made it maybe thirty feet.
“So, I heard that you recently parted ways with your fiance,” I said softly. “I wouldn’t normally pry, but I wouldn’t want you putting yourself into a romantic situation when your heart isn’t healed yet.”
She looked up at me, her brown eyes warm. She truly was beautiful, all soft curves and pleasing lines. Sure, she was trying to look that good, and Charlotte was an effortless beauty, but I was trying my damndest not to hold these women up to the standard of Charlotte.
They’d all fail.
“I’m perfectly fine, Your Highness, but thank you.”
“Are you certain? It’s only been a few weeks. I would understand if you felt torn, if you still loved him, even.”
She smiled. “Of course not, Your Highness. You see, I left him for you.”
I blinked, stepping back a little, my eyes immediately finding Oliver’s.
The man had on sunglasses, but I still saw his eyebrows go up half an inch.
“For me?”
“Of course. With my bloodlines and your newly acquired status, how could I not put myself into the running?”
“You left the man you were engaged to marry...for the chance at being my wife?”
“For the chance of being your Queen.”
My blood ran cold, to what I assumed was the temperature of her heart.
“Is that not romantic, Jameson?” she asked.
I bristled, knowing I’d never given her permission to use my first name. Not that I usually cared, but she made it sound dirty...and not in the usual way that I liked.
“After all, isn’t that what Alexander did? Break off his engagement?”
I backed up even further, and she stalked me. “For love. Xander broke off his engagement for love, not for a crown. He gave up a crown for love.”
She blatantly ignored me. “I’d be the perfect Queen.”
Yeah, I’m so not giving you the ring of power.
Not that this girl had even seen Lord of the Rings.
“Yeah...so what are your thoughts on our alliance with Switzerland?”
She ignored me, leaning up to brush a kiss on my jawline. “We would be perfect together. Our children would be beautiful.”
“Switzerland!” I barked.
She blinked rapidly. “Well, I really do love their chocolate…”
“Prince Jameson? There’s a matter that requires your immediate attention.” Charlotte’s voice was a godsend.
“Oh, no. Really?” Mary asked.
Charlotte looped her arm through mine. “I’m afraid so.”
“I’m delighted to say it is so. Thank you, Lady Mary. It’s been....enlightening.”
I walked off with Charlotte on my arm.
“That bad?” she asked quietly, Oliver following us out.
“Yeah. That’s not going to happen. Ever.”
Thursday
I found Lady Katherine in the bowling alley.
Yes, we had a royal bowling alley in the palace.
She looked up from where she was picking out a ball. “Your Highness.”
“Lady Katherine,” I said. “Nice jeans.”
She blushed and bit her lower lip.
“Guess I can lose the jacket and tie.” I stripped off my tie and my jacket, leaving me in my suit pants and dress shirt.
“I’m only here because I’m the second only in rank to Lady Charlotte,” she said, her tone blunt and no-nonsense.
“You’re here because Charlotte thinks highly of you, and her opinion is priceless.”
She swall
owed, her eyes widening. “May I be honest?”
“Please do.”
“I don’t want this.”
How...refreshing.
“Me either.”
She sighed in obvious relief. “It’s not that I don’t think you’re handsome, or you know...the most eligible bachelor in the world.”
“I did beat out Harry,” I said with a grin.
She laughed, and the sound was clear and delightful.
“I just...I want love.”
“Me too,” I agreed. “So now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, how about two friends spend an hour bowling?”
Her smile was instant. “That sounds...perfect.”
Friday
“Where exactly is Charlotte?” I asked Oliver as he walked me toward the pool house on the Palace grounds. And by Pool House, I mean five thousand square foot cottage. AKA, where Xander and I had thrown parties during our University years that our parents turned a blind eye to.
“She’s on her way. I believe she got caught up in her duties.”
“Duties. Right.” It was easy to forget that Charlotte was an aristocrat in her own right. That she had people she was responsible for the same way I was. She simply handled it all so effortlessly.
“And this date is happening in the pool house.”
“Per the candidate’s request,” he said. “Candlelit dinner for two. I believe she asked for something intimate so that you could get to know each other.”
“That’s reasonable.”
Oliver opened the French doors to the house.
“What’s her name again? I didn’t look at the dossier on this one.”
Because I’d grown dependent on Charlotte. It was a blast of cold water, the reminder that if I didn’t convince her to stay, I’d be on my own for the rest of my life.
“Lady Genevieve.”
I walked in the house to see the candlelit table.
“Genevieve...Blanchard?” Oh. No.
“Yes. The Baron of Gableshire’s oldest daughter.”
Fuck. My. Life.
“Jameson, is that you?” She called out from the bedroom.
“Wait here,” I ordered Oliver.
“Your Highness…”
“Trust me; she’s not looking to murder me. Now, stay. Here.”
The muscles in his jaw flexed, and he spoke into his earpiece. “You cleared this house of all but Lady Genevieve. You’re sure. No staff, either. You checked…” Oliver nodded. “Very well.” His eyes met mine, still tense. “You may go.”
“Why, thank you,” I said in exaggeration.
He almost growled and shook his head.
“Anyone tell you that you look like Stephen Amell when you get all testy?”
“I am not some Hollywood actor in a green hood, sir.”
“Well, you know in case he needs a stunt double, you could apply.”
He glared. “It would be a much more restful job than chasing after your ass.”
“Noted.”
Adjusting my tie, I walked into the main floor master suite, which was lit by candles. On the large bed, Genevieve was on her knees, thighs spread, wearing nothing but a black lace teddy. Her blonde hair fell to the sides of her breasts, and she gave me a smile that I’d seen far too many times.
“Jameson.”
“Genevieve. Maybe you’d like to put some clothes on?”
She crawled toward me. “That’s not what you said the last time you called me here.”
Fuck. This is what I got for fucking aristocrats.
“Things have changed.”
“In a month? They’ve changed that fast?”
Damn it. She’d been a moment of weakness after Willa had left Xander, when I thought Charlotte was going to marry my brother. Hell, Genevieve had been a moment of weakness more than once. At least once a month through our University years.
“They changed the instant Xander abdicated.”
She came up on her knees, running her hands over my shoulders. “We’re good together.”
“We were good together. In bed. That was all.”
She raised a single, plucked eyebrow and started to undo the row of buttons down the front of the lingerie. “And we can be more.”
“We can’t.” I stepped back. “We always agreed it was sex only.”
“When you were the spare,” she said with an unspoken duh.
“Genevieve. It’s not going to happen.”
Was she a good fuck? Sure. She was also a viper, ready to bite anyone to get what she wanted, which had always worked out for me when I needed a discreet release. But that was then.
“I know you want me,” she purred, slipping the straps of the teddy off her arms.
“Actually, I don’t,” I said honestly. Damn, I wasn’t even hard for her.
Guess my cock belonged to Charlotte, too.
She bared her breasts, and I looked away.
“Switzerland!” I yelled, walking out of the room.
Charlotte was there, talking quietly with Oliver by the French doors, but her head snapped in my direction when I damn near ran into the room. “Switzerland.”
“Jaime, it hasn’t been—”
“Get back in here, Jameson!” Genevieve moaned, coming through the door behind me.
I didn’t need to turn around to know that her breasts were still bare, Charlotte’s face said it all. She looked stunned and a little heartbroken.
“Switzerland,” I said clearly, keeping my eyes on Charlotte.
Charlotte’s breath left in a rush, but I kept walking toward her until we were only a foot apart.
“Jameson, come finish what you started. We’ve always been so good together. Remember Barcelona? That balcony with the restraints?”
“Restraints?” Charlotte mouthed.
“Switzerland,” I said softly.
“You sure you don’t want to—continue? I’d hate to interrupt something with so much history and promise.” She stared at me head on, challenging me with her eyes, her posture, her...everything.
Uncaring that Oliver was right next to her, I grasped Charlotte’s hand and put it straight on my dick. My very soft, very uninterested dick. “Switzerland, Charlie.”
Oliver stepped between me and Genevieve.
Her shoulders dropped, and her lips parted. “You’re…”
“I don’t want her,” I whispered. “But if you keep your hand there much longer, I won’t stay in this condition.” Already I was swelling, my blood rushing to where Charlotte held me, her hand squeezing me lightly.
“Well then let go,” she hissed.
I held both of my hands up, showing her that I already had.
Startled, she glanced down and quickly removed her hand. That’s right. You had ahold of me all on your own, sweet Charlie.
“Switzerland.”
She couldn’t cover the smile that quirked the edges of her lips up.
“Fine. Switzerland.” She spun on her kitten heels and walked out.
Oliver must have called other security because a couple of female suits showed up and made sure we could make a clean exit.
“I bet you miss Xander,” I said to Oliver as we began the walk back to the palace.
“He’s a friend, and I do miss him. But damn, you make life a lot more interesting.”
Saturday
Flowers in hand, I knocked on Charlotte’s door.
“You look nervous,” Oliver said, standing off to the side of me.
“I’m not nervous,” I replied.
“You sure? Because your ears are bright red.”
I glared at my head of security and knocked again.
“Only someone that nervous wouldn’t give the woman a couple of minutes to answer.”
“Shut up, Oliver.”
I raised my hand to knock again but stopped myself just before my knuckles made contact.
“Nervous,” Oliver stage-whispered.
The door opened, saving Oliver from a serious helping of side eye.
“Jaime?” Charlotte asked, confusion clear on her face.
Her hair was down and loose, and the green henley she wore was the same shade as her eyes. She looked dressed down, comfortable, and utterly fuckable.
“It’s date time,” I said, holding out the flowers to her.
She took them but shook her head. “You don’t have plans for tonight.”
“Yes, I do. With you.”
“Jaime…”
“Come on. You’ve put me through torture the last five days. Give me tonight. We could both use a little fun.”
She tugged on her bottom lip with her teeth as the debate raged in her eyes.
“But I’m not dressed.”
I took in the jeans that hugged her curves and nearly came undone. It had been a decade since I’d seen her in denim.
“You’re perfect,” I told her, gesturing to my own jeans and baseball tee. “Break out of the stuffy palace with me, Charlie. Please?”
I waited precious seconds while she decided.
“Just as friends,” she clarified.
“As whatever you want.”
An hour later, she was staring at me like I’d lost my mind.
“A drive-in movie theater?”
“I aim to please. Or surprise. Either way.”
“I’m definitely surprised,” she said glancing out of the windows of my Range Rover as Oliver parked us dead center to the huge screen.
“I figured you probably hadn’t done something normal in a while.”
“I’m not sure we could call this normal,” she said, pointing to the eight black SUVs that surrounded us.
“It’s as normal as you’re going to get,” Oliver muttered.
“Front and center,” Charlie said.
“Yeah, I know this guy who has some pull.” I winked at her.
“You sure about this?” He looked over his shoulder at us.
“I’m sure the car is bulletproof, which means I’m basically only in danger from an RPG, or Charlotte.”
Oliver paused.
“Oliver, no one is parked on some random tower with an RPG on the off chance I might be here tonight.”
He narrowed his eyes at me and sighed. “Fine. Press the button in case of emergency.” He motioned to the red button on the console that would bring the entire armed forces to my rescue.
“Yeah. Got it.”
The Throne Page 6