by Nicole Snow
“I don't have a fucking clue what you're talking about, woman, but you're going to be sued for every word you say. I'm keeping track, starting now.”
“Sued? Ha!” Her shitty grin only gets bigger. “The only one who's going to be suing anybody will be Suzie Q. Public. Probably led by the Republic Firsters. For all their flaws, they've got some powerful legal contacts. Seriously, Your Highness, what were you thinking? Using a public account on this medical bribe for your whore of a wife?”
She shakes her head slowly, mockingly sad. I want to slap her stupid face until it's spinning like a merry-go-round.
“Did you really think you could just snap your fingers and Victor could pull money from wherever, without getting caught? In this case, the royal wildlife fund, which receives several million a year from public tax dollars for wilderness and recreation? It almost worked, I suppose. You probably wouldn't have gotten caught if I hadn't been motivated to follow every single transactions. Thing is, my Prince, I did. And the scandal will kill Her Majesty when I feed it to the press.”
Silas spins around, turning me with him. He's eyeballing Victor now.
“Your Highness...I...there wasn't enough in your private account at the time to cover a private, unscheduled trip to Mexico and the extensive treatment Mister Warwick received. Your trust fund wouldn't have disbursed additional money quickly enough when time was of the essence to save his life. For the record, the nature fund in question only receives partial public reimbursement each year. Most of its money comes from admission fees to the parks, and I was certain it wouldn't be a problem. This is, of course, entirely my fault, and I'm deeply sorry.”
Silas isn't listening anymore. Serena stands up, drifts past us again, looking over her shoulder as she heads for the guards.
I can't bear to look at the Queen. She's probably as speechless as I am. I'm fucking devastated, hurt and confused, hanging onto him like a helpless monkey.
“This all could've gone down so differently, once. I really did love working for the palace, just like I used to love you, my Prince. Who knows where life will lead us once you're a pretender to a throne that doesn't exist anymore, but it's a shame we'll never cross paths again. We could've been something beautiful.”
“Don't let this fucking bitch leave,” Silas growls to the guards.
I hear several other chairs scrape across the floor. The Queen, Patricia, and Victor are all talking at once. Serena starts screaming the second one of the men in the suits grabs her arm.
The whole world spins, catapulting my field of vision around and around until I'm going to be sick.
I can't do this. I have to get out of here. I need to move my feet out the door beyond all the commotion, before I pass out.
It's a miracle. I do better than just power walk because something makes me run, without tripping on my heels or my skirt.
Silas yells after me once. But the guards are too busy with the anarchy all around them to think about catching me, and he never gives the order to chase me down.
I burst through the doors and run across the hallway. The teahouse is attached to an old hotel, where I crash down on the seats in front of a TV, burying my face to hide my tears.
Serena has the perfect bait to destroy everything that matters to him.
And it's all my fault.
For the first time in weeks, I want to be home. Back in North America, wherever dad is, consoling myself on being a good daughter because I don't know if I can be a good wife.
I can't be a good Princess.
God. There's something on TV. I see it through my blurry eyes, a scary scene outside the palace. It's the protests. They're still happening, live.
Two men tangled together in a crowd, fighting. One wears a black shirt with a big, red X through a gold crown held by the double-headed eagle.
Another man has a purple lapel pin for the Queen, but it's hard to make out. His shirt looks bloody – probably from the broken nose the protester gives him before the police throw him to the ground, jabbing a taser into his side.
This kingdom is a mess. And it's only going to get worse when Serena drops the bomb, assuming she makes it out of here without being able to sue royal security for assault.
Everything suddenly feels radioactive. It's killing me, shattering my heart in a way I've never known.
I don't want to leave him. Really, I fucking don't, more than I've ever wanted to avoid a thing in my entire life.
Doesn't matter. I can't ignore the sick truth gnawing at me deep in my soul.
This kingdom, this family, is going to tear itself apart if I stay a day longer. I won't watch that happen, even if it causes my heart to shrivel up and die.
I can't be his Princess – with benefits, or without. I can't be anywhere on this island anymore.
14
Melting Point (Silas)
She's gone, gone, gone like a fucking ghost, and it's all my fault.
Nobody knows where she rushed off to. I couldn't go after her when that bitch, Serena, was still standing there throwing barbs, threatening to ignite a new stroke in grandmom's poor brain with every evil word.
Her Majesty let her say her piece – her load of total bullshit. Then security escorted her out.
All while I stood there like a chump. Frozen.
Paralyzed like I haven't been since facing the damned war, except even mortar blasts never turned me to stone.
I'm back at the palace in my private office, staring at the bottle of scotch laid out on my desk, next to the crystal glass. My fingers shake so much each time I take a good, long look, imagining how good it'll feel to have the familiar heat in my guts. I grab myself by the wrist, clenching my teeth, snarling like a wild beast.
“No. No, goddamn it. You're going to find her, and you're not falling back on bad habits. She can't be gone.”
But she is.
It doesn't matter if security tells me exactly where she's gone over the next few hours. I can feel it in the pit of my stomach, my woman pushed over the edge by forces she can't control. Leaving me here to my tower, just like some dark Prince in a fucking fairy tale.
Those stories have happy endings, at least. Once she's outside the island's airspace, my power is limited. I'll never be able to bring her home without causing an international incident. I can't anyway, after Serena turned our whole royal world upside down.
Drinking won't fix this.
Hell, not even grabbing that traitorous bitch by the throat and squeezing the life out of her will solve anything at this point.
Nothing besides feeling Erin's perfect, pink lips under mine is going to make it all right again.
The drug I need isn't here on this desk, taunting me in the face because it used to solve my problems, and doesn't do shit anymore.
Growling, my arm swings through the air, pushing the scotch and glass onto the floor, along with an antique clock and several paper weights.
My raging heart won't stop pounding. I have to make sure I'm not hallucinating when I hear the faint rap at the door.
“It's open,” I say, sitting back in my seat, adjusting my tie.
Vic slinks in like a scorned cat, pausing when he sees the mess. “Your Highness – is everything all right?”
“You know the answer,” I growl. “Send in whoever to clean this up when you're finished. I'm done having my temper tantrum, I'm sure.”
I motion to the seat across from me. Victor takes it, stepping carefully over the shattered glass.
My arms press against the desk, and I stare at him, the words I want to say burning my tongue. “You know where she is, don't you? Tell me.”
“She took off in a private jet this evening, sire. Chartered, rather than royal. The plane was heading for Mexico, I'm told, surely so she can join her father at his treatment center. No one thought to freeze her access to the accounts, seeing as we were otherwise preoccupied...”
“Yeah, with making sure Her Majesty didn't die on the fucking spot after everything that bitch sai
d.”
“Indeed.” Vic nods, eerily calm, and pulls an envelope from his pocket.
My eyes shift down, watching as he slides it over to me. My fists and jaw clench simultaneously before I pick it up, rip it open, and pull out the lengthy typed letter. It only takes me thirty seconds to scan it before I've got the gist – and I don't like it.
“You're not quitting on me,” I tell him, slamming it back down on the ivory surface.
“Your Highness, we both know that's the most reasonable course of action. Perhaps my departure will make things easier for the crown, legally speaking, in the matter Miss Hastings plans to bring forward. My mistake provided her with ample fire to burn the palace to the ground. I can't live with that. I've failed you, my Prince, and I fear I'll never recover from these grotesque missteps.”
I almost snort. The only thing that looks grotesque right now is how pale and dead his face is. It takes balls to hand in your notice at a job that's your whole reason for living.
“Sire, if you'll permit, I'll do my very best to find someone worthy of this position so this never, ever happens –“
“Enough.” Pulling the paper off the desk, I tear it neatly in half, crumple both halves, and throw them in the basket at my feet. “You're not going anywhere, Vic. It was an honest mistake. One I forced on you by setting up this arranged marriage. When I told you to help her old man, it wasn't real between us. Not at first. Believe me, man, it's worth more than my own damned crown now.”
He looks at me and nods, a faint smile lining his lips. “As you wish, Your Highness. I'll serve you faithfully.”
“Yeah? Then start by finding Serena and bringing her ass back here for a talk.”
My valet blinks, surprised, shaking his head.
“You heard me. I want to set this crap right once and for all. Nothing illegal – we've already done plenty of that.” My fists clench, wishing I hadn't passed on the scotch. “I need to talk to her. Alone. I'm going to find out how much it costs to make a deal with the devil.”
After a moment, Victor nods. “I'll keep it as quiet as I can, sire. A security detail will be going out shortly to find Miss Hastings and bring her here.”
“Good. I'll meet you both downstairs. Tell me as soon as she's arrived,” I say, watching as he stands up to leave. “And Victor...I want you to speak more freely now, man to man, instead of reminding me I'm your master all the time. We've known each other too many years, worked under the same roof. It's high time you started calling me Silas.”
“Of course, if that's your wish...Silas.”
I wait until the door closes before I smile. He could barely choke out my name.
Some things in this world just aren't going to change.
Doesn't matter. I won't let Erin go without bringing the greatest fight of my life.
I didn't give up booze and pussy to quit my whole reason for getting off them, and starting to live for the first time in my life. I need my woman, my love, my princess. God willing, I'm bringing her home, whatever it takes.
Several hours later, I'm pacing slowly on the patio overlooking the royal gardens, one more place where this unlikely love poached my heart like a lion ripping into an antelope.
I don't look behind me until I hear the door open. Then I whip around and see Vic with several guards, standing in front of the bitch herself.
“Give us some privacy, boys,” I say, motioning Vic to the corner, to stay outside. “Serena, take a seat.”
She looks at me haughtily, colder than the icy late summer night. I don't see that man-eating smile on her face until she sits down, relishing in the power she thinks she's got.
“Well, I didn't think my message had actually sunk in. Have you finally come to your senses, Silas – or will we be seeing each other in front of a royal judge next time?”
“You've schemed this entire thing, and it's all bullshit,” I say, glaring. “I'm not here to play games. I want your terms, short and sweet, so I can forget about this and work on bringing my girl home.”
Her face sours. Unmistakable jealousy.
Christ.
She still wants me at some level. My guts twist in disgust.
Sure, I've woken up with that what the hell were you thinking? feeling more mornings than I care to count. When I remember fucking the woman sitting across from me with her evil grin and pointy witch heels, it's visceral.
“You're going after her? After she's ruined you, and the drama she's brought threatens a fifteen hundred year old dynasty?”
“Yeah. Already told you, Serena, I'm bringing her home. That's what you don't get. She's mine. All your threats, your nastiness, every damned legal decree on the planet – none of it's going to stop me from going after her. They're nothing in the face of love.”
“Love?” She whips her head around and spits it out like a curse. “You? Prince Playboy in love? You've lost your mind, Silas. I'm not stupid. I can't believe this, and I don't have to trust a word of it. You're not playing me a second time. Look, I know you took this girl on to improve your image after the Queen suggested it. We talked about it together. We put the same idea in your head. If only I'd known it would've taken on this absurd life of its own!”
“Nobody's getting played tonight except me because I'm offering you a deal,” I say, stepping toward her. “Sometimes, you get blindsided when you least expect it. I brought Erin in for reputation management, business, it's true...and that all ended awhile ago. We found love. What we've got, after spending so much time together, it's real.”
Real. The demon in front of me pinches her eyes shut like I've just driven a dagger in her chest.
“Do you really want to know what I want, Silas? Or did you just bring me here for torture?”
“Told you, I want a deal. Whatever the fuck it takes to make you drop this lawsuit and never hear from you again. Name a price,” I growl, hoping like hell she finally will.
“Forget that stupid American bitch! How about that? You obviously don't care who you get to play Princess. Do it with me, instead. Make me your bride. I'll play along with anything you want – the drinking, the parties, the women – anything and everything. Just as long as you take me and forget all about her!”
Fuck. I'm taken aback. The crazy in this woman's eyes shines brighter than the moon.
“I can't believe this.” I shake my head. It was a big fucking mistake bringing her here, thinking I could reason with her.
“No!” Serena comes closer. “It's not too late, Silas. You can get yourself out of this, do something for both of us. You can –“
“I'm not marrying you, bitch. Unless you want to name a price in dollars, Euros, or fucking rubles, the deal's off. We're through tonight, and forever.”
Her face goes bright red. It looks like there's shame heating her blood, but I don't think this woman is self-aware enough to feel embarrassment.
“You're making a huge mistake, Prince. I won't let you live this down. You want to marry her? Fine! You can do it with nothing left to your name except millions in debt, and your crown in the gutter. That's where you really belong.” Raw anger hisses out her lips. “I truly thought you were better than this. Silas, you're a stupid man. A monster.”
“And you're a fucking lunatic, Serena. I've got everything on the line, and I'm going to fight. You want to talk stupid? That's trying to blackmail a Bearington by thinking I'd ever let you get anywhere near the throne.”
I barely hear her scream before she rushes me. Then there's a whirlwind of little fists beating against my chest. Her heels kick me in the shins while I try to grab her.
She's hitting me with her purse, reaching into it. She's so skinny and quick it's hard to get a hold. I don't want to hurt her, much as my baser instincts would like to.
I grab her, fold one arm around her stomach when she's turned away from me, just as she screams, reaching into her purse.
Something sharp scrapes my arm when she flails again. I don't have to time to see what, because Victor is on us, ah
ead of several guards.
“Miss Hastings! Let go! For God's sake, you can't assault the Crown Prince of Saint Moore! You must –“
He makes a sad, strained sound. I've finally got a lock on the bitch, knocking that little metal thing in her hands to the ground. It's hard to see in the darkness, but it looks like a brass keychain made to wrap around the knuckles for self-defense.
I notice the red spot spreading in Victor's abdomen about a second before he tumbles to the ground.
“Shit, Vic!” The guards catch up to us then, thank fuck. “Get this bitch out of here!”
She's still snarling like a wild animal, throwing every obscenity in the book at me, while they drag her out. I hit the ground, pressing my hand over the valet's wound.
Damn it, there's blood.
A lot of blood. I'm roaring like a lion for a doctor, vowing the bitch is going to pay big for what she's done.
“Your Highness...Silas...don't let me fail you again. I can't –“
“You haven't failed me in anything, friend. You just took a psycho's blade that was meant for me. That's doing more for me than any of these slow goddamned guards.”
He isn't speaking anymore. Blood keeps leaking all over my hands, and suddenly I'm back in Afghanistan, covering my Lieutenant's gash from a mortar round.
Everything goes numb in my head, like I'm detached, watching somebody else. There's nothing except my hands trying to stop precious life from leaking out of his veins, shaking him every few seconds, trying to keep this man awake and alive.
Medics show, seemingly out of nowhere. I step aside, my hands covered in gore. I won't go back into the palace until they've got him out, on his way to an ambulance.
If Vic dies, I swear to holy hell I'm going to tear that cunt's head off myself.