And that was what I had to do now.
“Are congratulations in order?” Jameson asked with a lazy lift of his eyebrow.
“Oh, no, no,” Willa stammered. “You see, my shoe was stuck, and he was helping me, and it was just a giant fuck-up. I mean, we’ve only been together like two and a half weeks!”
Jameson cracked a smile. “Oh, Mom is going to love this.”
I halted just before the door and softly kissed Willa, uncaring that both Oliver and Jameson were near. “This will be okay. Say it.”
“It.” She looked up at me with the most serious expression I’d ever seen. Her eyes were wide with apprehension, her lower lip tugged between her teeth.
“Very funny.” I used my thumb to free her lower lip and kissed her forehead. “This. Will. Be. Okay.”
“This will be okay,” she whispered.
“The lion’s den awaits,” Jameson said, opening the door to the war room.
Willa’s hand in mine, we walked through the door, Jameson closing it behind us. The war room was at near capacity, the enormous conference table holding only four free seats. Mother, the press secretary, our PR, our lawyers...was the entire advisory committee here?
I guided Willa to the end of the table, where my seat was, pulling out the chair on my right that had been left vacant.
“That’s Jameson’s seat,” Mother snapped from the other end of the table.
Willa’s eyes flew to mine, and I subtly shook my head, seating her anyway. I wanted her on my right, by my side.
“Now it’s Willa’s,” I said to the room.
There was more than one audible gasp.
Jameson smiled wide and took the empty seat a few chairs down in the middle of the table.
“Are we all here?” I asked.
“We’re expecting one more, but we have a few minutes to sort this out before he gets here,” Mother answered. She’d pulled herself into a semblance of order—no longer wearing her housecoat, but she was anything but polished. Even her manners felt raw, almost frayed.
“Let’s clear the air.” My voice was stronger than I’d ever thought capable, and a calm feeling came over me as if my soul settled into the role I’d been born to fill. I would be the King of Elleston in a little less than ten weeks.
“Good. Let’s—”
“We’re not engaged!” Willa blurted out.
Every set of eyes in the room swung toward her, including mine.
“It was absolutely a misunderstanding. You see, my shoe got caught in this grate, and the heel wouldn’t budge. And let me tell you, I wiggled that sucker for a hot minute!”
“Willa,” I said softly.
“So Xander bent down to help me. He’s a gentleman, I mean...a prince. Of course you know he’s a gentleman. Anyway, he jostled my shoe free and then reached up to steady me, and that’s when the picture snapped. We’re not engaged.”
“Willa.” I said louder.
She blinked over at me. “Sorry.”
I leaned over and took one of her hands from where she was wringing them, bringing it up to the conference table and blatantly holding it.
“Of course you’re not engaged!” Mother hissed.
Had she always been this adamant about her own way?
“We need to spin this.” Georgia’s voice rang out. “Release a statement of exactly what happened...without the babbling, and make sure the public understands that this is not how it appeared. Willa, would you be willing to—”
“Absolutely not.” My voice was soft, but damn did it carry across the room. “I’ve already put her inexcusably in the public eye, and I will not subject her to that.”
“I don’t mind,” Willa said, our eyes locking. “Xander, if this helps you, I’ll do it. Let me help you.”
“You’d admit to not being engaged to my son?”
Willa tore her eyes from mine and confronted Mother. “Of course. I’m not engaged to Xander. This isn’t some huge plot to thwart your monarchy or get a crown. I’m well aware of what I am to Xander.”
Holy shit, that was a punch to the gut.
“And that’s not his future queen.” Mother dug in.
Willa’s hand tightened in mine. My stomach sickened, and my heart ripped, literally being torn into two—the king and the man.
The king couldn’t have Willa. Couldn’t need Willa. Couldn’t have gorgeous, short-tempered baby girls, and stubborn boys. The king couldn’t claim her as his legally, or give her his name. The king couldn’t love Willa.
But the man already did.
I was so fucked.
“I’m not a threat,” Willa answered.
As if on cue, the door opened, and the Prime Minister walked in.
“Good morning, your Majesty,” he said to mother. “Your Royal Highness. Your Royal Highness,” he greeted Jameson, then me. Then Damian took the only empty chair—the one across from Jameson—and the room fell into a hush.
“As we were saying,” Mother began. “Of course this is a giant misunderstanding.”
Was it?
“Alexander has no intention of marrying a commoner, let alone an American.”
But what if I did?
“He’s well aware of his duty to his country, and we will release a statement letting the public know as well.”
How the hell could loving Willa betray my country? Was I not capable of leading no matter what woman I had in my bed? Hell, Willa made me better. She made me see things from a different point of view, opened my eyes, gave me a sounding board.
“So this is all gossip?” Damian asked me.
Our stares locked across the table, his curious, and mine determined.
“Of course it is! Never in the thousand years of the Wyndham reign has a royal married a commoner, and we’re certainly not beginning that trend now. This was all blown—”
“I want the room,” I interrupted.
Mother tilted her head. “I’m sorry?”
“The Prime Minister and I need the room. Now.”
“Alexander…”
“Mother, you can leave with your entourage, or I can take Damian to another room, but I’ll be speaking with him alone.”
The room fell silent, and not in a soothing way. It was like the moment before the guillotine fell, where the crowd stood waiting, anticipating the bloodshed.
Finally, Jameson cleared his throat and pushed back from the table. He crossed the distance to our mother and held out his arm. “May I escort you to breakfast, mother?”
Mother’s mouth opened and shut, her eyes flying to a wide panic. Shaking, she rose from her seat, the entire table rising with her. Even Willa caught on and stood.
We all remained standing until Jameson walked her out.
“That goes for all of you,” I said to the advisory team.
As they filed out, I turned to Willa. “I need a few minutes. Can you find your way back to our room?”
She nodded.
“Go,” I whispered. “I’ll be there soon.”
“Don’t let them take our time,” she begged in a whisper.
It damn-near broke me. There was nothing that would take her from me before our time was up.
“I won’t,” I promised.
She nodded, turned and left me alone with Damian.
“If it was later in the day, I would suggest a good scotch,” Damian said, coming down the table to the seat on my left.
We took our seats, and I got right to it.
“Could I marry her? I’m not asking you morally, I’m asking you legally.”
He leaned back in his seat, loosening his tie. “Are you serious?”
“Absolutely. That law is outdated. If you really want to bring the monarchy into a modern age, wouldn’t this be the way to do it?”
“Your Royal Highness—”
“Alexander,” I corrected him.
“Alexander,” he said with a brief bow of his head. “The law is clear. You have to be married to ascend to the throne, and it must be a br
ide of noble birth.”
“That’s fucking absurd.”
“That’s the law.”
“And if I don’t marry? If I refuse?”
“You would throw the country into political turmoil and hand the Anti-Monarchist movement the torch with which they could burn your dynasty to the ground.”
Fuck.
“There’s nothing that can be done? I...I love her.”
His shoulders fell. “I can see that. The entire world can see it, and I take no pleasure in saying this. It would take a radical ratification of our constitution. You would have to secure the votes of parliament, and I can tell you that you have no chance of gaining a majority. None. There are too many who are waiting and hoping to see you fail. Your enemies aren’t just on the protest lines, they’re in the House of Commons, and Lords.”
I glanced at my left hand, aware of the ring-finger that felt empty for the first time. Because I knew what I wanted. I knew what belonged there.
“You’re saying that legally, it’s either my crown or the woman I love.”
“It’s not unheard of for a king to keep a mistress.”
“I would never dishonor her in that way. Or Charlotte.”
“For which I admire you. For what you must do...I do not envy you.”
“I’m not a man who accepts defeat so easily.”
“Your Royal Highness?” He leaned forward, his brows knitting together.
“Ask around. Discreetly. Only you.”
He sighed, raking his hand over his hair. I’d never seen him show a single sign of stress, and I’d watched his campaign carefully, knowing what his election would mean for us. The youngest Prime Minister in our country’s history. A sign of the times—of change. “You want votes.”
“I want votes.” I wanted to keep Willa.
I had to try. I’d never be able to live with myself if I didn’t.
“I’ll do what I can.”
“Even though you’d like nothing more than to abolish the monarchy?” I challenged.
“The monarchy—as it currently serves, is outdated. If you want to begin with this change, I’ll see what I can do for you, but I make no promises.”
“I can live with that.”
I left him and found Georgia waiting in the hallway. “Make the statement,” I ordered her. “Do not embellish, do not give detail. Just tell them that this is what happens when they take unwanted photographs and jump to their own conclusions.”
I didn’t wait for her to respond, simply walked back to my room in a haze, ignoring every voice that called out to me. How could I love one woman and marry another?
How did I let this happen?
Willa waited in our room, pacing a path in the floor. “Xander!” she cried when she saw me, hurling her tiny body into my arms. I caught her easily, holding her against my chest and savoring everything about her from the scent of her hair to the feel of her curves.
“See? I told you it would be okay.”
“Did they take our time?”
“Of course not. Every second I have with you is precious, and they’re not taking any of it.”
But they’d taken years away from us. The potential for any sort of future. We had to live enough in the next months for a lifetime of what we’d been denied.
I would make every moment worth her while.
Worth our inevitable heartbreak.
Willa
The smell of freshly baked blueberry scones, piping hot green tea, and hand-whipped cream filtered in through the closed bathroom door where I was brushing my teeth. Hurrying to finish, I opened the door, my top-half covered by one of Xander’s long-sleeved button-downs, everything else bare.
“Breakfast.” Xander raised the silver tray he held a few inches higher, and I bit down on my smile.
After the initial panic over the supposed proposal photo had calmed, we’d had three weeks of pure bliss. Days filled with Xander and his country sans paparazzi, and nights filled with him and his…royal staff.
I tried not to laugh at my own joke, I was a writer, after all.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this,” I said, padding barefoot over to where he’d set the tray down on the desk in his room.
The space had become our live-in slice of heaven—the securest, most private place to be two normal people free of paparazzi or public demands. For the most part, anyway. Xander always had royal business to attend to and was still helping his law firm on the side, but I never felt neglected in any way. He went out of his way to make sure of that.
“What?” He teased. “Being served by a prince or the way the blueberries taste so much better over here?”
“Ha, ha.” I rolled my eyes playfully. Sitting, I nibbled on the edge of the scone, and moaned. “You’re not wrong. The food is better here.” I took a sip of tea. “Or,” I said, smirking deviously at him. “I could just happen to love anything you put into my mouth.”
Xander’s eyes flashed, that sweet flare of shock churning to something deeper, more primal. I absolutely lived for those instances where my boldness threw him off guard. It was incredible to watch the carefully calm and collected prince get shaken.
He reached across the desk, grazing the pad of his thumb over my bottom lip. The touch sent a direct signal to my fuck me now button, and I wiggled in my seat. “What am I going to do without that mouth of yours?” He spoke the words out loud, but they were softer like he hadn’t meant to.
My shoulders dropped an inch, the heat winding up in my core doused with ice cold water. While I had savored every second with Xander these past six weeks, it meant our time was quickly running out. The twist in my stomach threatened to rob me of my appetite, so I steeled my spine and gave him my best smile.
“You’ll no doubt be absolutely bored,” I finally said, shoving another bite of scone in my mouth to keep it from saying something more absurd—like how a big piece of my heart wished our time never had to end, even though I knew from the beginning it had to.
The knot in his throat bobbed he swallowed so hard. “That is a certainty.”
Something dark flashed across his eyes, and I felt it in my bones. Over the past few weeks, I’d become hypersensitive to all things Xander. I could read him almost better than his own twin, though I wasn’t about to challenge Jameson in any sort of game. I could sense when Xander wanted to retreat inside himself, to pull away and allow him to become the stone statue the royal family wanted him to be.
“Hey,” I said, drawing his gaze. It took a few moments, but slowly, he came back to me. He always came back to me when I called.
He leaned back against his chair, running his fingers through his hair, the pressure seeping out of his coiled muscles like a heavy cologne in the air. I reached onto the tray and dipped my finger into the whipped cream meant for the scone, and hopped off my chair. Barely two steps and I situated myself on his lap, straddling him.
Those deep, dark eyes of his watched me with such intensity it was almost a challenge to crack him. I wiped the glob of sweet cream on his lips before quickly licking it off, making a show of the way I chased the mess with the tip of my tongue. I tilted my head from one side to the other before nodding. “Yeah,” I said, wrapping my arms around his neck, pressing my soft chest against the hard planes of his.
“Yeah, what?” He finally asked, looking up at me as his hands gripped my hips.
“I do love anything you put in my mouth.”
A smirk broke his lips, and a growl rumbled from his chest.
Cracked him. The victory flared through me, the powerful rush of knowing I could make him smile when he sank inside himself was downright exhilarating. The way he shifted underneath me? Just enough for me to feel the hardness of his cock? That was better than any rush could ever be.
“I think you better taste again,” he said, his fingers trailing up my sides. “Just to be certain.”
I teased the tip of my tongue over the remaining cream on the corner of his mouth, my thighs heating a
t the noticeable shiver that ran through him as a result. I rocked my hips forward, nibbling on his bottom lip. His hands flexed on my sides, securing me to him as if I’d decide to fly away at any moment.
“Mmmmhmmm,” I moaned against his mouth. “I’m certain.” I popped my hips forward before lifting a few inches above him. He tightened his hold.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
I flushed at the primal want in his voice. “I’m bare,” I said, eying his pajama bottoms. “And you’re not.”
A mischievous grin shaped his lips. “Well,” he said. “That’s an easy fix.” In two blinks he was free of the soft cotton pants, and he hefted me downward.
I whimpered slightly at the feel of him, all hot, hard, and aching. I couldn’t help but move against him, my slickness allowing for an easy glide. He captured my mouth, sliding his tongue over the edges of my teeth before flicking it, the jarring, demanding motion enough to make me gasp.
“Willa.” He sighed, glancing downward. With one hand he slowly, torturously undid the buttons on the shirt I wore, until finally he pushed the fabric to either side. He gazed at my body like I was a grand feast and he didn’t know where to start.
Slipping both hands inside the shirt, he smoothed his fingers over my skin, teasing my nipples before taking my full, heavy breasts in his hands. He planted kisses on every inch he could reach, and I gently rocked against him all the while, dying for him as he adapted the slow pace.
He’d fucked me every way possible the last few weeks. We’d had rough sex, wet sex, and wall sex, and yet, it was never enough. I always wanted more, and he seemed more than happy to comply. But now, he teased my nerves with a subtle gentleness that spoke words to deeper pieces inside me, parts of me I was failing miserably to protect.
“Xander,” I cried as he planted a kiss on the hollow of my neck. I arched against him, needing him to fill me more than I ever had before.
He enveloped me, wrapped his arms around me and pressed me to his chest, holding me as close as possible while kissing the hell out of me. I couldn’t breathe, and yet I’d never breathed deeper. I ached for him, yet I’d never felt more at peace. Good God, the man was holding me, body and soul, drawing sighs from my lips I’d never let go.
The Crown: A Modern-Day Fairytale Romance Page 14