by J. J. McAvoy
“Why—”
Shifting, I faced him again. “Don’t you see what she is trying to do? She trapped us in here because she knew we would have to talk. And by talking, we would end up getting to know each other. In other words, she’s trying to force us to make a connection right now.”
He stared back at me, and I noticed his eyes weren’t pure blue. They had specs of green in them, and depending on how the light hit and how he held his gaze, they shifted from being too blue to green.
“I figured that,” he replied slowly then pointed to his clothes. “Why did that have to be done with these costumes. Are you a fan of this fairy tale?”
“Answering that would make us keep talking to each other.”
“And why would that frighten you?” he questioned, propping his arm on the couch. “Are you worried that in talking to me, you will fall for me?”
I rolled my eyes so hard they almost fell out of my head. “No chance.”
“Harsh. There is at least a one percent chance of anything,” he replied.
“My heart is made of ice. I’m more worried you would fall for me than I am worried about falling for you.”
“Falling in love would be nice, but it is irrelevant,” he replied seriously, but it was only a moment before the corner of his lips turned up. “This arrangement isn’t for love. It’s for money.”
“You seem very willing to admit that.”
He shrugged. “It’s just the truth. I cannot offer much besides that.”
“So, the truth and the chance to be a princess is what I would get in return?” It was more than most people offered, though.
“The correct term would be princess consort or just consort—the wife of a prince isn’t automatically made a princess. The sovereign must bestow a princess title. Usually, you are made a duchess instead, so you’d most likely be the Duchess of Wevellen,” he explained clearly, and I was starting to notice whenever it came to something royal, he said whatever he had to say with earnestness and significance. Each time he did, it was like a slap to the face that he was, in fact, a real-life prince.
“You do know I haven’t agreed to any of this, right?”
He nodded. “I am aware.”
“So...why don’t you go back home?”
“I just arrived. At least give me a moment to recover,” he teased, then pulled out his phone. He showed me words on the screen, but I had no idea what I was seeing.
“I can’t read that.”
“Oh, right. I apologize. I’m used to being around those who speak both English and Ersovian,” he replied, putting down the phone. “It is an order to stay here until I convince you to change your mind.”
“An order?”
He nodded. “The crown is dead set on you. My apologies and congratulations.”
“Why both?”
“Congratulations because for them to want you so badly means they think highly of you. Apologies because it is not what you want, and therefore, you will be troubled by it,” he explained, and again, his manner of speaking really threw me off.
“Why me, though? My sister would love to be a princess—sorry, the Duchess of Wevellen. She’d be the easier of the two of us to convince, and she’s just as rich as me, not that I’m trying to throw her to you, but still.” I hadn’t told her about this, but Augusta would really like all the attention.
He thought about it. “I am not sure. I can only assume that your sister failed to meet other criteria to be part of the royal family.”
“Like what?” The bigger sister in me came out, not liking how they might have judged her.
He thought about it. “There are many rules. Members of our royal family are not to have tattoos, nor significant public displays of affections from previous relationships visible on camera—meaning, there should never be evidence of you kissing or such with a man or woman who is not your husband or wife. Also, the monarchy frowns upon anyone who is overly political. We are not as strict as the British, but that’s a low bar. The only one allowed to have a political opinion is the sovereign. There is more, but you see the point. There are a lot of criteria.”
And Augusta was zero for three on all of them. She had Egyptian hieroglyphs going down her spine, a lot of photos with her exes on the beach, and she had just recently called the president a moron on Twitter...among other things.
“So basically your family picked me because I am boring?”
“Boring is not the best word.”
“What is the better word?”
He paused to think. “Traditional?”
Even he did not look convinced.
“Does it upset you?” He asked curiously. “To be seen as...traditional?”
“No.” Because I had spent my life trying not to draw too much attention to myself. I was boring because if I wasn’t, the press would say it was because of my mother.
“No? Care to share your thoughts?”
“All these rules, how do they not drive you insane?” I asked, switching the subject.
His shoulders seemed to deflate a bit, but he did his best not to show it. “Truthfully, they do. They drive me mad, and I have fought against and even broken them growing up. But it is my reality and duty. Plus, who cares to hear a prince complain? They would just tell me to give up my title. They would say no one is forcing you to be a prince. But that’s a lot harder than you realize. It’s not just a title, it is—”
“It is your family,” I whispered, glancing down at my nails because I understood. “There have been times when I wanted to complain and scream, too, but all I would get is ‘Poor little rich girl. Just give up all your money then and work.’ And in anger, I want to scream, ‘Fine! I will,’ and then I remember. My father gave his whole life to building everything I have now, and in two seconds, I’d throw it away? I couldn’t imagine if it wasn’t just my father, but grandfather and generations of my family.”
“Exactly,” he whispered and lifted my chin. “So make it easy on me, Cinderella, and just say yes.”
“Are you making a move on me right now?” I smacked away his hand. “I may feel for you, but I’m not sacrificing myself along with you.”
“Wow, I’m being pitied. You feel for me,” he repeated.
“Apparently, I can because you need me and my money.”
“Your mother explained you also need me to get that money,” he shot back at me. “Without it, you’ll have nothing.”
Damn it, Mom.
“I just need to get married for the money, but it doesn’t need to be a prince.”
“But who’s better than a prince?”
“A cowboy.”
His eyebrow rose, and he placed his hand onto his chest. “You are trampling all over my pride tonight, Cinderella.”
“Forgive me, Your Highness.” I bowed my head toward him. “You seem like a good guy. I’m sorry for all your trouble, but it’s all for nothing. I have no desire to be a princess or a duchess. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to call and bug my mother until I get out of here.” I rose from my seat, feeling proud of myself.
“I have until the end of the month to change that,” he said, rising beside me.
I was tall for a girl. However, he was still a whole head taller, so he had to look down at me and I up at him.
“And now that I have met you, I’m going to try my hardest to do so.”
“Why in the world would you do that?”
“Because I do not think I’ll get lucky a second time,” he replied, and I stared at him, not at all sure what he meant by that.
Just when I was about to ask, I turned, hearing the front door unlock. However, it wasn’t my mother. It was a man with white and gray hair, despite the fact that he wasn’t much older than I was. He wore a black suit and held luggage in both of his hands.
“Who are you?”
“Cinderella, meet my personal bodyguard, Iskandar Ruegg. Iskandar meet...Cinderella.”
I looked at him. “Are you going to keep calling me that?�
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“That is what you introduced yourself to me as, no?” he was clearly teasing me with a massive grin on his face.
Ignoring him, I turned back to the man.
He bowed his head to me. “Hello, ma’am. Where may I put these?” he asked in a dull and uninterested tone, but that was less important than the things he was pointing at.
“Where do you put those? I don’t know. In a hotel?” I said very clearly.
“Your mother arranged for us to stay here,” the prince beside me said.
“Of course, she did,” she muttered, really ready for this dream to be over. “You are a prince. I’m sure you have enough funds to stay at a hotel or—”
“There is a chance that I could be noticed or exposed there,” he answered. “I am not in the United States in an official capacity, so it is best not to leave a trace of where I am.”
My brain was done for the night.
“Goodnight,” I said to him, grabbing my crown and walking toward the doors.
“Wait.”
“What?” I turned back to find him holding my glass slippers. With that dumb grin still on his face, he walked around the couch over to me. “Don’t you dare!”
He ignored me and knelt, setting the heels at my feet. I looked away from him as he put my feet into the shoes. I stumbled a bit, so grabbing his shoulders, I steadied myself hurriedly before letting go of him and patting the side of my dress.
“Forgive me. I just had to.” He smiled up at me, and I glared at him, not exactly sure what I was to say or do with him. “Weren’t you running away from me?”
“I wasn’t running.”
“Of course, you were just going to take a stroll without your shoes.”
“You aren’t very charming right now.”
“I do not intend to charm you now as Prince Charming but as Gale.”
“Gale? I thought your name was Galahad.”
“To the public, yes, but my family calls me Gale.”
“I’m not family.”
“Yet.”
“You are—forget it. Goodnight!” I threw up my hands, then spun on my heels and left.
Everyone was being ridiculous. I’d never fallen for anyone before, and I wouldn’t fall now. No matter how nice his smile was.
OCTOBER 31
I may have met my future wife today. And quite honestly, I’m very disturbed. I had planned on begrudgingly and complainingly accepting this whole ordeal. I had told myself that I would do it out of duty and duty alone. I would not show any joy or satisfaction with being forced to marry.
Then I met her, and she has stolen almost all the rebellion out of me. I currently do not know how I am to face my father or, worse, my brother. The smug satisfaction they will most definitely have on their faces will drive me mad. However, I will have no choice but to accept it because I enjoyed my brief time with her. She’s witty, stubborn, with a quick temper, yet deeply caring and understanding. It does not hurt that if Aphrodite needed a body to steal and become mortal, she’d chose Odette’s. I do not think I would be able to find another woman I did not mind and the palace approved of. Maybe Eliza is right. It is fate.
The only problem seems to be her complete and absolute lack of interest in me or being royal. From what her mother has told me and what I have noticed tonight, she seems to have no desire for romance, whatsoever.
Whatever is a romantic to do?
“Wolfgang has almost finished arranging your things, sir,” Iskandar said from behind me. “You are to stay in the last room at the end of the hall.”
“Thank you,” I replied, finishing my thoughts on the page.
“Once he is done, he can take you if you wish to go to the event this evening. You would need to wear a mask, but you could go,” he stated.
“No, it’s not necessary,” I whispered, closing my journal before reaching up to undo the top of my jacket. “Besides, I doubt she would want me to go.”
“I do not understand.”
“Think about it. Her mother only dressed me up like this for her daughter’s sake. It is her mother’s mischievous attempt to force a romance. I can only assume that Odette has some connection to this fairy tale, and her mother was trying to bring it to life.” I leaned back against the cushions, closing my eyes.
“Is that not a reason to go out with her this evening?”
“I’ve already intruded on her home. If I also went to the event, she would only feel even more pressure. It’s best to give her space for now.”
“Your brother wished for me to remind you that time—”
“My brother, as well as everyone else, needs to remember that they may be able to force me but not her. They are only doing what is best for the crown. She’ll do what is best for Odette. Rome was not built in a day.”
“True. But you do not have one thousand and twelve years to build Rome.”
My eyes snapped back open, and I glanced over my shoulder at him. “Are you my guard or my brother’s mouthpiece?”
He stood upright with his head held high. “Both.”
“Then you report to him then. I’m going to sleep,” I muttered, grabbing my journal as I rose from my chair.
He said nothing as I walked up the stairs.
I wished I did not have so much pressure attached to this. I was here. I was agreeing, working on it. The last thing I needed was a constant reminder that this was a prearranged agreement.
Entering the room, Wolfgang opened his mouth to say something, but I just waved him off. All the exhaustion I had fought off immediately hit me. Falling onto the bed, I kicked off my shoes and tossed my journal onto the bedside table. My eyes were already closing; it had been such a long night.
I’d figure out everything else in the morning.
Chapter8
“Don’t be mad,” Augusta said to me when I arrived. She must have been waiting at the door because I barely got my foot through the door before she was in front of me.
“Too late. I already am,” I replied.
“She called you.”
“What? Who called me?” I asked, not understanding what was with the expression on her face or why she was blocking my way.
“Your mom. I’m so sorry, Odette. I didn’t know. I already got her a table. And I’m trying to—”
“Augusta, slow down.” I was now completely lost. “What are you talking about? Why would my mom call me?”
She frowned and stepped aside. “My mom apparently took charge of the fundraiser this year.”
I still didn’t understand until I stepped forward and walked into the hall. It was then that I saw all the decorations. There were photos and banners of our father with us, with the hospital kids, and with Yvonne, even pictures of him with different members of the board. But none of my mother. There was even a photo of Augusta and me with her mother and our father that came on the slide show. What was worse, what gutted me, was seeing Yvonne taking photos and welcoming guests at the front of the ball. My chest began to tighten the more I watched the purposeful exclusion of my mother. Yvonne’s table was at the very front. Meanwhile, I could see my mother seated in the back with random people I didn’t even know. No one was even coming toward there. She just sat, dressed in gold, next to Mr. Greensboro.
“My mother started the children’s hospital fundraiser!” I did my best not to yell, but my fist balled.
“It’s not under her, though. It’s under the Etheus Foundation—”
“My. Mom. Started. This.” I hissed out each word to her. “And your mom has her sitting near the trash cans! No, you said you had to find her a place? That means she didn’t even think my mom deserved to sit by the trash!”
Her shoulders dropped. “You know how they are, Odette!”
I wanted to scream in her face and tell her that wasn’t an excuse, that I wouldn’t let my mother ever do this to her or her mother. But I was so angry that I couldn’t even do that. I stomped into the hall and made a line straight toward my mom.
“Ladie
s and gentlemen, I would like to take this moment to invite Augusta and Odette Wyntor to the front,” the host said before I could get to the back.
I glanced up to the front where he was standing, and beside him, Yvonne stood tall and proud, dressed as some queen herself, her blonde hair up in a ridiculous beehive formation with a small tiara inside it.
“Please, please, don’t make a scene now. I swear I will yell at her after,” Augusta said, coming up beside me with a smile on her face. “Remember, this is the first event without Dad.”
Inhaling through my nose, I forced a smile to my face before walking with Augusta. Everyone applauded, and a large photo of my father appeared on the screen. Reaching the front, I turned back to face the crowd, my eyes going to my mother. She stood, and I had to look around people to see her clearly. She relaxed her shoulders and motioned her chin. I knew immediately what she wanted. I relaxed my shoulders and lifted my head, and she gave me thumbs-up.
“Would either of you like say a few remarks?” the host asked.
Augusta reached for the microphone without hesitation. However, because my arms were longer, I reached out and took it first. She shot me a glance of worry. She knew I hated speaking at these things. I always left that to her, but not this time.
“I would like to thank you all so very much for taking the time to not only dress up but join us tonight. I honestly feel as though my father is having a good laugh right now. Mr. Stuart, you especially,” I said, causing everyone to chuckle, and then applaud at the man covered in blue paint.
His genie costume was interesting. He was far too short and round for it. He nodded to me, giving me a thumbs-up.
“As many of you know, the Children’s Halloween fundraiser was my father’s excuse to make you all get dressed up in costumes. Some of you may have heard this story, but what spearheaded this event was me. While my mother was in the hospital, praying to God I’d just come out already, she and my father met a bunch of children who were unable to go out like other kids to trick or treat. So, my mother paid to have the hospital decorated as a haunted house and allowed the kids to trick or treat there. It’s been twenty-seven years since then, and some of the many treats that have been given by all you wonderful people are the cost of hospital bills across the country and further aid to these children. For that, I thank you all.”