by Tara Brown
I shook my head. “You saved me. You just didn’t know it. I was spiraling hard. I’d been so drunk and stupid I didn’t even see where it was going. I could have lost my V in Carter’s yard or pool and not even noticed.”
She smiled. “Well, now you can lose it to that hot guy.”
I covered my face with my hands and cried. “I can’t. I’m not good enough for him.”
She wrapped herself around me. “You are. You’re awesome. Fin, don’t cry.”
I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter. I can’t ever see him again.”
She whispered in my ear. “That’s a pity ‘cause he’s standing right there.”
I looked up to see Aiden watching us from the end of the aisle. He opened his mouth, but I backed away and looked at Linna. “I gotta go.”
She looked at him. “What did you do?”
He scowled at her. “What did I do? What did you do?”
I scrambled to my feet and ran from the aisle. I assumed he wouldn’t run in a library so I bolted for the main floor. I got to the front doors when I heard him call me. The librarian shushed him, but he shouted my name again. I ran through the door and behind the library. I pressed my back against the grey brick wall and took deep breaths. I didn’t know what to do about him. I looked down at the ring on my finger.
“Don’t run! Just let me explain.” Aiden came around the corner, also out of breath.
I shook my head. “You lied to me about being from Britain.”
He stopped walking and put out his hands, like I had a knife or something. “I never lied. My mother’s family is British. It’s a very long story.”
I looked around. “Well, does it look like I have anywhere I can go?”
He sighed. “My father’s family is from Andorra. My mother’s family is French royalty. My mother was married to him as a peace treaty to the people of Andorra who wanted their own royal family. They claimed to be worried about the state of affairs in Europe, specifically the Union. We’ve been run by the French President and the Bishop of Urgell, in Spain, for a very long time. But my people have demanded the treaties be redrafted and they be allowed to have their own monarchy. This fight has been going on for some time. My father’s family managed to stay out of it until they decided upon his bloodline as the most viable option for a king. My mother is a French Princess, according to bloodlines, so she was France’s option for a suitable marriage for the Andorran king they had approved.”
I was very lost. I shook my head. “What is Andorra?”
“A country.”
“A country? In Europe?”
He nodded. “The country that is a tax haven for many foreigners, but only one third of the population has the right to vote or own majority in any companies. The possibility of growth is there, but the older generation is stubborn and tries to hang on to the old ways. In the old way, only the few have the rights to voting and ownership. It was breeding corruption. Having a king on the throne changes that, especially since the king and queen are aligned with the French and the British. My mother’s family is also related to the English royals. My mother’s maiden name is Windsor. Charles is her second cousin. Her family, Jack and Millie, are English on one side and French on the other. Now all Andorrans are equal under the law of the king. It’s not an absolute monarchy, but it is a voice for the citizens who are not full-blooded Andorran. My brother is next in line. He is already married and settled into becoming king.”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
He laughed. “Many have not. We are a small country, like Monaco.”
“I’ve heard of Monaco.” I was desperately trying to keep up. “So you’re a prince, but not a ruler?”
“Right. I’m allowed to have companies of my own and live wherever I please.”
“Are you allowed to date whoever you want?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “It’s whomever, and not exactly. My family has to approve. It doesn’t have to be planned like my brother’s, but it has to be approved.”
I laughed bitterly. “I see the dilemma. So where is Andorra?” This was some bullshit. He was bullshitting me.
“Nestled high in the Pyrenees Mountains, between France and Spain.”
“There is something between France and Spain?”
He sighed. “There is. It’s got the best skiing and outdoor activities in the world. It is an entrepreneur’s dream.”
I slumped against the wall and sat down, not paying attention to the fact I was in a short kilt. “I don’t really know what to say.” He frowned, but I shook my head, still stunned. “Sucks to be you, I guess.” I could see the look on his face and it broke my heart, my already broken heart. “Sucks to me too.”
He walked over and sat next to me. “It does suck, as you Americans always say. I could have a normal life if the girl I was with could keep her pants on.”
I snorted. “Screw you.”
“If my family ever finds out about your YouTube videos or your shoplifting escapade, they will kill me. They will make sure I never see the light of day again.”
I sighed. “If my family ever finds out about you, they will out me and make sure your family kills us both.”
His hand slowly, as if a little bit afraid of my reaction, reached across and took mine. “What can we do?”
There was nothing to be done. What could we do? I was never going to be a princess and he was never going to be allowed to sit at my place, watching stupid movies. But there was one thing I was curious about. “How did you get to come to my school?”
He chuckled a smug laugh. “I am classed as a visiting dignitary, but I am technically an exchange student. I graduated already, but I explained that taking a semester in a typical US town would be beneficial to our understanding of the American Market and its everyday consumers. My parents bought it.”
I leaned into him and smiled. “See—even that load of bullshit sounded fancy and real. How did you get an English accent?”
“My mother is English, my nanny was English, my relatives on one side are mostly English, and I attended school in Switzerland where we were taught to speak using the Queen’s English. But I can speak Catalan, German, Spanish, Portuguese, French, and Italian. I’m learning Greek and Croatian right now.”
I looked over at him. “But can you speak text?”
He smiled back. “‘Til my thumbs ache and my joints cease to move.”
“You can’t ever just say yes or no, have you noticed that?”
“You attacked a girl at school today like you were being paid to, and you’re going to pick on me for my enunciation and proper sentence structure?” I got lost in his eyes. They were bright and clear again. The anger and confusion seemed to vanish. He bent and brushed his lips against mine. “I am so very relieved to have unloaded my deceptions and avoided truths. I may not have lied, but I did keep things from you on purpose. I imagined you would be like most American girls and love me because I was a prince, not because you got to know me.”
I scowled. “Do I really seem that shallow?”
“Yes. See—I answered with one word.”
I shoved him playfully. “It doesn’t count. You were being mean and you just HAD to boast about it. That negates your one-word answer.”
He kissed me again. “You didn’t deny your feelings for me being in love.”
There was no keeping the smile from my lips. “You already said it first.”
He smiled. “You found the secret note?” His eyes went to the ring.
“No.”
He laughed. “When did I say it, then?” I ignored him and tried to open the ring. It didn’t open like a locket. I was scared I might break it so I held out my hand. “When you sent me that letter with Jack’s love and Millie’s and yours. Open it.”
He shook his head, sporting a devious grin. “No. You can’t have it ‘til you open it yourself. That was just like me sending my love to a friend though.”
“I’m just a friend, then?”
His blue ey
es lit up. “Yes.” I scowled and he laughed. “A friend who I have flown an awful lot of kilometers for. A friend I have tried very hard to not think about at all times of the day. A friend I’m not sure I can live without. A friend I plan for.”
I nodded at the ring. “Then you should open this for me.” He shook his head. I pouted. “You’re mean.”
“I’m not actually. But I am curious. What are we to do about this predicament?”
I shrugged and picked at the ring. “I don’t know. What do you want to do?”
“I want to steal you away and start construction on a rather large hole…”
I shoved him again. “I never should have showed you that friggin’ movie.”
He kissed my cheek. “Can we try to do this without anyone knowing anything? Can we just see if this is what I think it is?”
I narrowed my gaze. “And what would that be?”
His smile grew evil. “Get the ring open and see.”
I groaned.
If I didn’t take selfies, my friends wouldn’t even know what I look like.
Chapter Eleven
I’m Thank and FULL
November
Ten things I was grateful for when Thanksgiving hit:
I got new Lulus in the mail the day before Thanksgiving.
I had a boy who kissed me every single second of the day and never asked for anything.
I was pretty sure I was going to lose my V any minute, and I could easily say I loved the person I would lose it to.
I had almost straight A’s, even if it was totes thanks to the boy kissing me and his strict schooling regime.
Hattie had flown in for the holiday and was staying at the house.
Sheila HATED Hattie.
Hattie couldn’t give a shit about it.
Jess was dating Aaron and he was sweet to her in a way I had never seen before.
Linna and I were in therapy.
Oh snap, I almost forgot. I was in LOVE. I knew it, but hadn’t said it. Neither had he. He kept torturing me about the ring, but I hadn’t been able to find a way to open it.
“HA! I found it!” Jess came running into my room and dove onto the bed. She flashed her iPad at me, showing me my antique ring.
“Hey, that’s my ring.”
She pressed her lips into a thin line. “Dude, I am so sorry to have to tell you this.”
I swallowed hard. “It’s stolen?”
She laughed. “No! What? You are so crazy. No, it’s way worse than that.”
I gasped, but she cut off my dramatics. “It’s a ring from his family. He had to have put it in that antique shop. It’s worth like half a million dollars but is considered priceless, really. It belonged to the Tudor family, if you can believe it.”
I gagged a little bit. “That show with Jonathan Rhys Meyers? With Marie Antoinette?”
She laughed again. “Yes and no, dumbass. It’s the one with Jonathan Rhys Meyers, but Marie Antoinette wasn’t in it. It was Anne Boleyn. Good God.”
“Whatever. You mean this friggin’ ring is some royal jewelry that queens have worn?”
She reached forward, did some twisting thingy, and it snapped open. “It’s a special way of opening it. Henry Tudor used it to meet with his women.” She gushed. “Aww, look.”
I lifted my finger and smiled when I saw what was inside. In the gold he’d had someone engrave:
Every beat of my heart is for you, my Fin.
I smiled. “Oh my God. What? Seriously. He had the ring brought to the friggin’ store and engraved for me? This piece of priceless jewelry has a secret message in it for me?”
She gave me the cheesiest grin ever. “He loves you.”
I sighed. “I know that. He doesn’t say it, but I totes know it. I can’t keep this ring, dude.”
She nodded. “I agree, but he’s gone and personalized it. I mean, that sort of means you have to.” She made a funny face, wrinkling up her nose. “Would it kill you to keep a ring a king of England used to smuggle whores into his room?”
“No. I guess not. I mean, it’s kinda gross when you think about it though.” I thought about her sentence. “Unless… wait.” My face got red and my heart started pounding.
Her eyes widened. “Oh… uhhh. I’m sure that’s not why he gave it to you.”
My lower lip started to stick out a little as I thought about it. He had done exactly what the king had done. He had given me the whore ring, and even worse—he had written my name on it. I didn’t feel so good. “He’s here hiding in Washington, pretending to be studying the daily life of Americans, but really he’s here having a secret affair with me.”
Her face got still and her words quiet. “He gave you the whore ring.”
I looked down on it, feeling sicker by the second. I pulled it off and placed it on the bed. Just looking at it made me feel dirty. “I haven’t had sex with him yet.”
She nudged me. “It’s cool, Fin. It doesn’t matter if you did.”
“I didn’t. I’m a virgin. I was going to give it to him this weekend, after Thanksgiving.”
She sighed. “Wow, I don’t know which is bigger for me—the fact he’s acting kinda scummy or that you’re a virgin.”
I nodded. “I know, right?”
“I thought that was a lie you made up so guys would want you.”
I stared at the ring but didn’t argue her point. It was legit and for sure something I would actually do. I sort of almost wished I had done it so that I wasn’t a virgin with a whore’s ring.
Jess picked up the ring. “Why don’t I just put it somewhere safe until you can confront him?” She carried it to the closet and placed it in with my other costume jewelry. My good stuff was in Dad’s safe.
I didn’t know what to say or do or how to respond. It was Thanksgiving and Hattie was here in the house and Aiden was coming for dinner. I looked at Jess. “WWBWD?”
She cocked an eyebrow.
“What would Blair Waldorf do?”
Her eyebrow never lowered. “I don’t know who that is.”
“Gossip Girl. Essentially a cross between Jacqueline Kennedy and Audrey Hepburn but mixed with your mom.”
She smiled wickedly. “Dress stunning, act like a lady, do not spill the beans or humiliate anyone publicly, and privately dump his sorry ass if the ring turns out to be meant for whores.” She pulled a beautiful black dress from my closet. It still had the tag on. It was exactly what I needed.
I dressed, feeling a horrid mix of disbelief and sadness. I defended him to the death in my mind, and the mature side of me figured I should just ask him. But my wounded pride and fear that he would confirm I was a king’s whore and nothing else kept me from asking.
I wanted to flirt with Aaron in front of him. I wanted to make him jealous, but the mature side of me said there would be an innocent victim in it all—Jess. She liked Aaron a lot and I would walk through fire before I would hurt her. She and Hattie were my only actual family in the whole world, besides my father, but who wanted him on their team?
I drew my lips on perfectly and filled them in with a matte. I put plumping lip-gloss over that and a dab of Pout Perfecter in the middle of my bottom lip. I added my last coat of mascara and stepped back, nodding. It was perfect. I looked like the old me, pre-Aiden me. It was almost sad to see that girl in the mirror. I didn't like her anymore. I reached into my bra and pulled my boobs into a better placing for cleavage.
He was going to regret considering me a whore, even if I was dressed like one. Which of course made me regret dressing like one.
I heard the doorbell ring and took one last look. I was about to back out of the whole thing, afraid he liked me for real and the whore’s ring was a mistake or something he wasn't even aware of. Yeah, that was likely. I mean it took Jess, a complete computer geek, two months to track down the origin of the ring. Maybe he didn't know about it. He was almost always sweet, when he wasn't trying to control things. He had gone above and beyond for me repeatedly. He hadn’t really given
me a reason to doubt him at all.
My door opened, and, where I expected Jess, there stood Aiden. He looked handsome, but it made my stomach ache more. His hair was getting a bit shaggy again and he wore a simple pair of cords and a dress shirt. It was dressed down for him. I hadn’t seen jeans on him since summer.
I tried to maintain my cold act, but I had to know. I had to know if he knew the history of the ring, and I wanted to be mature. I didn't want to play games with him.
“You look beautiful.”
“Thanks.” I swallowed away my chickenshit fears and just said it. “We looked up the ring you gave me—the locket ring. We found the answer for opening it.”
His eyes widened. “Then you have seen the message?”
I shrugged. “I have. But the thing about it that has me curious is the interesting background it has.”
He nodded. “I’d say. It’s been in my family for hundreds of years. I would imagine it has graced the hand of every woman in my family since the sixteenth century.”
I had to process his statement for a second before I held up a hand. “You don't know the history of the ring?”
He sighed. “Of course, I checked it out. It isn’t haunted. It’s part of hundreds of pieces that belong to my family. I asked Jack for a ring I could hide a message in. He told me he had that one at his estate on display. I went and got it and arranged a cleaning and the engraving. Why? Why do you look so angry? I assumed, perhaps wrongly, that the engraving would make you happy.”
“You researched it?”
He shook his head. “I checked for family members who might have haunted it. Jack said no one.”
I walked to my bed and sat down. “It was a ring used to make dates with whores and something Jess called a consort. It was something used to get King Henry laid.”
His face paled. “And you assumed what?”
“Well, you don't want anyone to know about us, and I can’t help but wonder if I am… like… a mistress instead of a girlfriend. Like this is something your family does.”