Royal Arrangement #3

by Casey, Ember

  Royal Arrangement #3

  Ember Casey

  Renna Peak

  Casey Peak Publishing, LLC

  This book is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, locations or incidents are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events, or locations is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2017 by Ember Casey and Renna Peak

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  First Edition: June, 2017

  Contents

  Royal Heartbreakers Reader Team

  1. Justine

  2. William

  3. Justine

  4. William

  5. Justine

  6. William

  7. Justine

  8. William

  9. Justine

  10. William

  11. Justine

  12. William

  13. Justine

  14. William

  15. Justine

  16. William

  17. Justine

  18. William

  19. Justine

  20. William

  21. Justine

  Royal Arrangement

  Also by Renna Peak

  Also by Ember Casey

  Royal Heartbreakers Reader Team

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  * * *

  Justine

  The storm that struck my country yesterday delivered far more damage than was previously known. I’ve been working in the city all day, doing my best to help my fellow citizens. But my meager efforts have done little for the effort to clean up—and cleaning is the least of the worries now. Many areas of the city are still without electricity. And there are far too many hungry children at the shelter where I’ve been passing out small portions of food for the past few hours.

  The lines have finally died down somewhat, and I’m able to sit for the first time today. I choose a spot on the floor facing the wall, far away from the crowd of people in the dining area. This building is usually a school—an expensive, private school—and it isn’t big enough to hold everyone seeking shelter and food today.

  I’m exhausted and I’m sure I’m covered again in dirt, much as I was right after the storm yesterday. The only good that has come out of this—at least for me—is that I haven’t had time to think about William or what happened between us last night.

  I still can’t believe I begged him to have sex with me. To fuck me, to be more accurate. He was right to have run away from me—I’ll be surprised if he ever speaks to me again after the way I behaved.

  I don’t know what’s come over me… I’m not usually a horrible person. I don’t bicker with people—I rarely argue. I’ve been trained as a proper princess—I keep my mouth shut and do as I’m told. At least I did.

  I suppose the problem with my upbringing began when I went to America to go to university. My first year, I was so timid I don’t think anyone noticed me. It was my second year that I opened up. I’d spent the summer at school—I didn’t return to Rosvalia at all until the summer between my second and third year.

  And my second year was the year I met James.

  I don’t like to let myself think of him. It’s bad enough that I have a book of published poetry that is basically the tale of my sorry story with him. And it’s even worse that he was one of the judges who chose my book as the best in our class—the only reason it was published at all.

  It might have been his way of apologizing—perhaps feeling sorry for me—but I have my doubts. And I’m not going to allow myself to even think of what will happen when he arrives here in two weeks for the conference. I still can’t believe I invited him at all. I can only hope I’ll be so busy when it begins that I’ll barely have time to do more than greet him.

  And it isn’t as though there isn’t more than enough to do between now and then. There’s no doubt my family will contribute just enough money to clean up the areas the guests will see during their stay here—my father will likely ignore the rest of the country, just as he always does. We’ll put up some facade that the country has recovered well—and what better place to do that than on an international stage like my conference?

  My family makes me ill. It’s why I need to leave this place, as much as I love it. There is just no way for me to separate myself from them—I have no power to do anything but put in my own backbreaking labor and try to do the little I can for our people.

  Returning to America will be difficult, but it is my only option if I want to remove myself from my family. And I still don’t know William very well, but I’m certain he’ll understand. He can return to his country—he’ll be embarrassed, certainly, but no more than I will. I’m sure that after a few months, he’ll have forgotten this entire incident and he can go about his merry life the way he always has, doing whatever it is that Montovian princes do.

  I try to ignore the small shiver of need that pulses through me at the thought of him. I take a bite of the sandwich I brought with me from the palace instead. William is attractive, that much is certain. All of the Montovian princes are. And his blue eyes…

  No. If I allow myself to get attached now, I’ll end up spending my life in Rosvalia under the thumb of my father and my brother. And they will do everything in their power to end our relationship. The only reason my father allowed the farce of our marriage to continue was to humiliate Montovia. He’d almost called it off before the wedding even happened, which would have been fine with me at the time. But at the last moment, my father concocted some sort of scheme that I, apparently, am not intelligent enough to understand. The only reason I agreed to go along with it was because he told me he would send me back to America for good with his blessing. And that in time, I could marry whomever I wished.

  James. I thought I’d never love a man again after what happened with him. I never wanted to love another man.

  I didn’t expect to come to care about William. Ever. I’m still not sure that I do. But he has been respectful—at least mostly. I’d feared from the beginning that he would use me in whatever way he chose, seeing me as his property as is the way of my country. But it hasn’t been like that at all. He helped during the storm yesterday. He’s shown restraint and respected my wishes. He’s even been…kind. Which is more than I can say for myself.

  “Why are you sitting in the corner, Princess?” William edges as close to me as he possibly can.

  I hadn’t even noticed that someone had come to sit next to me—the area has become so crowded with other people looking for shelter that there are now people eating on the floor nearby.

  I gulp down the bite I’ve been chewing for too long. “I thought I’d save the seats for the people here trying to find comfort, Your Highness.”

  “Ah. But you thought nothing of taking their food? I don’t know, Princess. If I was hungry enough to come to a shelter, I’d probably rather have a sandwich than a seat at a dining table.”

  I turn to face him, pressing my back against the wall. “I’ll have you know, Your Highness, that I brought this food with me this morning. So there has been nothing untoward about me eating. Even princesses have to eat now and again—”

  He holds his palms out to me, interruptin
g. “Slow down, Princess. I was only kidding.” He smiles, but there is something almost plastic about it. “It looks like you’ve had a busy day.”

  I frown, glaring at him. I open my mouth to speak, but then I notice he has dirt streaked across his face, and his fingernails are caked with muck. He probably looks exactly like I do. The realization that he’s been out in the city, doing work for my people, sends a wave of something through me. Something that says that perhaps we could be more—more than we are now. Knowing he cares enough to do more than is expected of him sends a strange electrical pulse through me.

  And then I remember what he did for me last night, and that pulse turns to something more like a burning desire that plants itself right between my thighs.

  I take another bite of my sandwich and turn away from him.

  He slides closer to me, looping an arm around my waist to speak into my ear. “You and I need to talk, Princess.”

  “Talk all you want,” I say with my mouth full, very un-princesslike.

  He chuckles, but there’s something guarded in his voice. “Not here.”

  I swallow my food and turn my head to face him. “I’m not leaving here tonight. So if you have something to say…”

  He nods. “I do.” His smile falls and he looks into my eyes for a moment, though I can’t read what it is that’s in them. “I do have something to say. Something to ask you, at any rate.”

  “Ask away.” Our faces are so close together that all it would take for me to kiss him is tiny tilt of my head. And that sensation between my thighs is telling me to do just that. More like begging me to do just that. My lips part and I start to lean forward—

  “James Camden.”

  I suck in a breath, leaning away from him. “What?”

  “James Camden. The keynote speaker at your convention in two weeks.” He glares at me. “The man from your poems.”

  “I—”

  “Princess…” He shakes his head, but his eyes are still narrowed to near-slits. “He was your teacher.”

  My mouth falls open, but I can’t seem to make any sound come out.

  “He was your married teacher.”

  I draw in a slow breath, trying to calm myself, though my heart feels like it might hammer out of my chest. “My past is none of your business, Your Highness.”

  “Isn’t it, though?” He glares at me for a moment longer. “Is that the reason you invited him here?”

  “Is what the reason I invited him here?” He has to see the confusion in my expression. “What are you getting at?”

  “I know how to use the internet, Princess.”

  “And?” I shake my head. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about—”

  “His divorce. He divorced his wife a few months ago and now he’s coming here.” He nods. “That’s it, isn’t it? That’s what the big secret is. In ninety-four days, you’re going to make a mockery of me and leave me for this man.”

  William

  The shock and uncertainty in her eyes gives way quickly to anger.

  She stands. “How dare you accuse me of such a thing.”

  “Are you denying it?” I rise to stand beside her. “You refused to tell me anything about the man, and you continually refuse to tell me what happens three months from now. What else am I supposed to think?” I know I’m being harsh, but now that I’m next to her—and after an exhausting day working through this over and over again in my head—all these emotions are bubbling forward.

  Her expression is guarded again. “Do you really think so little of me?”

  “I don’t know,” I tell her. “You had no qualms about breaking up this man’s marriage. Who’s to say you wouldn’t break up ours?”

  Pure, hot rage flashes across her face, and for a brief moment I think she’s going to smack me. Instead, she spins on her heel and starts to walk away. She makes it about three steps before she pivots back around and marches up to me, a finger pointed right at my chest.

  “You don’t know a damn thing about me,” she says. “For your information, I didn’t know he was married when it started. And when I found out, he told me they were going through a divorce, that they were as good as divorced already. By the time I realized the truth…” Sadness fills her eyes, drowning out the rage—but only for a moment. She quickly shoves it down again. “You have no idea who I am or what I’ve been through. But the fact that you think me capable of all that says a lot about you.”

  “I don’t know what you’ve been through because you won’t tell me,” I remind her, losing my patience. “Why wouldn’t I assume the worst when you’re being so bloody secretive?”

  She pulls her hand away from my chest and crosses her arms, shaking her head. “You pretend to be all understanding and considerate of my feelings, but it’s all just a means to an end, isn’t it? You’ve never once stopped to think about why I might want to keep certain things private—you’re just upset that I do. Because you see it as denying you something.”

  “That’s not how it is at all. But like it or not, Princess, we’re married. Do you really not see why your husband might be a little upset that you invited your ex-lover to headline your conference and never told him about it?”

  “He was on the speaker list long before you ever announced our surprise engagement. Believe it or not, my life doesn’t revolve around you, Your Highness.”

  “Oh, I believe it. So far you haven’t given me a single indication that you take this marriage as seriously as I do.”

  Her eyes widen, but she doesn’t say anything. Instead, her gaze flicks to her right, toward the crowd of people. We’re far enough away that they probably can’t hear what we’re saying, but a handful have turned to look our way, and I’m sure our body language makes it more than clear that we’re arguing. I try to relax my shoulders.

  “We should continue this conversation somewhere private,” I say.

  “Not tonight,” she says with a sharp shake of her head. “I don’t have time. There’s still too much to do.”

  “I’m not going to let you avoid this,” I tell her.

  “I’m not avoiding this. There are just more important things to worry about right now than your hurt pride.” She wipes the back of her hand across her forehead, smearing the smudge of dirt there. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to get back to.”

  She starts to walk away, but I catch up her in a few strides. “I’ll help.”

  “I’m sure you’ve done more than enough already, You should head back to the palace now—no one will think any less of you for it.”

  “I’m already here. I might as well help.”

  “You’re just going to get in the way.”

  I look down at myself. My clothes are grimy and even torn in a couple of places. My arms and legs ache from lifting rubble and debris. My head aches from exhaustion and mild dehydration. But I have no plans to go back to the palace.

  “You obviously don’t know me very well, either, Princess,” I say. “I’m not—nor will I ever be—the sort of man who’s content to sit by and let other people do all the work. Send me somewhere else to work if you like, somewhere far away from you, but I will be staying to help. All night if necessary.”

  We’re outside the building now, and she pauses. “Last I checked, they still needed help in the northern distract of the city. By the river. You should head there.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Where I can be the most help. And I’m sending you where you can be the most help.”

  I can’t really argue with that, however much I want to.

  “All right,” I tell her. “I’ll go to the river.”

  I turn—I know if I stay any longer, I’ll just argue with her again. And there are too many complicated things to process right now.

  This conversation isn’t over, Princess. I feel like I’m thinking that constantly these days, but she always seems to wriggle out of the difficult talks. Not this time. This time, she’s going to tell me exactly wha
t’s going on with James Camden. I don’t want to be blindsided by Reginald, of all people. Never again.

  I look back over my shoulder. She’s heading toward the southern part of the city, and if I know her—which I’m not entirely sure I do—she’ll be out until dawn, doing whatever she can. In spite of everything, I find myself smiling at her retreating form. There’s something unspeakably beautiful about her devotion to her people. She’s not at all how I expected the Princess of Rosvalia to be, and though I have yet to decide whether that’s a bad thing or a good thing, I find that I can’t take my eyes off of her as she disappears down the street.

  My beautiful, mysterious wife.

  I wipe my face. I should add ‘infuriating’ to that list. I know I can’t keep letting her wiggle away from my questions, not when it’s clear she’s keeping so many secrets. We both have work to do tonight, but God help me, she’s not going to escape me again.

  * * *

  It’s well past dawn by the time I finally stumble back to the palace.

  Justine isn’t in our suite, but I’m too exhausted to care. I strip off my filthy clothes and toss them on the floor on my way to the bed. I flop across the sheets without caring that I still have dirt streaked across my face and arms. In moments, I’m asleep.

  When I wake, I’m still alone. A quick glance at my nearly dead phone shows me it’s almost noon.

  And there’s still no sign of Justine.

  With a groan, I roll over onto my back. My head is throbbing, and my stomach rumbles. I can’t remember the last time I ate.