by Renna Peak
“Perhaps they might look minor to the rest of the world, but they are not minor to us,” I say. “We’ve been in land disputes for almost a decade now. Maximilian claims that the Amhurst Valley is rightfully part of his country, but we claim it as ours. I know it may seem a small thing, but the extensive salt mines there make up a substantial part of our exports. We are a small nation, and we’ve maintained our wealth through careful, studied management of our resources. If we were to lose that valley, the effects on the Montovian economy would be disastrous. I’m afraid King Maximilian will use my careless actions as leverage.”
Victoria steps forward. “I’m sure your father will figure out a way—”
“My father still doesn’t even know the extent of my involvement.” Something I must fix sooner, as opposed to later. “Even if he can come to an agreement with King Maximilian, though, can you imagine what the people of Montovia will think of me when they hear? I’m supposed to be their protector and defender. I’m supposed to rule them with integrity. To be just and to lead by example. What will they think when they hear I’ve lost such a beloved symbol of national pride? That I’ve disrespected my crown and country? That I’ve potentially led us to economic ruin?”
Victoria doesn’t seem to have an answer.
“So you see why I must do this,” I say, taking her hand. “Why I must find a suitable wife and produce an heir and be the perfect leader in every other way. I will not let Montovia down for a second time.”
Victoria
I look down at his hand clasped with mine before I look back up into his eyes. “You need a wife. And an heir. And to be the perfect leader.”
His expression softens. “Yes.” He reaches up and caresses my cheek, trailing his fingers down to rest against the side of my neck. “Don’t you see, Victoria? Those are the only things that are important to me.”
I stare at him…waiting.
And waiting.
And waiting.
But he doesn’t seem to hear anything he’s said—how it doesn’t match up with what he said only a minute before that. All the “you’re mine” bullshit.
It isn’t until his hand slides down to my waist and he lowers his head to try to kiss me again that I pull away, wrenching myself out of his arms.
“Victoria…”
I spin to face him. “Do you even hear yourself, Andrew? The only things that are important to me? How is that supposed to make me feel?”
He presses his lips together and gives me an exasperated look. “I’ve been quite clear in my intentions. I never made any claims otherwise.”
“I know. I am the idiot here. I’m the one who allowed this…this whatever this is to go on.” I fold my arms across my chest. “You’re right. I know. I was willing to accept that this…” I wave my hands between the two of us. “This is all there is. But you can’t do all the you’re mine stuff. You can’t. And furthermore—”
“Victoria.” He’s trying not to roll his eyes. “If I say you’re mine in the heat of passion, you can’t honestly believe that I think you’re mine. You’re taking it out of context—”
“I am not taking anything out of context. You almost flipped the table over at breakfast when you saw William talking to me—”
“He was touching you.” His eyes are blazing. “He was touching you and whispering to you as though he was your lover.”
I throw my hands up. “And so what? Why should you care? You and I were not in the heat of passion, or whatever you want to call it. You were with your date. The woman you’re going to marry. And somehow, it’s okay for you to touch her in front of me, but it’s not okay for another man to even speak to me—”
His voice is a loud growl. “I’ve already said that William is not some other man. He’s my brother. And he already knows—”
“He already knows what? That you’re putting potential brides on parade? That you want to have your respectable noblewomen during the day and be able to fuck me like the tawdry commoner I am every night? That—”
His lips crash against mine and he backs me against the wall with his body.
I fist my hands into his hair for a moment and return his kiss before I shove him away.
“No. No, Andrew. I am not doing this anymore.”
He takes a step back and closes his eyes. “You are sending very mixed signals, Victoria.” He opens his eyes and glares at me. “And I do not believe you are tawdry. I would never debase myself like that.”
“Fuck you, Andrew.”
He shakes his head and stares at me for a long moment. He runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what you want from me.”
“I don’t want anything from you.”
He lifts a brow. “Your actions betray your words. Your body tells a very different story, Victoria.”
My gaze narrows. “You don’t have to worry about that anymore, Your Highness. You will not be coming near me again. Ever.”
His jaw clenches and he’s silent for a moment. “If that is what you desire, it’s fine with me.”
“Good.”
He glares at me for another few seconds. “But I’ll not have you taking up with my brother.”
“What I do with my body is not your concern, Your Highness. Who I spend my time with outside of our professional relationship is also not your concern.”
His lips press into a line. “It is very much my concern. I do not believe you can maintain your professional integrity if you’re having sexual relations with a member of the royal family.”
“Well, considering you stripped me on the plane on our way to Montovia, I guess I haven’t had any professional integrity since I’ve arrived.”
“I suppose you haven’t.”
I shake my head. “Then maybe I should go back home.”
He stares at me with a blank expression. “Perhaps that would be best.”
My jaw clenches so tightly I can barely speak. “Fine.”
“Fine.”
We stare at each other, almost daring the other to take back what’s been said, but neither of us do.
I finally edge around him and walk out the door, turning into the hallway without looking back to see if he’s followed me.
“Ms. Simpson.” Andrew’s voice bellows down the hallway.
I freeze. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up and I turn to face him.
He glares at me. “I’ll need whatever you’ve written on my desk before you go.”
My jaw tenses and I glare at him again. “I’m not giving you anything.”
His hands clench into fists and he looks like he’s about to bash one of them into something—if I was standing closer I might be worried that he wanted to slam one into me.
He speaks through his gritted teeth. “Meet me in my office in ten minutes with your final work and your bags packed.”
A slow smile spreads across my face. “As I said, Your Highness, you…are not…getting…ANYTHING.”
He’s at my side in an instant and pulls me by my shoulder into the nearest room.
This room isn’t as large as the one we were in before—it’s a smaller sitting room with a few armchairs and a large sofa against the wall.
He slams the door closed behind us and spins to look at me. His voice is low, but he’s clearly restraining himself from shouting. “Why are you being so difficult?”
I blink at him a few times, giving him my best wide-eyed look of innocence. “I am not the one being difficult, Your Highness.”
He splays his hands in front of me. “You want out. I’m letting you out. I need what you’ve written so far so I can give it to whomever I hire to replace you.”
“Well…” I put my hands on my hips. “You haven’t paid me for anything. I haven’t received a single nickel in compensation—”
“We’ve paid for your food. Your room. Your transportation—”
I scoff. “Yeah. You paid for my transportation, all right. Right into a lake. And then my room was at the end of a thirty-mile hike where
I almost died. And then, you bring me here. Where the compensation seems to be me getting to be some goddamned consolation prize for Prince Andrew. Some distraction for him while he looks for his future wife.”
He frowns, shaking his head. “I’ve needed your company, Victoria. I needed the company of someone—it didn’t matter who it was. You were a convenient—”
I interrupt with a shake of my head, trying not to show him how his words have also punched a hole through my gut. “Yes, I get it now. I was convenient. Like a prostitute is convenient. I get it.”
He rolls his eyes. “Victoria—”
“No.” I hold my hands up in surrender. “I get it, Andrew. And because I only came here in the first place to try to repair the damaged relationship I have with journalism, I’m going to give you the stories I’ve written. Gratis. I don’t even care if you give me a byline—in fact, I think I’d prefer if you didn’t. I’m not sure I want my good name anywhere near this travesty.”
“Ha, your good name? And what good name is that, Victoria? The name of a tabloid reporter whose only claim to legitimacy in journalism is the number of stories she’s written about the Montovian royal family?” His brows draw together. “You’re not a journalist. You’re a member of the paparazzi.”
The acidic way the words drip from his tongue makes the term paparazzi almost on par with terms like murderer or rapist.
I blink back the tears I can feel starting to betray me. “You think I chose this life? You think this is what I wanted?” I shake my head. “You don’t know anything about me, Andrew. You stand there and judge me like you judge everyone, but you don’t know anything.”
“I don’t judge you, Victoria. You’ve clearly made some poor choices—”
“Fucking you being at the top of the list at present.”
He winces like I’ve slapped him but says nothing else. “I do not consider that a poor choice, Victoria.”
“Well, I guess you wouldn’t.” I force a small smile. “You aren’t the one who was merely company for the crown prince. You weren’t the one who could have been anyone.”
He grimaces. “I said those words in anger. I didn’t—”
“You didn’t say them in anger, though. You were quite calm when you said them. Perfectly cool and collected.”
He presses his lips into a line, trying to cover up whatever expression it is he’s trying to hide. “Then I misspoke.” His gaze falls to the floor before he lifts it back to mine. “It’s you, Victoria. Only your arms that bring me comfort.”
“I know.”
He frowns and shakes his head. “If you know, then why make me say it? Why—?”
“To hear you admit it out loud. So that maybe you hear the words yourself.”
“I hear perfectly well, Victoria. I don’t need you attempting to teach me some lesson—”
“It’s not about me teaching you a lesson, Your Highness. It’s about you not getting to use me as some sort of security blanket while you go out in search of a permanent solution.”
“You have done the same thing, though. You are using me as much as I’m using you.”
I lift a brow. “Am I? And how is that, Your Highness?”
“You… You came to my bed last night.”
I shake my head. “I came to the gardener’s bed last night. And I didn’t do it because I needed you.”
His jaw clenches again. “You certainly weren’t there only because I needed you. You also wouldn’t have slept last night if you hadn’t been in my arms.”
“Well, that’s where you’re wrong, Your Highness. Your family’s personal doctor gave me a giant bottle of sleeping pills yesterday while you were frolicking about town without Lady Clarissa. So no, I did not need you to sleep last night. I did think, however, that you might have needed me, so I availed myself—”
“I do not need your pity, Victoria. I also do not appreciate the sarcasm.” He lets out a long breath and clasps his hands behind his back. “If you no longer wish to avail yourself to me, as you so eloquently put it, you no longer need to do so.”
I clench my jaw. “Fine.”
“And I expect you will also not avail yourself to my brother.”
“I take back what I said earlier, Andrew. I am not the idiot in this relationship. You are the idiot.”
His eyes widen for a second before he presses his lips into a hard line. “I fail to see—”
“Of course you fail to see—that’s why you’re the idiot.” I growl and fold my arms across my chest. “Why do I have to paint this picture for you? Why are you so goddamned blind?”
His mouth falls open and he shakes his head.
“Your brother might like me, but I would wager your precious royal scepter that he’s fucking with your head. He saw you kiss me the other night—why the hell would he try to get in the middle of that? You must think I’m pretty fucking stupid if you think I can’t see through this whole pissing contest the two of you have going on.”
“It is not a pissing contest, Victoria, whatever that even is—”
“Oh, it’s definitely a pissing contest. You two want to see who has the bigger dick without actually whipping them out and measuring them.” I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter. I’m only going along with what William is doing because it seems to the only way to get through to you.”
His shoulders drop, almost in defeat. “To get what through to me, Victoria? You have no idea how trying this is. I have no idea—”
“I care about you, okay? I stupidly—I’ll admit it—have come to care about you. About whether or not you’re sleeping. About your nightmares. About you. And I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I let myself care. But I have.” I press my lips together—this is way more than I wanted to share with him. Ever. And it feels like I’ve torn my own chest open and ripped my heart out whole…and somehow willingly handed it to him.
This is the part where he throws it on the floor and stomps on it. I know it—I’m prepared for it—but I know it isn’t going to make it hurt any less.
He stares at me before he speaks again. I wish I could read what it is flashing in his eyes, but his guard is back up—almost like it was the day I first met him.
He lets out a long breath. “I’ll be waiting for those stories in my office, Victoria. And I’ll arrange for your flight home this afternoon.”
Tears sting at my eyes for the briefest of moments, but I blink them back and force a small smile instead. “Fine. But see if you can arrange the flight for this morning. I want to leave as soon as possible.”
I spin on my heel and go back out into the corridor. Andrew won’t be following me this time, but even so, I wait until I’m safely back in my room before I let myself breathe again.
I press my forehead against the heavy wood door after I close it.
And I cry.
Andrew
I pace back and forth in my office, unable to sit still.
I shouldn’t have said those things to Victoria. I need her—in more ways than I want to admit. As hard as it is to admit, I don’t want her to leave—but I also don’t want to keep her here, if leaving is what she feels she must do.
What are you thinking? You must keep her here. If she leaves, I’ll be left alone with this madness. And considering Prince Reginald has finally come forward to collect on my debt, I know things are about to get even worse.
It seems like ages that I wait for her. For a horrifying moment, I fear she has left without telling me—but that can’t be possible. If she’d ordered a car, one of the staff would have come to tell me already.
I knew she wouldn’t understand, I tell myself, rubbing the back of my neck. I knew that someone of her status could never truly see why I must do this, why I must make these choices. This is precisely why I’m seeking a wife among the nobility—I need a partner by my side who trusts me to act in the best interest of Montovia and supports me in doing so. Not one who appeals to the selfish feelings I’m trying to shed.
I can’t stop thinkin
g about what she said to me—that she cares about me. That this has gone beyond some physical need. I don’t want that. Emotions are too complicated, and hearing her say such things… It makes me all too aware of the fact that this thing between us has gone beyond the physical for me, too. And I can’t have that. I have a duty to fulfill, and I cannot allow myself to become distracted, not for anything.
Finally, after what seems like an eternity alone with my thoughts, there’s a soft knock at the door.
I straighten, clasping my hands behind my back in an attempt to calm myself. “Come in.”
The door opens, and Victoria steps inside. She has a folder in her hands, one of the things we gave her upon her arrival—and the royal arms of Montovia stare back at me from the glossy cover.
“Here are my notes,” she says. “And everything I’ve written so far. I hope it’s to your satisfaction.”
I don’t miss the touch of sarcasm in her voice. I find myself watching her closely as I reach out and take the folder. Her expression is blank, but her eyes are slightly red—has she been crying?
Something twists inside of me. I don’t want Victoria to cry. Not ever. And I certainly don’t want her to cry because of me.
“I’m sure everything in here will be more than satisfactory,” I say, tossing the folder on the desk behind me. “You do superior work, Victoria. That’s precisely why I hired you to help me with this.”
She won’t look me in the eyes. “Well, you have everything. May I leave for my flight now?”
“I…” I glance back at the desk. In truth, I was so distracted that I forgot to arrange for a flight at all.
“There’s no flight,” I tell her honestly. “I thought perhaps you might reconsider your decision to leave.”
She finally looks up at me. “My decision?”
“You were the one who first suggested it might be better if you returned home.”
“And you were the one who ordered me to come here with my bags packed and my final notes for you. You’re practically kicking me out.”
I frown. “I would never kick you out, Victoria. I thought you wanted this—to be free of me and this story. What did you call it? Travesty was the word you used, I believe.”