Royal Ruin

by Jessica Peterson

  “Hate me all you want,” he said, his voice softer now. “But that’s just how things are, Emily. I don’t want to force you to choose. If there was something, anything I could do…you know I’d do it. I’d move heaven and earth for you. I just need you to do the same for me. I’m disappointed you didn’t.”

  I dropped my hand and looked away. I knew, in my rational brain, that he was right. That it was normal to expect your fiancée to put you first above everything else.

  But that was just it. Maybe I wasn’t normal. Maybe I was damaged in some essential way I still didn’t understand, even after all this time.

  Maybe I’d been stupid to trust Kit. Stupid to trust myself.

  I felt trapped, like my back was up against a wall. No matter what choice I’d made today, I would’ve lost something precious to me. If I’d chosen to come back to London, I would’ve likely lost the Stallings Castle project. Maybe even EP Designs. If I’d chosen to stay at the castle, I would’ve lost Kit’s trust.

  Which was exactly what was happening right now.

  Honestly, what the hell was I supposed to do? All my options sucked.

  “I’m doing the best I possibly can,” I said, my voice shaking. “The juggle hasn’t been easy, Kit.”

  He scoffed. “Trust me, I know.”

  I shook my head, looking away. “Maybe we’ve bitten off more than we could chew. Is there really enough space in our lives for my job, and your work, and all the royal duties we’re expected to take on?”

  His eyes were sad when they met mine. “I don’t think there is.”

  “So what do we do?”

  He was still looking at me.

  “We choose,” he said at last.

  I looked at him. Looked at his face, his eyes. His mouth.

  I was so in love with this man. But I still couldn’t seem to choose him. I still couldn’t force myself to put him first over my career.

  I knew that wasn’t his fault. But I still wanted to blame him. Blaming him was easier. Neater.

  I mean, come on. As am ambitious millennial, wasn’t I supposed to be doggedly dedicated to my job? Wasn’t I supposed to be selfish when it came to my career? I’d poured my heart and soul into EP Designs. It had been the one thing I could rely on. Husbands and hook-ups came and went. But my ambition sustained me. It got me through the highs and lows.

  It was the one thing I had absolute faith in.

  And now Kit was asking me to give it up? Maybe he wasn’t so different from Luke after all.

  “So is this how it’s always going to be?” I said. “Are you always going to make me feel guilty for ‘disappointing’ you because I had the gall to want to succeed in my career?”

  His eyes lit with anger. “You’re not just choosing your career, Em. You’re choosing you. And that is not how relationships work.”

  Rage ripped through me, so hot and so potent it brought tears to my eyes. How dare he?

  How fucking dare he?

  “Maybe this relationship is over, then,” I said.

  Kit’s nostrils flared. The anger in his eyes burned brighter, then faded into hurt.

  “Are you serious?” he asked.

  I swallowed the sudden tightness in my throat. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I am, Kit. You and I both know I was never cut out to be your perfect princess.”

  “I don’t need a perfect princess!” he said, voice strained with panic as he stepped toward me, shoes catching on the carpet. “I just need you to be there for me. Your current work load is clearly keeping you from doing that. What I was born into, what my life is like—it’s not normal. We can’t expect to be two normal people who go to normal jobs every day and go back to a normal home every night. Emily, I’m going to be king of England. I didn’t ask for it. I wouldn’t want the crown if I could protect my family and my parents’ memory without it. But I’m going to be king, and I need a queen who is as dedicated to this life, and this country, as I am. I want you to be that person. I chose you. And now I’m asking you to choose me, because I can’t fucking do this on my own.”

  Kit’s voice wavered with emotion. His eyes were wet. Pleading. I was hurting him, I was hurting us both, and I hated myself for it. But I was already in too deep. I couldn’t go back now. What was I supposed to do? Give up the business I’d spent the last decade of my life building so I could go be Kit’s pretty little wife? That wasn’t me.

  I wanted Kit. But I wanted my dreams for EP Designs to come true more. Almost losing my firm taught me just how much it mattered to me. To my happiness.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, taking a breath through my nose. “I can’t do that. I won’t give up my business.”

  Kit’s face fell. I felt like dying.

  “So you’ll give me up instead,” he said with a pained smile.

  I looked away. “Only because you’re forcing me to choose.”

  “See, I don’t think that’s it.” He shook his head. “I think you’re making this choice because you believe I’m going to let you down. I know you, Em. And I know you’re still not convinced I won’t hurt you like your ex did. Here’s the thing, though. Have I ever let you down before? I’ve come through on every promise I made. I’ve given you everything I have. But it’s still not enough, is it?”

  Nothing is ever enough for me.

  Shit, I was going to cry. What was wrong with me? A handsome, hot, interesting, sexy, amazing guy was standing in front of me, begging me to marry him. To make a life together with him. And I was refusing him at every turn.

  But I had to protect myself, didn’t I? I had to be smart.

  “You know, I’m not asking you to give up your business so I can keep you barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen,” he continued. “Being my consort is a full-time job. It can be as challenging and as rewarding as you want. You can make a real impact, Em. A real difference in peoples’ lives. You’re so good at connecting with people. You have a gift. Use it for good.”

  “The only job I want is with EP Designs.” I bit my lip to keep it from trembling. “I like working in design too much to give it up.”

  The look he gave me then—the vulnerability in his eyes, the tears—ripped my heart in two and knocked the breath out of me. I resisted the urge to reach out to him. Comfort him.

  He sniffed, looking away as he blinked back his tears. He shoved his hands in his pockets.

  “It’s clear you want to go,” he said. “So go. I won’t stop you.”

  I hesitated. As much as I wanted our argument to end so I could stalk off in righteous anger, now that it was actually over, I found I wasn’t ready to go. I felt too awful and had done too much damage to leave now.

  Apologize, a voice inside me urged. Tell him you’re sorry, that you love him, that he’s given you the most wonderful month of your life. Tell him you’d give up anything for him, and then do it. Give it all up.

  “You’ll handle the press release, right?” I said instead, referring to the release we’d prepared weeks ago for our fake breakup. It was ironic—no, it was sad—that the breakup had ended up being real.

  Kit’s shoulders sagged. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and held it up to me.

  “Of course,” he said. “I’ll make the calls.”

  “Great.” I swallowed. “I guess this is goodbye, then.”

  Kit’s fingers were busy dialing a number. He pressed a button and lifted the phone to his ear, looking up. The tears in his eyes glittered in the light of the chandeliers.

  Oh, Kit.

  “Yep. Guess so.”

  I looked down at the gorgeous ring on my finger. It was so beautiful. So me.

  “Here.” I took the ring off and handed it to him. “Don’t forget this.”

  Kit took the ring, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “Thanks.”

  He started talking into his phone, and I took that as my cue to leave. Glancing one last time around the ballroom, I turned and headed for the door.

  I made the right choice. The smart choice. The choice a liberated
, empowered, kickass girl boss should make.

  So it didn’t make sense that my gut was telling me—no, screaming at me—that I’d just made the biggest mistake ever.

  Not that it mattered. What was done was done. Kit would go his merry way and find a perfect princess. And I would finally move to London full time and keep chasing down my dreams for EP Designs. It was what we both wanted.

  I just wish getting what I wanted hurt a little less.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Emily

  Six months later

  I looked up at the sound of the bell. Craning my neck, I peeked out the enormous bay window at the front of our new office. I couldn’t see who was at the door.

  “Hey, Aly?” I called. “We don’t have any appointments scheduled for this afternoon, do we?”

  Aly emerged from the small but stylish kitchen, a bowl of grapes in her hand. She popped one into her mouth. “I don’t think so. Lady Snowcastle is coming in tomorrow morning. And then we have Mr. And Mrs. Hobbs in the afternoon. But I don’t remember scheduling anything for today. Want some?” She held out the grapes. “Em, you need to eat.”

  “Not hungry. Thanks, though.” I pushed back from my desk. The familiar ache in my knees, my chest—God, I ached all over—flared. Insomnia was a bitch, no two ways about it. “Maybe it’s the DHL guy. The wallpaper for the bathroom was supposed to be here last week.”

  “Want me to check?”

  “Nah, I’ll go. I need to stretch my legs.”

  Now that I thought about it, I hadn’t gotten up since I arrived at six-thirty this morning. Business at EP Designs was booming. We had two huge projects on the docket—a Georgian dower house and a Jacobean manor—in addition to finishing up Stallings Castle. Several magazines had already contacted us, asking to feature Stallings when the renovations were completed.

  My new heels clicked on the black-and-white checkered floor as I made my way to the front door. Three months ago, we’d opened our London office in an elegant townhouse in Soho. Everything about it was charming and perfect. The location. The period details (hello, original subway tile). The cute hipster guys who walked past our windows with welcome regularity.

  All my dreams for the firm were coming true. I mean, yeah, I wasn’t exactly sleeping or eating. And I cried a lot. Like, a lot a lot. But that’s what happened when you were stressed. It would be worth it in the end, when I had a thriving business in my favorite city in the world.

  I reached for the brass knob and opened the door, expecting to see our friendly DHL guy.

  Instead, I saw Timothy Bardy.

  My heart tripped to a stop. I did a double take. It couldn’t be. Was this some kind of joke? Had Aly hired some random Tim Bardy lookalike to try and cheer me up? I felt like I was being punked.

  I looked up and down the street, just to make sure a film crew wasn’t lurking behind a bush somewhere.

  I looked back at our visitor. Oh, it was Tim all right. In all his smoldering, angsty, intense glory. His hair was spiked, and he had a roll of—wait, were those architectural plans?—tucked beneath his arm.

  “It’s you,” I breathed.

  He cocked a brow. “Pardon?”

  Yep, I could tell by his voice—gravelly, growly—that it really was him.

  I shook my head. “Sorry. You’re just—I know—I love—uh, are you lost or something?”

  “This is the office of EP Designs, correct?” he said, his dark eyes meeting mine.

  Holy shit, what was happening?

  “It is,” I managed. “I’m Emily. Can I help you?”

  He held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Emily. I’m Tim.”

  “Tim,” I said, letting out a laugh of disbelief as I shook his hand. “Right.”

  “You come highly recommended by a mate of mine.” He gestured at the roll in his arm. “You see, I’ve just bought a house. Well, technically it’s a castle. I’m in need of some help with the renovations.”

  I stared at him. “You’ve come to the right place. Come in, please.”

  Timothy freaking Bardy followed me inside. I noticed he was careful to wipe his boots on the doormat before he entered. He may have been a smokin’ hot bad boy. But he was a polite bad boy.

  I waited for my pulse to skitter, for excitement to fill me from head to toe. Timothy Bardy was here! He had a castle! He wanted me to renovate it! My ultimate dream was coming true right before my eyes. I should’ve passed out from all the joy and excitement.

  I didn’t, though. All I felt was a hollowness, right in the center of my being.

  All I felt was dread.

  What the hell?

  “Hey Aly,” I said, my voice shaking. I closed my eyes. I felt the prickle of tears behind my lids. “We’ve got a walk in.”

  “Excellent! It’ll be our first—” She stopped mid sentence when Tim and I walked into the room. “Shut up.”

  Tim smirked. “My apologies, ladies, I should’ve rung first. But I live just down the lane here, and I figured I’d go for a quick walkabout before the rain…”

  “Oh, Tim,” Aly said, licking her lips. “You’ll never have to apologize to me.”

  I would’ve called her out for her shamelessness if it wasn’t for the fact that my throat was so tight I couldn’t breathe.

  “Why don’t we sit?” I managed, sliding behind my desk. I pretended to rummage in a drawer for a pen to buy myself some time. The realization was hitting me like a ton of bricks, and I couldn’t deal.

  I’d been able to fool myself up until now. But feeling nothing when Timothy Bardy came knocking with a castle was like a slap in the face. A reality check I didn’t know was coming.

  I was miserable. The insomnia, the loss of appetite, the aches and pains—it had all started when I walked out on Kit. I thought making this dream come true for my business would make me happy. That’s what happiness was, wasn’t it? A successful career, a fat bank account. Great shoes.

  I had all those things. And I was so unhappy I couldn’t even muster the will to sleep or eat.

  Looking back, I realized just how freaking happy I was with Kit. I thought I was happy because EP Designs was back in business. But now I knew I was happy because I was with Kit.

  I liked who I was with him. I liked the way he made me feel. Strong, sexy. Funny. I’d never felt so blissed out or so hopeful with anyone before.

  If I couldn’t feel that with Timothy Bardy, I knew I couldn’t feel it with anyone else, either. It was only Kit.

  It had always been Kit.

  But I’d walked away from him. He’d offered me the world, and I pretty much told him to go fuck himself. There’s no way he’d take me back now. Not after the way I’d treated him. Not to mention photos of him with a very pretty brunette had surfaced in the past few weeks. He’d moved on already. From what I’d read about the brunette, she was perfect princess material. Which probably meant it was serious.

  “Em, I have a pen if you need one,” Aly was saying.

  I shook my head, keeping my eyes closed. I knew if I opened them I’d start crying.

  I took a deep breath. Or tried to. The lump in my throat made it difficult. I just had to get through this meeting—this super important meeting—and then I could cry myself into oblivion.

  Swallowing, I opened my eyes.

  I looked at Tim. He was looking at me.

  Then I dropped my head to my desk. It landed with a solid, painful thud. And then I burst into tears.

  I heard Aly leap to her feet. “Em! Hey, Em? Jesus, did she just die? I’ll check for a pulse—”

  “I’m alive,” I said, sniffing. Aly drew a reassuring hand across my back.

  Tim cleared his throat. “Emily, are you, um, all right?”

  “Yes. No. Sorry. It’s not you,” I said, waving him away. “You were great in Batman. So freaking great. It’s just…”

  “She’s still in love with the man she scorned,” Aly explained. “It’s quite the tragedy.”

  I raised my head to
stare at her. “How did you know?”

  “Seriously?” She rolled her eyes. “I would have to be dead not to notice how inconsolable you’ve been without him. You’re skin and bones. You look like death warmed over—”

  “That’s nice,” I snapped.

  “—And you haven’t smiled in months. You’re nocturnal. Pale as all get out. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were having an affair with Edward the vampire.”

  “Ah, vampires,” Tim said, whipping a Kleenex out of the box on my desk and handing it to me. “I’ve always wanted to play one.”

  “Thanks.” I took it from him and blew my nose. “Guys, what am I going to do?”

  Aly plucked my phone out of my purse and handed it to me. “You’re going to call him, that’s what. You’re going to ask him to meet you somewhere. Then you’re going to show up wearing nothing but a trench coat, and you’re going to win him back using whatever means necessary.”

  Tim nodded. “Sounds like a solid plan. I’d go for it.”

  “But I can’t.” I pulled the tissue between my hands. “He has a new girlfriend. And I was pretty awful to him last time we spoke. I’d have to give up this business…” I glanced at the office around me. “It’s just not meant to be.”

  “You don’t know that until you try.” Aly nudged me, still holding out the phone. “Call him, Em.”

  I glanced at the phone. What would I even say to him if I did call? Honestly, for us to be together—to make our relationship work so that our lives weren’t miserable—either he’d have to abdicate, or I’d have to give up my firm.

  Could I really ask him to freaking abdicate the throne of England? Was that even possible? It seemed like way too big of an ask.

  But then could I really give up my business? Wiping my nose, I glanced around the office. It was such a pretty little spot. But I had to admit I wasn’t happy, no matter how pretty this office was or how well things were going.

  Still. Even if I did give it all up, and even if Kit took me back, there was no guarantee that our relationship would last. And where would that leave me? I’d be alone and unemployed. I was alone now, but I was employed. Big difference.