He stiffened. He knew she didn’t think he was sticking around, but, man, that hurt. She regretted them. Regretted touching him. He didn’t regret a damn thing. That might make him a bad person, but he didn’t. “It wasn’t your fault.”
If anything, he was the one to blame. He’d known better than to touch her. Had known that she was a princess, with certain expectations as far as her behavior went. Had known she needed to marry a prince, and couldn’t afford to mess around with a guy like him. But he’d done it anyway.
“Yeah, it is.” She sipped her wine, then turned to him, her knee touching his thigh. “And it’s not your fault, so you better not be thinking that in your head.”
He grinned, but it was forced. “Guilty as charged.”
“It’s not your fault.”
He shrugged. “It’s not yours, either.”
“But it is.” She collapsed back against the seat, her eyes on the stage. “I knew exactly what would happen if we were caught, but I guess I didn’t care. I just…didn’t want to stop long enough to really think it through. All I cared about was us.”
She fell silent.
Gordon had no clue what to say… But he had to say something.
“Why don’t you want to marry me, Belle?” he asked.
She glanced at him quickly, her cup pressed to her lips. Slowly, she lowered it without taking a sip. “Why do you want to marry me?”
“You make me happy,” he said. “I’d almost forgotten what happy felt like.”
She smiled at him, her green eyes sparkling. “You make me happy, too. Very happy. You make me laugh, and have fun, and forget all about what I need to be.”
“Good.” He fingered his coat pocket. Maybe it was time to show her exactly how long he wanted to make her happy for. But first, she had to admit she wanted to marry him, at least a little bit. He had to know he wasn’t in this alone. “Then why don’t you want to marry me?”
“It’s not that I don’t want to.”
“Then why—?”
“Because it’s not fair.” She set her cup down, and the lights flashed off and on. “We kissed. We had sex. It was fun. That doesn’t mean we need to live happily ever after, like in a fairytale. You didn’t want to spend the rest of your life with me when I walked up to you in the coffee shop, and you didn’t plan on forever when we had sex. We even talked about all that beforehand. It’s not what you wanted. What either of us wanted. We were just having fun.”
“Fun,” he echoed. “Just fun.”
She hesitated. “Right?”
So that’s all she viewed him as. Fun. That’s all he’d ever tried to be, really, ever since the war had fucked him up. But still. He’d thought she might see him as something more. The lights flickered for the third time. “Right. That’s all I ever do. All I am.”
She glanced away, a flash of something in her eyes. Disappointment, maybe? “Exactly. You told me that ahead of time, warned me it was only for a night or two. I agreed to your terms. I won’t break them.”
He had said that, yes. But that had been before her.
Now, for some inexplicable reason…he didn’t feel the same. But she did.
He glanced away. “We could be happy, I bet.”
“We probably could be.” She squeezed his knee. “But, like I told you, I should marry someone that would make my country stronger…not someone who makes me happy, no matter how happy he might be making me.”
His chest hollowed out. “So that’s why you’re refusing to marry me? Because I can’t bring enough money to your country.”
“No. That’s not what I’m saying.” She covered her face. “Maybe we need to g—”
The music started up, and the curtains lifted.
She broke off, clasping her knees tight.
He let out a breath, not sure what she’d been about to say, but not wanting to hear it anyway. He’d been so sure he was doing the right thing, but maybe he wasn’t. Maybe she really didn’t want to marry him—not because she felt bad.
But because she really didn’t want him.
Chapter Thirteen
Isabelle stared at the empty stage, still feeling like a complete and utter fool. Gordon had left to get them more drinks, and she was alone with her thoughts. Those thoughts were not very kind at the moment. He’d kept asking her why she didn’t want to marry him, and she’d kind of…panicked.
Princesses don’t panic.
He’d told her he had a question for her right before he’d ducked out for some drinks. From the way he kept touching his pocket, she had a feeling she knew exactly what he had in there. A ring. He was going to propose. She had no doubt about it. The thought of him going down on one knee and asking her to marry him filled her with so much excitement and joy, she could barely stand it.
But she couldn’t let him do it.
He was only doing it because he felt guilty. Because he thought she needed him to swoop in and rescue her. She didn’t. She’d be fine on her own, without him sacrificing everything for her. Without him giving up his freedom. His country. His life.
How could she let him do all of that?
Princesses don’t let people sacrifice everything for them, but they must be prepared to sacrifice everything for the people.
Right now, he might think he wanted this. He might even think it would make him happy. But it wouldn’t. He didn’t love her. He didn’t need her. And she had to remember that, no matter how much she’d come to care about him. It was best for him to think she didn’t want to marry him because she was a snob.
Then he’d walk away.
A footstep sounded behind her. She took a deep breath, crinkling her dress in her hands, then letting go. “About earlier, we need to talk.”
“You’re right. We do need to talk.”
Isabelle whirled around, her eyes wide. “George? What are you doing here?”
“Seeing the opera, just like you.” He came inside their box, his blond hair immaculate. He wore an expensive, custom made suit, and he looked handsome. “I invited you, if you recall.”
She crossed her arms. “Who’d you bring with you? A princess who doesn’t horrify your sensibilities?”
“Mine?” He laughed. “I wasn’t the one who was horrified. It was everyone else. And I’m alone. I went to your room, but you weren’t there, so I came here, hoping you’d still come.”
“Why are you looking for me? You’re the one that called off the”—she finger quoted—“sure thing between us. And earlier today, when I came to see you, you refused to consider the possibility of us still working together for our countries.”
“No, I told you that we, as in me and my people, needed to think about it.” Sitting down beside her, he crossed an ankle over his knee. “I’ve thought about it.”
Her heart sped up. “And?”
“And I think with some damage control, we can still make it work.” He grinned, tapping his ankle with his left hand. “You’re not the only one who makes mistakes. I have things I’d rather not become public fodder… But I keep them private. I don’t dawdle with employees of the crown in public places like some other people I know.”
Her cheeks flushed. Princesses don’t open themselves up to criticism from their peers. But she had. Oh, she had. And she deserved every jibe he took.
“Your advisors would never let you marry me. I’m a scandalous name now. You can’t possibly want that for your country,” she argued.
“We could swear that you were with me at the time of the alleged photos. Say they were photoshopped. Faked for profit.” He gave her a knowing look, her brows drawn tight. “Even though we both know they’re not.”
“They’re not, and I don’t regret what I did with him.” She stared right back at him, refusing to flinch. “We weren’t engaged yet. We didn’t even know each other the first time it happened.”
Something twitched in his cheek. “It happened more than once?”
“Yes.” She gripped her dress. “It did.”
�
�How many—? Never mind. It doesn’t matter.” He waved a hand. “I can’t say I liked hearing about it, or that the news made me happy, but it’s not a deal breaker in my eyes. We can still make this work, as long as you refuse to see him again.”
She blinked. “B-But I’m here with him now.”
“Then leave with me. Walk out right now, and this can still happen.”
Hesitating, she glanced at the door. Gordon wasn’t there yet. She couldn’t walk out on him like this. Couldn’t leave him without an explanation.
“My people want me to marry him. Pretend we fell in love over here in America and spontaneously got eloped. Make it romantic, so the people will swoon,” she said.
“What will that gain your country, besides a pauper king?” He shook his head. “Together, our countries will be formidable. Together, we could have a unified front. One that the whole world—even the great mighty America—will respect. Would you give all that up for a rough American security guard?”
Her heart twisted. He didn’t have a right to talk down on Gordon, as if he didn’t mean anything at all. As if he was dispensable. “He’s not—”
“Just marry me, Princess Isabelle.” George pulled a ring out of his coat pocket, and she choked on a laugh. She’d been so sure Gordon was going to propose to her tonight… And now George was doing it. “Will you marry me, and unite our people for the greater good?”
Oh holy mother of all things royal. This was happening.
What should she say? Her brain told her to take him up on the offer and do right by her people. But her heart wouldn’t stop thinking about a certain brown-haired, brown-eyed man who made her smile, and run in the rain. Who made her happy.
Princesses always do what’s best for their people…not themselves.
“I—I don’t know.”
He leaned in and kissed her, his warm mouth fitting over hers. She started to lurch back, but he cupped the back of her head tenderly with one hand, his touch soft. With his other hand, he held hers lightly. She froze. The kiss was pleasant and sweet, but he wasn’t Gordon. It didn’t feel right. How was she supposed to marry another man when it felt so…so…wrong?
She broke off the kiss.
It might be a mistake, but she needed to turn him down. If Gordon was going to propose to her, then she couldn’t accept this man. It wouldn’t be fair to anyone involved, no matter what the rest of the world said. “I—”
“Am I interrupting something?” Gordon asked, his voice hard.
Isabelle leaped up, her stomach hollowing out. “N-No. He was just—”
“I’m quite aware of what he was doing,” Gordon said drily. He held two glasses of wine in either hand, and his jaw was tight. His gaze was locked on her, but he looked like a complete stranger. “What’s going on, Princess?”
“I asked Princess Isabelle to marry me,” George said, straightening to his full height. He held out the gigantic ring like some sort of sick and twisted trophy. “She said yes.”
Gordon’s grip tightened on the cups. “I…see.”
Isabelle struggled to speak, but she was in shock. This was all too much, too fast. She didn’t know what to say or do, so she just stood there, wringing her hands and feeling foolish. “I…”
“Surely, we can all agree that it’s what’s best for Isabelle and her country.”
Why, that little jerk. She hadn’t said yes. And she wasn’t going to. That snapped her to attention and out of shock. “Stop speaking for me,” she retorted, anger making her almost speechless. “I’m so sick of people speaking for me. I’m not—”
“Aw, your first lovers quarrel. How cute.” Gordon smirked. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone, then, to continue this in private. Good luck with everything. Really.”
He turned on his heel.
“Wait, Gordon—”
“Don’t.” He glanced over his tense shoulder, the veins in his neck more pronounced than usual. “You have nothing to say. You told me all along that you’d do anything for the good of your country, and you did it. There’s nothing to apologize for.”
“But you were going to ask me something,” she said, her voice strained. “Ask me. Ask it.”
He looked at George, staring at the ring the prince held. Then he shrugged. “I don’t remember my question anymore. It must not have been important.”
She took a step toward him, but he was already gone.
Just like that.
“See?” George asked, stepping closer and placing a proprietary hand on her lower back. “Even he knows you’ve made the right choice. Now, let’s go.”
She jerked free, tears blurring her vision, but she refused to let them fall. “Don’t. You had no right to tell him those lies. No right to tell him I’d accepted your proposal when I clearly hadn’t.”
“You will.” He shrugged, his blue gaze not flinching from hers. “It’s the right choice, and you strike me as a woman who usually makes the right choice…aside from sleeping with the poor security guard. But I guess we all need to screw a peasant every once in a while. It reminds us how lucky we are not to be them.”
Fury rushed through her, and she slapped him as hard as she could. His head swung to the side, and the sound of her slap echoed in the box. “How dare you judge me.”
Rubbing his cheek, he grinned down at her. “I like it when you’re angry. It’s cute.”
“I will not marry you.” She grabbed her jacket off the chair, her entire body vibrating with anger. Helpless, powerful anger. “Consider yourself rejected.”
He spluttered. “But you can’t. Our people are already in talks to—”
“They can talk all they want, but it’s not happening.”
With that, she walked out of the box, her head held high the whole time. She was going to go straight to Gordon’s house and get this whole thing straightened out. Explain to him that she hadn’t actually accepted George’s proposal, nor had she intended to.
And then she was going to marry him, if he still wanted to ask her.
The rest of the world be damned.
Chapter Fourteen
Gordon unlocked the door to his office, his coat slung over his shoulder and his collar loosened. He’d gone out with the intention of asking a woman he’d just met to marry him, and she’d accepted someone else’s proposal before he could. It was like a real life version of the bachelor, only with royals.
And so fucking fucked up.
He should be grateful that she’d accepted George’s offer. He’d dodged a bullet. After all, he barely knew her, really. They’d met less than a week ago, had sex a few times, and that was it. He didn’t need her, and she certainly didn’t need him.
But he wasn’t relieved.
And he didn’t feel happy at all.
He kicked the door shut behind him and leaned against it, squeezing his eyes shut tight. His chest held an aching hollowness to it, and it hurt to swallow. It didn’t make any fucking sense. He didn’t need her, damn it. Didn’t need anyone.
“What are you doing here?” Cooper Shillings, his boss, asked.
Gordon’s eyes flicked open. It was well after nine o’clock, and he hadn’t been expecting anyone to be here. Not only was Cooper here, but so was his co-worker, Jake Forsythe. They both looked pretty damn drunk, too. Too bad he wasn’t.
“I…uh…I forgot some paperwork for my case,” he said.
“For the princess?” Jake asked, leaning against the doorjamb and looking half asleep already. He looked as if he’d been running his hands through his hair all night. “Isn’t she due to go home tomorrow?”
Gordon nodded, his chest getting even tighter. “Yes, thank God.”
Maybe once she left, he would be free of this odd hold she had over him. Maybe he’d be able to go back to being him…whatever the hell that meant, anyway.
“You don’t look happy about it,” Cooper said, his green eyes narrow on him. They reminded him of Belle’s eyes, which made him curl his fists into tight balls at his sides. Cooper
pointed at Jake with his thumb. “You look about as bad as he did before I got him drunk.”
“I’m fine,” Gordon muttered.
“I’m not,” Jake tossed in, his green eyes hollow.
Green eyes…just like his Belle.
“Jesus, does everyone in this fucking office have green eyes?” Gordon snarled.
“What?” Jake blinked at him.
Cooper cocked a brow. “Hm.”
“Stop it.” Gordon’s cheeks got suspiciously hot. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“The princess has green eyes, doesn’t she?” Cooper asked.
“She does,” Jake offered. “I saw her picture.”
Cooper pressed his tongue to the inside of his left cheek. “Hm.”
“What?” Gordon snapped, crossing his arms.
“He’s got it bad,” Cooper said in a loud stage-whisper to Jake. “Just like you.”
Jake scowled. “What the fuck, man?”
“Yeah, what the fuck?” Gordon asked. “I don’t have ‘it’ bad, or at all, even. I’m perfectly fine.”
“Yeah.” Cooper snorted. “Sure you are.”
Gordon tensed. “She’s my charge, and she leaves tomorrow. Nothing more to it than that.”
“Funny, because I was called earlier today by a certain ambassador of her country, and he told me that you were going to marry the princess.” Cooper leveled those green eyes on him again. “We all saw the video, man. She obviously meant something to you.”
“Shit.”
Jake rolled his eyes. “I hear ya.”
“Guys, you need to relax,” Cooper said. “Jake: you need to go tell Tara that you love her. Gordon: are you marrying her, or not?”
Jake shook his head. “I don’t love her. She hates me.”
“There’s a thin line between love and hate. And I doubt she actually hates you,” Cooper said, not taking his eyes off Gordon. “Did you ask her to marry you?”
Jake snorted. “No.”
“He was asking me, numbnuts,” Gordon said. “How much tequila did you two drink?”
“Too much,” Cooper said. “But he drank most of it. I have to go home to Kayla at least somewhat sober. Now answer my question.”
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