“What?” her mother asked.
Her father said, “But he—”
“Look. I’m tired. I’m upset.” She blinked back tears. “And all I want to do is close my eyes and shut out the rest of the world. Can we be done for tonight? Please.”
Before she broke down in front of them.
“Isabelle…” Her mother trailed off. “If you want this boy, this Gordon, maybe we could still—?”
“No.” Isabelle stood straight, shaking her head. “He made it quite clear that he doesn’t want me. He doesn’t want this. Everything was an act. All of it. It’s over. He’s done. I just thought…” She swallowed past the throbbing ache in her throat. “I thought I could be happy with him. Really happy. Like you and Dad are. Obviously, I was wrong.”
“Isabelle…” her father said. He used the soft tone he reserved for her and her mother. The one only they ever heard. “Don’t cry. We can fix this.”
She bit down hard on her lower lip.
If she couldn’t marry Gordon, who she’d thought she could be happy with, then she might as well do what everyone else wanted her to do. She might as well offer herself up as a sacrificial lamb for all her country and marry the pompous jerk.
“Call George’s people. Tell them I panicked, but I’ve seen the light. Tell them…” She closed her eyes, Gordon’s image crossing into her vision. Only, it was the laughing, kind version of him. The one she’d fallen for. The one she’d wanted to marry. But that wasn’t the real him. It had all been an act. “If George still wants me, I’ll marry him. If I can’t have happiness, then I’ll give it to the people. Tell him I said yes.”
She pushed off the door and went into the bedroom without another word. After shutting it behind her, she ripped her gown off, stripped down to her slip, and fell on the bed. Curling into a fetal ball, she stared at the spot where Gordon had slept next to her on that one, perfect night. The night before it had all gone horribly wrong.
Before she’d lost him for good.
Had she ever really had him? The whole time they’d been together had become tainted. He’d accepted a bribe to stay quiet. Had taken money from George, then laughed her off when she’d told him she wanted him, instead.
It had all been a ploy for some quick cash.
That wasn’t the man she’d come to know. She didn’t know who he was. Didn’t know him at all. She never really had. Rolling over, she stared at the blank wall for an unknown amount of time, going over the last few days in her head on repeat.
None of it made sense. None of it at all.
It was a good thing she was going home tomorrow. Everything would go back to normal…whatever that meant now. It was time to make the best of an awful situation. She’d always known she would marry for her country, and she’d accepted it as a way of life.
So what if she didn’t love George?
He didn’t love her, either.
It would keep their relationship simple. A business interaction of sorts, really. No heartache. No pain. No disappointment. She would be safe, and so would he. She would smile. Hold his hand. Present a united front in public.
If she cried herself to sleep at night, then so be it. No one else had to know that she’d had a taste of happiness, and that it had all turned out to be fake.
No one had to know what she really wanted, deep down in her soul. Love. Happiness. A partner. No one would ever know how badly she’d wanted…
Gordon.
No one would have to hurt anymore.
Chapter Sixteen
Four days later, Gordon fell back on his couch. Releasing an exhausted sigh, he let out an “oof” when Georgie leaped enthusiastically onto his lap. He’d spent the last few days burying himself in work, trying to keep busy. Trying to erase the sight of her broken heart when he’d told her he didn’t give a damn about her.
Nothing had worked.
At the time, being an asshole had seemed like the right thing to do. He hadn’t wanted her remembering him fondly, and maybe missing him. Didn’t want her hurting.
So…he’d hurt her.
Yeah. It didn’t make much sense now, but he’d likened it to ripping off a Band-Aid. Fast and painless…mostly. Lie to her. Make her think he’d taken money from her fiancé, and then watch her walk away with hatred seething in her eyes. Make her pissed so she wouldn’t care about him. Make her forget all about him.
But it had hurt him more than he’d expected.
Watching her believe that he’d done that, that he didn’t care about her at all, had hurt, too. And he still hurt. A lot. Telling those lies had felt wrong. No matter how many favors he had done for her, allowing her to move on without any doubts, it had felt wicked. On top of that, he missed her, damn it. Did she miss him, too?
No, because he’d made sure she wouldn’t.
Fucking idiot.
Someone knocked on his door.
He stared at it, then squinted at the clock. Eight o’clock at night. Georgie’s ears perked up, and his tail wagged. “Who could that be, boy?”
Georgie bolted for the door, barking the whole way, and he shook his head at the delayed reaction. He slowly stood, setting down his drink as he went. It was probably another set of fucking reporters, eager for a story.
When he reached the door, he peeked out the peephole. A woman he’d never met before, but who somehow looked familiar, stood outside.
Blinking, he glanced down at his attire. Ripped jeans and a tight gray shirt. Not exactly a match to her expensive dress and high heels, but whatever.
He had a feeling he knew exactly who she was—another reporter looking for the inside story behind him and Isabelle. He almost walked away, leaving her knock unanswered, but then he swore under his breath. He’d had enough of these vultures hovering outside his door twenty-four-seven.
He opened the door a crack. “I’m not interested in selling you a damn story, so you can go home right now before I call the cops again.”
As soon as he finished talking, he looked to the side…and saw two royal guards standing guard over the woman on his porch. They hadn’t been visible through the peephole. And if there were royal guards, then…
Well, shit.
“I don’t want a story, but I’m glad to hear you’re loyal to the princess’s cause,” she said, her soft accent hitting him like a brick in the gut. She sounded like…no. It couldn’t be. “I can see you’ve realized who I am. May I come in, Mr. Waybrook? My men will remain outside.”
The men nodded but remained quiet.
“Yes, Your Majesty.” He opened the door for her. “Or is it Your Highness?”
She waved a hand. “It doesn’t matter. We’re in America.”
“Indeed.” He closed the door behind him, then stood there awkwardly. He’d never had a fucking queen in his house. A princess, sure. But he couldn’t treat her mother the way he’d treated her. Georgie hopped up and barked excitedly, his paws on the queen’s knee. Aw, shit. “Georgie, down!”
“Please, don’t call him off.” The queen—what was her name, anyway?—bent down and scratched Georgie in his favorite spot behind his ears. Her lips curled into a smile. “Georgie?”
“Yeah. He was named before…well, everything.”
“I see.” She lowered her blonde head and pet the dog with her well manicured hand. “He’s adorable.”
“Uh, thanks.” He scratched the back of his head, staring down at her. “Would you like a drink? I have red wine, bourbon, or beer…”
“No, thank you.” She glanced up at him. In that moment, with her green eyes latched on him, she looked so much like Isabelle that it sent a shaft of pain piercing through him. “Your home is very nice.”
“Thanks.” He glanced over his shoulder at his messy kitchen. If he’d known she was coming, he would have cleaned. “Look, I’m not going to tell anyone what really happened, if that’s why you’re here.”
“I know.” She straightened and smoothed her black dress. “If you were looking for money, you woul
d have taken the funds Prince George offered you.”
He shifted on his feet. “I don’t want money.”
“We know.”
“There’s only one thing I care about, and it’s her.”
The queen nodded. “It’s all I care about right now, too. It’s why I’m here, with you.”
“Is she…?” He rocked back on his heels. He didn’t have a right to ask, but he had to know. “Is she happy now?”
She canted her blonde head, those familiar green eyes locked on him. Then she headed into the living room without answering him. He followed her, studying her closely. She acted like a regal queen and held her head high, but she wasn’t as standoffish as he’d expected.
Like mother, like daughter, apparently.
She trailed her fingers over his couch, then perched on the edge. “Why did you tell her that you took the money?”
“She needed to hear that.” He sat across from her on the loveseat. Georgie jumped up and laid his front paws on Gordon’s thighs, then rested his head on them. His eyes were locked on the queen. “I wanted her to move on without any doubt in her mind that it was the right thing to do. To make it easier on her.”
Nodding, she pursed her lips and lowered her brows. She looked as if she was measuring him, and he had no doubt he’d come up short. After all, she was a fucking queen. “Did you think it would be hard on her?”
“We’d bonded. I grew to care for her, enough to want to marry her to help her out, and I think the feeling had been…mutual.” He stared down at Georgie. “I thought it best for her if that door was firmly shut in all ways.”
“I see.” She tapped her finger on the arm of the couch. “So you acted like an opportunistic jerk to protect her? That’s what you’re saying.”
Refusing to act ashamed, he met her eyes and shrugged. “Yep. Pretty much.”
“How did that make you feel?”
“Not good,” he admitted. No point beating around the fucking bush. “Like an ass—” He cut himself off. “—jerk.”
She smiled. “I liked the first one better, though I’d never utter such a word. Queens don’t use foul language.”
Well, now he knew where Isabelle got all her rules.
“Of course not.” He cleared his throat. “Not to be annoying, but you didn’t answer my question. Is she happy?”
“Are you?”
“No.” He narrowed his eyes. “Is she?”
Her lips twitched. “I hate to say it, but no. She’s not happy. That’s why I’m here.”
“You came to me because she’s not happy?”
“Indeed,” she said.
His heart raced full speed ahead, and he moved his leg impatiently. Knowing that she wasn’t happy made him want to jump on a plane and show her just how happy he could make her, if she gave him a second chance.
But that wasn’t possible. He was too late.
“I fail to see how I can help. She’s engaged to another man. One who your country chose.” He locked gazes with her. “One who your daughter chose over me.”
She lifted a dainty shoulder. “She did not choose him.”
“What do you mean?” He sat up straighter, and Georgie moaned. “She’s not engaged to him?”
“She turned him down that night, and then went to see you.” She traced a pattern on his couch, never dropping her scrutiny of him. “When you did what you did, she came back to the hotel defeated. She told us to talk to George and fix everything, but we held off. We wanted to see if she got over you first.”
“It’s only been four days. Hardly enough time to really see if someone is okay.” He paused. “But did she?”
“She smiles. She laughs. She’s every part the perfect princess, despite the turmoil that has been brought to life after her…time…with you,” she said.
He swallowed hard, collapsing against the back of the couch. Georgie rolled over onto his back. She’d forgotten all about him. His plan had worked. She’d moved on.
“She got over me.”
Too bad I never got over her.
“I didn’t say that.” She sat forward. “She’s only been home a day. There’s still time to bring you over and go with our original plan of you two being married in a whirlwind romance. We can make the announcement through my husband while we’re on the plane, and all the world will be waiting for us.”
Heart thumping against his chest, he sat forward.
Georgie finally gave up on him and hopped down to the floor, where he sat looking up at Gordon with big brown eyes. “But your country…the money issues…?”
She blinked. “What money issues?”
“The PR girl, she told me Belle had to marry George because of financial reasons. That your country would fail without him, and Belle would blame me.”
Shaking her head, she glanced out the window. “That’s a lie. We are financially stable. Extremely so.”
“So you’re not a failing country?”
“No. Not at all, and Mary will be dealt with for telling such awful lies.” She sighed. “Yes, it would be better if she married a prince. If that prince brought riches to our country. I’ve always told her that her country was the most important thing, and that she had to sacrifice all for it. But after seeing her do exactly that… I’ve changed my mind. There is something that is more important to her father and me, even though it took me a long time to realize it, and I have a feeling it’s more important to you, too.”
He cocked a brow. “And what’s that?”
“Isabelle’s happiness.” She stood, rubbing her palms briskly over her dress. “Are you still willing to do whatever it takes to make sure she’s well cared for? To protect her? Do you love her?”
He gritted his teeth. Though he didn’t know much about love, he had a feeling this burning pain he had in his chest might go away if he won Belle’s trust back. If he could hold her again, the empty feeling in the pit of his stomach would go away, too.
Did that mean he loved her?
He had no fucking clue. They’d only known each other a few days, but he knew if given more time, he could love the shit outta her.
“Honestly? I wouldn’t know love if it punched me in the face.” He stood, locking gazes with Belle’s mother. “But I know that I miss her so much I can’t sleep. I already had trouble sleeping before her, but now I really can’t sleep. I miss how she curled up with me at night, her hand on my chest. I miss her laugh. Her smile. Her hair. Everything about her. All the—”
He broke off, his cheeks heating up in embarrassment. He hadn’t meant to ramble so damn much… But all of it was true. Every single word.
“That’s a lot of missing going on,” she said, her eyes lighting up with a smile.
He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I know I care about her. I have an empty feeling in me that won’t go away, and it has been here ever since I sent her home without me. And I know it kills me when I think of her being with another man. Especially Prince George.”
She smiled. “That sounds like love to me.”
“Then maybe it is.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I wouldn’t know.”
“Should I call the castle and have them start the announcements?”
“I don’t want her to know until I get there.” He paced. “I want to be the one to tell her. Can we keep her in the dark?”
“Hmm…” She tapped her chin. “I can send her on a spa retreat. I’ll tell her it’s a present from her future husband, and she simply must accept.”
He grinned. “I’ll go there, then, and talk to her. I hope she’ll forgive me.”
“I have a feeling she will, if you grovel enough.”
Flinching, he cupped the back of his neck. “I’ve never done that before, but I can try my best. For her, I’d do anything.”
“I know. That’s why I want you to be my son-in-law. I’d thought Isabelle could marry a prince of our choosing and find happiness, just like I did. Not all arranged marriages are bad. I fell in love with her father, after all.”
He shook his head. “Then you’re lucky. Not all arranged marriages work out that way.”
“I know that now. I thought that our country should come first, but now I see that finding love doesn’t mean you still can’t put country first. Forcing Isabelle into a loveless marriage isn’t the right thing to do, and I’m willing to help make things better now that I’ve seen the error of my ways.” She smiled. “Please. Go pack. We’ll leave within the hour.”
“The hour?” He glanced at the clock. “I have to talk to my boss. Tell him—”
“Oh, please. Don’t stress. That is already taken care of,” she said, her smile widening. She seemed to be hiding some sort of secret from him, but she wasn’t telling, if she was. “Yes, I know it’s presumptuous of me. But I followed a hunch.”
Laughing, he headed for the stairs. “I think it was a good hunch. I’ll go pack now.” He only made it two steps before Georgie tripped him. He frowned down at him, thinking of one possible issue. “Uh…how does the palace feel about a royal dog?”
The queen bent and scooped Georgie up under the belly. Cuddling him close to her chest, she smiled. “We’d be delighted if he’d be interested in taking the position.”
“Oh, I think he’d like that very much. We’ll have to arrange transport, though.”
She scratched Georgie’s head. “He can fly with us.”
“Will the airline allow it?”
“I’m quite certain it will be all right.” She glanced up at Gordon. “After all, I own the plane.”
Of course she did.
“Right. I’ll go pack, then.”
He headed up the stairs, his mind going a mile a minute. He needed to pack, get on the plane, and after that…he needed a plan. A good one. One that would show Belle he’d been trying to do the right thing when he’d hurt her, and that he never wanted to hurt her again. One that would make her give him a second chance before she saw the news.
If he had any luck, she’d forgive him. If he had any luck, she wouldn’t be angry he’d let her mother blast news of their “marriage” all over hell and back, before she said yes. And if he had any luck, she’d fall in love with him…
Seducing the Princess Page 15