by Leslie North
Eric pulled a piece of paper from the back of a binder on the edge of the table. “Look at this,” he said, shoving it at Simon. “This is how close her team was to proving her dissertation, to making a real breakthrough toward a cure. If she’d just trusted me or even just done her job and gotten done on time, we wouldn’t have to deal with these shitheads in Parliament who only care about themselves.”
Simon glanced at the paper but then looked back up at him. “How is Anna?” he asked carefully.
“How would I know?”
“Maybe because you’ve been dating her?”
“Not anymore,” Eric said shortly.
Simon crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, waiting for an explanation. Eric refused to give one, stabbing his fork at his eggs with far more violence than necessary. Finally, though, the silent game of chicken became too much and he huffed and gave Simon the rundown on what had happened between him and Anna.
Simon shook his head when he was done and whistled, then, after a quick glance at Eric’s face, decided not to comment further. He squinted at the paper Eric had given him instead. “Is this in Greek?” he asked.
“No, it’s an analyzer printout. Results from one of the team’s trials.”
“I have no idea how to read this.”
Eric stabbed a finger at one line. “This is the most promising anti-cancer drug I’ve ever seen. Right here, this shows how it attacks the metastasizing cells with a sort of virus, loaded down with anti-cancer drugs. It targets them in a completely new way, slips past all their defenses and doesn’t even harm the bodies’ healthy cells the way chemotherapy does.”
Simon looked up at him. “You got all that from this one line?”
“Yeah,” Eric said, waving at a servant to refill his coffee. “I have a degree in chemistry.”
Simon pulled off his reading glasses. “How did I not know that?” he asked, astonished.
Eric shrugged. “I hardly told anyone. I guess I was okay with being the party boy if it was a curated image,” he admitted. “But to verify it by failing to get my degree, and for everyone to know about it…well, that would’ve hurt.”
Simon tossed his glasses on the table, scanned across the table full of documents and printouts, and shook his head. “Eric, you are an idiot,” he said.
Eric laughed. “See, why would I go public with my degree if even my family still thinks I’m an idiot after finding out about it?”
“No,” he clarified, “you’re an idiot for the way you think of yourself, and for the way you treated Anna.”
Eric’s fingers tightened around his mug. “What do you know about it?” he scoffed.
“I know you love her,” Simon said, daring him to contradict it.
Eric glared and fumed for a moment but then had to swallow and looked away, finding that he couldn’t contradict it. With that realization, all his anger crumbled to dust and he saw it for what it really was: defensiveness. “Shit,” he said aloud.
“Yeah,” Simon said. “That.”
Eric blew out a breath and grabbed another paper, trying to refocus on the healthcare bill before his emotions dragged him under, but it was useless. The words all blurred together and all he could see was the betrayal on Anna’s face. Had he really said those awful things to her just because he couldn’t believe in himself, because he cared more about what a bunch of strangers thought of him than the feelings and advice of the woman he loved? What kind of a dick was he? And the ironic part was, he’d created all his own problems. If he hadn’t said what he had last night, she could be here right now, helping him sort through this mess with fresh eyes.
He’d had the perfect woman, and he’d run her off because he’d wanted to give the public a false happy ending rather than the truth.
“Fuck,” he mumbled, rubbing at his face in exhaustion and anxiety. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. What am I gonna do?”
“What do you want to do?”
He sighed and shuffled the healthcare papers back into a single pile. “First, I want to run these senators over with the biggest monster truck I can find. After that, I want to go find Anna and see if I have a snowball’s chance in hell of her taking me back.”
“Good,” Simon approved, then backtracked. “The second thing, not the first. Don’t do the first thing.”
Eric stuffed the papers back in his bag and rose. Feeling sick to his stomach—Anna had every reason to refuse to see him ever again—he tossed Simon a salute and then went home to figure out how to win back the woman he loved.
17
Anna paced back and forth in the tiny room, an ancillary chamber to the Parliament hall. She was practically snarling, like she was a lion in a cage or something. First Eric informed her—by memo, which felt like sacrilege after all the deeply personal notes they’d sent each other that way in the past—that he needed her to testify about her research before Parliament. Then he didn’t even have the decency to try to pretend that this was about her duty to the crown, and not what had happened between him and her. She felt like she was being strong-armed into defending his bill before the senators. And right now, she was feeling anything but helpful.
She swiped at her eyes and tried not to notice that her fingers came back wet. She didn’t want to miss him. She didn’t want to feel like her heart was being ripped in half. She wanted to stay angry, damn it, and if Eric ever dared to show his face—
The door opened and Eric strode in.
She whirled on him. “What are you doing?” she hissed. “I’ve been waiting for an hour. Do you know how slow Parliament is? I can hear everything through those doors, and those numbskulls have been nattering about nothing forever. Why do you even want me here? I’ll have you know, I don’t appreciate being forced to defend your bill. I’ve already given you my thoughts on how you could get them to pass it, but as you’ve shown quite clearly that you aren’t willing to listen—” She swiped at her eyes again, furious that she was still crying. She didn’t want him to see her crying. She didn’t want him to see her in such a vulnerable position, not anymore.
He closed the door behind him and held out his hands. “Anna,” he said, some strong emotion winding beneath his voice. “Please, let me explain.”
She crossed her arms. “Fine. Explain.”
“I was a jackass.”
She blinked. He didn’t look defensive or upset anymore, like he had the last time they spoke. Now he looked earnest and worried and determined, still holding his hands up like she was a spooked animal he was afraid might bolt. “Go on,” she said grudgingly.
“I was stupid, and selfish, and scared, and I said what I said out of those feelings, not because they were in any way true. You were right. I shouldn’t have thrown the party. I should have told everyone the truth, I should have believed in myself. But we only have a few minutes before our session starts—can I tell you about why I brought you here, and apologize later? I promise to grovel extensively when there’s time.”
She pressed her lips together. “Fine. What do you want?” she said shortly. An apology would be nice, but it wouldn’t heal the hole in her heart, and no matter what he said it was obvious from the fact that she was standing here that he only wanted to use her to get his bill through Parliament.
“There are two versions of my bill up to be voted on today,” Eric explained. “One involves cuts to Danovar’s poorest populations, and if it passes, a lot of sick and poor people won’t be covered the way I want them to be. I plan to argue in front of Parliament against that version today, and hopefully convince them to vote against it.” He took a breath. “The other version includes cuts to the palace’s funding of medical research and introduces more red tape and fees for scientists who want to carry out their studies in Danovar. If you want, I think you would be the best person to argue against that version. You have the knowledge and the firsthand experience, and I’m hoping you can convince them to put together another option for the bill that won’t limit you and your peers so much.”
> She stared at him, taken aback. “Oh,” she said, not quite sure how to answer. Danovar’s beneficial medical-research laws were something she was passionate about and would happily defend to anyone who asked. Without them, her research would’ve taken much longer in America and might have gotten undercut by some big pharmaceutical company who would only be interested in how much money they could make from it. But she’d come here today expecting that Eric was asking her to help him argue for his bill, not against a version of it. “Are you sure?” she said finally.
“Absolutely,” he said. He half-reached for her before he stopped himself, and she ached at how lost he looked for a moment. Then he cleared his throat. “Anyway, would you do it?”
“Yes,” she said decisively, trying to focus. “Danovian regulations are responsible for some of the biggest recent advances in medicine. Closing them off will do nothing but hurt the people of Danovar as well as the medical community. I’ll do it for those people as well as for my own research.”
He lifted a hand and let it fall, then gave her a weak smile. “Actually,” he said, “and I know I’m being selfish here, but I’m going to ask it anyway—I’d like for you to do it for me, too.”
She went still. “What do you mean?”
“I love you,” he said, and everything in her was caught up in those words, so much that she almost didn’t hear what he said next. “And I was wrong. I should’ve been honest with Parliament about the timeframe for the research, and I should’ve asked you to be honest about our relationship instead of hiding it when the tabloids found out. Every time we’ve tried to keep things secret for our own reasons, everything has failed. I think maybe presenting an honest, united front might be the way to go.” He folded his hands, probably to keep himself standing still and not reaching for her until she decided what she wanted to do.
She marveled at him. How much had it cost him, to offer her this? Not only the opportunity to argue against his bill, which might result in it failing entirely if Parliament couldn’t agree on where to make the cuts, but to be selfish, to ask her to testify for his sake? Eric was a giver. He’d always been a giver, a charmer, someone uncomfortable with asking for things for himself. She thought that maybe, deep down, he wasn’t sure he was worth it. But here he was, believing in himself enough to risk sabotaging his own bill in front of everyone, laying everything out on the table for her.
Her eyes filled again, but this time it was from a much more precious and beautiful emotion. She stepped forward, stood on her tiptoes, and lifted her mouth to his. “Yes,” she whispered against his lips. “I’ll do it for you, too.”
He wrapped his arms around her and returned the kiss. “Thank God,” he murmured, “because honestly, Anna, I think you may have ruined me for all other women.”
She laughed softly, reveling in the feel of his arms wrapped around her again. This was where she was meant to be. “I better have,” she replied.
His hand wandered up her side, played with the zipper at the back of her dress. “Do you think we have a few minutes before they call us in?” he said wistfully.
Just as her blood started to heat up and she pressed herself into him, someone coughed politely from the door that led to the Parliament hall. Simon stood in the doorframe, blocking the view of the other members, one eyebrow raised sardonically as he fought a smile. “Your turn to talk, lovebirds,” he called.
Anna sighed, then moved her mouth to Eric’s ear. “Let’s go save a healthcare bill,” she whispered, “and then maybe you can give me a few more seduction lessons.”
Eric leaned back, grinning, and buttoned his suit jacket. “You’re on,” he replied.
And then, hand in hand, they went to show the world who they really were.
Epilogue
The lab was decked out in streamers, banners, and even a disco ball in the corner. Eric had had the budget to go full lobster-and-expensive-booze on the party he and Anna were throwing tonight, but they’d thought something a little more low-key and fun would probably be appreciated by the patients, who were, after all, the whole reason for the celebration. These fifty test subjects had gone into remission thanks to the drug that Anna’s study had proven effective. Soon, thanks to Eric’s healthcare bill—a version of which had been passed months before with no cuts to either poor populations or medical research laws—the drug could be widely available to the whole of Danovar.
“Hello, handsome!” called a woman’s voice from across the room as one of their favorite patients entered: Mrs. Grady, the older woman who’d told Anna when their nerd date had shown up in the tabloids.
“Good evening, beautiful!” Eric called back. She strode over to him, collecting Anderson on the way—those two were thick as thieves. “How are you doing lately?” Eric asked when she arrived.
“Wonderful, thanks to you and Dr. Fernstone,” she answered.
“Oh, all I did was throw money at her, Anna really is the only reason any of this works at all,” Eric replied.
“The two of you do make a pretty great team.” The woman smiled coyly, elbowing Anderson. “On that note, we were wondering,” she said, “when you were planning to pop the question? Anderson and I have a bet going, y’see. He says another few months, I say six weeks tops.”
Eric’s mouth dropped. “Um,” he said, trying to collect his thoughts. “Well, I—we, that is…”
Seeing his distress, Anna swooped in to rescue him with her newfound powers of small talk. “Hey, girl!” she greeted the other woman warmly. “It’s so good to see you again. I heard you had a new grandbaby. Pictures, or it didn’t happen!”
Happily distracted, the woman pulled out her phone, and Anna and Eric shared a secret smile. He was so proud of how far she’d come, and how comfortable and relaxed she was now in social situations. Not to mention how much she’d learned from all their seduction lessons. As he’d predicted, he never did tire of watching her try new things. She’d even done some additional research and expanded his own repertoire a bit.
And, even better than that, they had a secret. No one else knew yet that Eric had actually proposed during a Grand Nerd Tour of the Danovian countryside last week. They were keeping it hush-hush for now, enjoying their quiet alone time.
But when they announced, it was sure to be a party.
End of Royal Treatment
Royals Of Danovar Book Two
Blurb
Simon Stuart has always been serious. Serious about his studies, his naval service, and supporting the royal family. However, watching his cousins King Phillip and Prince Eric find love and new paths in life has left Simon feeling adrift. That is, until during a Danovian Dahlia event Simon finds himself offered a new proposal: an engagement of marriage.
Penelope Alcott never wanted to be queen. That’s why she runs a toy company instead of learning royal etiquette. Because when you’re fifth in line for the throne, it’s crazy to think that you’re ever going to be crowned. Yet, after a series of unfortunate events including a tragic plane crash, two abdications, and a bizarre incident involving a Native American sweat box, Penelope finds herself crowned Queen. While Penelope is unsure about her new position of power, the royal family is taking no chances. They’re going to marry Penelope to a ringer: Simon Stuart, the perfect King who isn’t in line for a throne.
Simon finds Penelope woefully unprepared for the realities of royal life and decides he has to help her. It isn’t long before Penelope gets the hang of ruling, and she begins to think she and Simon make a pretty amazing team -- both publically and privately. But when a mother appears claiming her toddler has a right to the throne, Penelope and Simon are faced with losing a life they were just beginning to love.
1
Simon Vincent Gerald Stuart loved being a Duke of Danovar, but sometimes he wished Danovar took him a little more seriously. He had a law degree, a captainship in the Royal Navy, and all the same training as his cousins—the King and Prince—and yet the most important duty he was slated for today involved
historic flower tubers and a hell of a lot more cow shit than he’d hoped for.
But shit or no shit, Simon always served his country with a good attitude, so he made sure to smile extra bright as he lifted his cutting shears and posed for a picture with Danovar’s three original dahlia bulbs. Dahlias were the national flower, and today was the annual First Cutting ceremony—a tradition normally fulfilled by the King or Prince, though no one seemed to notice they’d been stuck with a mere Duke this time around. Up until yesterday, Prince Eric had actually been slated for this duty, but he’d asked Simon to sub in at the last second when the prince’s fiancée Anna needed his help with something at the lab. Simon suspected he’d actually just wanted to avoid the manure, which the royal gardeners had lavished generously on the tubers in their charge.
He lined the shears up on the first bulb as the camera flashed, careful to place the blades right at the base of the cutting but not too close to the growth point, which would damage the bulb. He’d stayed up far too late last night doing research in preparation for his role this morning, and he had to hold back a yawn as he cleanly snipped the green shoot off.
The cutting fell into Simon’s hand and he held it up to a smattering of polite applause. Only about half of the seats in the palace garden were full, and he was the only person present between the ages of fourteen and fifty. Apparently the only other Danovians who cared about the First Cutting ceremony were either geriatric or Duty Girls trying to earn their gardening badges.
Simon fit neither of those categories, but he still cared about today. He always cared. Sure, there was a big part of him that would rather be involved in the more important responsibilities of governing up in the palace proper, and yes, it was true that he now had cow shit all over his pants—but he loved his country’s traditions, and he liked to be needed, even for something as small as this. He reminded himself of both those facts when he accidentally tried to brush at the shit with a gloved hand, which he’d forgotten was also covered in fertilizer.