Liam raked a hand through his hair and muttered a curse.
“You need to tell Elena the truth. Before she hears it somewhere else.”
Liam stiffened. “That won’t happen.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Not with Charlotte in town,” Fin argued, shooting a glance at the mostly shut bedroom door. Lena held her breath, praying she was fully cloaked in the darkness. “Your mother is growing impatient and, if Charlotte’s arrival in New York is any indication, she’s not buying into this farce of a relationship, despite your best efforts.”
“Bollocks. This fake relationship was supposed to buy me more bloody time,” Liam hissed. “At least another year or two. I’m not ready—”
Devastation flattened her like a steamroller, and whatever else Liam had to say was lost to the roaring in her ears. He’d been using her this whole time. He’d pretended he wanted to help her fix things at the studio, pretended his motivations were entirely altruistic, but the truth was, he was using her. Helping her had just been a guise for what? Staving off royal suitors? Having a last hurrah before he settled down with a prim and proper Valerian noble?
Puñeta.
No wonder Charlotte thought her such a fool.
And she’d actually begun to believe they were building something real, something lasting. Shame burned her cheeks. She’d been a pendejo to think Liam truly cared about her. In what world did a crown prince marry a starving artist from the East Village? It didn’t matter if it happened in the movies, this was real life and things like that didn’t happen.
Not to women like her.
Her ex-boyfriend was suing her, for fuck’s sake. If that didn’t sum up the shitshow that was her life, she didn’t know what did. The fact was, no matter how hard she tried, she’d never be the kind of woman Liam could bring home to his parents.
Charlotte had been right. Liam was expected to marry well, and like the perfect royal he was, he’d do his duty when the time came.
The realization gutted her.
Lena padded to the bathroom and stripped off Liam’s shirt, throwing it over the marble vanity and exchanging it for her dress. She slipped it on and zipped it up, checking her reflection in the mirror. Her face was splotchy and red and her eyes were glassy, but it couldn’t be helped. The only thing that mattered now was getting the hell out of the hotel without making a bigger fool of herself.
What had she been thinking letting herself fall for him? That he was going to marry a disaster-prone American and they’d have a great big royal wedding and darling little Valerian-Irish-Nuyorican babies?
Lena bit her lip, fighting the tears that threatened to fall.
Yeah, she kind of had.
Which just went to show how naïve she’d been. Everything in her life ended in disaster. And she’d been a fool to think her relationship with Liam could end any other way.
…
Liam shut the door behind Fin and turned to find Lena standing in the bedroom door with her bag slung over her shoulder. Her eyes were red and her mouth was set in a grim line. She was fully dressed and he knew without asking that she’d overheard their conversation.
Fuck.
This wasn’t how he’d imagined telling her. He owed her an explanation, but he was unprepared. And, if he was being honest, he’d been cocky enough to believe she’d never find out. He’d been so sure he could find a solution to his marriage problem.
One that didn’t involve hurting her.
“Lena—”
“I found the file in your desk.” Her voice was flat, lacking its usual energy. He’d done that. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t lied to her directly. A lie by omission was still a bloody lie and if he didn’t find a way to fix this mess, his hubris would cost him the only honest relationship he’d ever had.
The realization settled in his gut like a stone.
“I can explain,” he said, taking a step toward her. He hated seeing Lena this way, knowing he’d hurt her like this. It was the last thing he wanted to do.
“Don’t,” she said, slicing her hand through the air. He froze, reacting on instinct to the harsh tone of her voice. He was more accustomed to giving orders than taking them, but in that moment he would’ve done anything she asked. “I can’t think of a single thing you could say that would make this any better, and believe me, I tried to come up with a reasonable explanation for the fact that you lied to me. Manipulated me. Used me.”
A tear leaked from the corner of her eye and she wiped it away.
He wanted to argue. God, did he want to argue. But she was right. He was a bloody hypocrite. How many times had he lamented the people in his life using him to get what they wanted without regard for his feelings? Too many to count. And yet he’d done the same thing to Lena, justifying his actions with his own bullshit rationale, telling himself it was best to keep the truth from her in case she slipped up with the press. After all, it was better to be dubbed a white knight helping save a small business than a royal prick attempting to circumvent Valerian law.
He should’ve been honest with her about his motivations from the start.
Fin had tried to warn him, but he hadn’t listened. Which either made him the most narcissistic bastard on the planet or the stupidest. Possibly both.
How could he not have seen what he was doing to her?
“I’m sorry,” he rasped, the sight of her tears nearly bringing him to his knees. If she forgave him, he’d find a way to make up for each and every tear she shed. “I never meant for any of this to happen, love.”
“Don’t,” Elena said through gritted teeth, “call me that.”
“The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you.” Regret seized him, the pain as sharp as any dagger to the heart. What kind of prick made his woman cry? “You have to know that when we made the deal, I didn’t anticipate any of this,” he said, gesturing between them.
“At least now I know just how far you’re willing to go to be the perfect prince,” she said, shaking her head. “I guess I should’ve paid closer attention to your stories. Maybe I’d have figured it out sooner.”
“I care about you deeply, Lena, more than I ever thought possible.” It was true. He never imagined he’d met his match when he proposed the fake dating arrangement. Romance had been the last thing on his mind. He hadn’t even known he was capable of it. He sure as shit hadn’t seen a single healthy relationship growing up in the palace. The only thing he’d known for certain was that he didn’t want to be tied to some scheming social climber who cared only about his crown.
Lena laughed, but the sound rang hollow. “You’ve played the role to perfection, I’ll give you that. Even I fell for it, and I signed the NDA. I actually believed you when you said you cared about me. I thought what we had—what we felt for each other—went beyond the contract.”
“I do care about you.” Another tear rolled down her cheek. Christ. He was fucking this up. Why couldn’t he find the right words to tell her how he felt?
“I thought maybe… Well, it doesn’t matter now, does it? You’ve got a bride to choose and a wedding to plan.”
Frustration welled up in his gut, spilling over into his words. “It’s not like that, and you’d bloody well know it if you let me explain.”
“Really? Because I’m pretty sure it’s exactly like that.” She huffed out a breath. “Honestly, Liam. What were you going to do when our month was up? Did you even consider for one second how all of this would affect me? How I would feel when you dumped me and jumped into an engagement with another woman?”
Her words stung, but the fact that she wasn’t worried about the impact on her studio—only her feelings—spoke volumes. He could still fix this. He just had to explain, to make her understand.
“It’s not that simple. Not for me. I don’t have the luxury of marrying for love.” He raked a hand through his hair, suddenly a
ware of the fact that he wore no shirt or belt or even bloody socks. He was half dressed and as vulnerable as he’d ever been. “My parents believe a favorable match will inspire the nobility to help quell the unrest in Valeria, and ultimately, the call to reduce the power of the monarchy.”
“There must be another way,” she said, nostrils flaring. “This isn’t the eighteenth century, Liam. You have a choice.”
“I wish that were true. The Royal Marriages Act says otherwise.”
“Un-fucking-believable.” Her hands shook and she clenched them into fists at her side. Even from across the room he could see her nails digging into her palms. “So, what? You were just going to leave without telling me your plans? Or did you think I’d be some modern-day mistress, content to stand by in the shadows while you married someone else?”
Her words landed like a blow. Did she truly think so little of him? Everything he’d ever done was in service of his country and his people. He’d thought she understood, but it was becoming clear she didn’t understand him at all. “That’s not fair. I—”
“Fair?” She scoffed. “If you think any of this is fair then maybe you and Charlotte deserve each other after all.”
“You…met Charlotte?” Fuck. Fin had been right. What had Charlotte said to her? Whatever it was, it couldn’t have been good and it sure as shit wasn’t working in his favor now.
“It doesn’t matter.” Lena hitched her bag up on her shoulder and crossed the room so they were standing toe-to-toe. “I’m sorry I couldn’t buy you more time, Your Royal Highness, but I did warn you. Everything I touch turns to shit.”
“Don’t do this, Elena.” Bloody hell. He’d been reduced to begging, but it didn’t matter. He’d get on his knees if that’s what it took to make her stay. No one understood him like she did, and he didn’t want to lose her. Not now. Not ever.
“I have to go,” she said, nearly choking on the words as she opened the door. Jack and Ethan turned to them, doing their best to remain impassive, though it was obvious they’d heard everything. He didn’t give a damn. The only thing that mattered was fixing things with Elena.
Liam grabbed her arm and she shook off his grip. “Please don’t go. We can talk about this, sort it out.”
She squared her shoulders. “It sounds like your parents have it all figured out. I’m sure you’ll be very happy. Goodbye, Liam.”
She strode down the hall toward the lift and he followed, barefoot and shirtless, Jack and Ethan on his heels.
She whirled on him with glassy eyes. “Don’t you dare follow me. If you do, I swear I’ll make such a scene Their Majesties will have you on the next flight home.”
He didn’t doubt her for a second. There was a fierceness in the set of her jaw he’d rarely seen, and he knew she meant every word. She stabbed the button for the lift, and the threat of losing her cleared his mind, bringing their month together into sharper focus.
It was like he was seeing Elena for the first time, his creative, spirited, beautiful woman. Whether she’d meant to or not, she’d changed his life in just a few short weeks. For so long, his sole focus had been his duties as heir; he hadn’t allowed himself simple pleasures like lunch in the park or an art class or even a leisurely gallery visit. Hell, he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been allowed an afternoon to himself. Everything was scheduled, intentional, and driven by his duty to Valeria. It was that duty-first mentality that had allowed him to compartmentalize his growing feelings for Elena, but that was no longer an option. Not when the mere thought of letting her go made his chest ache with longing.
Liam played the only card he had left. The one he hadn’t known he was holding until now.
The one that would change everything.
“I love you,” he said quietly.
She stiffened, tension gripping her body. He’d never said those words to a woman before, but the rightness of it was heavy in his bones. When she turned, her face had softened. Hope flared in his chest. “And what are you going to do about it?”
Fuck. He didn’t know. What could he do? His bloody hands were tied. He needed time. Time to think. To strategize. Between the trade agreement and the Spartan deal, it might be enough. He would figure this out if she’d just—
The doors to the lift slid open and Elena stepped inside, a tear sliding down her cheek. “Goodbye, Liam.”
The finality of her words shattered his fragile hope, and reality came crashing down. She’d given him a chance to prove he loved her—to choose her—and he’d blown it. His lack of answer had been answer enough.
Bloody fucking hell.
He really was a bastard and Elena deserved better, which was why he stood silently and watched the only woman he’d ever loved walk out of his life.
HRH Left in Stitches?
Hold onto your panties, ladies. It looks like His Royal Hotness is back on the market. Mad Eyes Murphy was seen storming out of The Plaza sans shoes last night (#KeepingItClassy). Sources say the couple had a massive blowup that ended with MEM calling it quits—AFTER she chucked her stilettos at HRH. Rumor has it the hotel had to bring in a physician to stitch up more than HRH’s heart, but the reports are unconfirmed.
Either way, we’re guessing Willena will be a distant memory by happy hour. (Margaritas anyone?)
Now, we’re told the argument stemmed from HRH’s roving eye, but we’re calling bullsh*t, because, come on. Everyone knows Prince Alexander is the only playboy in the palace (and we have the photos to prove it!). HRH may have played the field in the past, but we’re giving him a pass. After all, what’s the point of being royal if you can’t have your cake and eat it too?
And let’s be honest, MEM wasn’t exactly princess material. Sure, they made a cute couple, and who doesn’t love a Cinderella story, but we’re guessing Their Majesties weren’t going to throw open the palace gates for a common American bride (she’s not even an heiress) when HRH could literally have any woman on the planet.
TBH, we figured MEM would be the one getting kicked to the curb when HRH came to his senses and started thinking with the big head. I mean, can you imagine MEM sitting on the Valerian throne? The fire at the Caridoso embassy would look like child’s play compared to the damage she could do to a palace. God save the hottie!
Chapter Twenty-Two
Liam threw back a shot of whisky, the alcohol burning a path straight to his stomach. Christ, he hoped it would take the edge off. He’d been tense as hell since Elena had gotten on that lift and walked out of his life, and nothing could help him relax. He eyed the bottle, contemplating a second drink, but Fin snatched it away before he could follow through.
“I’m not going to stand here and watch you drown your sorrows in whisky,” Fin said, eyeing the paper that lay on the bar. A picture of Lena racing out of the hotel with her bag clutched to her chest graced the cover. The bloody tabloids were already speculating about his breakup, saying their whirlwind romance had ended the only way possible—in a blaze of glory.
Whatever the fuck that meant.
It was total rubbish. The only thing they got right was the fact that it was over. There hadn’t been any stitches, and certainly no secret physician visits, but they were done, all right.
He’d seen to that when he’d been unable to answer her simple fucking question. When he’d failed to choose her. From the beginning, he’d known she wasn’t meant for him—his parents would never give their consent—but he couldn’t deny a part of him had hoped that just maybe he was wrong.
“We should be celebrating,” Fin said, trying again. “The trade agreement’s been signed. Their Majesties are pleased, and things are proceeding nicely with Spartan. What more could you ask for?”
“Elena,” Liam said simply, grabbing the bottle from his friend and pouring himself a double. When he sat the bottle on the bar, Fin sighed and poured himself a drink.
“What kind o
f friend would I be if I let you drink alone?”
“What kind of friend indeed.” Liam lifted his glass and Fin did the same. “She won’t answer my calls.”
Fin sipped his whisky and shook his head, as if to slough off the burn of the alcohol. “Do you blame her?”
“No,” Liam said, slamming his glass down on the bar. “But I’d hoped.”
Fin nearly choked on his drink. “Since when do you sit around hoping things go your way?”
It was a good fucking question. Liam prided himself on being a man of action. He had to be. A weak king could never hold the throne. Problem was, he couldn’t seem to plot his way out of this mess.
If he were king, things would be different. But he had no authority to change the laws, and his parents weren’t exactly concerned with matters of the heart. They’d already made it clear they didn’t give a damn if Liam kept a harem of mistresses, as long as he married suitably.
Fin studied him thoughtfully, brows furrowed. “Ah, well. It’s probably for the best. Elena was hardly cut out for palace life. She would’ve hated all the balls and the banquets and the constant scheming of the court.”
It was true Elena’s upbringing had been vastly different than his own, but it was one of the things he loved best about her. She wasn’t ashamed of her modest life, and she didn’t pretend to be something or someone she wasn’t just to please him. “Bollocks. She handled the visit to the Caridoso embassy brilliantly. Her humble roots would have been an asset at court once she got the hang of all the political maneuvering. And God help anyone who pissed her off.” He sighed. “I rather think I would have enjoyed seeing her knock my mother’s snooty advisors down a few pegs.”
“Honestly, can you imagine the court’s reaction the first time she upset a banquet table or trod all over a visiting dignitary’s toes during a waltz?” Fin asked, clapping him on the back.
What the fuck? Fin was his best friend. He was supposed to be on Liam’s side. “As far as I’m concerned, a few overturned banquet tables would be a small price to pay to have Elena by my side,” he bit out.
A Royal Disaster Page 24