“The queen would be scandalized,” Fin continued, swirling his whisky as a devious grin spread over his face. “The tabloids would have a field day. I can picture the headlines already.”
Liam’s fingers tightened on his glass and his knuckles went white. “You know I don’t care about any of that codswallop.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Fin said dismissively. “It’s like the media has a hard-on for Elena.”
“Bloody cocksuckers.” Liam threw back his shot, welcoming the burn of the alcohol. “They’re fools if they can’t see what an incredible woman she is.”
“Is it true?” Fin gestured to the paper on the bar. “Do you love her?”
Of course he loved Elena. She was…everything. Just the mention of her name made his chest tight. “More than I ever thought possible. More than anything.”
“Really?” Fin asked, lifting a brow casually. “Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you gave up on her the moment things became difficult for you.”
Anger lanced through him, and he clenched his jaw. “You don’t know what you’re bloody talking about.”
“Don’t I? You’re an even bigger fool than I thought if you believe that rubbish.”
Fin drained his glass, his lips puckering at the spicy finish. Liam wasn’t prone to fits of violence, and he couldn’t remember ever wanting to clobber his best friend—not even during their days at uni—but the urge was growing and if this went on much longer, he might give in to the impulse.
“Do you think I haven’t been paying attention?” Fin asked, straightening indignantly. “I spend sixteen hours a day with you. I manage your schedule, your correspondence, and against my better judgment, your relationship with your parents. You’re welcome for that, by the way. It’s quite literally my job to know your mind as well as I know my own.”
“Well, if you’re so damn good at your job, you know that I do in fact love Elena,” Liam said through gritted teeth. “But it’s not enough.”
“Says who?”
Why was Fin being such a pain in the arse about this? Hadn’t he suffered enough without his friend piling on? “I told her I loved her and she left.”
“You know as well as anyone that talk is cheap,” Fin retorted. “She weathered one tabloid attack after another while you remained untouched, and the one time she needed you to stand up for her—the one time it mattered—you couldn’t do it.”
“As long as Their Majesties hold the Royal Marriages Act over my head, my bloody hands are tied.”
Fin snorted. “Your privilege is showing.”
Acid burned his stomach. Or maybe that was the whisky. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“You’re handsome, wealthy, and heir to the throne of a powerful nation. Everything you’ve ever wanted has been at your fingertips.” Fin crossed his arms. “Admit it, you’ve never had to fight for anything in your life, and the one time you needed to step up, you cracked like an egg.”
Liam exhaled through his nose, trying to breathe out the tension that had a vise-like grip on his body. Yes, he’d lived a privileged life, but it wasn’t like he hadn’t worked hard to live up to the expectations that had been piled on him from the time he was old enough to walk. He wasn’t the kind of man who cracked under pressure or faltered in the face of adversity. He’d fought for international human rights, tackled Valeria’s gender wage gap, and fought to improve the standard of living for his people. He’d taken on powerful men and women the world over and not once had he backed down.
Except when it came to his parents.
He’d allowed them to control and manipulate him, dangling the crown over his head like a goddamn carrot. Maybe Fin was right. Maybe he didn’t have the mettle to fight for what he wanted. Or maybe he’d just never personally had anything worth fighting for.
“You will be a great king someday, Liam, but it’s not the title that makes the man. It’s the man who makes the title. It is my privilege to serve you, but forgive me for being frank when I say that you’re a bloody fool for letting her go.” The corner of Fin’s mouth twitched. “A forgivable offense, perhaps, as all men are fools in love.”
“Speaking from experience?” Liam asked, scrubbing a hand over his face.
“Bite your bloody tongue,” Fin said, pouring himself another drink. “I still can’t believe you let her go. Elena was a rose among nettles. You were more yourself around her. I dare say it was the most alive I’ve seen you in years.”
Liam stared at his friend. What the fuck? “And you’re just telling me now? When it’s too late?”
Fin sipped his whisky and leveled his gaze at Liam. “It’s never too late to do the right thing.”
…
Lena opened her eyes to find Jinx standing on her chest, staring at her with a look that suggested he was definitely judging her life choices. Join the club, buddy. Even more disturbing was the realization that he wasn’t alone. Nia stood in the bedroom door, hands on her hips, head tilted to the side.
Welcome to the judgment zone, party of two.
Nia shook her head and stepped into the room, navigating the mess on the floor the same way she’d approach a filthy alley in flip-flops. She gave Lena a sympathetic smile and leaned a hip against the dresser. “Oh, girl.”
“What?” Lena had just been dumped. By a prince. Streaming royal rom-coms and binging on Mint Moose Tracks was perfectly acceptable behavior as far as she was concerned. Still, she adjusted her comforter to hide the puddle of melted ice cream on her sheets. It was too late to do anything about the drool hanging out of her mouth, but she had her pride, so she swiped the back of her hand across her mouth.
“You’ve got it bad,” Nia said, eyeing the mountain of laundry piled on the floor. Lena was down to her last clean pair of underwear. If she didn’t wash clothes today, she’d be going commando. “Real bad.”
Lena shrugged. “I’ll get over it.”
Nia arched a perfectly shaped brow. “Really? Then I guess you’ll be glad to hear His Royal Hotness is returning to Valeria.”
Her heart stuttered. Liam was leaving?
She wanted to ask how Nia knew, but that was what her friend wanted. Nia was baiting her. Trying to get her to talk about her feelings. Which was pointless.
She felt like shit. The end.
“It’s just as well, since he’s a lying, manipulative ass,” Lena said with a shrug. “The worst part is that I fell for it hook, line, and sinker. Which is stupid, right? This is real life and we live in the real world. This isn’t some delightfully cheesy made-for-TV movie where the adorably klutzy heroine gets the handsome crown prince and they live happily ever after in a shiny pink palace.”
“You’re thinking of Barbie,” Nia said, the corners of her lips quivering. “I’m pretty sure the Valerian palace is made of stone.”
Lena glared at her friend and pulled the covers up to her chin. “You know what I mean.”
“No, I really don’t.” Nia shook her head, completely serious now. “The man said he loved you and you obviously feel the same, yet you broke up with him.” She threw up her hands. “In what world does that make a lick of sense?”
It didn’t. Not when Nia put it like that, anyway.
“I never said I loved him.” She didn’t need to say the words aloud. Nia could probably see it written all over her face and in the carton of ice cream she’d consumed and, fine, yes, in the dry shampoo she’d been using in lieu of a shower for the last three days. She loved Liam with every fiber of her being, and the idea of watching him marry some stuck-up duchess who only cared about his title made her want to throw up in her mouth. “Besides, our entire relationship was built on a lie. He only pretended to date me to stave off a political engagement. What kind of man does that?”
“The kind who feels trapped.”
Lena bolted upright and threw off the covers, ind
ignation burning through her veins. “You’re seriously going to take his side in this?”
“Girl, you’re my ride or die. I’m always on your side. No questions asked,” Nia said, holding up a placating hand. “I’m just saying that the man has spent his entire life preparing for one job and one job only. Then he meets you and falls head over heels, crazy in love—as one does—and what could he do?”
“I don’t know,” Lena said, rolling her eyes. “Tell the truth, maybe?”
“It was an impossible choice. Seriously, what kind of monsters would make their own son choose between his crown and the woman he loves?” Nia shuddered and pushed off the dresser. “I will never look at King George and Queen Marguerite the same again.”
Much as it pained her to admit it, Nia had a point. Their Majesties were a lock for worst parents of the year.
And though she was angry Liam hadn’t told her about the Royal Marriages Act or his parents’ scheming, she couldn’t deny that a part of her—a tiny, traitorous one—understood. Like Nia said, he’d spent his whole life preparing to be king, putting his country and his people before his own needs and desires. It couldn’t be easy to turn off a lifetime of duty and sacrifice. She knew that. Cerebrally, anyway.
Emotionally? She wasn’t there yet.
Liam would be a good king. She knew it in her heart, but that didn’t lessen the pain of losing him. If anything, it was worse, because she knew the weight of his crown would chip away at him until he was a shadow of the man she’d grown to love.
The knowledge gutted her.
He deserved so much more than a cold political marriage and a life of service to his country. And if he’d chosen her, she would’ve fought like hell to ensure he got it, because although he’d lied to her, he’d held up his end of the deal. He’d gotten her business back on track, thrown tons of great press her way, and even paved the way for her first gallery exhibit.
An exhibit she couldn’t imagine attending without him by her side. The very thought of it made her throat close up and her eyes sting.
Mierda.
She would not cry. Not again.
“I almost forgot,” Nia said, pulling an envelope from her back pocket. “This came for you. I signed for it, since you’re not fit for public viewing.”
“Thanks, I think.” Lena scrunched up her nose. “What is it?”
“I don’t know, but it looks official,” Nia said, handing her the green and white envelope.
Great. Was she being sued again? It would be par for the course.
Lena slipped her finger under the envelope’s flap and tore it open. She pulled out the letter and unfolded it, her stomach dropping at the sight of the letterhead.
It was from Chad’s attorney.
She scanned the letter. Then she read it again to be sure she hadn’t misunderstood the legal jargon, because, legal jargon.
“Well? What is it?” Nia asked, leaning forward to get a closer look.
“Chad’s dropping the lawsuit,” Lena said, disbelief coating her words. Her eyes darted back to the single sheet of paper, a giddy feeling blossoming in her chest. “And get this. He’s going to issue a statement admitting he reacted emotionally and greatly exaggerated the circumstances of our breakup.”
“Seriously?” Nia’s brows disappeared into her hairline. “I did not see that coming. But it’s about time the little twerp did the right thing,” she said, recovering hastily. “He’s lucky you’re not suing him for slander.”
The thought had never even crossed her mind. She just wanted this nightmare to be over. And now it was.
Chad was dropping the lawsuit. She should be ecstatic, but something about his sudden change of heart didn’t quite sit right. It made no sense. Even the dude at Legal Aid said her best chance of making it go away was to offer a settlement, so what had changed?
Mierda. Had Liam done this? Did it even matter anymore?
However it had happened, it was definitely cause for celebration. Liam would say her run of good luck was proof that her curse really was a blessing in disguise, but she wasn’t feeling it.
The only thing she felt was empty.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Liam threw open the door to His Majesty’s office, ignoring the protests of his personal secretary, Beatrice, who looked like she was about to shit a brick right there on the Isfahan carpet. He might’ve felt guilty for ruffling the old bird’s feathers if she didn’t take so much pleasure in busting his balls every chance she got.
As it was, he was on a mission, and he wasn’t about to wait around until his father deigned to see him. For all he knew, it could be two days or two bloody weeks, and he didn’t have that kind of time.
Every minute he was separated from Elena felt like an eternity.
The king looked up from behind the Resolute desk, the oft rumored twin to the one in the Oval Office, but said nothing. Just pressed his lips in a thin line, the only concession he’d make to being outmaneuvered by his son. Point, Liam. His Majesty’s Most Honourable Privy Council, on the other hand, scrambled to their feet, as if fearing an ambush.
They weren’t far off the mark.
It was no accident that Liam hadn’t been invited to the meeting, but he wasn’t about to let his father shut him out. Not this time. Not when he had something worth fighting for.
And when it came to Elena, he’d never stop fighting. For her. For them.
“What do you think you’re doing?” his father finally asked as Liam shut the door and took a seat with the other council members, dropping a stack of files on the table.
“I’m a member of the Privy Council,” Liam said, meeting his father’s steely gaze. “Is this not a Privy Council meeting?”
“If your attendance was required, you would have been invited.”
His father’s face was neutral, but Liam could sense his growing irritation. Liam flashed him a triumphant smile. If it weren’t for his own well-placed contacts throughout the palace, he wouldn’t have even known his father was meeting with select members of the council to discuss the future of the monarchy.
A future he would play a key role in shaping.
“I’m here to discuss the future of Valeria,” he said smoothly, turning to the council members. “Is that not the purpose of this meeting?”
None of them would meet his eyes.
“Perhaps we should discuss this matter in private?” Liam suggested, turning back to his father. He could see the wheels turning in his father’s head as he calculated his next move. He clearly did not want to concede another point to his son. Fortunately, Liam wasn’t above pressing the advantage. “I have news.”
“Very well.” His father gave a curt nod. “It’s nearly time for lunch anyway. The council will reconvene in one hour.”
Let the games begin.
Liam moved to the bar and poured himself a whisky as the council members collected their things and silently departed, their footsteps muted by the plush carpet. The last advisor out pulled the door shut but, before it latched, it was thrown open again and his mother stormed in, looking as put out as he’d ever seen her.
Oh, her perfectly coiffed hair was as lovely as ever and her suit was neatly pressed, but there were tension lines around her mouth that would give her nightmares if she had the misfortune of passing before a mirror.
“What is the meaning of this?” she demanded, holding up a crisp parchment notecard.
“Mother,” Liam said, taking a sip of his whisky. “So glad you could join us.”
She waved the card Fin had delivered to her personal secretary. “It’s not like I had much choice in the matter.”
Indeed.
“What the bloody hell is going on?” his father asked, no longer bothering to hide his annoyance. Why would he? The audience was gone and he wouldn’t go to the trouble of pretending for Liam or the queen. �
�I do not have time for childish tantrums. Parliament is breathing down my neck, and if we don’t come up with a solution soon, we’ll be sharing power by year’s end.”
Liam took a seat on one of the ornate Louis XV chairs and crossed his legs. “Perhaps it’s for the best,” he said, taking a pull on his whisky. “I think we can all agree sovereign rule is an outdated form of government.”
The queen gasped and the king’s face flushed a violent shade of red.
“Come now,” Liam said, forging ahead. Stunned speechless was a good look for his parents. He should’ve tried it ages ago. “You don’t really believe you’ve been chosen by the almighty himself, do you?”
“How dare you!” His father leaped to his feet and braced his palms on the desk. His chest was heaving and Liam suspected it was the closest the old man had come to a workout in a decade. “I am the king and I will not tolerate such insolence.”
Liam arched a brow but said nothing. What could they do? Hang him for treason?
“Darling,” his mother said, moving to the chair opposite his and lowering herself gracefully to the ivory cushion. “Surely you don’t mean that. You’ve always wanted to be king, from the time you were a little boy.”
“That was before you tried to force me into a political marriage.”
“Is this about the American?” His father snorted and returned to his chair, the color fading from his face. “You want to be king, you have to make sacrifices.”
“I think what your father’s trying to say,” his mother said, glaring daggers at her husband, “is that while ruling isn’t easy and the crown will require certain sacrifices, we’re very happy. And in time, you will be too.”
“Bollocks,” Liam scoffed. It was no secret that both his parents had had their share of affairs over the years. It had been easy enough for him to ignore the whispers, but for Xander, it had been a different story.
“Being king means putting your duty to your country before your own desires.” His mother reached for his hands, clasping them in her own. “We would love to give you the privilege of marrying for love, but it’s not an option. We’re doing everything in our power to protect your crown, and you will have to make sacrifices as well.”
A Royal Disaster Page 25