Royal mistake 2, p.1
Royal Mistake #2, page 1
Royal Mistake #2
Renna Peak
Ember Casey
Casey Peak Publishing, LLC
Contents
Royal Heartbreakers Reader Team
1. Victoria
2. Andrew
3. Victoria
4. Andrew
5. Victoria
6. Andrew
7. Victoria
8. Andrew
9. Victoria
10. Andrew
11. Victoria
12. Andrew
13. Victoria
14. Andrew
15. Victoria
16. Andrew
17. Victoria
18. Andrew
19. Victoria
Royal Mistake
Royal Heartbreakers Reader Team
Also by Renna Peak
Also by Ember Casey
This book is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, locations or incidents are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events, or locations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 by Ember Casey and Renna Peak
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
First Edition: February, 2017
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Victoria
I open my eyes and blink a few times as I adjust to the bright sunlight coming through the nearby window. It takes me a few moments to remember where I am and what’s happened. We were in a plane crash. And I’m pretty sure the room I’m in now is some sort of hospital. It only takes me another moment to realize I’m in bed. And that I’m not alone.
I shift a little onto my side, trying to see who it is lying next to me, not that I really have any question. I can smell him—he must have showered since the last time we were this close, but there’s no question the arm underneath me belongs to Prince Andrew.
Of course, this makes zero sense unless I’m hallucinating. Or maybe dreaming. But I don’t get a chance to rack my brain for the last thing I remember before he speaks.
“You’re awake.” His voice sounds almost as groggy as I feel.
I turn my head to meet his gaze. “I…guess.”
His lips tick up into the smallest of smiles. “Do you know where you are?”
I shake my head. “I have no idea.”
He chuckles. “I suppose that was a terrible question. I’m not certain I know where we are, and I’m not the one who’s been medicated for the better part of a day.” He pauses, his smile widening ever so slightly. “Do you know who I am?”
I give him a single nod. “Yes, but I—”
“What’s the last thing you remember?” His smile falls and his eyebrows draw together. “Do you remember coming here? To the hospital?”
I glance around as much as I can—the bed we’re on seems to be some sort of hospital-type bed, but it’s hard to be sure. Wherever we are, it’s a hell of a lot cleaner than the little cabin we were in last night—if that was even last night.
I give my head a small shake. “I don’t remember. Coming to the hospital, I mean. I remember the cabin. I remember sleeping on the floor. I remember…” The kiss. Holy shit, do I remember the kiss.
He nods. “Do you remember leaving?” He lets out a small breath that almost sounds like exasperation. “Do you remember the gun?”
I nod again. “I remember that. It was a long ride, worrying about the guy with the rifle.” I pause, trying to think of what came after that, but there’s nothing. My memory seems to be gone after that point. “I assume we made it into town or the two of us wouldn’t be talking now.”
He gazes into my eyes, almost like he’s searching for something. “We did.”
“So that’s where we are now?”
He shakes his head. “There was no hospital there. We’d only been there a few minutes—I wasn’t even able to use their telephone—before they were rushing you out to their ambulance. They didn’t want to allow me to come along, but I insisted—”
“You would.” I smile before the reality of what is actually going on starts to sink in for me. “Did you at least let your family know you’re alive? Have you spoken to the press?” My heart starts to race and I lift my head off his arm. “Are they parked outside the door? Did you at least—?”
He touches the top of my arm, brushing the pads of his fingers softly over my skin. “It’s nothing to concern yourself with right now.”
My mouth falls open for a moment and I glance at his hand, trying to ignore the electrical shock his touch sends through my skin. I stare at what he’s doing for a minute before I look back into his eyes.
His jaw drops for a moment before he snaps it closed at the same time as he pulls his hand away from my arm. He slides away from me as much as he can without falling off the bed.
Andrew lifts a brow. “I’m only here… I mean here—in this bed—because you asked me to be. You practically begged me to hold you last night when you came out of your procedure. The nurse said I was welcome…” His voice trails off and he draws in a long breath, almost stiffening. “I only did this for your benefit. For your comfort.”
I nod and lift my head again, shifting myself to the opposite edge of the bed. He slides his arm away from me and edges off the bed and into the chair next to it in a single motion.
I sit myself up, and Andrew grabs a remote control thing from the table next to us, pushing a button to raise the head of my bed.
It isn’t until I lean back that I feel the throbbing in my foot.
I must wince or something—Andrew’s eyebrows draw together with concern again. “Are you in pain? I’ll ring the nurse so she can bring you more medication. She said—”
“I’m fine.” There’s no way I’m going to allow myself to be medicated so heavily again that I’m begging Prince Andrew for anything—especially for him to hold me. My God, I can’t believe I would ever do anything like that. Especially to him.
“The physician who worked on your foot said you should be able to walk as soon as you’re ready. He also said there would be a large scar.” He frowns. “Of course, I believe we should consult a plastic surgeon afterward. I believe they might be able to—”
I shake my head, interrupting. “It’s the bottom of my foot, Andrew. Who the hell is ever going to see the bottom of my foot? It isn’t like it matters.” I close my eyes for a moment before turning back to look at him. “Did you talk to your press secretary? You should at least make a statement—tell the world you’re alive.”
He looks at me blankly. “I am alive.”
I blink at him a few times. “Clearly.”
“And I would never take my own life.”
“I never thought you would—”
“Apparently there are some who do…” His voice trails off and he looks at something over my shoulder. “I’ve devoted my entire life to my country, and yet the first reaction…the first thing people thought was that I had attempted to take my own life.”
Something about his tone makes something twist in my chest. “Oh, Andrew.” I shift, trying to cover the pain I’m sure he can hear in my voice. “Have you spoken with your parents—?”
“I couldn’t remember the telephone numbers. I…” His voice trails off and he looks at the floor for a moment before returning his gaze to mine. “It’s a terrible thing about technology, wouldn’t you agree? That the information about our contacts is lost when our telephone is lost?”
I give him a grim nod, lifting a brow. “Terrible. That is why they have the backup systems, though, I suppose.”
He nods, rubbing at his unshaved chin, ignoring my comment. “The only number I could remember was Leopold’s.” He’s quiet for a moment before he turns his gaze to mine. “I dare say he sounded disappointed to hear from me.”
“I seriously doubt that, Andrew.” I search his eyes for a moment—he seems to really believe what he’s said about his brother.
He rubs at the stubble on his jaw again. “You don’t understand. You don’t know the history of what’s transpired between us. If you did…” He shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair. “I have a new plan.”
I nod. “A new plan? For…what?”
“For our story.” His voice is almost somber. “Particularly now.”
My head is starting to throb—I’m not exactly in reporter-mode, but he doesn’t seem to care.
I let out a small sigh. “And why particularly now? None of this is making sense, Andrew—”
He nods—his eyes are almost wild. “It will. It will make perfect sense when you understand.”
I rub at my temple and close my eyes for a second. “Understand what? Andrew—”
“Understand that I was not attempting suicide by plane crash. That I would never do that—not to myself and not to my country.” He stands, shoving the chair against the wall to give him room to begin pacing the length of the bed. “I can see it in my head now. How the story will play out. It will be perfect for us both, Victoria.
My eyes widen for a second as his words sink in—did he just say engagement?
I open my mouth to answer, but I don’t get a sound out before he continues.
“We’ll detail the past four years.” He stops and looks at me for a moment before he turns his gaze back to the floor. He puts his hands behind his back and starts pacing again. “Then, you’ll write a series of carefully crafted stories, slowly weaving in my side of the current crisis. And by the end, the world will see how I could never betray my country by attempting suicide…” He almost spits out the word. “And with any luck, the world will instead be on the edge of its seat, watching my wedding to my perfect bride and they’ll have forgotten that my brother even exists.”
He finally stops walking and turns to me with a small smile. “What do you think? Can you handle this?”
“I… I…” My breath seems to be stuck in my throat. I force a smile, trying to slow down the racing of my heart—he can’t really be saying what I think he’s saying. “Andrew—”
“I know this is quite sudden, Victoria, but you’ve proved to me that you’re up to the challenge. That you’re the perfect person. That you’re trustworthy and intelligent and capable. You’re perfect.”
My cheeks burn under the compliment. And I can’t help but grin, even if this is…sudden. “I’m flattered, Andrew, really, but I think—”
He nods, grinning. He runs another hand through his hair, making it look almost as wild as his eyes. “I’m sure my mother will want some say in this plan. She’s quite adept at things such as this, and now that Leopold has finally—perhaps permanently—attached himself to someone, it shouldn’t be quite so difficult.” He nods to himself. “Yes, this is the perfect plan, wouldn’t you agree?”
I press my lips together, trying to hide the strange combination of giddiness and surprise and terror—and I watch him as he starts to pace again.
I try to pull myself together, shaking my head a few times. Even if he is asking me to marry him, it’s out of the question. He’s so damned devoted to his country that I can’t imagine him ever being that devoted to me.
But he held me. Again. I asked him to hold me in my delirium, and he did. Maybe he can be devoted to a woman. But even if he can, we barely know each other. I’d at least like to get to know him—to know if there’s something more than attraction between us before I agree to marry the crown prince of Montovia. Before I agree to be the future queen.
Holy shit.
“Andrew, why don’t you sit down? Slow down for a second.”
He stops pacing and turns to stare at me for a moment. He pushes the chair next to my bed again before he drops back into it.
I let out a slow breath. “What you’re offering is very…flattering. Really. But I think we need to slow down—”
He shakes his head. “We can’t. What you said before—before the crash—was right. We need to be in front of the story. I should have been in front of it, but I had hoped it would go away. But as it stands now, this is the only way.”
I reach out and take his hand in mine. “I think—”
“They’re accusing me of attempting suicide with my airplane, Victoria. They’re saying I’m incapable of ruling Montovia.” He blinks a few times, and I could swear he’s blinking back tears. “So you understand why this is the only way.”
I tilt my head, meeting his gaze. “Andrew, once they find the plane—once they see the damage to the wing, everyone will understand why we crashed.”
He shakes his head and frowns. “No, you haven’t heard…” He clears his throat and turns his gaze to our clasped hands. “They extracted the airplane from the lake yesterday. There was no damage. There was no bird strike—there was no reason for the crash at all.” He pauses for a long moment before lifting his eyes back to mine. “I hope you know I would never…”
I squeeze his hand. “I know. Andrew…” I let out another long breath. “I know that if you had wanted to do what they’re saying, the plane would have been in a million pieces. We would have been in a million pieces. And I’m perfectly willing to go out there with you and talk to the press and tell them that. I’ll tell them how you saved my life—that there’s no way you could have been trying to kill yourself or anyone else.”
He shakes his head and places his other hand on top of my mine. “They don’t care. They won’t listen. You know what they’re like. You know better than anyone.”
I nod. “I do. But I also know that you’re incapable of that—”
“You don’t.” He shakes his head. “You barely know me. They’ll realize that and the story will fall apart. Which is why this is the only way.”
“Andrew…” I fake a small smile. “I’m not sure that marriage is the only way.”
He nods. “Leopold…” His voice is almost choked. “Leopold was ready to take my place. You don’t understand. He’s changed… He’s—”
“That doesn’t mean he’s trying to take your place in line, Andrew. Maybe he’s just coming to realize that there’s more at stake in his life than his libido. It just took him a little longer than it took you—”
“He can never rule. Don’t you understand that? Leopold can never rule.” He smiles and looks deeply into my eyes. “Which is why I’ve decided that you are going to help me find the perfect wife.”
I have to have misheard him. Maybe there’s still a lot of pain medication in my system or something, and it’s affecting my hearing. Maybe I’m still asleep. Maybe—
I don’t get to finish my thought before he nods, smiling. “You and my mother. You’ve seen those reality television shows they have here in America, yes? The ones where the man auditions women to be his wife?” He nods again and I can see his eyes have gone back to their wild state. “That’s what we’re going to do. But not on television—I would never do anything so crass. But I’ll audition a few suitable women in a similar fashion, only through your tabloid. You’ll write about our dates and we’ll see how the Montovian people respond to each candidate. And the woman who rates highest will become my wife. And I’ll marry her before Leopold has a chance—”
“You’re…auditioning…” My mouth falls open and my heart twists in my chest as I realize I really have misinterpreted everything. I can’t believe I have to blink back the hot tears that sting at my eyes as I realize what he’s saying. I can’t believe I’m…disappointed. Maybe even hurt. I had been so sure—so absolutely certain—that he was proposing to me in his own strange way.
He nods. “Do you think five candidates is too many? I’m sure my mother will want some say in the number as well.”
I shake my head and slowly pull my hand away from his. I don’t want him to see whatever it is I’m feeling—I can’t quite tell what the twisting in my stomach and chest is, only that it hurts. And that I don’t want him to see any of it.
I’m quiet for a moment, carefully considering my words. Trying to figure out a way to get out of whatever it is he thinks I’m going to help him to do. “Television is probably a better—”
“No. No television. It will happen in Montovia, where the stories can be controlled. And it will happen in print, as we can control the words that way as well—”
“You can’t control everything, Andrew. And you actually think that a woman is going to accept this—?”
He almost laughs. “To be the future queen of Montovia? Are you joking? I tried with once before with someone—to arrange a mutually beneficial match. Do you know of Princess Maria?” He gives a forced laugh. “Of course you do. Maria had her chance—and she won’t be among the candidates who are chosen this time, I will guarantee you that, Victoria. Not after her filthy betrayal…”
There’s something off—something wrong about this whole thing, and for a moment, I wonder if I’m asleep, dreaming this entire interaction. But I’m ninety-nine percent sure I’m wide awake, at least by the way the throbbing in my head is keeping time with the throbbing in my foot. But Andrew’s demeanor—his behavior—is so different than it’s been over the past few days. How he wouldn’t say a damned thing to me—he wouldn’t even talk about the most minor of things until we were in Montovia. His distrust of the press—his distrust of me in particular… something about his sudden openness isn’t adding up.
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