Page 7 of Royal Crush
But yeah. One horrifying, traumatic relationship after my accident, and I was starting to feel doomed to a life entirely alone. I felt like I was about to watch myself on this godforsaken TV show achieve all my unfulfilled goals, and I wondered if maybe that’s what I was so angry about. Maybe that’s what had crawled under my skin.
An actor doing better at living my own life than I could?
Ah, fuck. What a weird existence.
But I supposed I’d have to get over that because it was the only one I had.
Three
CAMILLO
“Camillo!I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
That was an accepted lie. It was what my brother said every time he saw me, whether or not he was really looking for me. And I didn’t exactly mind his presence. He’d spent his entire life being groomed to be a royal cog—a sort of public fixture since the monarchy didn’t really have much power these days apart from being able to veto laws—which the Parliament could overrule, so what was the point?
But Carlo was the face of the country. The sweetheart of the modern-age royalty. The man that would save us from being dissolved…or some other bullshit. It was almost impossible to care anymore.
My life wouldn’t change much if they decided to end the monarchy.
Eventually, the grandkids—or maybe the great-grandkids—would have to get jobs. But we’d be fine. I was born, I lived, and I’d die with some form of silver spoon in my mouth. My brother, of course, would entirely fall apart. By the time he was a teenager, he’d made the crown his entire personality. I wasn’t sure what the hell he’d be if not the crown prince.
The only time I’d gotten to see glimpses of the person he might have become without the crown was right after my accident. I’d come fully awake with his big face hovering over me, eyes wide and panicked.
He stayed by my side for three weeks. But it didn’t take long for him to go back to business as usual, which was mostly ignoring me unless he needed something or his girls wanted to hang out in my quarters.
“What do you want, your grace?” I asked him with a half bow, making sure my sarcasm was obvious.
He gave me a pissy stare. “It’s like you live to make me angry.”
“Ah, my plans are foiled,” I said, pressing my forearm over my eyes. “I’ll have to give up my villainy.”
“Are you five?”
“Thirty-five,” I said with a smile while he grimaced. He was thirty-seven, and he hated being reminded that he was probably going to take the throne when he was old enough to have a natural bend to his back. “Seriously, what do you want?”
Carlo’s knees bent just slightly like he was about to kneel in front of my chair, but the motion was aborted when I glared at him, and he straightened back up. It had taken me years to break him of that shitty habit. Instead, he backed up until he was leaning against the wall. The man was incapable of standing up straight unless there were eyes on him that didn’t belong to immediate family.
“I wanted to see how your day on the set was.”
“They haven’t begun shooting.” I recited the lines I’d been giving everyone for the last couple of weeks. People were way too excited to see our fake faces all over streaming services, and it was starting to give me a headache.
“Well, Maria and Beatriz have been bugging me all week about when they can come see them film.”
I couldn’t help but soften. I loved my nieces more than I loved anyone in my family. They were some of the only people who had never known me outside of my wheelchair, and they never, ever got that annoying nostalgic look on their faces as they thought about what life was like before.
I was just their cool uncle who could zoom them around the palace, freaking out their dad and pissing off their mom. And when my brother finally got his head out of his ass about what I was capable of, he started letting me take them on weekend getaways.
We’d stay in the countryside, having long movie binges and ordering delivery, surprising the shit out of every driver that came to the door when they were faced with the prince. We did shopping excursions, and I accompanied Maria on her sweet sixteen to Paris as one of the three chaperones, where I spoiled her enough to piss off my brother and his wife.
So if they asked me for something—if it was within my power to give it to them—I would.
“I knew that would wipe that look off your face,” Carlo said.
I rolled my eyes. “Belina doesn’t care about me taking them to the set?”
“Since when do you care what she thinks?”
That was fair. I shrugged and nodded. “As soon as I get a filming schedule, I’ll let you know.”
