“I was summoned.”
Liam winced. “Oof. That’s never good. Anything I can help with?”
“It’s complicated. Hell, it may turn out to be nothing.” I was tiptoeing around telling one of my oldest friends that I might be defiling his little sister in the very near future.
Just the thought of touching the ice princess had my balls shriveling up, but it was either her or no one if this deal went through. You didn’t cheat on the King’s granddaughter and live to tell the tale. My duty to obey my sovereign was in direct conflict with the bro code. You didn’t mess around with your friends’ sisters.
Sensing my discomfort at discussing this out in the open where anyone could overhear, Liam offered, “Come on, let’s go to my office. It’s more private there.”
We were in a more functional palace wing, where the monarchy’s press office operated and many of the working royals held their own private offices. It was smart. Even though they worked where they lived, they could create a separation between their public and private lives. Liam opened a door down a side hallway, nodding to his secretary before entering his modest office.
Walking straight to the sideboard, where several liquor decanters waited, he poured brown liquor into two crystal glasses before motioning to the black leather couch along the opposite wall. We sank onto the soft leather, which groaned as it yielded to the weight of two grown men.
Liam handed me a glass, and I took a sip. It was bourbon, aged to perfection. While I’d typically savor the burn of the liquor down my throat, it only served to remind me of the sting of Lucy’s palm against my cheek.
Almost like he could read my mind, Liam spoke, “Please tell me my sister didn’t slap you.”
Had it been that obvious? Shrugging, I replied, “I provoked her.”
There was humor in Liam’s blue eyes. “You still doing that? You two aren’t children anymore.”
I blew out a breath. “I’m sorry. I know she’s your sister, but there is just something about her that I can’t stand.”
“You must have really pissed her off. She laid into me over something totally innocent after she nearly knocked me over to get away from you.”
“I had a little help.”
One of his dark eyebrows rose. “Care to explain?”
“It may turn out to be nothing. God, I hope it does.”
“You’re going to have to give me a little more than that, old friend.”
“Your grandfather proposed to me.”
Liam was mid-sip, and bourbon sprayed out of his mouth and onto my face. Always prepared, I pulled a white monogrammed handkerchief from my breast pocket and wiped away the evidence of Liam’s shock.
Coughing to clear his throat, he finally croaked out, “I didn’t realize you were his type.” Regaining his composure, he smirked. “He has been lonely. I’m sure you two will be very happy together.”
“Very funny. He wants me to marry Lucy.”
“Fuck! Have they learned nothing? Our lives aren’t a fucking game!” His anger was the last thing I expected. There was more to what he was saying, but it wasn’t my place to ask. I might be the son of a duke, but that didn’t even come close in comparison to what the royal family dealt with internally. Liam eyed me. “You said no, right? You two will kill each other.”
“It’s not up to me.” I shrugged.
“Who is it up to?”
“Lucy.”
He let out a snort. “Then you’re off the hook. She’ll never agree to marry you.”
“If only it were that simple,” I muttered. “If she goes through with it, she gets to focus full-time on her fashion career.”
Liam couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “Oh, you are so fucked. She’s desperate to get out. Desperate enough to even marry you.”
I groaned. “Don’t say that.” Any shred of hope I held onto that she might turn her nose up at the match between us vanished. Desperate people did crazy things. It’s why you saw them running back inside burning buildings or throwing themselves into oncoming traffic to save a loved one. Fashion was Lucy’s baby, and she was willing to be burned by me to protect it.
“They couldn’t find someone better than you?” There was still laughter in his voice.
