I’d run the numbers. Continuing to donate my Addy June profits, I could live comfortably with the money earned from Arabella Reign. Breaking free would also allow me to expand into a bridal line. I may have to give up the life of private planes and penthouse suites in hotels, but that was a small price to pay.I didn’t care about those things as much as I cared about my career.
Dressing smartly in a pair of high-waisted black sailor pants and a sleeveless white lace blouse with a bow collar, I approached Grandfather’s private office with a vise-grip squeezing my chest. His personal secretary nodded when I arrived, signaling that I was expected to let myself in. Pausing at the gilded wooden door, I took a deep breath before turning the doorknob and entering.
Sitting behind a massive oak desk, likely centuries old, was the patriarch of our family. King Victor’s reign had been long, spanning nearly fifty years, and he was the last link to the old ways. He was a traditionalist, which was a direct threat to my hybrid royal lifestyle.
At almost ninety, he wasn’t as mobile as he once was, often using a cane when walking. His head was nearly bald on top, a few gray wisps trimmed closely on the sides. Wrinkles lined his face from all he’d weathered as our monarch, but one thing that had never changed in all the time he was King was the distinguished mustache he wore—the only difference was the gray color which had replaced the once black facial hair. His blue eyes still shone brightly, a distinctive feature he passed down to his only son, and in turn, Liam and me.
Seeing me standing in his doorway, Grandfather gestured for me to enter with his hands. “Lucette, please take a seat.”
Dropping into a quick curtsey, I followed his command, settling gracefully into the richly upholstered Victorian wingback chair opposite his desk. This room had been off-limits to us when my brothers and I were growing up. Grandfather used it for important state business, and our parents warned us he couldn’t be disturbed.
Being the royal children we were—unaccustomed to being told no—the three of us snuck in one day when we knew Grandfatherwas traveling. Leo spent the entire time posturing, telling us how this would be his office when he was King, even being so bold as to sit behind the desk. Liam stood guard at the door, having been unable to deter us from our plan to enter the restricted room. I sat in a corner, taking in the space in awe.
The room was gorgeous, with its rich mahogany walls accented with gold filigree, burgundy and cream furniture, and an entire wall of windows overlooking the courtyard. But that wasn’t what intrigued me about this sacred space. This room had seen centuries of Remington monarchs working diligently to create policies to better our country, meeting with foreign dignitaries, or even making military decisions to protect our homeland. Our family history—our legacy—was created within these four walls.
What once had seemed inspiring now felt oppressive. The weight of a responsibility I never asked for held me down, keeping me from achieving my dreams.
Crossing my legs at the ankles, I sat with my back straight and hands clasped in my lap, waiting for Grandfather to begin. The monarch always got the first and last word—and his word was law.
“It’s wonderful to see you returned home, Lucette.” There was a deeper meaning behind his words, implying he was displeased that I wasn’t always at home, ready to be the perfect princess. Bowing my head, I acknowledged his opening statement, allowing him to continue. “You’re nearing your thirtieth birthday, and it’s long past time to discuss your future.”
My breathing became shallow as the walls closed in around me. This was it. I tried to hold back the tears in anticipation of my worst fear to be realized, when he demanded I give up my job—my passion, my life. I would be asked to choose between loyalty to my family and what made me truly happy. My heart and head would war; the choice impossible.
Not needing a partner in this conversation, Grandfather continued, “I’m not getting any younger, and I’d like to see you settled before I’m gone.”
Settled? I was suddenly lost.
Politely, I asked, “Pardon my confusion, sir, but settled how?”
His striking blue eyes, which mirrored my own, stared right at me as he stated simply, “It’s time for you to marry.”
Whoa. Back it up. Married?
“I’m not dating anyone,” I blurted out.
Waving his hand, Grandfather brushed off that major obstacle with ease. “Precisely. We can proceed without any complications.”
It finally clicked. I was being used as bait in some political game. Okay, I was wrong before. Losing my career wasn’t my worst fear anymore. Being forced into an arranged marriage was so terrifying that it had never entered my radar.
The idea was beyond absurd. My parents had married for love, Leo had married for control—but at least he chose his bride—and Liam was so over the moon for Amy that they’d eloped.
There was no time in my life for a man, even if I did want one. My life was too busy to be tied down—metaphorically, at least. I couldn’t imagine whoever Grandfather had likely already brokered a deal with would be willing to let me continue working. I’d become a prop for some powerful man. That was so not my jam.
I was reeling but found it deep within myself to push back. “Excuse me for saying so, but don’t you think I should have a say in who I marry? Father was granted that right, as were my brothers.”
Grandfather steepled his hands before him on the massive desk. “Your father chose well, but your brothers’ choices were not ones I would have condoned. We must uphold the Remington family name as one with strong Bellestonian roots.”
Translation: Purebred Remington royals full of Bellestonian blue blood were superior to the half-royal children my oldest brother had produced, and my older brother would likely bring forth in the coming years.
Both Leo and Liam had married Americans. Natalie and Amy came from wealthy families—Natalie’s father was in tech, and Amy’s was an oil tycoon—but they were outsiders. I’d always loved that they came from a different world. Their fresh perspective was such an asset to our country moving forward. Grandfather saw them as a threat to our long-standing traditions, and it had been mentioned more than once that they were a bad influence on me. It was easier to place blame for my need to spread my wings outside of this palace than to accept that maybe I didn’t belong.
There was still one part of this that didn’t make sense. Finding my response, I questioned the man across the desk—who, at this moment, was more my monarch than my grandfather. “Why is it so important that I produce blue-blooded Bellestonian babies? Leo has three children, and Liam is bound to have his own children. The line of succession is set, and I’m so far down that it makes little difference who I marry.”
I was used to the patriarchal society where I lived—in one of the few countries still invoking male-preference primogeniture—but I never thought it would come to this. Sure, I learned long ago that my role was to smile, look pretty, and give my life to service, but I wanted more. I deserved more. That’s why it was time to stand up and fight for my own life.
Expecting to be patronized, being told that it was my job as a woman to support a man and obey her king unquestionably, I was surprised when Grandfather softened with a sigh. “Lucy, you’re a grown woman now, so I’m going to tell you the truth, but what I have to say can not leave this room. I need your word.”
Slightly frightened as to what kind of truth would require absolute secrecy, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. The skeletons in this family’s—high-profile and influential—closet could be anything. But curiosity won out; needing to understand why I was being placed on the altar of sacrifice.
