“Yes. You would be free to follow your pursuits as soon as your marriage is made legal.”
“Security?”
“That’s non-negotiable. You may not be a working royal, but you are still my granddaughter. Our enemies could still use you as leverage, and your protection is paramount.”
Being kidnapped sounded like a drag, but there was never a single attempt in almost twenty-nine years. I could work around my constant security presence if need be.
Moving to the next item on my mental checklist, I challenged, “What of my chosen husband? It sounds as though his work requires his presence in Belleston.”
Grandfather paused, and I gave myself a mental high-five thinking I’d finally found a snag in his master plan for my life. That hope was dashed when he grinned, answering, “His marriage to you will become his job. Where you go, he will be expected to follow.”
Stunned, I processed what that meant. This man would essentially be my consort. That was not a twist I saw coming. What kind of man would allow himself to be led around by the nose by little old me? Who in their right mind was so entranced by the idea of marrying into royalty that they would give up their life?
But on the flip side, maybe this wasn’t the worst thing. The role-reversal was appealing in its own way. I wouldn’t be some man’s ornament—he would be mine.
I began to seriously consider this proposition. There were fourteen months before I absolutely had to get married to this mystery man. If Amy and Liam had a child before then, maybe I could break things off. Even if they didn’t, I could bide my time, and eventually, once they had a family, I could arrange for a divorce—Leo and Natalie created a precedent. Once the line of succession was secured, my marriage would be irrelevant.
Riding high on the idea that perhaps I’d found a way to cheat the system and still get what I wanted regarding my freedom, Igave Grandfather my practiced perfect royal smile. “You have a deal.”
“You’ve pleased me greatly, Lucette. I will arrange a meeting in the coming days.”
With nothing left to say, I stood, curtseyed, and left the room. Reaching the hallway, I leaned against the wall, closing my eyes. Taking deep breaths, I reminded myself that I wasn’t giving my life away; I was gaining my freedom—a chance to live on my terms.
“Well, hello, Princess.”
My eyes popped open. I knew that voice—despised that voice—and it belonged to the one man I had hated my entire life. Scanning the hallway, I caught motion when he pushed off the wall further down the hallway, stalking toward where I stood frozen, as his hazel eyes sparkled with amusement.
Standing at six-one, with his chestnut hair perfectly styled away from his forehead and neatly trimmed scruff lining his square jaw, he knew he was attractive, but his good looks held no power over me. When I looked at Preston Scott, all I could think of were the endless years of taunting and teasing I’d endured at his hands.
With those three words, the bubble of glee that had formed in my belly at the idea of my freedom suddenly popped.
Chapter 3
Preston
I should have leftafter my meeting, but I couldn’t help myself when I learned hers was the appointment following mine. I was counting on the prissy girl I knew to turn her nose up at a potential arranged marriage so I could go back to living my life. The last thing I wanted to do was spend the rest of my life babysitting Lucy Remington.
My father had been vague about my audience with King Victor, but his message was clear—you didn’t refuse your king, no matter the ask. That alone was enough warning to know I wouldn’t like what was requested of me.
After completing my required military service in my early twenties, I attended university before choosing a law school specializing in international law. Upon returning home, I spent a year clerking for a judge in the justice department for the Crown before being granted a position as a junior associate in the offices dealing with the Crown’s charitable foundations. Four years later, at thirty-two, I was ready to move up to the treaty lawteam. I wanted to make a difference for my country, and what better way to do that than to have a hand in fostering our many alliances around the world?
As irony would have it, my father was right, and I knew better than to refuse my king. There would always be at least one man whose orders I was duty-bound to follow blindly, and that disturbed me. Especially now that I’d learned of his request.
King Victor wanted me to marry Lucy.
I sat through his spiel about how important it was that she marry a man of impeccable Bellestonian blood, the whole time wanting to scream in frustration. Our proposed union boiled down to bloodlines and birth order. Talk about romance. I felt like a prized stud won at auction.
None of that mattered because I couldn’t say no. Precious Princess Lucy’s fashion career was taking off, and it sounded like she was throwing a tantrum to spend more time on her pet projects. The King leveraged this to his advantage to force her into a Crown-approved marriage, and I was caught in the crosshairs. I was the unlucky bastard chosen to become her accessory; I was no more than a designer purse, expected to stand by her side instead of it being the other way around. It was emasculating.
All of this would be bad enough, and I could probably make it work with any other woman, but this was Lucy. We’d never gotten along. The way she was staring at me now with those sparkling blue eyes, I knew she hated me with every fiber of her being. The feeling was mutual.
Befriending Liam Remington early in primary school meant playdates at the palace. Lucy was always hanging around, begging to be included, and when we refused, she cried to her mommy, getting us in trouble. Her entitlement was clearly inherent, and it grated on me. She was bratty and disobedient,and something deep inside my subconscious wanted to punish her for it.
So, I did.
I spent years teasing and torturing her, believing she’d earned it with her bad behavior, and Lucy never forgave me for it—not that I asked for forgiveness. Later in life, I found an outlet for those impulses, but being forced to marry Lucy would put an end to that.
There was an escape clause: Lucy had to agree to the marriage. If she said no, I could walk away unscathed, returning to my life. Knowing that, I’d waited for her emergence from the office, hoping I could tip the scales in my favor. I was counting on her hatred for me outweighing her love of fashion. I liked my odds.
