Page 41 of Royal Surrogate 1

“Which I hear is to be within the year,” my father says in a near-booming voice as he enters the dining room, motioning for us all to sit.

Renae takes the seat next to me, and I take her hand in mine.

There’s no way I’m going to come out of this dinner alive.

CHAPTER 32

Renae

Caspar’s father spends most of the meal silently watching me over the rim of his wine glass.

I was as prepared for this as I could be, given the circumstances, but that doesn’t make his study of me any less disconcerting. Caspar’s mother is a little chattier—but just a little. At least she seems like she’s trying to be friendly, though I can tell she’s taking her measure of me, too. I understand why—I’m the weird American who agreed to a contractual marriage and surrogacy. In her mind, I’m either crazy or secretly trying to steal her son’s money. But hopefully the newly signed contract will clear the latter up, at least.

Lord Benedict, on the other hand, is much friendlier. He asks Caspar dozens of questions over dinner—everything from how we met to our plans for the wedding. Everyone seems to have mutually decided to pretend this is a normal marriage, at least in a formal setting like this. I guess the dirty business details of arranged marriages are considered “impolite dinner conversation” for these Montovian royals.

“And what about the honeymoon?” Benedict asks with a big grin. I can’t quite get over how much he looks like Caspar—albeit a few years younger. And his hair is more of an auburn shade, while Caspar’s is a lighter red-gold. Otherwise, though, they’re clearly cut from the same cloth, down to their bright blue eyes and charming smiles.

“We haven’t had a chance to book anything yet,” Caspar says. “But I was thinking Paris.” He glances at me. “What do you think?”

Even though I know it’s all bullshit, I can’t help the little leap of excitement in my chest. “I’ve always wanted to see Paris.”

“You’ve never been?” Benedict leans toward me. “Then Caspar, you definitely have to take her.”

“I plan on it.” Caspar takes my hand beneath the table. “Unless there’s somewhere else you’d rather see first, my love.”

Even though I know the endearment is an act—as does everyone sitting at this table—my cheeks warm. “No, Paris sounds perfect.”

“Good.” He gives my fingers a little squeeze. “Then it’s settled. I’ll get started on the arrangements in the morning.”

“I still can’t believe it,” Benedict says, leaning back in his seat. “Caspar’s getting married. Never thought it would happen like this, but still.”

“That’s what we all said about you,” Caspar tells his brother. “And Xavier.” Their middle brother is sitting on Benedict’s other side and has been mostly silent during the meal. While he’s been friendly to me during my stay here so far, I get the feeling that usually, like tonight, he’s happy to sit in the background and let everyone else talk. Lauren, like Benedict’s wife, has also managed to escape this dinner tonight, and I wonder how long I have to be married to Caspar before I can get out of formalities like this as well.

Not that it really matters, I remind myself. You’ll be out of the picture long before that point. And if I have to endure a few stiff dinners with Caspar’s parents awkwardly staring at me the whole time…well, I guess there are worse things I could do for a million dollars.

“Let’s get back to the wedding,” Caspar’s mother says. No one’s bothered to tell me her name yet, so I get the impression I may just have to refer to her as my lady forever. “There are still a number of arrangements that need to be made.”

Caspar speaks up. “I assure you, Mother, I have everything under control. But if you insist on taking part?—”

“I do.”

“Then go wild. I’m sure neither Renae nor I object.”

I quickly nod, adding my agreement. “We’d welcome the help.”

“You need the help,” she corrects me.

“Thank you, my lady.”

She gives a small, satisfied smile, though her eyes on my face are still sharply observant as I pick up my fork—the correct fork—to continue eating. She doesn’t seem as cold or calculating as her husband—I’d swear I even detect a bit of kindness in her eyes—but I can tell she still doesn’t trust me yet.

It doesn’t matter. The contract is signed. We’re in this together whether she likes it or not—but honestly, I hope she does end up liking me, just a little. It would make all of this so much easier. I might only be entangled for this family for a year or so, but I’d prefer to spend this year surrounded by friends, not enemies. It will be hard enough without having to watch my back all the time.

The rest of dinner is, thankfully, uneventful.

It’s only when everything has been cleared away and everyone is taking their leave for the night that I find Caspar’s mother next to me suddenly, her hand on my arm.

“If I may steal you for a moment, my dear.”

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