Page 26 of Prince Cheating Charming

But today Alexander had sent me a picture from our wedding. It had been such a bright day and, even though I was wearing that heavy traditional garb, my head looking weighed down under the crown, my eyes were shining, my face radiant.

I had felt so lucky that day. There had been dozens of traditional doves flying around me, and not one had shit on my wedding gown.

The shit came later.

I would have worn anything, married him any way he wanted. That was how in love I had been. My lips tightened as I looked at the picture of my husband. A lock of his golden hair had fallen over his eye and he looked unbearably gorgeous with the huge megawatt smile, his arm tightly around me.

Had he cheated on me as I was getting my hair done? At the wedding reception? I looked almost unwillingly at his messages.

This was the best day of my life

I’m so fucking lucky you married me despite all these goddamn birds

I want to marry you all over again

This time with you getting to do it exactly how you want

I never want to be apart ever again

My heart gave a tiny, traitorous lurch, but I ignored it.

And I want a husband who doesn’t cheat on me, I thought.

Alexander wasn’t getting shit from me.

I silenced the phone and ordered breakfast in my bedroom, determined not to come out until everyone had gone about their work for the day.

But when I left, the first thing I saw was a gaggle of tourists rushing down the main hall, followed by a bunch of senior royal advisors and Ministers of Finance.

Walking down the hall to the main conference room, I was even more astonished. It looked like everyone important in the palace was here, dressed to the nines, as well as reporters, various local celebrities, and some extremely excited royalwatcher tourists.

I was the only one dressed casually, in jeans shorts and a T-shirt, but since I didn’t have to impress anyone anymore, I didn’t care.

“What’s going on?” I asked, watching as they set a microphone by the podium.

“Press conference,” a man I didn’t recognize said.

I rolled my eyes.

Was this when Alexander was going to announce our split?

Where even were Julia and Jewel? They usually organized things like this.

“Where’s Julia?” I asked.

“Got fired,” the staffer said. “Reassigned to doing PR out at the visitor center at the border.”

The visitor center? That was run by Matron Bushwick, a no-nonsense authoritarian in her 70s who absolutely refused to allow modernization of any kind. And I happened to know for a fact that there was zero indoors plumbing and only old-fashioned outhouses there.

Maybe this wasn’t about him accepting our split after all.

I turned hastily to leave, but I heard the King’s deep voice cut across the excited chatter in the conference room.

“Please stay, Delilah.”

Everyone turned around to look at the two of us, and I could see uncertain but avidly interested glances passed around.

Alexander was wearing a dark blue suit with a pale blue shirt and dark blue tie. His face looked drawn, dark circles standing out against his high cheekbones. He ran a hand through his golden blonde hair, shaking his shaggy locks. He needed a haircut.

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