Page 74 of Desperately Yours

When thinking about life, I sometimes find myself with the notion that people make it entirely more dramatic than it really needs to be. All the rushing about, the hand wringing, the will-they won’t-they, it’s all quite a bit of fuss for something that could be accomplished with far less fanfare.

Or maybe my cousin’s love life has left me just this side of positively exhausted. Not even sarcasm and dry humor are enough to save me at this point. For star’s sake, he nearly started a war and ended a monarchy just by trying to find a woman to get married. Even worse,Inearly got married in the process.

Cue the full body shuddering.

I glanced toward the garden where the lovebirds werelookingat roses. That was what they’d said before they’d left the luncheon. Michaela wanted a tour of the gardens before they left for their trip to America. I cocked an eyebrow and frowned. Unless the rose garden was near his beloved’s tonsils and Leo had a set of eyes in his tongue, then they weren’t interested in horticulture of any kind. I shook my head and traveled back inside. They didn’t need me mucking things up. They finally had each other, my job was done, and it was time to move on.

Since the New Year’s ball, they’d been inseparable. I was honestly surprised that Leonidas didn’t insist on marrying her on the spot, but maybe he thought all of her injuries would ruin the wedding photos. Instead, they’ve opted for a spring wedding. Since my uncle, the King of Nolcovia, is well again, there’s no longer the urgent need to seal the deal, so to speak.

I frowned as I walked, still a little disappointed Aunt Mariah wasn’t the evil queen I thought she was. She just dressed like it. Though, now that her husband was no longer fighting for his life because that tart from Eshein was poisoning him, our queen had been far more agreeable. They were nearly as bad as the lovebirds.

Yesterday, I went into the throne room to read a book on Leo’s throne. To clarify, I didn’t want the power or responsibility, but the cushioning is just perfect if you angle your body so that your leg hangs over the arm and your… I digress. My irreverence for the monarchy aside, I was jolted when I found the king and queen making out like teenagers on the king’s throne. Safe to say I made my exit before they could see me, or I could be damaged any further.

Turns out, a woman in love is almost as dangerous as a domestic terrorist plot. Lesson learned. Aunt Mariah was losing her husband, her son, and her country all at once and it had an ill effect on her temperament, but now that all three had been restored, she’d stopped dressing like a goddess of theunderworld, and she had left all the meddling and manipulating in my capable hands.

Where it ought to be, in my opinion.

Michaela and I might have seen a few of the queen’s actions in the wrong light as well. But it wouldn’t be the first time a new bride got off on the wrong foot with her in-laws.

I snickered as I left the main entry. At least I could leave.

Though some good had come of all the hubbub. All parties involved agreed that it was ludicrous in the twenty-first century that a woman couldn’t rule Nolcovia. Once the empty parliament seats were filled again with people who weren’t interested in a coup, legislation would be passed, I was sure of it. But then Leo had come to see the strength in ruling alongside a spouse. Though… in their case, I had the feeling Leo would be the one tempering his precious Coco.

I stopped in the Hall of Kings and stared up at King Drysden’s portrait. “What do you say, ol’ chap? Where shall I go next? Who is in need of my special brand of mischief and mayhem?”

Of course, he stayed quiet on the matter. But that was inconsequential. I had options. Resuming my stroll, I considered heading to the South of France. Duchess Codilly wintered there and the villa was pristine; however, the beaches were chilly for my taste this time of year, and the aging royal could get a bit handsy. Australia was another option. A musician had offered her bungalow as a retreat of sorts, but the spiders in the country were larger than house cats, and even that gorgeous rockstar’s beauty hadn’t outweighed my nightmares over being eaten alive by arachnids.

Maybe I would head to London. Gwendolyn had returned to an aunt’s home last I heard, still licking her wounds and perfectly vulnerable. I look enough like Leo that perhaps a little transference was possible and at least a few weeks of fun could be—

“Bishop!” I heard his call the second time and turned, confused as to why producer Tom would be calling me. The show had ended over a week ago, why was he still at the palace to begin with? “Bishop, hold up!”

I held steady and waited for him to jog the remaining distance. He panted a little as he came to a stop, hand up to ask silently for a moment to catch his breath. Between deep inhales, he managed a few words, “I thought you might have left.” He drew in a gulp of air. “I’m so glad I caught you.”

“I can’t imagine why.” The fervency of his words pricked my curiosity. What would the American producer want with me? His show was about royals finding love, and I was neither royal nor looking for love, so it made absolutely no sense to seek me out.

“An offer, of course.” Tom stared like it was obvious.

I assure you it was not.

“What kind of offer?”

“Well,” he motioned to the hall and began walking again, “as you may know, I produce shows likeRoyally… Yoursall over the world. We have one starting soon in a small country outside of Turkey with a princess who is looking for her prince.”

Hard pass. I waved him off. “No way. Not for me. I won’t be one of those blokes fawning over royalty for fame and marriage. I don’t want the crown, and I’m not interested in the ring.”

“I figured as much,” Tom agreed. “That’s whereRoyally… Yoursis going, and my business partner will head that one up. I’m headed to the States for a different project.”

He had my wavering attention back again. I hadn’t been to America in nearly a decade. It might be a good distraction if the circumstances were ideal.

“What are you filming there?”

“The US wants a spinoff ofRoyally… Yours. This one is calledForever Yours.” Tom waited for it to sink in a bit before hecontinued. “Americans love celebrities, but what they really love is watching washed-up celebrities on reality TV.”

Maybe I was a bit American because that appealed to me far more than royalty. Celebrities had all the fame and fortune with so much less responsibility than the monarchy. I took a stab at what I thought his formula might be for the show. “So, you have some failed starlet looking for love and a little fame to resuscitate her career along the way?”

I must have nailed it because Tom grinned. “See? You’re made for this business.”

“That depends on where your job offer lies. Are you looking for a mindless meathead to parade in front of the cameras?”

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