Page 34 of The Prince's Green Card Scheme

Even if I had wanted to, I was too fixed on my goals. I wanted to get home. I think there was a part of me that thought, after I got home, I could get to know her a little better. I think I was looking forward to it, seeing if our relationship actually could go somewhere. Seeing if, maybe one day, we could make something real out of it.

All of that seems incredibly unlikely now.

We argue for what feels like hours, Miguel and Luca insistent that I shouldn’t get anything, me doing my best not to rile them up — and failing. This is the same kind of argument we’ve been having ever since we were kids. Not over inheritance, but over anything.

It was always those two against me, and I could never win. They would always decide what they want and then decide that I was not allowed to join in, laughing when I got upset.

I used to wish for nicer brothers. For the kinds of brothers you see in movies, who look after you, who care about you as a person. For the longest time, I thought that kind of fraternal relationship was completely fictional — but it turns out my brothers are just horrible.

All of this is such a waste of time. I could be upstairs with Chloe right now. We could go out and explore the world. I could be trying to win her back, or at the very least win her forgiveness.

Even if she doesn’t want me romantically, I’d settle for her friendship. Despite everything, she’s become way too important to me to lose forever.

“Okay,” says Luca after an eternity of relentless bickering has passed. “It seems that none of us are going to change our minds about this.”

Miguel huffs in begrudging agreement.

“Mother and Father will make their decision soon,” Luca continues. “If they allow him to stay, then I suppose we will have to accept grandfather’s wishes. But if he screws up again?—”

“When,” Miguel interrupts.

“Then we should have no issue with cutting him out altogether.”

Miguel nods in agreement. “He won’t be able to argue against that.”

This is another of their favorite tricks, both talking about me like I’m not in the room while I’m sitting in front of them. It’s designed to make me angry, and it works. Fortunately, I’ve got a lot better at holding my tongue over the years.

“So, I’m free to go now?” I say as calmly as I can, getting to my feet. “You’ve both been such delightful company, but I have a wife upstairs with whom I would much rather spend my time.”

They shoot me a look that I can only describe as utter disdain, then wave me away. I know they’re going to be sitting there bitching about me for the rest of the day, but I don’t care.

It’s not like I was lying. Idohave Chloe. Idowant to be out of their company.

I’ve done everything I can. I’m home. We just have to get through the dinner now. And if my brothers get me kicked back out? Well, so be it.

At least I’ve tried. There’s not really a whole lot else I can do.

CHAPTER 17

CHLOE

I’m woken at what is deemed an appropriate time and summoned to breakfast. My head is pounding and my stomach churning, and I could have done with sleeping for another seven or eight hours, but it doesn’t look like that’s an option.

A member of staff knocks on my door and asks me to get dressed. I want to say,No, I need to sleep, but I don’t want to be rude. So, I get up, get showered and dressed, and let her lead me down to the dining room.

It’s another grand room, though I suspect not the biggest dining room in the house. The table is laid as if we’re about to have an extravagant meal, so I’m surprised when a waiter brings out a humble selection of breads and pastries for me.

I was expecting excess, but this doesn’t feel too crazy at all.

As I start putting pastries on my plate, Maria appears behind me, startling me when she says hello. I jump, and she apologizes with a laugh. “Nessa didn’t wake you up too early, did she? I told her to let you sleep, but she’s so used to dealing with other royalswho will launch the official complaint if the time and plan is not followed to the letter. Did you sleep well?”

“Yes,” I lie. In truth, I tossed and turned all night, but I don’t feel like getting into that now. “You don’t have any painkillers around, do you? My head’s killing me. Is the jet lag going to be this bad on the way back?”

“When are you here until?”

“I’m supposed to leave on Wednesday. That’s — what…? It’s Saturday now…” I count off the days of the week on my hands, my brain nowhere near awake enough to do that kind of math in my head. “Five.”

“That’s a good length of stay,” says Maria. “You should have plenty of time to see all the things you want to see before you leave, and be rested enough for the flight.”

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