Page 49 of Royally Benevolent

Wyatt appeared with a bag in his hand. His face looked kind, if not a bit worried. I felt bad. He thought I was sick, but my wine and chocolates suggested otherwise. Grieg was alive, hopping up and down as Wyatt approached the couch where I sat. Wyatt set the bag down and bent to address the excited pup.

He looked up at me. “Apologies for bothering you, Odie. I just figured I’d bring you something since you missed dinner. I had them pack a plate for you. Of course… I see you have… food.”

“I was famished. It… helped. And you didn’t need to bother. I have people?—”

“Staff aren’t enough when you don’t feel well,” Wyatt said knowingly. “Uh… you were… reading.”

He’d glanced at my e-reader at themostcompromising point. Now, he thought I was some sex-obsessed loser! I’d left an important dinner to what… read about an orgy? I could have died!

“I was… Ingrid said…”

“It’s fine. Reading is a good hobby.” Wyatt stood. “I should do it more.”

I nodded, awkward silence overcoming us.

Wyatt wiped his hands on his trousers. “Well, I should leave and let you… read.”

“Thanks,” I said.

He turned but then stopped, turning back around. “She’s a lesbian, Odette. Nothing is going on. Mary is an old friend—one of my oldest—but there’s never been anything between us. She introduced me to my wife. I… nothing is going on.”

“It’s fine if there is,” I didn’t believe him.

“No. If I have feelings for anyone here, it’s you,” Wyatt said. “And I suspect you left because you didn’t know that?”

My jaw dropped. Paralysed, I wasn’t sure what to say. He looked serious, pained even. Was caring about me painful? For many, it had been. So, I was again a pox on someone’s house—a huge pain.

“Odette, it’s okay if you don’t feel the same. We could be friends. And it’s ridiculous?—”

“I like you,” I said. “A lot. But I shouldn’t. And… I know you don’t want me. I’m not worth your time.”

“Can I sit?” Wyatt asked unexpectedly.

“Sure.”

He sat by me, his gaze intense. “Odette, I havefunwith you. Ienjoyyou. It took me about half a year to realise my wife was in love with me. I thought she only tolerated me as an acquaintance. So, I’mbadat this. I’m also terrible at trusting anyone or anything after Isla’s death. But people keep reminding me I have a right to try and be happy. I’m not here to declare my love for you or even insist we date necessarily. I leave that up to you. However, it would be stupid to deny my feelings.”

“Youthinkyou do. And I am flattered, really, but?—”

“But what? You’re beautiful, smart, and sweet. You are kind beyond measure.”

“And I’m complicated.”

“I’m far more complicated,” Wyatt said. “But it doesn’t change the feelings I have for you.”

I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted him to tell me how much hewantedto kiss me. All the feelings I had bubbled over. Though terrified, I wanted to express everything. Denying how I felt—how I’d felt since that first day when I crushed on him hard—waspointless. Wyatt swore he wanted me, but he had no idea how hard it was to put to words.

“I am hard to love.”

“Hard disagree,” Wyatt laughed. “You’re sweet as pie. Theo loves you, and he’s a great judge of people.”

“He’s wonderful,” I said. “But I am far more complicated than you know. I’m not talking about being a princess. It’s more than that. You don’t mean it.”

How much did I say? Did I tell him I was a virgin? Did I admit to him about my mental illness and my checkered past with stability? That my father succumbed to the same diagnosis? That I finished my degree by the skin of my teeth and hadn’t slept in weeks until I was sedated in rehab? That was asecretI guarded closely lest everyone call me Crazy Odette as they had called my father, Crazy Crown Prince Christophe.

“I do,” Wyatt said. “Against any bit of judgement remaining.”

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