Page 2 of The Heart of the King

And they talked to someone he knew.

Then went somewhere else. She remembered flowers. Kissing.

And... nothing else.

She hugged the covers more tightly around her. “I don’t remember much,” she admitted. “I rarely drink, except maybe a glass of wine at dinner. I’m pretty sure I had a lot more than that last night.”

“You did,” he confirmed.

“You, too. You tried to convince me you were a prince.”

“Prince Charles, but not that Prince Charles,” he mocked.

“If you say so. I don’t remember the whole thing but sounds right.”

He gave a heavy sigh. “I am Prince Charles. I am not that Prince Charles. In less than a week, I’ll be King Charles, unless I decided to use one of my other names. I can’t make up my mind about that.”

Jazz finally opened her eyes and saw his back still faced her. She rolled carefully to the other side, saw a t-shirt, sat part way and pulled it over her head. Better at least.

“You’re trying to tell me you’re a real prince? From where? San Majoria? Because I’m good friends with a San Majorian princess.” By marriage. But that wasn’t the point.

“No. Auverignon. It’s one of two northern countries in the Quad Countries Compact. San Majoria is one of the southern ones.” He reached down to pick something up off the floor.

Jazz averted her eyes as he stood and pulled on a pair of pajama pants. “You’re being serious?” she asked.

“I am. Look it up.”

She found her phone on the side table. Turned off. Holding the button down didn’t do anything. “My phone is dead.”

He tossed one onto the plush white comforter. “Use mine. It’s unlocked.”

It gave her a chance to glance around the room. Definitely much nicer than the one she’d been sharing with Tessa Beach. The double doors opposite the bed almost certainly led to a full-fledged suite.

Using her thumbs, she typed in the keywords Auverignon and Charles.

A picture of a man not much older than her popped up, along with a Wikipedia article and a slew of news stories about how his coronation was in a few days - after his father would finally be deposed.

She studied the picture through her raging headache. He was cute. He had that going for him.

Some women would likely be attracted to the power that would come when he became king. Jazz wasn’t one of those women.

Scrolling through the Wiki article, she discovered that he had one younger brother - married to a queen - and had quite the sordid past when it came to women. She managed to exit out of the window before seeing too much.

Fan-freakin-tastic.

Now she’d have to deal with that, too.

Note to self: don’t get drunk.

“What is this?”

She turned to see the man from the pictures with two or even three days’ worth of scruff on his cheeks holding a piece of paper. “I have no idea. What does it say?”

He shoved it toward her. “It’s a marriage certificate.”

Her stomach dropped, nausea rolling through her. “It can’t be,” she whispered.

“You convinced me to marry you?” His anger came through loud and clear.

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