Page 50 of Coronation
My first thought, after I’ve finally wrapped my head around exactly what it is they’re proposing, is thatshe won’t do it.
I know Zelda, and she has more integrity and compassion in her little finger than anyone at this table has in their whole body. The woman won’t even eat eggs because of all the mistreated chickens out there. There is no way she woulddeceive the world to help a man she believes to be cruel and manipulative, even for her own benefit.
Shouldn’t I at least offer her the option? It seems… it seems inconsiderate to thrust all this upon her and not even give her the opportunity to truly benefit from it. Isn’t that the least I can do?
Since I came into this woman’s life, I’ve brought her nothing but heartache, selfishly putting myself above her feelings time and again. If I’d had any self-control at all around her, this would never have happened. I didn’t, and in a single, raw moment, I brought the entire world’s attention onto us. Now, even if nothing more comes of this, we will be connected for the rest of our lives.
“Sir, I’m aware this is all highly unorthodox,” says Thomas, dragging me from my thoughts with an uncomfortable clearing of his throat. “It wouldn’t have been suggested if the situation weren’t fairly dire. As you know, the coronation ceremony is in two months, and it is absolutely vital to have public support behind you at such an important juncture.”
Perhaps I should, but in truth, I really couldn’t care less.
Scrubbing my hands over my face, I collapse back in my chair. When I lower them again, I find the three press corps members staring at me hopefully. “Would I… Would I have to call her?”
After all this, I don’t even have the woman’s telephone number, and her words from the day I followed her into the trailer on set drift back to me:“Maybe if you asked for my number like a normal person, I would have let you join me.”She’d said it as I watched her naked form slip behind the shower curtain, her voice strong and uncaring, determined not to let me see how deeply I’d hurt her.
I press my hand to the center of my chest, rubbing absently as the newly reopened wound inside it throbs.
“No, sir, we should approach her agent or attorneys. Ibelieve that would be more prudent, given the circumstances,” Thomas assures me with a renewed air of confidence. “Would you like us to proceed with this course of action?”
I don’t give myself the opportunity to second-guess the decision. “Fine.”
“Excellent.” The three of them exchange pleased looks, and begin gathering up their things, but Thomas pauses—obviously thrown off—when he sees I haven’t raced for the door as is my general custom. “Was there anything else you wanted to discuss, sir?”
With difficulty, I force myself to my feet. “No.” I brush past them and out into the hall, making the solitary journey back to my rooms without really seeing the palace around me.
She isn’t going to agree. I’m sure she’s not.
If, by some miracle, she did, though…No. I won’t allow myself to entertain the possibility when Zelda has absolutely no reason to accept such an offer.
Why would she, when I’ve given her so many more reasons to reject it?
Twenty-One
Zelda
Mom: Are you on set? I’ve called four times.
Sterling: Any actual credibility to this King story?
Dad: PR team is en route now. Jet lands in two hours.
Sybil: OMFG. ARE YOU BANGING A KING?
Dad: Also consulting in-house counsel.
Cal: What did we get on those burritos when you were in town? They had pineapple or some shit. 10/10 would repeat bang, but can’t remember.
Dad: Send me whatever statement they come up with before you put it out.
Cal: Baby sis. This is fucking urgent. WHAT WAS ON THE BURRITOS???
I knew I didn’t exactly come from a clan of calm, down-to-earth human beings, but the fifty-four text messages I received in the three hours since the story broke are really illustrating how deep the crazy goes.
Trying to keep up with my family’s questions is almost always impossible, because the moment you answer one, they’ll come up with about a dozen more. As there are five of them and one of me, the situation tends to get out of hand pretty quickly.
Not that I can blame them for being concerned. This isn’t the first time I’ve found myself the recipient of unexpected and unwelcome media attention.
It isn’t a comfortable feeling to not just suspect, but toknowpeople are talking about you, lying about you, laughing about you. Suddenly, your social media accounts are going to be full of strangers asking questions they never would to your face or tagging you in videos that are vapid at best and cruel at worst. You’re getting requests for interviews to “set the record straight,” and reporters are camped outside your door.
