Page 64 of Coronation
“I would rather be a bastard than an heir any day of the week, Benedict. Especially if the distinction comes with such a high standard for self-sabotage. Tell me, do youenjoybeing unhappy?”
Leo comes to my defense. “Our family members living in repressed misery is how the monarchy still exists. I can’t think of a single relative, living ord-d-”He screws up his face, obviously annoyed with his impediment, before continuing.“Dead.Living or dead, who could claim something as frivolous as contentment. You wouldn’t be here at all if our dearly departed father was satisfied with his life, Dam.”
“Touché,” Damien acknowledges with a wry chuckle, shaking his head. “I think we’re losing the thread on what’s truly important, however.”
“What’s that?” asks Leo. “Brotherhood?”
“Ha.God no. I was referring to His Royal Dumbass blowing his chance with theexquisiteMiss Flowers.”
Leo looks at me, his brow furrowed. “Do you not like her?”
I’ve just taken a bite of pizza and take my time chewing, my gaze on the television without really seeing it. “I like her fine.”
“So why leave her there, then?”
A foul taste fills my mouth. I’ve thought about that morning a lot, as well as my motives for doing such a wretched thing in the first place, and keep coming to the same conclusion: I didn’t see a way forward for us, and I was furious. Not at her—god no, I doubt I could ever be truly angry with Zelda Flowers—but at my own damned life. In that anger and frustration, I did something I can’t take back, andfate has done a truly outstanding job of throwing it all back in my face.
“It doesn’t matter now,” I say tightly, not looking at my brothers. “What’s done is done.”
There is a long pause, and then Leo’s voice comes, thoughtful and appraising. “Not necessarily.”
Despite myself, I look around at him. “What does that mean?”
Lifting a shoulder in a halfhearted shrug, Leo hums thoughtfully. “You could win her over. She liked you once, and she could like you again, if you play your cards right. I can think of worse situations in which to thoroughly charm a woman than an endless string of appearances engineered to look as romantic as possible. Unless you’d rather watch her slip away and end up married to yet another very appropriate socialite whom you loathe for the sake of producing an heir.”
The mention of it alone makes me wince. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”
“By the look of that, you’re doing pretty well already,” offers Damien, gesturing to the abandoned tabloid on the coffee table.
“She’s an actress,” I snap, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice. “It’s quite literally her job to convey emotion. Besides, there are more variables to consider than whether or not she can tolerate me. I’m sixteen years older than her, for one thing, and for another?—”
Leo cuts me off, however, looking impatient. “You’re proving our point, brother. Listen to yourself, looking for reasons to staym-m-miserable and alone. Your American may be younger, but she’s old enough to make her own decisions. And, at the risk of sounding crass?—”
“God forbid,” Damien mumbles, his mouth full of pizza.
Ignoring him, Leo continues, “At the risk of sounding crass, some women prefer their men to be older. Unless you’retelling me you haven’t gained any knowledge in the past sixteen years that might be to Zelda’s advantage.” He offers me a meaningful look. “Have you told her how you feel?”
My mouth twists. “Of course not. Now, drop it. Both of you. I’m quite capable of managing my own love life.” This is a bold-faced lie, considering the state of it.
As my brothers’ conversation turns away from Zelda Flowers, however, I can’t quite shake Leo’s words.
What he told me, that not all hope is lost, and I may still have a chance at a future with Zelda, is exactly what I’ve wanted—consciously or not—since the moment I laid eyes on her. Even so, I have enough self-awareness to recognize myself as a perpetually sour, temperamental ass, with a crown-shaped noose around his neck. It’s hard to imagine what allure I could hold for a woman such as Zelda, who is not only successful and beautiful, butgoodthrough and through.
The feeling of the phone vibrating in my pocket is a welcome distraction from my inner turmoil, and I take it out, only to receive a sharp stab of surprise at the name displayed on the screen:Incoming Call: Zelda Flowers.
I’m on my feet in seconds, ignoring the questions from both my brothers as I stride from the room, bringing the phone to my ear. “Zelda?”
“Hey!” comes her familiar voice, a little hesitant. “I’m really sorry to bother you.”
“You’re not,” I respond at once and, recognizing the words might have come out a little clipped in my surprise, clear my throat to try again. “It’s good to hear from you. Is everything alright?”
A moment of silence. “Um, technically yes?”
Her words have me stopping dead in the middle of the hall leading toward my bedroom, staring at the trim around the window as my pulse kicks into overdrive. “What does that mean?”
Zelda sighs. “It’s not a big deal. I just had a bit of a security issue this afternoon. Everything is fine now, but I’m not sure it’s safe for me to stay at the hotel anymore.”
My chest is burning, and I realize it’s because I’ve forgotten to breathe. Sucking in a deep gulp of oxygen, I snarl, “Zelda. Tell me what happened this instant.” I’m gripping the phone so tightly I may well snap it in two.
