Page 40 of Royal Darling
“I want to write an album for you.” A rush of adrenaline shoots through me, the urgency to get started making all of my nerves light up, my muscles buzzing with the need to take action. But first—
I kiss her cheek. “Thanks for sharing your gift.”
Then I go back to my room, the beginnings of a ballad rolling through my mind, the world falling away.
11
Emma
I sing like an angel. I had no idea. It must be true because right this very minute Jackson Walker, rock god, guitar player extraordinaire, is creating music just for my voice. I’m sitting in the hallway, leaning against his bedroom wall, listening to the beautiful sounds of a melody coming together. He’s the brilliant one, composing music, creating something out of nothing.
I didn’t want Jackson disturbed while he was creating, so I left my post only once to say a warm goodbye to my family. I told them I wanted to stay here for a while more with Jackson, exploring my new gift for music. Anna sent me a knowing look, Lucas bid me good luck, and Gabriel grumbled but acquiesced to his wife’s insistence that I would be fine here with Jackson and my guards. The danger has passed. Our sources reported that Abdul and his guards went back to Kainei last night, and his family cleared out of the palace this morning.
The only one not on board with my extended-stay plan (or aware of it) is Jackson. He agreed to a week, but that was when I was in the midst of the biggest scandal of my life. Do I have anything that he could want that would keep him here? I don’t think even a bold seduction on my part would make him stick around long. I don’t have any romantic delusions where he’s concerned. He’s not one for relationships, and I know my family is not on board with us as a couple anyway. Only Lucas seems to see the good in him. Anna made it clear that Jackson would only bring more scandal and the wrong kind of attention to our family. After all I’ve done to harm our family’s reputation, I understand the need to avoid further damage.
I won’t truly get involved with him, but how can I turn my back on this new musical side to myself? I’ve so enjoyed our guitar lessons, and now discovering my voice is something special, well, it only makes me want to delve further into the music. And I need him for that.
I’m not ready to say goodbye.
He’s brought me only joy. I’m not sure what I’ve brought him, if anything. Maybe if I pay him for guitar lessons, make it worth his time, he’d stay on. I warm to the idea. It sounds so reasonable this way, not at all like I’m lusting after him or asking for a commitment, which I’m not. Of course I’m not. I’m merely asking for an extended visit. I’ll offer my engagement ring in exchange for a month of guitar lessons at the villa. No one else wants the ring, and the diamond is worth a million euros. Even if he doesn’t need the money, he could sell the diamond and donate it to a good cause, which is something I could never do under the circumstances. At least someone would benefit from it. This sounds like an excellent plan.
After my confrontation with Abdul last night, I shoved the ring in my nightstand drawer, not wanting the reminder. It occurred to me, too late, that there is no way that Abdul remained “pure” for me at twenty-six. It was a patriarchal double standard, and I almost wish I could throw that in his face, but not enough to ever see him again. I am moving on and, fittingly, he’s going to help me do so by donating this ring to the cause. I slide it onto the ring finger of my left hand instead of where I used to wear it on my right.
I look down at myself and sigh. Unfortunately, my more stylish borrowed clothes are in the laundry, so I’m back in my modest pastel pink dress. I return to my post just outside Jackson’s bedroom door, listening in pure rapture. He’s been composing new music for hours. I’ve heard four songs so far. Two ballads and two rock songs with a driving beat. It’s like my own personal concert. His gravelly voice sang along to one ballad, giving me chills. He didn’t sing to the other songs, and I wonder if that’s supposed to be my part. I so wish I could join him in there and witness the magic up close, but I don’t dare interrupt his process.
The TV turns on downstairs. Viktor and Oliver must be settling in since the Abdul danger has passed. They’ve already checked the security system and made the rounds through the house and outside.
Jackson’s door opens suddenly and he steps out. “Emma?” he calls.
I lift a hand. “Right here.”
He grabs my hand and pulls me to my feet. “How long have you been sitting here?”
“Um, well, pretty much the whole time. With a brief break to say goodbye to my family.”
His eyes widen. “Everyone’s gone?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t say goodbye.”
My heart squeezes. I’m touched that he cared enough to want to say goodbye after my family treated him with suspicion, though that was mostly Gabriel. “I asked them not to interrupt your creative process. They send their goodbyes.”
He tilts his head. “What’re you still doing here?”
I steel my nerves. “I was so enjoying my guitar lessons with you I was hoping you’d be willing to stay on for a bit and keep teaching me. I’ll pay you for your time.”
“Emma,” he says gently.
I cut him off before he can refuse, and hold up my hand, showing him the ring. “I’ll give you this ring as payment. It’s worth a million euros. Surely, you could sell the diamond and use it for a good cause. Or keep the value, if you like.” I hold my breath because he actually looks like he’s considering it.
He rubs the back of his neck and finally meets my eyes. “How much time?”
I take a deep breath and blurt, “Thirty days, thirty guitar lessons, and you get the ring.”
He pulls me into his room and shuts the door. “Deal.”
My heart races, my body humming with anticipation. I’m not sure which I’m more excited about, the possibility of a personal live concert or the possibility of him actually wanting me now. Last night he almost kissed me, and now we’re alone in his bedroom. Who knows what he has in mind? I’ll take thirty days of whatever he’s offering. He’s barefoot in jeans and a white undershirt. Super casual. We’re like salt and sugar. They don’t quite go together, but somehow they do. Salty and sweet. I think I’m the sweet.
