Page 73 of A Royal Disaster
“No,” Liam said, slamming his glass down on the bar. “But I’d hoped.”
Fin nearly choked on his drink. “Since when do you sit around hoping things go your way?”
It was a good fucking question. Liam prided himself on being a man of action. He had to be. A weak king could never hold the throne. Problem was, he couldn’t seem to plot his way out of this mess.
If he were king, things would be different. But he had no authority to change the laws, and his parents weren’t exactly concerned with matters of the heart. They’d already made it clear they didn’t give a damn if Liam kept a harem of mistresses, as long as he married suitably.
Fin studied him thoughtfully, brows furrowed. “Ah, well. It’s probably for the best. Elena was hardly cut out for palace life. She would’ve hated all the balls and the banquets and the constant scheming of the court.”
It was true Elena’s upbringing had been vastly different than his own, but it was one of the things he loved best about her. She wasn’t ashamed of her modest life, and she didn’t pretend to be something or someone she wasn’t just to please him. “Bollocks. She handled the visit to the Caridoso embassy brilliantly. Her humble roots would have been an asset at court once she got the hang of all the political maneuvering. And God help anyone who pissed her off.” He sighed. “I rather think I would have enjoyed seeing her knock my mother’s snooty advisors down a few pegs.”
“Honestly, can you imagine the court’s reaction the first time she upset a banquet table or trod all over a visiting dignitary’s toes during a waltz?” Fin asked, clapping him on the back.
What the fuck? Fin was his best friend. He was supposed to be on Liam’s side. “As far as I’m concerned, a few overturned banquet tables would be a small price to pay to have Elena by my side,” he bit out.
“The queen would be scandalized,” Fin continued, swirling his whisky as a devious grin spread over his face. “The tabloids would have a field day. I can picture the headlines already.”
Liam’s fingers tightened on his glass and his knuckles went white. “You know I don’t care about any of that codswallop.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Fin said dismissively. “It’s like the media has a hard-on for Elena.”
“Bloody cocksuckers.” Liam threw back his shot, welcoming the burn of the alcohol. “They’re fools if they can’t see what an incredible woman she is.”
“Is it true?” Fin gestured to the paper on the bar. “Do you love her?”
Of course he loved Elena. She was…everything. Just the mention of her name made his chest tight. “More than I ever thought possible. More than anything.”
“Really?” Fin asked, lifting a brow casually. “Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you gave up on her the moment things became difficult for you.”
Anger lanced through him, and he clenched his jaw. “You don’t know what you’re bloody talking about.”
“Don’t I? You’re an even bigger fool than I thought if you believe that rubbish.”
Fin drained his glass, his lips puckering at the spicy finish. Liam wasn’t prone to fits of violence, and he couldn’t remember ever wanting to clobber his best friend—not even during their days at uni—but the urge was growing and if this went on much longer, he might give in to the impulse.
“Do you think I haven’t been paying attention?” Fin asked, straightening indignantly. “I spend sixteen hours a day with you. I manage your schedule, your correspondence, and against my better judgment, your relationship with your parents. You’re welcome for that, by the way. It’s quite literally my job to know your mind as well as I know my own.”
“Well, if you’re so damn good at your job, you know that I do in fact love Elena,” Liam said through gritted teeth. “But it’s not enough.”
“Says who?”
Why was Fin being such a pain in the arse about this? Hadn’t he suffered enough without his friend piling on? “I told her I loved her and she left.”
“You know as well as anyone that talk is cheap,” Fin retorted. “She weathered one tabloid attack after another while you remained untouched, and the one time she needed you to stand up for her—the one time it mattered—you couldn’t do it.”
“As long as Their Majesties hold the Royal Marriages Act over my head, my bloody hands are tied.”
Fin snorted. “Your privilege is showing.”
Acid burned his stomach. Or maybe that was the whisky. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“You’re handsome, wealthy, and heir to the throne of a powerful nation. Everything you’ve ever wanted has been at your fingertips.” Fin crossed his arms. “Admit it, you’ve never had to fight for anything in your life, and the one time you needed to step up, you cracked like an egg.”
Liam exhaled through his nose, trying to breathe out the tension that had a vise-like grip on his body. Yes, he’d lived a privileged life, but it wasn’t like he hadn’t worked hard to live up to the expectations that had been piled on him from the time he was old enough to walk. He wasn’t the kind of man who cracked under pressure or faltered in the face of adversity. He’d fought for international human rights, tackled Valeria’s gender wage gap, and fought to improve the standard of living for his people. He’d taken on powerful men and women the world over and not once had he backed down.
Except when it came to his parents.
He’d allowed them to control and manipulate him, dangling the crown over his head like a goddamn carrot. Maybe Fin was right. Maybe he didn’t have the mettle to fight for what he wanted. Or maybe he’d just never personally had anything worth fighting for.
