Page 12 of Forbidden Proposal

My grandmother focuses her fiery stare at me, her displeasure heavy in the room. But I don’t care. I’ve learned long ago if I don’t stand up for myself, no one else will. So that’s what I plan to do. Regardless of how futile it may be.

At least I’ll know I tried. That I didn’t willingly allow them to string me up and turn me into a puppet for them to do as they wish.

“I believe now is the perfect time.” I clench my jaw. “Your Majesty,” I add for effect.

Then I spin, striding purposefully toward my father’s private office.

Chapter Five

Esme

I pace for several long seconds, listening intently to any conversation filtering in from the conference room. Gauging how everyone’s reacting to my little outburst.

But it’s silent, not even a hint of a rustle.

When a figure finally appears in the doorway, I almost expect it to be my grandmother to berate me for acting in such a “displeasing” manner.

Instead, it’s my father.

He closes the door before crossing the room toward the mahogany desk placed in front of a set of ornate built-in bookshelves filled with various law books and treatises. Unbuttoning his suit jacket as he sits, his disinterested eyes meet mine.

“You wanted to talk to me.” His voice is even, calm. “This is your chance. Talk.”

“You can’t seriously be okay with this.”

He stares at me for several long moments, uncertainty flickering in his expression.

This is a man who’s led our country through quite a few crises in the past fifteen years. When it comes to matters of state, something he does have a great deal of control over, he is a good leader. In his time as King, he’s garnered much love and support, being nicknamed “The People’s King” for doing his best to encourage all the officials elected to serve in Parliament to reach across the aisle as much as possible to enact meaningful legislation.

But when it comes to personal matters, to his own daughter, he seems completely ill-equipped.

Like he doesn’t know how to talk to me.

Like I’m no more familiar to him than a stranger on the street.

Finally, he pushes out a sigh, relaxing slightly in the chair, but still maintaining an air of authority about him.

“As I’m sure your grandmother informed you, this is expected of you. You have a duty to provide heirs in order to continue the bloodline in the event that, God forbid, something horrible happens to your brother. As you’re aware, he’s being deployed for six months beginning in September.”

“I know.”

“Then you’re also aware you can only provide legitimate heirs if you’re married.”

Placing my hands on the smooth surface of the desk, I lean toward him. “I’m not even twenty-five yet.”

“I was around your age when I married your mother.”

“And I’d argue that you were too young. Why can’t I wait a few years like everyone else my age? Enjoy the rest of my twenties. In fact, I was thinking—”

“You’re not like everyone else your age, Esme,” he interrupts. “You have obligations. Expectations. Duty.”

I fight the urge to groan. If I had a dollar for every time someone’s reminded me of my duty, I could run away from this life and be able to live rather comfortably.

“Jameson Gates is a good man,” he continues. “A good match for you. He’s a natural leader, which can only work to your advantage, should the unspeakable happen to your brother.”

“Why should that matter? He won’t be expected to lead the country. I will.”

He tents his fingers in front of him. “That’s true. Our country’s made great strides toward gender equality. But—”

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