Page 64 of Prince Un-Charming

VIVIENNE

“Are you ready?”

Caesar grabs my hand. I look at him. The last two weeks have been wonderful. We slipped into Solvaria without telling anyone in his family. Twice – once on the beach, once at an outdoor market – people told us that he looked like a member of the royal family.

One sweet old lady even insisted that he was a dead ringer for Ishmael. He took a selfie with her. The rest of the time, we were just a couple on their honeymoon.

And what a honeymoon. We did everything except rock climbing. Caesar said absolutely not in my condition and probably not after.

We fly home in just a few more days. Caesar wanted to see his father while we were here. But we know we’ll be back soon, too.

“I’m ready.”

I think he’s worried about what his father will say. Of course, Caesar would never admit that. I know we’ll be fine. But I want to have a good relationship with his family, for my husband’s and baby’s sake.

Caesar puts the car in drive and goes up to the gate. He pulls out his key fob, and the gate opens. He pulls slowly into the large plaza in front of the palace. Instantly, we are surrounded by guards. He warned me to expect this. He rolls down the window.

“Hello.” He gives a little wave.

The guards look at each other, then at our rented car, and we laugh.

“Prince Caesar?” The hesitation in the guard’s voice is obvious.

“In the flesh.”

Caesar holds out his diplomatic passport, and they allow him to proceed, looking stunned.

“Put it in the garage next to my Porsche.”

The man he hands the keys to is too dumbstruck to speak.

Hand in hand, we walk together into the palace. Caesar has on blue trousers and a polo. Even when he’s doing nothing important, he looks effortlessly chic. I feel like I swallowed a beach ball, although Caesar says no one can tell.

I already love my baby so much, but I’m glad we’ll have some nice wedding photos. Caesar says all the time I look beautiful, but I just try to concentrate on the life growing inside me. I still can’t believe it sometimes.

“Hi, Haverty. Where’s the King?”

The steward looks up, startled. “Caesar?”

“Yep.”

“He’s in his private apartment, as far as I know.”

“Thank you. Nice seeing you!”

Caesar leads me through a labyrinth of hallways to a part of the palace I’m not familiar with. He knocks on a large door, and a butler opens it.

“I’m here to see His Majesty, the King. My father.”

If the butler is shocked by Caesar’s appearance, he hides it well. He disappears and comes back a minute later to usher us into the King’s bedroom. After we go down another hallway, the butler opens the door and steps aside to let us in.

We walk into the King’s bedroom. And in the corner, sitting in a recliner that very much does not match the décor of the room, is the King. Caesar walks across the room and gets down on one knee to kiss his father’s hand.

“Caesar.”

“I know you are surprised to see me.”

The old man studies him carefully.

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