Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 93840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Neither of them seemed moved by my protest. Their minds were made up. I spun on my father. “Who?” I demanded. As if it mattered. “Who the fuck is worth losing my mother for? Who is worth throwing away the monarchy for? A thousand years of your family on that throne and you walk away for a side piece of ass?” Anger heated and popped beneath my skin, leaving me restless and itchy. It was selfish, I knew. Every single bit of my reaction came from a desperate, almost manic, desire to keep my life from changing so drastically.
My father answered in a monotone. “Eleanor Wu. And I’ll not have you speak of her that way.”
My mouth hung open as I stared between my parents to see if he could possibly be telling me the truth. Mother’s eyes closed with a wince, confirming it.
Eleanor Wu was my age. The grown daughter of my mother’s best friend.
My father, the king of Liorland, cheating on his wife with a twenty-nine-year-old flight attendant. For fuck’s sake, how did something like that even come about?
But it didn’t much matter now. The result was the same regardless of who he was fucking. My father would be forced to abdicate the throne in disgrace once word got out. And word always got out. There was nothing to be done about it.
Then I would take his place. Become the true monarch of Liorland along with all of the duties and expectations therein. As well as the scrutiny. The press would be all over me, poking into every aspect of my life. Any small amount of freedom I’d enjoyed as prince would be over.
I would be the new king.
I staggered back and collapsed in a chair by the door. I was twenty-nine—mature enough to realize my Iggy-fucking days were over. Hell, my days even thinking about sex with men were over. There was no way in hell the monarchy could survive two such scandals. Suddenly I was being forced to make the tough decisions I’d been punting all my life. My parents had been pressuring me to choose a wife and settle down, to prepare for the stable life I’d need to have when it was my turn on the throne.
But I’d resisted, still in denial about the conflict between my sexuality and being heir to the throne. If only I had a brother to pass the crown to, but I didn’t. I had a younger sister, who’d known from birth that Monaco’s Liorland crown passed only to the male heir. As archaic as it was, the rule had been around for a thousand years. Not that it mattered. Henriette was twenty-six and single. She had no more stability than I did.
“And you’re willing to throw everything away for her?” I asked my father. “She’s forty years younger than you!” I felt my voice rising and clamped my lips tight.
“What’s done is done,” my mother said stiffly. I noticed she’d barely glanced at my father once during the entire discussion. I hadn’t even thought about what this change would mean for her. How much this would upend her life as well. She’d been queen for more than a decade.
“Mom—“ I started to say.
She cut me off with a tight shake of her head. “You should get some rest. I’m sure the next few days will be busy for you.”
I wanted to protest but I could tell by the rigidity of her shoulders that now wasn’t the time. I stood and kissed her cheek. I had no idea what to say to either of them so I just left, saying nothing.
Later that evening, after my mother had reassured the council officials awaiting word about my father’s health, she found me sipping a lukewarm cup of tea in the kitchen of their residence. My father was back in his own bed, sleeping soundly while my mother and I were left reeling from the day’s revelations. My father seemed to have abdicated not only the throne but any respective repercussions from the decision.
“You all right, darling?” she asked, walking up and cupping her small hand against my stubbled jaw. It was an uncharacteristic maternal move, and I felt myself leaning into her touch.
“No, of course not,” I muttered. “It’s shit.”
“Language, dear,” she said out of habit. She sat down on the love seat next to me and let her shoulders slump just a bit. Despite the awful, middle-of-the-night wake-up call she’d had, her suit was still pressed and fresh as if she’d had hours to primp.
“What happens now?” I whispered into the quiet room. “What the hell? How are you even handling this?”
“Does it matter? It’s done. She’s pregnant. He wants to announce within the month.”
Holy fuck.
“No,” I breathed. “You’re kidding. Say this is all a joke.”
She shook her head with a small laugh. “I wish.”