Billionaire Bad Boys of Romance 2(95)

My insides twisted into a knot. It was hard to breathe, let alone speak. “My parents are in prison.”

He didn’t speak.

I continued, “They were unfairly tried and convicted of something they didn’t do.”

“What happened?”

I took a deep breath. Let it out. “My brother died. It wasn’t anything they did, or anything they didn’t do. It was a terrible, horrific accident. My brother and I weren’t abused or neglected. But the district attorney, who I later learned was up for re-election, decided to go after my mom and dad as a way of improving his public image. I mean, it was a child cruelty case. Who wouldn’t respect him for that, right? Unfortunately, he was going after two innocent people. Didn’t matter. He was able to convince the jury they were guilty, after my parents refused a plea deal. My dad was sentenced to life plus fifty. My mom to life.”

Silence.

Just as I was about to ask Tevin if he wanted to take me home, he pulled me into his arms.

“I’m sorry, Daryl. I can’t imagine what it’s been like for you, or for them.”

I sank into his warm, gentle embrace. “They’ve lost everything. And I’ve lost them, and respect and trust in the system. And friends. All my friends except for Sasha. Our courts and judges aren’t out to find out the truth. The whole system is just a big racket. Lawyers and judges rake in the cash while innocent people suffer.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t designed to be that way,” he said as he stroked my hair.

“Of course not. But that’s what it has become, if you ask me.”

“Have they tried to appeal?”

“They’ve tried and failed.” Anxious to see his face, to try to convince myself that he was sympathetic, I tipped my head back to look up at him.

His eyes were kind as he shook his head. “So you lost a brother and both parents, all within…?”

“A year and a half. In eighteen months my life went from perfectly normal to hellishly awful. But I’m not telling you because I want your pity.” I pushed myself upright, out of his embrace. I wanted him to see I wasn’t trying to play on his sympathy.

“Of course not.”

“I’m telling you this now because I’m worried.”

“About?”

“The press. If you’re a prince—who doesn’t seem to be hounded by paparazzi like the British royals are—won’t the press have a field day when word gets out about my family?”

“As you pointed out, I’m not hounded by American press. I’ve been living here for eleven months and haven’t had a single photograph published anywhere, not even on the internet.”#p#分页标题#e#

“Okay, so you’re not concerned?” My mood lifted slightly. Was it too much to hope that we had gotten all of our skeletons out of the closet now and could maybe move forward? That all the obstacles had been cleared away, and we could relax and let things develop naturally?

“As far as the U.S. goes, no. My country is so small and inconsequential that I’m no more a celebrity here than you are. But in my homeland it’s different.”

My temporarily elevated mood fizzled. “I see. Then maybe I shouldn’t go to meet your family?”

“Oh no, I want you to. Nothing has changed. I’m still falling in love with you. But for your sake, I should keep you out of the spotlight for as long as I can.”

“But what would that accomplish?” Already, I could see things were unraveling. It was so unfair. If only Tevin was just Tevin, a guy with a lot of money, instead of a future king. Tevin didn’t have a problem with my parents. He liked me. He was falling in love with me. And I was falling in love with him. The two of us had something special. Something that might have worked.

But he wasn’t Tevin. This man, this prince, had a much more complicated life. With family. Obligations. Responsibilities.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“If things…well, if we were ever wanting to…” the words became lodged in my throat.

“Marry?” he finished for me. It seemed he had no problem saying that word; it was me who had the problem.

“Yes, that. I would imagine the ceremony would be public, and my background would be scrutinized. I mean, I would be the future mother of royal sons, a queen, right?”

“You’re right. You would be queen.”

Queen. Me. That was insane.

I continued, “What country would accept the daughter of two convicted murderers—killers of their own child—as a queen?”

“I’m going to make some calls to some people.”

“Calls?” I echoed, wondering what he was thinking, what he was planning.