The Dirty Series 1(110)

“Your father approved it,” he added.

Swallowing my irritation, I give Phillip a curt nod. In my new role, I can’t be having outbursts, no matter how badly something pisses me off. At any rate, Jessica won’t have minded. She understands the way things need to be and realizes there are a lot of pomp and circumstance surrounding royal expectations and rules.

As I make my way through to the Great Hall leading the post-ceremony processional, I can’t stop thinking about it, though. I wanted Jessica to be right there, and she couldn’t be. She’s a square peg in the round hole of Saintland politics, even though she’s managed to navigate most of the things I’ve asked of her with surprising grace.

Marcus had the right idea about giving everything to his duties.

The thought swims around in my mind before I can cut it off at the pass, and I instantly hate myself for thinking it. My brother, I’m sure, never had feelings for a woman in the same way that I do for Jessica.

Especially in bed with Jessica, a place where I haven’t been holding up my end of the bargain.

While I’m self-loathing, a seed of truth plants itself in the back of my mind.

Marcus may not have been happy, but his decisions did make his life as crown prince easier.

Another woman could do that for me.

I spot Jessica waiting in the Great Hall. She’s standing off to the side near a long table brimming with food for the reception, talking with an ambassador from Germany. Even though the terse set of her face tells me something is bothering her, she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. She’s the only woman I want to wake up to every morning and go to sleep beside at night for the rest of my life.

Something else occurs to me and stops me in my tracks. Even with her grace, beauty, and poise, she’s simply not in a position to help me steer Saintland in a positive direction.

If she was to become queen, the position would be largely ceremonial and dictated by tradition, but another woman with more political pull could do more than make small talk with ambassadors.

Hot shame pierces my chest. With a start, I realize I’ve been considering her from across the room as if she were just another political asset, and a deficient one at that.

What the fuck am I thinking?

She’s the only woman to ever inspire this kind of connection in me, to ever make my time with another human being so electric and almost unbearably perfect.

How can I possibly reduce her to a political asset?

How can I possibly replace her for that reason?

“Because this is your life now,” the voice in my head rationalizes.

I can’t stop the thoughts, can’t undo it.

This is my life now.

This is what my life is going to be like until I die. I have to put my kingdom first. I have to consider what would be best for Saintland before I consider my own happiness.

Just like Marcus did.

The realities are closing in on me. There is little if any room to improvise, to push back against the status quo, especially if Saintland is going to survive another century.

I shake my head violently, trying to deflect the thoughts racing through my head, but everything I’ve been thinking is true.

How am I going to reconcile my love for Jessica with my duty to Saintland? Ten days ago, it would have been an easy choice, but since my brother died and I’m destined to fill his shoes, it seems infinitely more complicated.

In the meantime, I tell myself, there’s no need to make a scene.

I cross the room, introduce myself to the German ambassador, and put my arm around Jessica’s waist.

“You look wonderful,” I whisper into her ear. She leans into me slightly, just enough for it to serve as a wordless answer without being inappropriate.

But before she does, I feel her body tense. I sense her withdrawing, as if she heard my unspoken doubts.





Chapter Thirty-Three





Jessica



Something has changed between Alec and I, and I can’t put my finger on exactly what it is.

He still rushes from his morning meetings to eat lunch with me, still kisses me deeply and passionately before he leaves for his afternoon obligations, and still promises every time I see him that he will be less busy soon and can spend more time with me.

It’s like he could hear me doubting him the other night.

What was I thinking, anyway? That I would be happier with a man who had no future, no ambition? Sure, it would be nice to be with someone who could be spontaneous, able to take off on a last-minute vacation without having to coordinate his plans with the entire State Department, but then that someone wouldn’t be Alec.

I don’t want to give him up.

I’m not willing to give him up.

I’m not going to give him up.

That’s what I keep telling myself. Apprehension curdles in my stomach as I spend hour after hour attending briefings and etiquette classes and outings with Claire.