“If anyone could damage either the Netherlands or the monarchy itself, Willem could.”
“He’s not that bad. He was just a little kid.”
“He’s a fucking psychopath, and he always has been. He’s twenty-seven now and still an asshole.”
Casimir raised his hands in helplessness because you can’t pick your family. “He’s not as bad as when he was a kid.”
“He’s more subtle, if that’s what you mean. If he and that freak of a wife of his have kids, for the love of God, send them to Le Rosey. Don’t let them grow up around him. Even boarding school would be better than that.”
Cash asked again, “Can you fly us to Vegas tonight?”
“I won’t. You have to go home and lobby for an Act of Consent like everybody else. Rox will be fine. They will grumble about her being an American for all of ten minutes and then pass it. It’s not like she’s the daughter of a Columbian drug lord.”
And even then, it had taken a few weeks, some formal receptions to meet Willem’s fiancée, a couple of concessions, and the assurance that her father would not attend the wedding to pass the Act of Consent through the legislature.
“You can’t,” Arthur said, shaking Casimir’s shoulder a little. “You have to do this the correct way.”
Casimir let his head drop forward, remembering how much she had been afraid that he was going to hurt her, and she hadn’t meant physically. “You didn’t hear what she said.”
“It doesn’t matter what she said. Go to Rodeo Drive and buy her the largest diamond you can find, assure her of your love, and book a plane for Amsterdam to do the necessary things. Hell, get couples’ counseling if you want to talk it out. Ana would be devastated if you eloped and lost your number. She would be pissed at you for years if you denied the Netherlands a wedding.”
“Ana would understand.” Eventually. She did have a penchant for correct protocol, which was not a bad quality in a future figurehead queen.
“But Ariane wouldn’t,” Arthur said. “She will throw a tantrum for days if you deny her the opportunity to be a flower girl. She’s eight, Caz. She’s aging out. She doesn’t have many years left to be a flower girl.”
Casimir wanted to make Rox happy again and to do it now. Every fiber of his being wanted to make her smile. He craved her laugh.
But he couldn’t fix Rox’s fears and pain with a quick wedding, anyway. He had known that deep inside, and Arthur’s arguments were the least of the reasons.
The gauze on his face itched, and he scratched around it. “There is Ariane to consider.”
“That little Valkyrie will kick you in the shins if you elope and she doesn’t get the chance to play flower girl.”
“I might be crippled for life.”
“Tell us when and where. I’ll abduct Maxence from whatever fool’s errand he believes will assuage his soul, and we’ll stand up with you in Amsterdam or The Hague. You can’t marry her tonight in Vegas, you idiot. You’ll ruin everything.”
LIKE THE WANING MOON
Rox lay under the covers in Casimir’s bed, holding herself together with her arms and determination.
The cats slept at the very bottom of the bed, clinging to the corners. Usually, they snuggled or at least slept near her and Cash.
She must have been flopping around in her sleep.
She had been so stupid. Letting Cash’s sex play provoke her into blurting out her fears and pain had been so stupid. Her own idiocy staggered her.
It was just supposed to be fun and sexy, and she’d ruined it.
He was going to break it off with her now. This was probably her last night in his bed. Tomorrow, he would find her and her three cats an apartment, and they would move her few things out, and he would ghost on her.
And she would shatter inside.
And if not tomorrow, then sometime soon. Maybe next week. Perhaps the week after.
But soon.
She could feel his absence looming as if she were watching the moon wane every night, knowing that soon there would be a moonless night of darkness.
Soon.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Rox found her phone on the dark nightstand and checked her social media, trying to distract herself.
Her friend Brandy Washington had posted some selfies on the shelter’s social media page. Brandy’s dark skin and bright white smile were centered between two new kitties, a ginger tiger and a long-haired white cat that would probably be adopted as soon as the shelter opened, even though the white cat’s blue eyes were narrowed at Brandy. This picture had probably been snapped seconds before the cat attacked Brandy’s nose.
Beside her, the bedcovers shifted. Cash asked, “You awake?”