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The next morning, I wake up to find Isabelle pressed against my body. She looks beautiful in the morning light. Last night, we’d made love again and again. And yes, it was love making. Not sex. She is so beautiful, she takes my breath away.
I enjoyed the time I spent with other women, losing myself in their bodies, bringing them pleasure. But it pales in comparison to how I feel about Isabelle. She is special to me in a way that I can't quite define.
When Thomas had insinuated I had been forced into marriage because I've gotten her pregnant, I'd wanted to smash his face in. I've never felt so violent before. I'm not sure what's wrong with me. For the most part, I don't care about a lot. I enjoy having a good time, having a laugh, a good time. I don't take much seriously. Maybe Isabelle is changing me.
I lean over and give her a sleepy kiss. She murmurs something and rolls over. I want to wake her up and make love to her all over again, but she needs the rest. There are dark circles under her eyes. I know this has been a stressful situation for her. She's in a different country, pretending to be my fiancée, and dealing with all of this royal crap. It must be overwhelming. And yet, she's being a good sport about all of it. I might be paying off her student loan and buying her an apartment, but I'm getting the better half of this deal.
And then my phone starts to ring. Damn. I pick it up, before the sound Isabelle wakes up.
“Benjamin, I heard you’re back from the States.”
Damn. It’s my father. I love the way he just dives into a conversation, without any pleasantries, but getting straight to business.
I “forgot” to inform him of my whereabouts. I hate letting him know where I am at all times. After all, I’m a grown man with my own life to lead. Checking in with my father like a teenager is getting old.
“Yes. Sorry. I meant to inform you.” We both know it’s a lie. I didn’t want another lecture from my father. Luckily, he’d been out yesterday, attending some ceremony in the country, so I hadn’t run into him. I’m not sure where my mother had gone, but she hadn’t been lurking around either.
“Your brother stopped by last night and we had a drink.”
“Oh?” The hair is standing up on the back of my neck. Fantastic. Thomas ratted me out. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. He’d been doing that for years.
“And we had the most interesting conversation about you.”
I close my eyes, gripping the phone tight. “I see.” What had Thomas told him?
“I need to see you this morning.”
“I’d love to stop by, but I have plans. Maybe we can get together later in the week?”
I’d never intended for my immediate family to find out about this fake engagement. I figured Gran would forget all about it, and it would blow over. This whole situation had just gotten a lot more complicated, thanks to my brother’s interference. Maybe I should’ve given him a black eye yesterday. Thomas certainly deserved it, for poking his nose into my private life.
“That wasn’t a request, Benjamin.” His tone was flat, final.
“Yes, Father. I’ll see you soon.”
After getting dressed, I scribbled a hasty note for Isabelle, and then took off for the palace.
An hour later, I am in my father’s study, surrounded by his books. We are going to have tea, but I know this isn’t a social call. My father never does anything without some serious thought and planning. I’m about to be interrogated or receive a harsh lecture. Or maybe, I’d get some bloody awful combination of the two.
“How was your drive?” Father asks stiffly.
“Fine. Thank you.”
He nods.
Just then, a maid wheels in a silver cart, laden with china and filled with pastries. It is far too much for two people, but my family believes in overdoing everything. Excess is very “on brand” for us. Thank God, there is also a steaming pot full of Earl Grey, along with it. I hadn’t had breakfast yet, and I could use the caffeine.
I pour both father and myself a cup of tea. Father takes his without any sugar, but I add two lumps. I also help myself to a lemon scone, while he chooses a couple of digestive biscuits. That’s my father. No sugar, no treats, no fun. Just duty.
“So, I understand you're engaged.” He dunks one into his tea and brings the soggy mess to his mouth.
I tense. “Yes, I am.” No doubt, Thomas had given my father a blow-by-blow account of our pool game.
“And you didn't think to run it by me?”
“It happened quite suddenly.” I play it cool, sounding almost bored. Besides, given my history, no one would expect me to do this the proper way.
He scratches his chin. “I'll say. Tell me about this girl.”
I’m sure he’s already had the security office start a background check on her. He probably knows more about Isabelle than I do. However, I decide to humor him.
“She’s American, just graduated college, and is currently job searching.” I also tell him about her charity work. Maybe, I’m laying it on a bit thick, but I want him to like her, for some reason.
“And when did you meet her? A couple of days ago?” His brows furrow. “This seems very sudden.”
“No, the last time I was in the States. We stayed in touch, via Skype.”
“I see.” He nods, and I can’t tell whether or not he’s buying my story.
So, I offer up some more details. “Honestly though, she caught my eye from the very start. You could almost say it was love at first sight.” Surely, that sounded romantic.
“And yet, you’ve continued to date other people.” He raises a brow. “I use the term ‘date’ loosely, of course.”
He studies me for a long moment and I’m thrown back to my childhood, standing in the nursery after I'd broken some priceless antique. Father questioned me like I was a criminal. I’ve come to expect his disapproval from that moment forward.
I ran a hand down my jacket, picking at imaginary lint. “Yes, father, I’m a letch.”
“I said no such thing.”
“You didn’t have to. It’s all in the tone. And no, this wasn’t exactly a long-distance romance, although we were certainly flirty. I’d say we were friends. Maybe the distance between us, made it easier to get to know her.”
Father blinks. “Friends? Hmm. I feel friendship is an excellent basis for a marriage.”
I don't even know what to say to that. I'd been expecting him to argue with me, and I'd have to defend myself. His approval throws me for a loop. Is this what’s it like for Thomas when he talks to my father?
“Me too.” I say after a moment.
“So, you like her? This isn't just based on passion?”
“Yes, Isabelle is important to me. She’s my friend, and I care about her.”
And I'm telling the truth. While I want Isabelle, can't get enough of her actually, I enjoy her company as well. This isn’t about sex. She is both a friend and a lover. One of these days, she's going to make some lucky bastard very happy. The thought makes me inexplicably sad.
Father beams at me.
And I’m taken aback, staring at him. Has he lost his mind?
“From what the guards have told me, she's a beautiful young woman, as well as intelligent, and kind.”
“She is.”
“But, I hope you'll consider making the engagement a long one. Until you get to know each other better.”
“Of course.”
Father nods. “I’m glad you’re being so reasonable about this.”
And that was it.
He takes a sip of his tea. “Well, I’m glad that’s settled.”
My jaw almost drops. “You don’t want to say something else?”
“Like what?” he asks.
“I don’t know, give me a lecture?”
“Not today,” He wags a finger at me. “Although, you should’ve brought her to your mother and I first.”
“I’m closer to Gran,” I mumble.
He nods stiffly. “I know, but we’re still your parents.” It’s strange, but my father didn’t have the best relationship with his dad, either. It’s like we’re repeating the same pattern.
“And what about Thomas?”
Father leans back in his chair, folding his arms across his broad chest. “Your brother seems to think this isn’t a real relationship, that you’re trying to pull a stunt.”
“And you?” I ask cautiously. “What do you think?”
I held my breath as he ponders my question a moment. “I’m inclined to believe you.”
“You are?”
“I can’t see any other reason you’d do this.” And then he smiles at me. Actually smiles. “I think our talk might have gotten through to you, after all.”
Oh, he thinks this is his doing? I might as well take advantage of that.
“Yes, well, you made yourself very clear. And maybe you had some valid points.”
“Maybe?” Father frowns.
“Okay, definitely.”
“Honestly, I thought you’d never get married, but here you are getting engaged. I’m so pleased for you. I think this young lady, might be the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”
It is a compliment and a dig all at the same time. I didn’t know quite how to react.
“So, when do I get to meet her?”
Ugh. I think it’s a terrible idea. My father would mostly likely ask Isabelle a ton of questions, on everything from her childhood to her aspirations. My brother and I once jokingly said our father must’ve been an interrogator in the military, because he gives us a verbal waterboarding every now and then. I didn’t want to subject Isabelle to his scrutiny.
“Soon, when the time is right.” Or, how about never? Never works for me.
I have an ulterior motive though. My parents would no doubt tell Isabelle about all of my shortcomings. I didn’t want to see the look of disappointment on her face, as she discovered that I’m a screw up. I couldn’t bear to disappoint her.
“That was purposefully vague.”
“I know, I’m just not ready yet.”
“Fine, but we’ll meet her sooner, rather than later.” He pulls out a legal pad and I can see he’s scribbled down some notes on it. “Tell you what, I’ve been meeting with the press office about your situation.”
Why do I live in a family where having a girlfriend or fiancée is considered a “situation” that requires a publicist? It would be so much simpler to be a farmer or a businessman. Although, I’d have to actually work for a living.
“And?” I ask, fearing the answer.
“Well, we are having the security team do the necessary checks on her. So far, Isabelle is passing with flying colors. So, we feel it’s time to move onto the next step. And we’d like to announce your engagement in a fun, informal way.”
Uh oh. “I see.”
“Your brother’s engagement is a little more...intense, because he’s the next monarch. They thought it might be bring us greater publicity to have yours be more informal, open to the public. Accessible even.”
“Which means...?” I have a very bad feeling about this.
“We’d like to announce your engagement on Sunny Side Up.”
I’m familiar with the show. “You want me to go on a morning news program?” My brother’s engagement had been announced at a ball, which was attended by foreign dignitaries. Afterward, there had been a formal press briefing.
“Yes, just to let the people meet Isabelle.”
Okay, this is really getting out of hand. I have to nip it in the bud, before I get caught in all the lies.
“Look, I appreciate the thought, but I want to wait before we go public. Like you said, this is a new relationship and we need time to get to know one another.”
“Ben, quite frankly, you need the good publicity. The people are in an uproar over your extracurricular activities. They need to see you in a stable relationship, settled. Responsible. This is the best thing that could’ve happened to you.”
And now I know why my father is behind this engagement. He sees it as a chance to rehabilitate my image and get me in the public’s good graces once more. It would certainly make his life a lot easier.
But, for once, he was on my side, and I’m going to take advantage of it. He isn’t lecturing me or comparing me to my brother and finding me lacking. And I can’t help but soak in the praise. I try to be tough, but I didn’t want to be the black sheep anymore. It’s exhausting living down to other people’s low expectations of me.
“The interview will be quick and informal.”
“I guess it doesn’t sound so bad.”
“Think of the press cycle,” Father says. “They’ll be fluff pieces about you and Isabelle, how attractive the two of you are together. They won’t be focusing on your misdeeds.”
“I don’t care what the press thinks of me.”
“Yes, but the rest of your family does. Wouldn’t it be nice to have some positive stories written about you, for a change?”
Well, it would be a relief to not have conversations like this, at least for a while. I suppose one little interview wouldn’t matter that much. We’d sit down with a reporter, answer a few questions, and it would be over. No big deal, right? I’d done hundreds of these things.
Before, I even knew what I was doing, I agreed to this ridiculous idea. Somehow, this crazy plan is spiraling out of my control. And I can’t seem to stop it. Or maybe, just maybe, I don’t want to.
My father grins. “Excellent. You won’t regret this decision. I promise.”
I’m not so sure about that. Actually, I got the feeling, I’d just made a terrible mistake.