Chapter Twenty-Three

Genevieve held up her hands, silently miming applause. “You got rid of the smell!”

Mallory hoped that wasn’t a dig at the orphans who lived at the school. But she couldn’t imagine the princess being so crass about children. Vulnerable children, who’d been pulled out of homes while their parents were locked up for drug dealing. Or using. Or were suddenly, tragically dead.

“Ah, what smell?”

“Chalk and erasers and damp slickers. Every school has it. Private or public. You could blindfold me and take me to a school in Panama or Portugal, and I’d still be able to tell.” Genevieve turned in a slow circle, taking in the hallway festooned with flowers. They didn’t hide the walls that needed fresh paint, or the dings, or mask the institutional dreariness. But the garlands did give off their own fresh scent. “You’re a magician.”

Whew. It wasn’t about the children.

Mallory took a tiny bow at the compliment. “Eucalyptus leaves, cinnamon sticks, and clove-studded oranges. Seasonal and sniff-worthy.” It was what they’d always used back home in the middle of winter, to dispel the mustiness of the house being closed up so tightly against the Michigan winters.

She’d texted a photo to her mom, who’d almost cried. Said it felt like a part of her was here tonight, for Kelsey. Which was exactly why Mallory had done it. Wherever she could foster the close connection between those two, she’d continue to do so. Even an ocean apart.

Genevieve twitched at one of the burgundy swoops of chiffon that cascaded down the side of her gown. “You know, I heard rumblings of disquiet among some of the peerage when you and Kelsey chose to hold the gala in this facility, rather than at the usual museum or palace.”

“Unconventional, I know. Especially for Kelsey’s first official event as patron.” Mallory worried her bottom lip with her teeth.

They’d gone back and forth on the right venue a dozen times. But they’d always circled back around to the power of people seeing where their help was most needed.

A slide deck wouldn’t cut it.

Being here, in the repurposed manor house that had been housing children as they transitioned to foster care for more than a century, the depth of the need would be inescapably obvious. Once in foster care, the children still came back for bereavement work, trauma therapy, intervention and treatment for behavioral disorders, as well as for the outlets of arts and sports and horticulture.

Genevieve put a hand on her arm. “It is unconventional. As is Kelsey. She will make her mark, and the children will benefit. This was a brilliant choice. The only murmurings tonight are good ones. Everyone is blown away by the details. Like having the dinner tables split up into the classrooms and group therapy rooms.”

The impulse to fist-pump in the air was strong. But no doubt unbecoming. After it was over, tonight, she and Kelsey would fist-pump and jump and squeal to their heart’s content—behind closed doors.

“Are you sure? Sir Evan thought they’d be put off at not being able to ‘see and be seen’ if the dinner wasn’t in a single room.”

That had been another argument. Until Kelsey put her foot down and said that if she was going to be a patron, she’d do it her way. The way she thought would make the biggest impact. Not the way that would have the buzziest social scene.

Genevieve nodded decisively. “Yes. With the flowers and candles and lighting, you’ve brought in enough of the glamour. But more importantly, you’ve left enough of the everyday in each room. The posters, the artwork, the scruffy furniture, the less-than-stellar supplies. It’s powerful.”

“That was our goal.”

“Well, whatever your goal was for donations, I predict you’ll surpass it tonight. Well done, Mallory.” Genevieve embraced her, the black lace of her elbow-length sleeves slightly scratching Mallory’s bare arms.

“Thank you, but I can’t take the credit. Kelsey put this night together.” It was important to keep pointing the attention in the right place, all night. Kelsey needed to be the face of this gala.

Genevieve looked over her shoulder at the normally stone-faced Clara, who remarkably played along, miming zipping her lips. “Everyone else is gathered in the gym for Theo’s speech. You don’t need to play the self-effacing lady-in-waiting with me. I’m aware this was an enormous amount of work to put together. And that Kelsey was…overwhelmed with her princess assimilation. You saved the day. You did the lion’s share. And you deserve the praise, Mallory, even if I’m the only one who gives it to you.”

“Oh.” She should’ve known that Genevieve’s eagle eye wouldn’t have missed seeing how this had all really unfolded. Mallory didn’t need the credit—only the success of the event. But credit being offered, that was heartwarming. And it probably would’ve made her well up on any other week when she hadn’t already cried out her body weight in tears. “That’s very much appreciated.”

This time, Mallory leaned in for a hug. A proper squish of a hug, that banged her nose against the dangling diamond-and-onyx earrings of the princess.

Genevieve bit her lip as they separated. “I’m sorry, both personally and for Kelsey’s sake, that you’re going home. Can I be honest? Big sister to big sister? She needs you here. No matter how hard staying may be.”

Wow. Genevieve was full of surprises tonight. “That’s a…ballsy thing to ask of me.”

“I know.” And she didn’t appear apologetic in the least. “But I missed out on an entire lifetime of doing the big sister thing. Of protecting her. I’m trying to make up for it now, with one very bold ask.”

Hearing it from the princess—as a sisterly request, no less—zinged right to her heart. Not the part of it still bleeding from the loss of Christian. But the family-focused side of her heart. The one that had been second-guessing her decision to leave since the moment she’d started packing.

Because the Wishner sisters belonged together.

Forever. That had always been the plan. And Mallory always followed the plan.

Damn it.

She wasn’t going anywhere.

“What you don’t know is that my mother told me the same thing. When I called to tell her to expect me for dinner tomorrow night, she said that she’d raised me better than to abandon my sister.”

Genevieve’s impeccably arched eyebrows zinged up. “Your mother does not hold back.”

“She tells me what I need to hear, even when I don’t want to know it.” Mallory abruptly leaned in to sniff a eucalyptus branch in the nearest arrangement. Hopefully the sharp odor would break through the tears clogging the base of her throat. “I made the wrong decision. The selfish decision.”

“So unmake it?” Genevieve suggested with an upward lilt in her voice.

And here she’d had her heart set on eating her body weight in her mom’s macaroni and cheese tomorrow night. “Staying would mean that you’d have to put up with a lot of moping. Pouting. Nights of crying into wine and cheese fries while watching rom-coms to give me hope. I’d need you there, too.”

The princess beamed at her. “It would be my privilege to help you through this.”

“I may blame it on you on the worst days,” she cautioned. “Say that you forced me to stay by royal decree and call you many horrible, bitchy names.”

“I’ll allow it.”

“Big sister to big sister?” Mallory grasped Genny’s forearm, as if swearing a vow. “Know that I’ll always stick by her.”

“By us, I hope.”

“Well, ignoring my feelings for Christian won’t be easy. In fact, I’d very much like your help with that process. Any chance you and Theo will have a wedding soon that I can help to plan?” Smiling, Mallory pointed at Genevieve’s ring finger.

Which Genny promptly used to smack Mallory’s hand. “You’re in as much of a rush for that as the grand duchess! One step at a time. We’re happy. Let us get used to that for a while. You’ll be kept plenty busy planning all the extra events for the septecentenary.”

She double blinked before deciding to reveal her ignorance. “The what?”

“The seven-hundred-year celebration.”

“I’ll start by telling you that name’s gotta go. It sounds like a snake species. Not at all celebratory.”

“We’re working on it. And I’d love your help.”

“That sounds right up my alley.” Then a thought hit her. She’d stay in Moncriano, but she wasn’t so self-sabotaging as to stay right down the hall from her ex. “I’ll be ready to jump on it as soon as I move out of the palace. To cut down on accidental run-ins with the man I love and the woman he eventually marries, whoever that ends up being.”

“Ah.” Sympathy oozed off Genevieve as thickly as her Chanel perfume. “I think that is unfortunate, but wise. I’ll ask Sir Stefano to compile a list of suitable housing options for you.”

That was hilarious. “I’m quite certain I can’t afford whatever your private secretary deems to be suitable for a baroness.”

“Mallory.” Genevieve lightly touched the high collar of her golden dress. It’d been chosen specifically so that no necklace was needed and she wouldn’t have to go asking to borrow from anyone for the event. “You are a part of the House of Villani. We will take care of you as one of our own. Do not concern yourself with cost. Even my budget-crazed Theo would say so.”

Mallory winced. “Theo. He’s probably waiting for you to start his speech. We’d better go.”

Genevieve hurried down the cracked linoleum of the hallway. Mallory, ever conscious of protocol, did not bother to hurry, because the far shorter princess was in her usual sky-high heels. Mallory, in her floor-length gown, had stuck with flats, knowing she’d be on her feet all night anyway. It wouldn’t be right if she took long steps and got ahead of the woman.

She’d been able to wear heels with Christian. He was tall enough that he made her feel delicate. Beautiful. Treasured.

Ack. Her brain kept traitorously jumping backward. Back to forty-eight hours ago, when she’d last seen his eyes shining with love at her.

Doing the right thing—for a man and for a country? It was freaking hard.

Waiters opened the steel doors to the gym. The big room allowed the crowd to mingle for cocktails, and for dancing after dinner. But first, the big speech to pry open all the wallets.

Theo was at the podium. And for just a second, Mallory admired how well he wore a tux. He’d scraped off his usual scruff for the occasion. His brown hair feathered perfectly, his height popping the top of it into the spotlight to give him a golden glow. They certainly grew men handsome in this country.

Genevieve’s perfect public face melted into a warm, proud beacon of love that she aimed at her boyfriend. Mallory felt lucky to see the transformation. Love was good. She’d had to give hers up, but she wanted everyone else to enjoy that special feeling.

When he saw the princess, Theo huffed out a relieved breath and tapped the microphone. “Your Highnesses, my lords and ladies, esteemed guests, I won’t take much of your time. I want you to spend your time walking through this facility and seeing the needs for yourself. And then I want you to imagine what more could be done.”

Thankfully, Mallory could understand every word. A new royal protocol had been implemented that every event attended by Princess Kelsey had to be in English. Just the speeches and greetings—nobody was policing dinner conversations.

Which was a bit of a shame. Mallory knew just how much useful gossip was exchanged in the pause before dessert, or in bathrooms. Now that her nights were once again completely free, she’d double down on her language lessons.

It promised to be a loooong, solitary winter with only her iPad for company…

Theo brought his hand to his heart. “People who foster have the love to give, but not always the means. They want to provide these children—who’ve already suffered unimaginable loss—a future bright with potential. But so many can’t afford to make those dreams a reality. That is where you come in.”

Looking around, Mallory could tell he had the bejeweled crowd. They weren’t fidgeting or whispering. He had their full attention. Sure, some of that might be curiosity to see what sort of a man Princess Genevieve was dating. But she hoped more of it was them being sucked into the story he spun.

“You can manifest your caring into donations that will let them participate in after-school activities, sports, art, performing—experiences that every child deserves to grow up well-rounded. They have the basics. But they shouldn’t have to settle for basic. We can do better, as a country. We should. With your help, we will.”

Genevieve was the first to clap, but within seconds, the room swelled with thunderous applause. It only grew louder when Kelsey joined him at the podium.

Her sister—Mallory would forever think of her that way—looked stunning. Elegant. Like a, well, princess. Her sleeveless, ice-blue gown fastened at the front of her throat, but then broke into a daring, narrow slit that only stopped at her under-boob. Asymmetrical, wide layers of ruffles spiraled down the long skirt into a train.

And pinned to just below her collarbone was a diamond-encrusted brooch of two peacocks, facing each other, tailfeathers full extended, with a line of three blue pearls. King Julian had apparently put it with his note to Kelsey before he left. In it, he’d apologized for missing her first huge event, and asked her to wear it and know that he’d be thinking of her.

She and Kelsey had both teared up at that.

“Sir Theo’s words have hopefully inspired you to donate. But I want to let you know that his words are backed up by actions. He’s opening up his family estate to host the children for a week-long winter camp in the new year. They’ll learn to ride and do archery and ski on his land, at his expense. They’ll also learn how to make the world’s best hot chocolate on the day I pop in to visit, but keep that a surprise, please.”

The crowd laughed. Mallory saw their reaction released some of the stiffness from Kelsey. She’d been nervous to make the speech, but nevertheless insistent that she needed to personally prod them, as it was her project.

Mallory couldn’t be prouder of her. This, being here to share her sister’s triumph, this was why she would stay in Moncriano. It was the right decision. Even though it meant being constantly besieged by reminders of the man she’d had to give up.

Putting a hand on Theo’s shoulder, Kelsey said, “We are grateful for Sir Theo’s generosity. I hope it brings out your own generosity, as well as perhaps a spirit of competition. Because whoever makes the biggest donation tonight will win the door prize of lunch with me and a few of the children. Thank you for coming, and thank you, in advance, for sharing!”

Mallory led the applause this time, but not by much. There was clapping, but also foot-stomping and shouts of approval. The noise bounced off the walls so loudly it almost became tangible.

She’d just put two fingers in her mouth to whistle—propriety be damned—when she felt a tap on her shoulder. Gregor, Christian’s bodyguard, cupped his hand to her ear. “The king would like to speak with you.”

No.

Absolutely not.

She couldn’t face Christian yet. Of course, Mallory knew he’d attend the event, to support Kelsey. But she’d made elaborate escape plans to make sure she never had to be on the same side of a room as him, if not in it at all.

It was too soon to talk with him like everything was normal. Too soon to be able to pretend that her life was rolling on just fine. Too soon to be able to control her impulse to burst into tears at his voice.

Why? Why now? Why here?

The fun of having a redhead’s complexion was that, if she did cry, her nose and cheeks and eyes would be red for hours. Splashing a little cold water on wouldn’t do a damned thing.

Mallory pointed at the princess on the podium. “I’m a little busy. Please inform His Majesty that I’m running this event, and he should be schmoozing his ass off at it to raise funds. We can talk tomorrow.”

“I’m sure you can. However, the king insists on also speaking with you now. Please come with me.”

Crap.

Clearly she should’ve gone with a red dress, to blend in with what her face would look like in five minutes. Lesson learned for the next gala right after a breakup.

Because evidently this was Mallory’s new normal.

…

Christian set his palm over the top of the mop handle. Then he pushed, and the little yellow cart filled with soapy water squeaked forward. Not far enough, though, so he pushed harder. Water slopped over the edges. Good thing there was a drain in the floor of this janitor’s closet.

At least now he’d made room for Mallory to join him.

Sort of.

If she angled herself to avoid the boxes sticking out off the shelves. And if she wasn’t wearing a full skirt that could brush up against the sink. Or the toilet.

This was a terrible idea.

Who romanced a woman next to a toilet? In a room that smelled of bleach?

He’d followed impulse and emotion, rather than logic and strategy. It was very un-prince-like. Extraordinarily un-kingly.

But that was Christian’s theme for the night, after all. Inspired by his father.

To not be the king everyone expected. To just be the best man he could be. That would have to be enough.

Hopefully.

Maybe.

If he was lucky.

A double rap on the door signaled Gregor’s arrival. No title, no announcement. He didn’t want anyone randomly walking by and wondering why the king was closeted with the brooms and plungers.

The door opened to reveal Mallory, backlit in the hallway, in a slim column of gold.

No jewels, aside from pearl earrings he knew her parents had given her for college graduation. And his charm bracelet.

She still wore it. He wasn’t too late.

As long as he didn’t fuck it all up.

“Would you join me?” Christian asked, sweeping his hand to indicate the room as if it were the Peacock Gallery in Alcarsa Palace.

“I’m told I don’t have a choice in the matter,” she said tartly. As Gregor closed the door behind her, Mallory wrinkled her nose at the acrid stench. “I realize you’re not trying to sweep me off my feet with wine and roses anymore, but couldn’t our new just-friends relationship have a higher bar than this for a setting? Or, you know, not interrupt me in the middle of my job and maybe wait to talk until we both don’t have already pressing obligations?”

Yeah, she was pissed.

He didn’t blame her. This fell under worst-possible scenario. But timing was everything, and his was about to run out.

“I apologize for the interruption. But if you recall, you interrupted the state banquet that I was hosting to have a conversation. You owe me five minutes during your event.”

Mallory’s head cocked sideways, ready for battle. “This is just to get even?”

“No. This is to get you back.”

Her eyes slitted dangerously. “That’s what ‘getting even’ means.”

Seriously? Of all the times to hit the language barrier. “Will you just hear me out? For two minutes?”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” Mallory dropped into a deep curtsy.

The sass was strong in this one. Which he’d normally enjoy. God, he hoped he got the chance to keep enjoying it.

“Mallory, I want you back with me. I’m asking you to reverse your decision. Please come back to me. I was wrong to let you make that choice unilaterally. I was wrong not to fight for you. Hell, I was wrong to let you think I would be okay dating you for only a month.”

“Christian, no. Don’t do this.” She backed up until her hand was on the doorknob. “Don’t put me through this. It hurts too much.”

“My telling you that I love you hurts? Saying that I want you beside me? That I want the privilege of being next to you?”

“Yes, damn it!” Her teeth bit into her bottom lip. “It hurts to wave dreams in front of someone that can never be a reality.”

Mallory wasn’t listening. She was stuck in the rut of her own pain. He took one step toward her, hand outstretched, hoping to God that she’d take it. “It can. I love you. I hope you still love me. Do you?”

“Christian—”

“Don’t leave. Don’t go back to America,” he pleaded.

She crossed her arms. “I’m not. I’m staying in Moncriano.”

That was as much a sign as her still wearing the charm bracelet. But before he could finish the cold wash of relief sweeping over him, she continued.

“I’m staying even though it means the absolute torture of watching you marry another woman.” She bit out every word, throwing them at him like daggers. “I’m staying because I love my sister. And, well, Genevieve. And Elias.”

“What about me? Do you love me?”

She remained wordless and frozen, a golden statue.

After one swift shake of his head, Christian insisted, “Say it, Mallory. One way or the other, I have to know.”

“Of course I love you.”

His breath came out in a fast rush. Okay. Step one—check. “Then let me finish apologizing. Apologizing for not putting you first. From that night in the bar when you hit me with a dart and we so stupidly agreed that being together was impossible, I was wrong.”

Christian thumped his chest on the last three words, hoping the emphasis would get through to her.

But Mallory’s thin smile portrayed only wistfulness. It showed she didn’t believe him. “You weren’t wrong. You were practical.”

“In this case, that’s just a fancy word for dead wrong.”

Pressing her knuckles to her lips, she said in a cracked voice, “Stop it, Christian, I’m begging you.”

“You don’t understand. I’m begging you to take me back.”

Mallory took three fast steps to come right up to him. “Is it true that you’re King Christian now?”

Fuuuck. Wherever she was going with this, it couldn’t be good. He gave a silent nod.

“Then nothing’s changed. You need a queen. I’m an ordinary girl from Michigan without any noble blood and without a working uterus.”

“Everything’s changed. Because I realized that being king doesn’t define me.”

“Right,” she scoffed, with a hollow laugh. “Says who?”

Good thing Christian had a star witness to back him up. “My father, the previous king. Papa gave me some last-minute advice before he left town. And left me the throne.”

“I don’t understand.”

Neither had he until it was almost too late. “King is just a job title. The position is what the man on the throne makes of it. That only happens if you concentrate on being the best man you can be.”

Crossing her arms, Mallory sniffed, “The best version of you? Did you read that on a motivational poster here during cocktails?”

Christian closed his eyes…to keep from rolling them at her (which would not help his cause one bit). That was precisely the kind of sassy pushback he’d gladly sign up to have for the rest of his life.

It was what he wanted.

It was what he needed.

“I have to be true to myself. I can’t be a good king if I follow some archaic tradition that separates me from the woman I love. A tradition that isn’t even law, it turns out.” At her stunned expression, he smiled. “I never should’ve even thought that was a possibility. I love you, Mallory. You will always be first in my heart, and in my life. If you forgive me for ever thinking otherwise.”

“You can’t choose me over an entire country.” She started to back away again.

Christian snagged her wrist to stop the retreat. “I can. You’re more important. If I’m true to you, then I can be true to the country. To be the best possible king, I need a partner. Someone who will stand with me, not behind me. Someone who I feel safe telling everything to. Someone who listens and laughs and loves me. You’re it, Mallory. You’re the one.”

Even in the dim light, the tears welling in her eyes were visible. “I’m the one who can’t have kids.”

“We don’t need kids of our own.” Christian gestured at the door behind her. “Look around you—we’re at an event for orphans, for Christ’s sake. There are plenty of children out there who need parents. We can adopt. The same way that you’ll always be family to Kelsey, even without a blood tie. It’s about creating a family, not a royal lineage.”

“But what about the line of succession?” Her voice came out as wispy as a cobweb.

“Papa clued me in that there’s no actual rule about that. Just a tradition. An assumption. We’ve got years to decide. But guess what—I’ve got two sisters who could inherit the throne. And given how often I catch them both kissing in corners, I’d say we’ll be seeing baby booties all over the palace in a few years. That’s even more people who could take over my job, when that day comes.”

“You’d buck tradition?”

Hell, yes. He’d start his own new tradition. That of a king who followed his heart. “Mallory, my father just abdicated. Talk about bucking tradition. He gave up the job because he needed to make himself whole again. I want to do the same thing. I can’t be whole again unless I’m with you.”

“You really mean it?”

“Yes.”

“It could be…difficult, Christian. This thing you want to do—others may disagree.”

“Good thing I’ll have a strong, stubborn American by my side. On my side.”

On a choked-out laugh, Mallory wiped her fingertips at the dampness under her eyes. “You’re the strong one here. Strong enough to take a chance. Whereas I gave up on us. Can you forgive me?”

“Only if you forgive me.”

“I wanted to be a strong, independent woman who could make a difference. Then it all fell apart when Kelsey and I came here. I didn’t know where I fit in. I just saw a palace filled with titles and believed I wasn’t as important as all the other people in my new life.”

“You had to learn to believe in yourself again. Same as me.” How had he not seen this before? Christian took both of her hands, kissed the backs of them. “We did that for each other.”

“I thought you were the most impossible person in the world to be with.” Finally, finally a radiant smile broke across her face. “It turns out that you’re the best. That you make me want to be the best version of myself, and help you do the same.”

Christian held up one hand. He’d only executed two steps of his plan. The third step still loomed before he’d let himself kiss her. And he needed to make sure that the woman never left him again.

“Just to clarify, you do still love me?”

“Yes,” she said, nodding repeatedly.

“Then the bigger question is sort of awkward to ask tonight, as you’re clearly killing it with this event. But I need to know if you’d be willing to take on a new job. Twenty-four seven. For life. The hours sound extreme, but the perks are good.”

Mallory double blinked those wide green eyes at him. “I don’t know what that means.”

“It means I’ve got one more bet for you to take. I bet that if you give me another chance, I’ll do my damnedest to make you happy every single day of your life.”

“Hmmm. What do I get if I win?”

“Me.”

Christian dropped to one knee. It didn’t matter what unnamable liquid was soaking through his tux. He pulled the purple velvet ring box from his coat pocket and held it out.

Mallory gasped, a hand flying to her mouth. “This is crazy.”

“No. Letting you walk away from me was crazy.” He popped it open to reveal an enormous round diamond, surrounded by a circle of rubies. “Mallory, will you marry me? Be my wife, and my queen—in that order?”

A single tear ran down her cheek on both sides. But her eyes absolutely glowed with happiness. And her voice was steady and full of challenge, just the way he liked it. “Hmmm. What do you get if you win?”

“Everything,” he said simply.

“That sounds like a win-win situation to me. A sucker bet. I’m in.”

Christian slid the ring onto her finger. Then he brought her hand to his lips and kissed where it lay. In relief, in joy, in gratitude that she was willing to take him on despite his crown and country. “I love you.”

She extended her hand, wiggled her ring finger. “I can tell.” As she burst into laughter, he covered her lips with his.

Christian sank into the kiss he never thought he’d get to savor again. His hands bracketed her face as they slowly, tenderly—mindful of gala makeup—shared the sweetest kiss of his life.

“I love you, too,” Mallory whispered.

“I can tell.” Then they both laughed, and Christian knew, in every cell of his body, that’s how they’d spend the rest of their lives. Laughing, kissing, and loving each other.