CHAPTER NINE – HATTIE
I have no idea why he looks so shocked.
Surely, he had to know it was an option. There’s no way Her Majesty didn’t mention it to him once I’d left the room.
Perhaps he just wasn’t expecting me to say it so brazenly.
Hell, I wasn’t expecting me to say it so brazenly, but here we are.
I’ve said it.
And a marriage proposal is something one cannot simply take back.
“Marry me,” I repeat without missing a beat.
Slowly, he tilts his head to the side, his blue eyes studying me intently.
His momentary shock from my initial admission has gone, and his expression now gives nothing away as he rests his arm along the back of the sofa.
“Marry you,” he says, rolling the words around his mouth. “That’s what you want?”
“Yes. It’s an arrangement that benefits us both.”
“And why exactly is that?”
My lips pull up to one side. “Because you don’t want to marry Jasmine Sinclair, and I don’t want her to become the crown princess. It kills two birds with one stone, don’t you think?”
“What makes you think I don’t want to marry Jasmine?”
“Oh, dear.” I hold my pointer finger against my lips and raise my eyebrows. “I’ve been led to believe you’re an intelligent man with excellent judgement. It seems that was a mistake. How disappointing.”
His mouth twitches into the barest hint of a smirk, and there’s a little something that brightens his eyes. “How could I stand to disappoint you? You are correct—I have no love for Jasmine, and would prefer not to marry her, if the opportunity presents itself.”
I hold out my hands. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Royal Highness. I’m Opportunity, and I’m presenting myself to you right now.”
He rests his head on his hand, amusement twinkling in his deep blue eyes. “You said you’ve been back in Askurg—in St Peters—for two years. Why have you waited until now? Why not show yourself sooner?”
“Are you insinuating that I somehow orchestrated our first meeting?”
“You said yourself that Jasmine talks about me non-stop. It’s plausible that you might know my whereabouts. I wouldn’t be surprised if she knew my entire schedule.”
She does. It’s quite scary, actually.
“I can assure you it was nothing but coincidence. I’d just finished a job and, to be honest, I was delaying my return home. It’s not exactly a place I enjoy being,” I say dryly. “And before you bring up the fact I gave you my card; you asked for it, and you contacted me.”
“What about the hotel?”
“I had a studio rented in the area for some newborn shoots. I had no idea you were there. Even now, I couldn’t tell you what you were doing in Greenwood Bay.”
“Hm.” He stares at me for a moment. “I’ll take your word for it.”
How generous of him.
“Here’s what I don’t understand: if you were truly afraid of your family, you wouldn’t have done that little show with my mother earlier on.
You wouldn’t have even allowed yourself to get closer to me and risk ending up in the palace.
You’d have rejected my offer. So, why today? What makes today so different?”
I shrug a shoulder dismissively, reaching for the teacup on the coffee table between us. “You could say… the opportunity presented itself.”
Crown Prince Finley clicks his tongue and gets to his feet. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing here, Miss Sinclair, but I’m afraid I wish to have no part in it. You’ll get the assistance you need to move forwards with your life, but for now, I’ll have someone show you out.”
He walks to the door, and right before he can open it, I say, “I despise them. All of them.”
He pauses, turning his head so that he’s barely peeking over his shoulder, and I can see that my words have piqued his curiosity, so I continue.
“I didn’t reveal myself before because I couldn’t. I had no choice but to go along with their little scheme. It was the only way to make them trust me just enough to let their guards down.”
He turns, opening eyeing me this time. “What is it you want from me? Not from the Royal Family or my mother, but me. Aside from marriage, of course.”
“Want? I daren’t want anything,” I reply smoothly. “I would like it if you’d hear me out, but I shan’t force you. If you leave now, then so be it. I’ll send you good wishes for your miserable marriage to Jasmine and pray you don’t get too caught up in the mess when I rip the Sinclairs apart.”
“Good grief.” He sighs, running his hand through his hair, and comes back over. He drops himself on the sofa opposite me with a little ‘thud,’ rests one foot on his other knee, and stares at me. “You win. You’ve got my attention, Harriet. Why do you want to marry me?”
“Want to marry you?” I laugh, pushing my hair away from my face. “No offense, Your Royal Highness, but it’s not that I want to marry you. Rather, it’s that I don’t want Jasmine to.”
He blinks at me. “And you think this is the way to stop that from happening?”
“Of course. After all, isn’t this engagement mine to begin with?”
He opens his mouth to reply, then stops, frowning.
“I’m the one who saved you when you were kidnapped and escaped during the revolt,” I remind him.
“The engagement was planned before I disappeared and while my mother was still alive. It was accepted between our families that you would marry Harriet Sinclair, and had I not gone missing, we’d be engaged now. Likely already married, in fact.”
“I suppose that is correct,” he replies in a low tone, rubbing his hand across his chin. “And even as children, I don’t remember either of us rejecting the idea.”
“Of course not. I was your saviour, and I was very cute as a child. As if you’d reject me.”
He raises his eyebrows. “And you didn’t reject me because?”
“I was seven years old, promised birthday parties in a palace, and was told I’d become a princess if I married you. What seven-year-old girl would say no to that?”
A chuckle, so like the one he let out when we first met, escapes him. “Good point. So, seven-year-old you wanted to be a princess. What does twenty-eight-year-old you feel about it?”
“Seems like more hassle than it’s worth, to be honest,” I admit, making him laugh again. “But I won’t let them steal from me anymore.”
His laugh dies at my words, his expression becoming stony once more. “Steal from you?”
“Yes. Rosalyn and Jasmine have stolen my whole life from me, and now they want to steal my future, too. This engagement is mine. You’re mine.”
His blue eyes flash with an emotion I can’t pinpoint. “How bold must one be to sit before the Crown Prince and tell him he belongs to her?”
“Boldness has little to do with the truth,” I reply. “You’ve already agreed that this engagement belongs to me. That means you do, too.”
“Interesting. Does that mean you’re mine, Hattie?”
My nickname—one I haven’t heard since I was a child—rolls off his tongue as smooth as silk, and I wish I could ignore the little fizzle of delight that dances down my spine at the sound.
He really does remember it.
No.
Me.
He remembers me.
“That depends on whether or not you decide to claim me as yours, Your Royal Highness,” I answer, shoving back the way it felt to hear him say my name.
“Ha.” His lips tug into a smirk, and the dark glimmer in his gaze sends a shiver through me. “Is that why you wear that ring?”
I glance at the plain band on my left hand, then bring it up and wiggle my fingers. “What can I say? I’m nothing if not faithful.”
Actually, it just stops people from hitting on me, but that’s not the point.
His laugh is like whiskey, smooth and warming. “So, you want to take back your future by marrying me. Are you aware that Jasmine all but runs the upper-class social circles? She’ll make your life hell.”
I bark out a laugh of my own. “Hell? As if. I’ve lived through Hell, and I’m still standing here.
Jasmine wouldn’t know Hell if it dragged her through its seven circles, chewed her up, and spat her back out covered in burns.
If anyone will be going through Hell, it’ll be her, and I’ll be her goddamn tour guide. ”
He blinks at me. “You really hate her, don’t you?”
“Everything that’s happened in my life is because of her and Rosalyn. From my disappearance to my mother’s death, to even me living a lie these past two years—it’s all on them. It’s about time they paid for their sins, and I intend to charge them interest.”
“Starting with marrying me?”
“Starting with marrying you.” I eye him. “Jasmine wants nothing more than to marry you and be Crown Princess, and I want nothing more than to turn that dream into her worst nightmare.”
“Then what?” he asks. “What do you do after that? You marry me, shatter her dreams, and then… we live happily ever after?”
“I rip apart everything they have with my own two hands,” I say, my voice ice-cold.
“I intend to dismantle every brick in that mansion, collapse every office in the business, and uncover every single dirty little secret hiding underneath the floorboards. I want to ruin them. I want to make them sink so low they can never claw their way back up.”
“And presumably, the seat of Crown Princess will make that easier for you.”
“I’ll do it regardless of if we get married. Your decision only determines whether you’ll be caught in the crossfire.”
“You really are bold. Some may even say stupid.”
“Those people haven’t been through what I have,” I counter. “Which is just as well, because they might not have survived it.”
He tilts his head to the side, his gaze firmly focused on me. “What have you been through?”
I smile. “Pray you never find out, Your Royal Highness. I’d hate to hurt your delicate sensibilities.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Delicate sensibilities? Whose? I don’t have such a thing.”
“Really? You’re sitting here staring at me as if you’ve never seen a woman hell-bent on revenge before.”
“Oh, I’ve seen such a thing…” He frowns. “But it’s usually scratching a cheating ex’s car, ruining a business deal, stealing family heirlooms, that kind of minor thing. Not imploding someone’s entire life.”
“Three. Three lives.” I hold up the corresponding number of fingers.
“Not imploding three entire lives,” he corrects himself.
“Now, look. And I’m not saying I’m not tempted by your offer,” he says, raising a hand.
“But I fail to see what I gain out of this arrangement. As far as I’m concerned, if I take away my personal feelings, Jasmine is a perfectly good candidate to be my wife.
Right now, you benefit the most from this.
You claim back an engagement, husband, and the future that was promised to you, piss off your family, and can carry out your plans to ruin them all while you’re protected by the Royal Family. And I… What do I get out of this?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“Isn’t what obvious?”
“Out of all this…” I smile, holding out my hands. “Me. You get me.”
He runs his tongue over his lower lip, and his cheek twitches as he fights a smile. Amusement twinkles in his blue eyes, and he raises his brows in question. “You seem to think of yourself as quite the prize, Hattie.”
“I don’t think it. I know I am. I know my own worth, and you should be grateful that I’m sitting here offering to make you my husband.
” I glance at my wristwatch and smooth down my blouse as I stand.
“We both know who the queen would rather you marry,” I say, looking down and across at him.
“And as I said, I’ll get what I want, with or without you, and I won’t be responsible if you get dragged down with them. So, think about it.”
I walk around the coffee table towards him and lean down, reaching into my back pocket. He gazes up at me, his brow slightly furrowed. His lips are pressed together and he’s studying me like I’m some kind of riddle, a puzzle to be pieced together.
“Here.” Bending down, I tuck my personal card into his shirt pocket and give his chest a gentle pat. “Contact me on this number when you’ve thought this through. I’ll give you a week before I assume you’re going to make the wrong decision.”
“A week?” He clasps my wrist before I can pull away, and he tugs me down towards him.
I lose my footing and grab the back of the sofa with my free hand before I topple onto his lap.
Not a bad place to sit, but all things considered, not a place I should be trapped right now.
“You’ll give me a week?” His voice has a tetchy edge to it, somewhere between a dark laugh and a dangerous threat. My pulse thunders against his fingertips on my inner wrist, and he tightens his hold just a fraction. “Well, aren’t you generous for someone whose ideal revenge plot starts with me?”
“I think so.” I curl my lips into a sardonic smile, holding his gaze, my face barely inches from him. “Because I’m going to reveal who I really am no matter what, so we can either do it quietly, or I can do it my way. In the most chaotic, disruptive way possible.”
“What are you going to do?” he asks in a low voice. “Barge into my birthday banquet in the middle of the engagement announcement holding onto your birth certificate?”
“Ah, I didn’t think of the birth certificate. Nice touch.” I flick my wrist out of his grip and step out of his reach. “Either way, I’ll die before I see you marry my sister.”
“Because I belong to you, right?”
“That’s right. You’re mine.” I smile, then grab my things and head for the door. “You know where to find me if you decide to make me yours, Your Royal Highness.”