15. Nick
Chapter fifteen
Nick
T he ringing of my cell phone jars me from slumber, I assume it's Alex calling. The prat missed our call last night.
I roll over, fumbling around until my hand connects with that dastardly device. “Hello,” I bark groggily.
“Nicholai, you must come home. Enough of this vagabond lifestyle. Your brother needs you, and you owe it to him to be here,” my mother’s imperious voice blares through the phone's speaker.
“Wait, what?” I sit up in bed, rubbing my hand down my face. “What’s happened? Is Alex alright?” When I spoke to him a few days ago, he assured me everything was going swimmingly.
Mother gasps, “You aren't keeping up with current affairs?”
“I am keeping tabs on everything, but Alex missed our conference call last night." When he didn't call, I was annoyed, but now, I'm worried. "What’s happening?” I repeat tersely.
“Annika broke off the engagement, and the speculation surrounding their breakup is relentless. Meanwhile, Alexander is heartbroken, but he won’t let Annika take the fall.
Of course, the press is blaming Alex. In being honorable, he’s thrown himself, and the monarchy as a whole, to the wolves.
We need you to come home and help sort out this PR nightmare. ”
I almost snort. The Crown must be desperate if they believe that I can somehow better their image.
“What good can I, the Royal Romeo , do to help repair the reputation of the monarchy?” I can’t resist throwing in a smidge of sarcasm by including one of the many nicknames that the European press have bestowed upon me.
“In a few weeks' time, and under my communications team’s tutelage, you will no longer be known as the Prince of Hearts, the Playboy Prince, or Prince Nick the Dick,” my mother responds dryly, listing off more of my media monikers.
“You’ll be the reformed bad boy ready to serve Belgrovinia alongside your older brother. ”
Reformed bad boy?
"Have you been reading those smutty romance novels again, Mother?" I tut.
“Be serious, Nicholai! Don’t you understand?
Without a marriage for Alexander, you’ll remain second in the line of succession for years to come.
Until Alexander marries and produces an heir, all eyes will be on you, judging your worthiness and ability to rule should anything terrible befall Alexander. ”
Shite.
My mother’s words spin around in my head, faster and faster, like a cyclone growing in intensity. I've been exposed to the inner workings of the monarchy for my entire life, but I've never before been encouraged to act as its leader. And the weight of that responsibility is suffocating.
Within moments of ending the phone call with my mother, there’s a knock on my bedroom door. I fling open the door to find Johann, fully dressed, with Bruno sitting dutifully at his feet .
Double shite .
This is really happening. After six weeks abroad, my American sojourn has come to an end.
“I take it you heard from the Crown?”
“Yes, Your Highness.” My travel buddy Johann is gone, replaced by the professional member of the King’s Royal Guard. “Why don’t you get showered while I pack your things, sir? We need to be at the airfield in less than two hours and it’s over an hour drive, so we’re on a bit of a time crunch.”
“It’s unlikely they’ll take off without us,” I mutter mutinously.
I wish I could defy my mother’s request, but she isn't asking as my mother. She's commanding me as my queen. My ingrained sense of duty to my family's legacy, my loyalty to my brother, and the promise I made my father on his deathbed won’t allow me to disobey my orders.
What do I do about Willa?
We had plans to see each other today, just like we have every day since we met.
I wish things could be different. I wish I was a different person. One whose future allowed me to freely date an American movie star.
I wish I was Nicholas and not Prince Nicholai.
After I hurriedly shower and dress, I find Johann packing my things. "I'll be back in a few minutes. There's something I need to do."
With a small smile, Johann nods. He knows exactly where I'm headed, but he doesn't know what it is I plan on doing.
I plan to beg Willa to come with me, to extend her travels by accompanying me to Belgrovinia, and to continue exploring our feelings to see if we might be able to make it work as a couple. It’s ludicrous, I know, but I'm not ready to say goodbye.
Quietly, I hurry to Willa's suite. It's the middle of the night and the ding of the elevator’s arrival on Willa’s floor sounds incredibly loud when it breaks the silence. I knock softly on her door. When she doesn't answer, I knock a second time, a little louder.
I wait and knock a third time.
Why didn’t we exchange room keys? I thump my head against her door in frustration.
Jogging back to my room, I ignore Johann when he greets me.
With frantic movements, I open my already packed briefcase and rummage through it until I locate my cell phone.
I place a call to Willa, but it rings and rings before connecting to her voicemail.
Dammit, she must silence it at night. Next, I pick up the phone in my hotel room and dial Willa's room number.
It's immediately connected to the hotel's voicemail system, alerting callers that the guest has their phone set to Do Not Disturb mode.
Bloody hell! What am I to do if she won’t open her door or answer her phone?
Just as I’m contemplating pulling the fire alarm, Johann informs me that it’s time to leave.
A bit over an hour later, I sit in one of my family’s private jets as we race down the tarmac for take-off. Sullen and filled with regret, I tap out a brief text message to Willa and hit send before turning my phone off.
“You okay, mate?” Johann inquires with a sad smile. He also had to leave Maggie without a proper goodbye. Though they weren’t inseparable like Willa and I, Johann and Maggie still spent a few evenings together over the past few weeks .
I sigh unhappily. “No, but I will be. You?”
“Fine," he shrugs. "I enjoyed Maggie's company, but I didn't fancy her. Not like you fancied Willa, anyway."
Fancy her, I do , I think glumly.
Somewhere along the way, I fell for her, and it hurts to leave her behind.
What a cock-up.
“May I say something as your friend?”
I nod.
Hesitantly, Johann suggests, "Maybe it's for the best, mate. You and Willa were playing pretend. She may not have realized it, but you did. You were leading her on, pretending to live a life that isn't yours."
Fuck, if Johann's words don't hurt to hear. Harsh but true. It wasn't fair of me to lead her on.
Unsettled at hearing the brutal truth, I agree unhappily. “You’re right. I know that you’re right, but…”
“But it still sucks.”
“Yeah.”
I hate that I won’t get to say a proper goodbye, but I knew eventually, it would come down to this. That at some point I would get called home and I’d be forced to leave.
The scrutiny that Willa experiences as a famous actress is immense, but it’s nothing compared to the life of a member of the royal family.
I live a caged life, and I've grown accustomed to the stares, the whispers, the judgment of strangers because I have no choice.
I'll never escape it, but I shouldn't condemn Willa to that life.
When I first met Willa and felt a spark, I thought she might be the perfect partner for me.
Accustomed to being in front of the cameras and putting on an act for everyone watching.
Calm and confident, unflappable in the face of public scrutiny.
However, when she opened up to me about her unhappiness in Hollywood and I witnessed her panic attack, I realized that her public persona was a facade, a carefully crafted mask she slips on when necessary.
Unfortunately, wearing it takes a significant toll on her.
It's a weighty facade that I shouldn’t ask her to continue. Yet, I almost gave in to selfish desire when I tried to find her earlier. If she had answered her door, I would have pleaded with her to come with me.
Maybe leaving this way is for the best because I wouldn't have had the strength to say goodbye.
“Welcome home, Nicholai,” my mother coos. “It’s wonderful to see you.” She smiles, scrutinizing my appearance. “The casual American lifestyle seems to suit you. You look so…tan and refreshed.”
The situation must be dire if she’s passing on an easy opportunity to criticize me .
Casual, yes. Tan, yes. Refreshed, not so much.
After only a few hours of sleep followed by a ten-hour flight, I’m unkempt. My clothes are wrinkled. My hair is uncombed. My eyes are bloodshot. And I smell like the inside of a bourbon barrel because I spent much of the flight drinking away my sorrows.
Motioning for me to sit, she perches primly on the couch across from me. The door to the salon opens and my brother marches in with a welcoming smile on his face. Standing, I greet him with a warm hug. I've missed Alex.
My mother, not so much.
“I’m sorry to drag you into this, Nick, especially after I promised you time off,” he remarks ruefully as he drags a hand down his drawn face.
Placing my hand on his shoulder, I offer him a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t apologize, brother. I’m sorry to hear about you and Annika. What happened?”
While we were on the flight home, Johann showed me several news articles, so I’m familiar with the overview. However, after my mother’s phone call and her remark about Alex being honorable, I assume that there’s more to the story than what has been reported.