20. Nick
Chapter twenty
Nick
W ith Mother’s ultimatum hanging over my head—either I pick a girlfriend, or she'll select one for me—I made my decision. Mind you, I was under duress.
As I discussed with Alex, I decided to ask Carisa, my former friend with benefits, if she would be open to a new type of arrangement.
Better the devil I know.
However, as I've thought more about it, I realize that, while Carisa and I are sexually compatible, I don't know much about her outside of the bedroom. When we spoke, it was mainly mundane small talk as we stripped off our clothes or short conversations arranging times and places to meet for sex.
While we were physically intimate, we never shared the intimate details of our lives.
I have no idea what her favorite food is or who she voted for in the last election or where she sees herself in ten years.
Hell, other than knowing she favors lace lingerie to cotton and revere cowgirl to missionary, I know very little specific information about the woman.
Though I suppose I know enough general information. I know that Carisa is attractive and stylish, driven and intelligent. I know that she comes from an affluent family with a noble pedigree, which should be enough to appease Mother.
I also know the most important thing: Carisa and I can pretend to date, and she won't hold out hope that it will evolve into a real romance. That knowledge is what convinced me to choose her.
Yesterday, with the countdown clock set to expire, I asked Luther to issue the invitation that I've been avoiding.
As I walk toward the greeting room where Carisa is waiting, I feel like my feet are encased in cement.
Now is not the time for doldrums and doubts .
Carisa stands with her back to me, looking out the windows. Upon hearing the door snick shut, she pivots to face me.
I'm surprised by the changes in her appearance.
Though her outfit is expensive and stylish, it hangs from her thin frame.
Her long blonde hair is pulled back from her face, emphasizing the hollows of her cheeks.
Despite her skillful application of make-up, she can't hide the pallor of her complexion or the dullness of her eyes.
"Carisa, you look lovely as always," I say, stretching the truth. She's still quite attractive, but her effervescence has waned since I last saw her.
If I knew Carisa better, I'd ask her if everything was alright. But we constructed clear boundaries early on in our arrangement, and I don't feel it right to change them without asking.
Bloody hell, am I about to ask to change them.
When her gaze meets mine, she doesn't linger. "Thank you. As do you, Nicholai.” Her lips turn up briefly as she sinks into a low curtsy as if we’re strangers. It irks me, this newfound distance and deference.
Her behavior is such a contrast to Willa’s. I loved that Willa always called me Nick or even Nicholas. The familiarity of using nicknames lent itself to a level of emotional intimacy that I enjoyed sharing with Willa.
Thinking about Willa right now makes what I'm about to do even harder.
"How has everything been since graduation? You've started your new job, yeah? Remind me where you're working again."
"I have. I'm a junior securities analyst at an investment firm, and it's been good but very stressful. Nicholai," she pauses, shifting uneasily from foot to foot, "I haven't seen you since—"
Ah, yes. After receiving the news that my father suffered a heart attack, I left school immediately and didn't return for graduation. That must explain why Carisa seems so uncomfortable. She hasn't seen me since he died, and death makes for an awkward bedfellow.
"—your father’s death. I’m so sorry. How are you and your family?"
"Thank you. It's been an adjustment, but we're slogging through it."
I guess that's the truth. While in America, I was able to compartmentalize my grief and stuff it into a little box in my mind, only bringing it out when I wanted to. Now that I’m back, it’s impossible to ignore.
My father’s presence is everywhere—his portrait on the wall, his face on our money, his name on monuments, and I am inundated with memories of him in this palace—and it’s been overwhelming at times.
How do you mourn someone who you have such mixed emotions about?
I loved him because he was my father. I have special memories, happy ones, of him from my childhood.
But I harbor an immense amount of resentment toward him because of his infidelity.
Had I not walked in on my father fucking another woman that day, things would be so different.
For one, my relationship with my mother might not be in shreds.
When I stumbled into Father's office and caught him in the midst of a tryst, I ran to Mother, disconsolate. I was only a boy, but I knew what I saw was wrong. But when I told my mother what I’d seen, she shot the proverbial messenger and blamed me.
Insisted I was lying or must have misinterpreted what I’d seen.
Since that day, her entire demeanor toward me changed, and our relationship soured irreparably when she sent me off to boarding school the following year.
Which, in turn, soured my relationship with my father because I blamed him for everything.
I never confronted him about it, especially since my conversation with Mother went so poorly, but I pulled away from him and started acting out.
Stumbling upon his affair forever altered the dynamics of our family. However, I still loved my father and yearned for his respect. It’s a fucked-up dichotomy. One I still haven’t figured out how to navigate.
But bringing up my father helps me find the strength to continue.
I made a promise to him that I would grow up and put the family first. My father may not have kept his vows to my mother, but I want to be a man of my word.
I've had over twenty-five years to sow my wild oats, and now it's time to step up and become a respectable member of the royal family.
Forcing a smile, I take Carisa’s clammy hand and lead her to a sofa.
Better to rip the plaster off.
"Carisa, will you date me?"
Christ, I had more planned to say, but apprehension caused my mind to go blank. The silence stretches on, as Carisa sits stiffly, staring at me in astonishment.
Trying to salvage the moment, I explain.
"It's not serious, or even real, mind you.
" Bollocks, I'm only making it worse. "I'm under pressure to portray the image that I'm a changed man.
A reliable man. A man ready for responsibility and power, and the Crown believes that one way to accomplish that is to debut a serious relationship. The only thing is—"
"You don't want one," Carisa guesses.
I nod slowly. "Correct. I don't, but I need one. Please, can we continue what we started at uni. A casual arrangement between friends, but to the outside world, we'll make it look more serious."
It's not what I want, but if I look at the situation rationally, it's not a bad deal. At least, not for me. Kill two birds with one stone. I can placate the palace by parading around a girlfriend, and Carisa and I can reignite our friends with benefits arrangement.
Although that benefit sounds a lot less appealing than it once did.
"No."
My head flies up. "No?" I query. "Why not? Are you dating someone else?"
"No, I'm not, but I'm not interested in being your arm candy, Nicholai."
"You'd be so much more than arm candy. You'd become a household name overnight. When we split up, we can leak the story that we grew apart or wanted different things in life. I wouldn't allow the media to disparage your reputation or blame you for our breakup, if that has you worried."
When her eyes flick up to meet mine, it's apparent how leery she feels.
"Can you elaborate on your reluctance?"
She sighs heavily. "I've only just begun my job, and I want to be taken seriously.
My corporation is comprised almost entirely of male employees.
The only other women who work there are secretaries and assistants.
It's been incredibly challenging trying to make my mark.
" Carisa knots her hands together in her lap.
"If I start dating you— the Playboy Prince—no one will take me seriously.
I'll stop being my own person and become your accessory or a puppet of the palace.
Becoming your girlfriend isn't conducive to longevity and advancement within my career, especially not within the financial sector. "
The truth hurts. Being in a relationship with a member of the royal family usually doesn't lead to furthering one's career, unless it's in a traditionally female-dominated industry, like party planning or fashion design.
I pull at my bottom lip, already knee-deep in the mental gymnastics required to convince Carisa. Standing, I pace the room. How can I make it worth her effort?
Breaking me from my reverie, Carisa continues, "I think it's best that we go our separate ways, Nicholai. I wish you well, but I can’t agree to your offer."
"What if I can promise you a senior advisor position in another investment firm?"
Carisa narrows her eyes skeptically. "How could you do that?"
"Father's best friend from childhood runs the largest securities firm in Belgrovinia.
They also have offices in Brussels and Paris, so you could work internationally if you prefer to leave the country.
" Sitting back down next to Carisa, I take her hand in mine, squeezing.
"If I pass him your resume, he'll hire you in a heartbeat.
Not because I ask him to, but because you're clever and capable and deserving. "
"If— and I do mean, if —I agree, then I'm taking sex off the table, Nicholai."
"Okay," I relent immediately, relieved by her request. Willa and I aren't together, and we never really were, but I'm not ready to move on. Having sex with someone other than Willa doesn't feel right.
"I'm serious, Nicholai. No sex." Carisa stares at me in disbelief as I eagerly nod my acquiescence. "I need rules and an expected duration for our relationship. I need it in writing that you'll help me get another, better job should it come to that."
"Done and done."
Over the next half hour, we negotiate and come to an agreement that suits us.
It's clear that Carisa remains concerned about potential ramifications to her career, so I pushed back the start date of our relationship by a month to give her more time to establish herself professionally.
It isn't much, but it's all the extra time I can offer with Mother breathing down my neck.
Alex never joined me in the solarium this evening so after a second drink, I meander through the deserted hallways and up the stairs toward my palace apartment.
Unfortunately, I run into my mother along the way.
And Gerald. As always, he hovers nearby, like a little puppy dog following his master.
"Mother, you'll be pleased to know that I asked a woman to play the part of my fake girlfriend this evening and she accepted."
"Really, Nicholai,” Mother tuts. “It's so crass to allude to it as being anything other than an authentic, loving relationship."
Good God, I cannot win with her. I run my hands down my face, frustrated.
"It isn't an authentic, loving relationship, Mother. It's an arrangement that I was forced into. Please don't pretend otherwise."
"Who is she?" Mother huffs crossly .
"Carisa Claridge."
Mother's eyebrows draw together as she inhales sharply. "Who? She wasn't on any of the lists, Nicholai."
"No, she wasn't."
She lobs a glower at me.
I scratch the back of my neck, uncomfortable to admit the next bit. "Carisa and I had a series of previous…liaisons during uni. I thought it best to restart our previous relationship, rather than select a stranger from a list."
"Which is exactly why I had you meet every single woman before choosing! So that they wouldn't be strangers," Mother screeches. "This is a disaster, Nicholai. I will not allow it. You cannot have your university tart pose as your girlfriend!"
"Mother!" I bark, irritated. "Carisa is not a bloody tart."
"Well, I have nothing to go on other than your self-proclaimed lurid history with her. Previous liaisons, you say!" Mother scoffs. Gerald places his hand on her shoulder, giving her a reassuring squeeze.
Hmm, maybe he's more like an emotional support animal than a puppy dog.
"Nicholai, I will need to have a full investigative report on her before you can publicly associate with her."
Gerald scribbles something down in a small diary, probably adding Carisa’s name onto his to-do list.
"Fine." Annoying, but fine. I resume the path that leads to my palace apartment.