29. Willa
Chapter twenty-nine
Willa
“ I ’ll do it.”
What have I just agreed to?
When I ran into Nick in the hallway, he looked so upset. I shouldn't have openly embraced Nick, out where anyone could see us, but I acted on instinct.
However, the look of disdain on Queen Beatrice's face when she saw us stopped me in my tracks.
Perfectly coiffed and dressed in a navy blue fitted sheath dress, sky high heels, and more diamond jewelry than a Harry Winston showroom, the queen looks every bit the haughty woman that Nick has warned me about.
Her dismissive attitude caused my cheeks to burn with shame. Ignoring my presence was hurtful, but when she called me a Hollywood harlot in one breath and then propositioned me to be her son's fake girlfriend the next…that was humiliating.
Her open hostility heightened my insecurities and ramped up my anxiety. Cold dread washed down my back, quickly followed by the heated flush of emotions. My heartrate spiked and my breathing accelerated.
But then, like a switch was flipped inside my brain, every anxious thought inside me transmuted into white-hot anger when I heard Queen Beatrice berate and disparage her son, the man with whom I'm falling in love.
I refused to standby and allow his mother's degradation to continue.
The way she treated me was embarrassed, but the way she treated Nick infuriated me, driving me to protect him.
Even if that meant sacrificing myself.
But now, I wonder if I made the right decision. My heart cannot survive another bruising.
Yet, when I look at Nick, I see a future.
My future.
Our future.
I see Nick sitting next to me, with his hand on my thigh, as he drives through the countryside.
I envision engagement and wedding rings gracing the fourth finger of my left hand.
I imagine Nick holding me every night in bed as we fall asleep, our bodies entwined.
I picture Nick on the floor of our living room as our children tumble over him, his fingers tickling their chubby tummies as their combined laughter fills the air.
I want that version of our future so badly that it physically pains me to contemplate it because it’s far-fetched and fantastical given who Nick and I are as individuals.
I am a famous actress known worldwide for my movie roles.
And Nick is a freaking prince! There’s virtually no chance that we can have any sort of normal life together.
Though we've reconnected since my arrival in Belgrovinia, we've largely shied away from discussing our future. Our connection to one another is strong, but our relationship is new. To debut it on the world stage is a terrifying thing to consider.
I'm worried. But when I open my mouth to tell Nick that I’m second-guessing things, I notice the optimistic glimmer in his eyes has returned. The upturn of his lips. The cessation of his clenching jaw.
I've made him happy, and God, does he make me happy.
He may be the playboy prince, but he’s my playboy prince.
I’m not ready to say goodbye, and I would have to say goodbye to him if his mother forces him to select another woman to pose as his girlfriend.
We're herded to a group of chairs. I sit quietly as I listen to Nick's mother hash out the details. The nondisclosure agreements. The public dates. The joint media interviews. The galas and political dinners and fundraisers and events.
From there, Queen Beatrice moves onto the importance of etiquette.
Propriety and protocols. As I will now be an extension of the royal family, I must adhere to their ways of behaving.
No short dresses. No public displays of affection.
No autographs. No selfies. No casual clothing.
No personal discussions in public settings.
The longer I sit listening to Queen Beatrice recite the rich heritage of the royal family and the rules by which they must abide, I want to stand up and scream. I get it, I do. The royal family is important and preserving their legacy is imperative, but…
I just want Nick to say something. Anything! Tell me that this farcical plan isn't actually a farce. That what we have together is real. That his feelings mirror my own.
But Nick sits rigidly in his seat, chiming in only when directly addressed. Beyond his initial relief, he's not given me anything else. No reassurance. No support. Not even a smile or a glance in my direction.
What happened to the man I had sex with only hours ago?
The man who was so in tune with my body and my mind.
The man who commanded my pleasure and took me to new heights.
The man who held me last night as we fell asleep.
The man who innately understands what I need before I even do myself.
Where is he? Because he certainly isn't sitting with me now.
I watch Nick from out of the corner of my eye. His impassive expression gives nothing away, leaving me confused.
Did I do the wrong thing when I volunteered to be his fake girlfriend? I thought he was appreciative and happy when I agreed. But now, I'm unsure.
A knock on the door interrupts Queen Beatrice's latest monologue on proper decorum. An older man enters, the same one from the hallway earlier. "I apologize for interrupting, Your Majesty, but it's time for Prince Nicholai's phone conference with King Alexander and the Prime Minister, ma'am."
"Of course, Gerald. Thank you," the queen replies kindly, a genuine smile gracing her face.
This brief exchange with Gerald is the first time I've witnessed the Queen interact without disdain. Apparently, she has the ability to be polite and decent; she just chooses not to behave that way with Nick.
God, and I thought my mum and I had a complicated relationship.
After Nick leaves, I stand to make my exit. Sitting here for one more minute sounds excruciating.
When I'm in the doorway of the study, the Queen warns, "Don't allow yourself to get caught up in Nicholai's web. He looks like his father, and he also acts like him. A charming lothario, persuasive and seductive, but he's fickle. Nicholai's interest in you is fleeting. Remember that."
My mouth opens to supply a witty or caustic retort, but I have none at the ready. She's Nick's mother. Surely, she must know him far better than I do. I shut my mouth, opting to stay silent.
"The press didn't nickname Nicholai the Prince of Hearts without good reason." She smiles, but it's cold, not meant to offer kindness.
"I know what I'm getting into," I insist, fighting to keep my voice even as I'm swamped with battling emotions.
Is Nick's interest in me fleeting? When the novelty of dating me wears off, will he move on to someone else?
Queen Beatrice emits a soft noise, somewhere between a scoff and a chuckle. "If you say so. Don't come crying to me when this sham ends and you've had your heart trampled because you fell for him."
Too late.
Later that night, I cautiously open the door and peek my head out. After glancing around and seeing no one, I tiptoe out of his room, quietly closing the door behind me. It's late and I don't want to disturb anyone.
Nor do I want to arouse any suspicions if someone sees me exiting his room.
Making my way down the winding corridor, I pull my long cardigan tighter around my body to combat the chill that seeps out of the ancient stone walls of the castle.
When I reach my room, I push open the door and slip inside.
Then I turn, slumping against the back of the door and close my eyes with a sigh.
I'm so confused. I waited for Nick to come to my room after dinner, but he never did. I was jittery and stir-crazy. I felt like I was going insane, so I snuck down to Jasper's room and told him everything. I needed someone to listen and make me feel better about the situation .
Jasper sort of made me feel better. He's convinced that Nick has feelings for me. However, Jasper theorized that part of my appeal to Nick was based on the assumption that his mum wouldn't approve of him dating me. Now that she's on board with the idea, Jasper fears that Nick might lose interest.
So, yeah, Jasper didn't actually make me feel any better.
"Dammit," I groan softly.
"What, or who, are you damning, my darling?"
Nick's voice startles me, and I shriek. My hand flies to my chest as my eyes pop open. Wearing only loose pajama bottoms, Nick is sprawled casually across my bed. He lounges on his back, his beautiful torso on display, with his hands bracketed behind his head.
God, he's gorgeous.
A knowing smirk plays across his lips when he catches me staring.
"Willa, darling, are you capable of speech or have I rendered you mute again?"
With the grace of a lion, he rises from the bed and advances toward me.
Stopping when he reaches me, his hand stretches out to rest under my chin.
His thumb strokes my neck before he slips his hand to the nape of my neck and tugs me into his arms. With my face pressed against his bare chest, I hear the calming cadence of Nick's heartbeat.
A sense of relaxation washes over me…until I hear his next words.
"Willa, we need to talk."
Dread churns in my gut as I extricate myself from his embrace. I look up at him, the worry evident on my face. "Talk?" I repeat dully.
Caressing my cheek, Nick shakes his head. "Not that kind of talk, darling. But we do need to discuss what happened today. What you agreed to."
"You mean fake dating?" I ask stupidly. What else could he be talking about?
"The public scrutiny will be like nothing you've experienced previously. I'm worried you don't fully understand what you've agreed to. Do you really want to do it? Are you sure?” He asks tentatively, as if he’s privy to my inner turmoil. "It's okay if you've had second thoughts, Willa."
"Do you not want me to do it? Are you having second thoughts?"