Chapter 10
LOUIS
For the first time in years, I wake up before my alarm without feeling existential dread. I focus on the golden strands of sunlight pouring through the crack in the curtains, and instead of getting up to close them, I replay last night.
I slowly unbuttoned Addison’s cream dress, and as I touched her, she arched into me. My greedy girl needed to come undone, and while I wanted to give her everything, I couldn’t go through with it.
I place my feet on the floor and stretch before moving into the shower. The water runs hot over me. I stand with my eyes closed, and my thoughts fill with her. I remember how she looked up at me from my couch with soaked panties. How her hips lifted toward me like she couldn’t help herself.
Before I can think about anything else, I’m hard. My cock throbs with anticipation.
I try to redirect my thoughts to trade negotiations, agricultural yields, and the land dispute meeting I have this afternoon, but my mind keeps dragging me back to the warmth of her skin. Fuck, I can almost hear the soft sounds she made when I touched her.
My hand wraps around myself. I stroke slowly while trying to maintain some semblance of control, but I fail. I imagine her eyes, hazy and fixed on my face, like I was the only man in the world who existed.
My grip tightens, and my pace quickens, and I realize I’m no longer in control. That should terrify me, but all I can think about is what it would feel like to be inside her, to have her broken gasps turn into my name.
I brace my free hand against the wall because my knees are threatening to give out. The water pounds against my back, and steam fills my lungs as I stroke faster now, chasing relief.
I think about her face when she told me she was choosing the adventure anyway, like I’m worth the risk. No one has ever looked at me like that and decided the real me was enough.
The orgasm rips through me without warning, and I bite down on my lip to keep from groaning her name.
My body shudders as wave after wave rolls through me.
It’s violent, more intense than I expected.
I stand there, shaking, with water streaming over me and my hand still wrapped around myself, completely wrecked.
“Fuck,” I whisper, leaning my head against the wall.
What the hell is happening to me?
I’ve spent my best years keeping women at arm’s length.
I’ve perfected the art of charming them without connecting, giving everyone else enough to be satisfied without ever letting them in.
It’s safer and easier because the Crown demands a queen, not a love story.
But one night with Addison, and I’m spiraling.
I turn off the water and grab a towel, drying off while I stare at my reflection in the fogged-up mirror.
The man looking back at me is more exposed, like something has cracked open.
I should be worried and create distance to protect us both from what will happen.
Instead, I’m calculating how many hours I have until I see her again.
The palace is quiet as I make my way to my office. A few staff members bow as I pass. I’m earlier than usual and still buzzing from the shower. I’d hoped it would clear my mind, but no luck. My thoughts keep circling back to her, even though I need to focus on the day ahead.
As I pass the chessboard, I realize it’s my turn. I read her note.
I like the real you.
Last night changed something in me, and I don’t know how to put that into words. She’s not the kind of woman who wants poetry or grand declarations.
Finally, I settle on something simple.
You’re on my mind.
I tuck it beneath her queen and stare at the board like it holds answers I can’t find anywhere else.
She’ll walk through this corridor on her morning rounds, and she’ll see that I moved a piece.
She’ll read my words, and maybe, if I’m lucky, she’ll smile.
This is the first time I’ve felt alive in years. I need to get a fucking grip.
I walk away, but my body feels different, lighter and more awake, like I’ve been sleepwalking through my life until now.
The morning drags as I review manufacturing reports and trade negotiations and read over the details of a land dispute between noble families that’s been festering for four generations.
I sit at the head of the table and nod in the right places and sign documents where I’m told, but none of it registers as I go through the motions.
My secretary keeps glancing at me like he’s waiting for me to say something, and I realize I’ve been smiling, daydreaming about her.
“Is everything all right, Your Highness?”
“Never better,” I tell him, and I oddly mean it.
By noon, I’ve rescheduled two afternoon meetings, so I’ll have time to prepare before seeing Addison at five.
I take lunch at my desk so I can eat in peace.
The sandwich tastes better than usual; the sparkling water is crisp and cold.
Even the sunlight streaming through my office windows seems brighter.
There’s a knock on my door.
“Enter,” I say, sitting up straighter.
My father’s secretary appears with that rigid posture that always signals trouble. “Your Royal Highness, the king and queen request your presence in the formal sitting room.”
My appetite vanishes. “When?”
“Immediately, sir.”
I push back from my desk and leave the half-eaten sandwich abandoned. “Did they say what this concerns?”
“No, sir.”
The walk to the sitting room feels like a march to my execution.
Each step echoes against the marble floors, and I know my parents only summon me in the middle of the day when something serious is happening.
When I push open the door and see them sitting side by side, wearing matching expressions, I know this is about the arrangement.
The room smells like my mother’s jasmine perfume and tea that’s steeped too long. A grandfather clock ticks in the corner, counting down seconds I suddenly want to freeze.
My father doesn’t bother with pleasantries. “Sit down, Louis.”
I lower myself into the chair across from them and cross my ankle over my knee, forcing my posture to stay relaxed even though every muscle in my body is tense.
“The council met this morning without you. They’ve lost confidence in you, and frankly, so have I,” my mother says.
I keep my face neutral even though my pulse is racing.
“We’re trying something different.” My dad’s voice is gentler than my mother’s, but it’s just as serious. “Seven women are traveling to Montclaire as we speak. They’ll stay in the north wing.”
“You’re bringing them here? Why? I can travel.”
“No more of that.” My father stands and moves to the window. “You’ll have meals, activities, and real conversation. No more one-hour meetings, where you dismiss them before the main course arrives.”
“And then?”
He turns to face me. “You’ll choose one to continue courting, one you will propose to, or we’ll choose for you.”
My adrenaline rushes, and I know I can’t outrun this. I knew this day would arrive, but living it is more of a nightmare than I expected.
“I need more time,” I say, and I hate how desperate it sounds.
“You’ve used it all.” My mother rises and crosses to stand beside my father. “The test results we received this morning have shown the cancer has progressed.”
I glance between them. “Get more treatments.”
“No,” my father says. “I’m tired, Louis. I don’t want more treatments, more medicine, more blood work.”
“Please,” I whisper.
He shakes his head and looks away from me. “Starting tomorrow, your official duties are on pause. You need to concentrate on finding a wife. You will be charming and present. And at the end of it, you will make a choice.”
“Or you’ll make it for me.”
“We will,” he says with regret in his tone.
I think about Addison in her cottage, completely unaware that my entire life has shifted beneath my feet.
I have two weeks to pick a wife, and in two weeks, the artist competition will end. If she wins, she’ll become the royal portrait artist, which means she’ll paint my future wife, my wedding, and my children. She’ll be forced to watch from the sidelines while I build a life with someone else.
Either way, I’ll lose her.
“The welcome dinner is tomorrow evening,” my mother says. “Please be on time, and please be pleasant. These women will have traveled a long way, and many of them are very excited to meet you.”
I nod because my throat has closed and words won’t come.
She moves toward me and places her hand on my shoulder. “I know you don’t think you’re capable of falling in love. You might be surprised by what happens when you actually try.”
I want to tell her I’ve found someone who makes me feel alive. But everything I want is impossible.
“I’ll be there,” I say instead.
I leave before my face can betray me.
The hallway stretches ahead as I walk without direction, burning off the restless energy building beneath my skin. An hour ago, I was planning what shirt to wear to impress Addison, and now I’m trying to figure out how to face her, knowing that everything between us has gotten more complicated.
Except I can’t tell her because the arrangement is confidential. I’m legally prohibited from discussing this with anyone outside the family, and breaking that rule would mean breaking promises I made to my parents, the council, and my country.
I end up at the chessboard, and my note is still there, tucked beneath her queen, where I left it this morning.
She must be busy working. I should spare us both from pretending we could have something that was never possible.
The smart move would be to create distance and let this thing between us cool before we both melt.
The hours until five crawl by. I try to work and fail, flipping through the same document four times without absorbing a word, then I change my shirt. At four forty-five, I head to the conservatory because staying away isn’t an option.