Chapter Eight #3
And he would have her. He would lose himself inside her again once she told him the truth about everything.
About his brother and whatever else she was hiding.
Because no matter what she said, no matter how brutal the truth was, he would still want her.
If the truth really was that brutal, he would simply exact his revenge by making her want him.
He would make her pay in pleasure. He would make her so needy that she would come back to him, again and again, no matter what he did. Or who he was.
He would keep her coming back to him until he was sated with her. And then he would end it. That was always the plan. Right now, it didn’t sit well with him, but he reassured himself that it would be what he wanted in time.
“You’re quiet this evening,” she said. “Planning for my beheading tomorrow?”
He smiled despite himself. “I’m afraid my thoughts are much baser.”
And he saw that flash of desire cut through her well-trained exterior before she looked away. Did she feel how easily it was to get carried away with this constant hum of want between them?
“But tomorrow you’ll do it?”
“Likely,” he said with a shrug, though the idea seemed to sink in his stomach.
“And after your big reveal tomorrow, when you wage an outright war against your father and brother, what happens next?”
He had the strangest urge to lie, to tell her something that soothed her. He resisted that urge.
“I plan to call a closed session with Parliament, which my father and brother are welcome to attend, and I will lay out my cards. I can wield control over the private money from your father’s wealth, and I am a majority owner in the utilities, which I took over when my father lost interest in my projects.
I will announce that I will allow my father to be a figurehead, with a fixed allowance, which will satisfy those who still have a sense of nostalgia for the monarchy, but I will make it clear that he is forever to be on my leash.
My brother is welcome to follow my example and learn to manage the royal finances for the good of the country, but if he messes up, I will always be ready to step in again. ”
Gustav believed that Edvin was as cold and self-serving as his father, but he would give Edvin a chance to prove that he could manage to be less self-indulgent than the king.
Gustav wasn’t sure what response he was expecting—outrage? Disappointment? She only blinked mildly at him. “And then what?”
“Then I’ll continue with my vision without the interference of my father. And I look forward to witnessing how the press reconciles the fact that the much-maligned Bastard Spare has saved the nation from financial ruin.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “And from then on, you will live happily ever after?”
He frowned at the question.
“Was there ever a way we could have been happy together?” she asked.
He didn’t like the way she spoke in the past tense, even if he didn’t intend to make this permanent.
Still, he found himself looking back to the time he had once asked himself this question, too.
And yet he had chosen his role as prince.
His country. He had chosen to fight, as he had told himself many times.
“This plan is not about my happiness, Livia.”
“Yes, I know—it’s about justice.” She waved away this idea. “It’s just that if this were a movie, I might have mistaken you for the villain.”
He gritted his teeth. “Except I am the one who actually has our country’s interests in mind.”
“Says you.” She gave him a version of that careful smile, but this one had a twist of irony. “You are angry about the way this country’s fate rests on your father’s whims, and I can respect that. But are you toppling him only to have it rest on yours?”
The accusation was a stab he wasn’t expecting. “I am not my father.”
“Don’t you want to be free of him?” she said, and there was a plea in her voice. “Free of all this?”
She gestured at the cabin of the boat, where cooks and housekeepers and personal assistants waited to serve then. And for a moment, he wanted that, too, to be free of it all. But that would mean giving up everything he had ever worked for.
“There is no such thing as free,” he said with a scowl.
“There’s always someone who grows my food or builds the roads where I drive or the electrical connections I rely on.
People call freedom the distance from the faceless person who picks our vegetables.
But it’s all a lie. Anyone who thinks they can detach from the world is deluding themself. ”
It was meant to be an insult, a warning to back away, and yet she didn’t flinch. In fact, he might have caught a scoff. “Says the man who enjoys the seamless luxury onboard a royal yacht.”
“I never claimed to want freedom,” he growled.
“Just the endless satisfaction of revenge,” she said with a hint of mocking in her voice.
But he had had enough of her provocations.
“I think it’s time to return to the bedroom.” He gave her a dark smile. “It’s time to hear the story of how you decided to marry my brother.”