Chapter 10 #2
She blinked at him. “Could you repeat yourself? Please?”
He swallowed. “I asked you to be my fiancée for a year.”
“I thought you did,” she nodded. “I really thought you did. But then I thought, why the fuck would you ask me to do that?”
“Well… there are, ah, several reasons…” He sat back in his seat, clearing his throat.
“Is this a joke?” she asked sharply. “Because it’s not very funny. I just had photographers crawling over my car like ants, and I am waiting, just waiting for a hysterical call from my mother—”
“It’s not a joke,” he interrupted. “I told you; I need your help.”
“Well, no, you didn’t say that at all. You said a load of mysterious, complicated shit that made no sense whatsoever—”
“Maybe you just weren’t listening.”
“And maybe you’re shit at explaining things. ”
He smiled, sudden and unexpected. “You’re right. I am terrible at explaining things. I have no finesse.”
“Really? I would’ve said your problem was getting to the point.”
“Fine.” He held out his hands as if in supplication. “The point is this: I need a fiancée—specifically, you—because of yesterday’s shit-show. And, yes, I realise it was mostly my fault.”
“Completely your fault.”
He winked at her. Actually winked at her. “Well, maybe. But I never take full responsibility if I can help it.”
“Wow. You really are a prince.”
“Yep. Now, I realise there’s not much in this deal for you—”
“There’s nothing in this deal for me.”
“—So I added a financial incentive.”
Cherry paused. She looked down at the paper in her hands. Then she flicked through, faster and faster, until she came to the part that mattered.
The number on the page made her brows shoot up. Then Ruben leant over and shook his head. “No, that’s not it. That’s how much I’m going to give you if you refuse.”
Her head snapped up. “I beg your pardon?”
“If you don’t sign. That’s the amount I’m giving you anyway, you know, to make up for the probable media fall-out.” He shook his head, flicking forward another few pages. “But you forfeit that if you sign, and instead you get this. ”
She blinked. “Isn’t that the same amount?”
“Monthly.”
Cherry stared.
Her mind ran through calculations in a split second. Maggie’s healthcare fees in the States—her blood transfusions, her antibiotics, her hydroxycarbamide—and the tuition fees that her scholarships didn’t cover…
Cherry could pay them. Easily.
No more debt. No more panic. Her whole family—her parents, her uncle and her aunts—could stop pouring all their money into Maggie’s education and healthcare, could stop hiding the way it gutted them all.
And her sister could continue to live the life she deserved, without worrying about her illness.
But it couldn’t be that easy. Could it?
She licked her lips, which felt suddenly dry. “I don’t know if an engagement with me would… would help you avoid a scandal. Or whatever it is you want.”
He crossed his arms, watching her with all the patience in the world. “And why not? Please, explain.”
“Well...” She floundered, awkward. What did he want her to do? Lay out all the things about herself that most of society found distasteful? Remind them all that she wasn’t considered princess material? Fuck that.
But then he pushed. “Tell me. What is it about you that’s so terrible?”
“Nothing,” she said immediately. “I’m fine. I’m great. Doesn’t mean everyone else sees me that way. You’re a prince, and I’m, you know, normal.” She winced. “No offence. Plus, I’m not really considered ladylike. Because…” She waved vaguely down at her body.
He followed the motion of her hand, his eyes cool and assessing as they travelled over her. Then he said, his voice bland, “I see no issue.”
She glared. “Jesus fucking Christ, you’re annoying.”
“So I’m told. Really, stop worrying. I know how these things work.”
“Believe me,” she said grimly, “so do I.”
He sighed. “Cherry… People, generally speaking, are amoral, arse-licking hypocrites. If you’re some woman I kissed in an alley, they’ll despise you; once you’re a princess-to-be, they’ll discover boundless liberal sentiment.
I’ll be a pioneer of the modern age. You see what they’re saying about your country’s royal family, don’t you? ”
She set her jaw, refusing to allow that point. “But I’m not a princess-to-be. I haven’t agreed to this.”
“But you will,” he said softly. “If you weren’t going to, you’d have told me so already. Wouldn’t you?”
Cherry looked at the contract. She looked at her hands.
She remembered her mother’s face two years ago, the day Maggie had received her acceptance letter from Harvard.
She remembered the last time she’d stayed with her parents, over Christmas, when they’d refused to turn the central heating on. Acting like they didn’t need to.
When really they couldn’t .
She said, “How do I know this contract is real?”
“You know it’s real,” he said calmly. “But it’s just a draft of the version we would sign, should you agree to this. I’m sure you understand it.”
She pressed her lips together. She worked in HR; so yes, she could read a damned contract. But she relied on people assuming that she couldn’t. It was always easier to control a situation when no-one thought you were capable of doing so.
“Take a look,” he said, nodding towards the papers in her lap. “See if the whole arrangement is to your satisfaction.”
She flicked through, scanning each page with an ease born of practice. It wasn’t the kind of document she came across often, but that didn’t really matter. These things were all based on the same principles, and she knew those principles like the back of her hand.
It wasn’t tricky. There was no double-talk, nothing to suggest he was trying to confuse or manipulate her.
Just basic terms, caveats, detailed specifics.
They would remain engaged for a year, at which point she would leave him —interesting.
During that year, she would be bound by the same obligations as he was, so far as royal duties went.
Royal duties —wasn’t that a fucking trip?
She’d spend most of her time in Helgm?re, but not all of it.
She could visit with family whenever she wanted for up to two weeks at a time.
She couldn’t tell anyone of their agreement, blah blah blah…
Cherry looked up. “You know you’ve forced me into this. You understand that, right?”
He looked stricken. “I— ”
“You let me think you were just some guy. You kissed me knowing that something like this could happen. Then you opened your big mouth and made it happen. You have all the power in the fucking world compared to me, and I…” She huffed out a laugh. “I need money. Have you ever needed money?”
His face was solemn as he said, “No. I have never needed money.”
“Lucky fucking you.” She stared down at the contract. “I don’t want to do this.”
“Cherry—”
“But I’m going to. I’m going to lie to everyone I know, lie to the world.
” Just the thought of it turned her stomach.
“And you’re going to pay me. And in a year, I will walk away and do my best to pretend this never happened, even though everything about me will have changed.
So just know that I will sign this contract, and I will fulfil my obligations, but…
you and me? That’s not happening. Not even a little bit. Not anymore.”
He swallowed, hard. Nodded. And said, “Yes. I understand. I do.”
“Good.” She slapped the contract into his lap. “So we’re going to Helgm?re, then?”
“As soon as possible, yes.”
“Crap.” Various problems sprang to mind, though they seemed mundane in light of what she’d just agreed to. “I’ll have to take Whiskey, obviously. God, I’ll have to quit my job. Rose will be scandalised. But I’ll never have to work with Chris again.” She smiled. “Hm. Silver linings, and all that…”
Ruben leaned forward, his brow furrowed as he asked, “Whiskey?”
Oh, right. “My cat,” Cherry explained.
Ruben sighed. “I see.”