Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“My parents expect me to get married sooner rather than later and produce the next heir.”
Jackson doesn’t say anything. In fact, so much time goes by with a heavy silence surrounding us, I think he might have fallen asleep.
I need to get up and use the restroom, so I start to tug away from his embrace, but his arms tighten. “You’re just expected to get married and have a kid?”
“Well, not like the day after my twenty-fifth birthday. But yes, carrying on the royal line is an important tradition. My parents expect it. It’s why they keep trying to push Marius and me together, even though we have both told them it’s never going to happen.”
“He’s a suitable match for a husband?” Jackson asks lightly.
I hesitate in answering; this conversation is getting uncomfortable. “Ideally, tradition calls for our line to mix with another royal line. Historically, that is the first preference. But someone who is suitably accomplished—”
Jackson interrupts. “And by accomplished, you mean wealthy?”
“Yes,” I state flatly. “Wealthy enough to run in the same circles as my family.”
Jackson’s voice is tight. “Do you have a certain age by which you are expected or required to marry? Pop out a kid?”
I laugh, even though I don’t feel the humor, but it cuts the tension. “Silly Americans … popping out kids. You make me sound like a vending machine. No, there is no requirement or age deadline. Merely parental pressure to perform my duty to carry on the bloodline, but also because my parents want the joy of becoming grandparents.”
“But you’re only just turning twenty-five,” he points out.
“Agreed, and I honestly don’t see myself having children until I’m at least thirty, maybe even a little older. I’ve got a lot of responsibilities that make for hectic days. When I become a mom, I’m not going to let nannies raise my child. I want to be actively involved. So that’s off in the distance.”
“But marriage may not be? Your parents would like to see that sooner rather than later.”
“That they would,” I murmur. They would most definitely be happy if I would just find someone to marry.
Jackson clears his throat as if he wants to say something but he’s not sure he should. I wait him out, and finally, he asks, “Are you actually allowed to fall in love with someone? Or will your father pick a suitable man for you?”
I snort with laughter and playfully push on his chest. “You read too much People magazine. Of course, I’ll be able to marry for love. It’s just that the pool of men I have to choose from is a lot smaller than most women’s.”
Jackson laughs in return and squeezes me. “Hey, I saw how that worked out for Diana and Charles. Not very well.”
“Well, the Bretarian monarchy is nothing like the British. My parents are a bit more progressive.”
Jackson loosens his hold and leans back so he can look down at me. His eyes are somber, but I see a deep tenderness within. “It’s my hope for you, Camille, that you find the greatest love of your life when it comes time to make that commitment. You deserve no less.”
I feel like it may be the greatest lie ever told in the history of lies, but I manage a glorious smile in return. “Thank you for saying that. It’s my greatest hope too.”
But I know that hope will never come to fruition, because what has been plaguing me these last several days is that I’m pretty sure the greatest love of my life is lying in bed with me right now, and there is no way we can ever be together.
CHAPTER 21
Jackson
There are definitely two Camilles.
When I first got this assignment, I assumed there would only be one—a spoiled, bratty, entitled pain in the ass who would make my life a living hell.
She never turned out to be that.
On the contrary, throughout our travels in the United States, she proved to be genuine, humble, and down-to earth with a heart the size of Texas.
But now that we’re back in Bretaria, and I’m seeing her in her daily duties, I realize there is another Camille to behold.
Not a mere princess but a true representative of the crown. Someone who is stately, elegant, and gracious at all times. She is regal beyond measure and politically adept in all instances and yet refuses to let anyone treat her with less than the respect she deserves as a member of the royal family. On the business side, I’ve seen an inexhaustible work ethic, the ability to be magnanimous, but also the confidence to be ruthless when necessary.
She’s almost twenty-five going on fifty in her wisdom, grace, and abilities.
Every morning, I escort Camille to her private offices. I had my clothing moved into her room, and we get ready for our day together. That usually involves quality time in the shower, or me bending her over her bathroom vanity while she’s trying to do her makeup, but in the past four days since we’ve been back in Bretaria, no one has said a damn word about me coming out of her room every morning. The two agents stationed in the hallway each night don’t even make eye contact, and I’m not sure if that’s proper manners or if Dmitri has warned them all to mind their own business. He’s sort of inferred to me that as long as I do my job well, he doesn’t give a fuck what we do in our personal time.