Page 22 of Striking
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Atticus pouring a glass of scotch before he drops down onto the couch and kicks his feet up on the coffee table. For just once in my life, I’d like to enjoy being the spare instead of the heir.
With my frustration growing, I fold the paper and hand it back to Grandfather. “It’s an old picture. Clara is just a friend.”
The woman in my arms wasn’t even my date. She was my best friend’s. The one Josselyn can’t date publicly, thanks to her old-school, narrow-minded, aristocratic asshole family. One steeped nearly as deeply in tradition as my own.
“She’s a commoner, Rhys” he groans. “A bartender. It’s like you kids are trying to be the death of me. First your sister goes and breaks off her engagement to the douchey duke and marries the American mob prince. And now you...” He finally sits down behind his desk, refusing to use the cane as his doctors insist.
Atticus chuckles, and Grandfather glares. “Do you think I don’t know what you all called him? I was as glad as the rest of you when she broke that off. I just wish she’d gone about it a different way.”
He’d shared it with me in confidence, one night, but judging by the way he chokes on his scotch, I’m not sure he’d ever told Atticus.
“My boy, it’s time.” His anger softens as my future shrinks to the size of a pin head. “You need to find a partner. Someone who can help you bear the weight you’re going to have one day, because they’ll be the only one who can.” I hate when he talks like this. Knowing what the future holds and being forced to realize it’s closer than you want it to be are two very different things.
It was supposed to be my mother next.
I was going to have a lifetime before I had to think about these things.
Before my birthright was going to become my entire life.
“Your sister’s marriage has put a magnifying glass on this family. The eyes of Mornea and the entire world are watching us.” He looks between Atticus and me and shakes his head before narrowing his eyes on me. “Especially you, lad. You are the future king. It’s time.”
“Time for what?” I regret the question the moment the words leave my mouth.
“To find a wife.”
BELLAMY
We’re not in Kroydon Hills anymore, Toto.
—Bellamy’s Secret Thoughts
Ihad every intention of taking a quick shower, but six body sprays, two rain heads, and a shower filled with luxurious vanilla mint shampoo, conditioner, and body wash later, and I decided there was no real need for quick. I traveled to another country for him. I’m pretty sure Rhys won’t be mad if I take a little extra time for me. And maybe for him too.
Time that included shaving, buffing, and moisturizing every inch of my body.
Just in case.
In case of what exactly, I’m not sure.
Okay, that’s a lie. Because whenever I think of our almost kiss... any one of them, goosebumps break out over my skin, followed immediately by a sinking feeling and an echoing voiceasking me what the hell I think I’m doing here,in Mornea, with a prince.
I am so screwed.
Once my hair is dry, I walk out of the bathroom, with a fluffy, white towel wrapped around me—oh shit—and scream.
Two women sit on my bed with matching amused looks on their faces while they wait patiently for me to calm down, like this is a common occurrence. What the actual fuck? “Who are you?”
Talk about déjà vu. Good thing there aren’t any textbooks close by.
“You must be Rhys’s American.” The tiny blonde with the accent I’m becoming all too familiar with cocks her head to the side appraisingly. “You’re even prettier than the pictures I found online.”
“Pictures?” Oh my God. What?
“Relax. Joss fancies herself a bit of a cyberstalker.” The brunette pulls the blonde’s hair until the blonde looks at her. I guess the blonde is Joss. “You’re freaking the poor girl out, baby.”
At least Joss looks genuinely upset by that. “Sorry. I’m just so excited that Rhys is actually interested enough in someone to bring them around us. I guess I got a little carried away.” She pops up off the bed, and umm... I think my towel might cover more than her dress. Not that she doesn’t have the body to pull it off because she absolutely does. She’s gorgeous in a Tinker Bell kind of way—tiny and curvy with a whole lot of attitude. “Let’s do this again. I’m Josselyn, Rhys’s oldest friend in the world, and this gorgeous goddess is Clara.”
“Her girlfriend,” Clara adds with a wink.
