Page 74 of Handle Me

His momentary hesitance was the moment I needed. I seized it.

“You’re just making this up as you fucking go,” I accused. My hands balled into fists as if waiting for a chance to take a swing. It wouldn’t be the first time things had come to blows between us. “What the hell is this about?”

But he didn’t rise to meet my fury. Instead, he folded his hands in his lap and looked blandly at me. “There’s no need to fight it. It’s already been done.”

“And if I refuse?” Royals could walk away. I was pretty sure that some had done it over the years.

“You won’t.” His eyes sparked, giving away that he wasn’t nearly as composed as he was acting. “You are now His Royal Highness Anderson Stone, Duke of Edinburgh.”

“Fuck you.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Lola will be pleased,” he muttered, and I hated him even more. He didn’t know her, but it was clear he thought he did.

“Don’t fucking talk about my girlfriend,” I snarled.

“So, she is your girlfriend?” he asked. “I thought she was supposed to handle you. I didn’t know that included fucking you.”

I took a step toward him, my breath ragged as I tried not to lose it. “Say that again.”

He smirked at me. “People are going to say a lot of things you don’t like about your relationship. It’s part of the package, and something you need to get used to now you’re a member of the royal family.”

I didn’t want to think about that. Not now. It was all I could do not to punch him in his smug fucking face right now. Was this what it was going to be like to be part of his family? Alexander making decisions without my permission, and then acting superior all the time?

“I’m not discussing this with you.” I turned on my heel and grabbed the door. “And don’t think I won’t walk away.”

“You actually think you have a choice, don’t you?” He sounded amused in a hollow, tired way, but I didn’t turn around. I didn’t want to see his face. “Believe me, none of us have a choice. But I’m actually doing you a favor.”

“I really don’t give a fuck what you think, Alexander.” I moved toward the door. I’d wait for Lola outside. I couldn’t stand the idea of being in the same building with him.

“There’s another option,” he said, and I paused. “Break up with her.”

I turned slowly, his words like a slow burn on my skin. My fists clenched at my sides. “Why would I do that?”

“Because you hate me, you hate this life, and you’re going to force her firmly into it,” he said, and I wanted to punch him again. “And if she becomes part of this family, she will never be safe. They’ll follow her, photograph her, belittle her, endanger her. You will spend every minute hating yourself for making her into the thing you hate the most.”

“And what is that?” I growled.

“One of us.”

Our eyes locked and there was no avoiding it now. No avoiding those eyes we shared. No avoiding that we were more similar than we wanted to admit. No avoiding that we were bound by blood, like it or not. And right now, I definitely did not.

“I’ll never be one of you.”

He laughed, the sound devoid of any mirth. It rang through the air like a death knell. “You already are, brother.”

“Over my dead body.” I moved closer to him. He didn’t flinch. Why would he? We were the same. The same rage boiling inside me burned inside him. He might be my brother, and I might have a title and whatever bullshit that came with that unwanted title, but he was still a prince, and I was still a bastard.

And I had the feeling he knew it.

“It’s already done,” he repeated, “and now you have to decide if you want Lola to suffer this unbearable fate you seem so eager to avoid.”

Despite my anger, I recognized the truth in his words. It was no wonder my father had hidden me away. This was the fucked up world that I would have been forced to inherit.

“Let’s get a few things clear.” I managed to keep my fists at my side, but it was difficult. “I choose my own path. You can give me a title—”

“And a security detail now that you’re in the line of succession,” he interjected.

Was he fucking kidding? I tamped down the anger flaring inside me. I’d deal with that later. “You can give me a title,” I repeated, “but I will never be your family. I will never be your brother.”