I was sitting next to Masen, heir to the
throne of Gevalia, sipping real
champagne, from Champagne, France. I was wearing crown jewels, in the form of diamond-encrusted
hair combs that belonged to Queen Esme’s mother, Princess Eliza and the wife to
King Edward Anthony Phillippe Masen.
Masen wanted me to wear a tiara, but seeing as
we weren’t engaged, Esme didn’t think it would be appropriate. So, they
compromised with the hair combs. Heidi made me look every bit as regal and
royal as Esme, befitting the arm of Prince Edward Anthony Masen Cullen.
I never felt more out of place, to be honest.
I felt like a sham, like the whore that the
reporter called me.
Masen told me that most everyone else adored
me. The Gevalian public were enamored with my ability to be genuinely good,
kind, loving and everything that the country needed in a princess. The queen,
then, issued a statement, backing our relationship and giving me the royal
approval to date her son, perhaps even marrying him. I had the public’s approval.
I put on a strong front. I smiled for photos
at the church on Christmas Day when all I wanted to do was curl up into a ball
and not leave my bedroom. The week in between Christmas, Masen and I were holed
up in Masen Manor, making love and just being.
Masen wanted to take me on a tour of his country. I also wanted to see more of
Gevalia, but I was terrified of another scathing article written by Laurent.
“Cherie?”
Masen whispered, his warm hand grasping mine and twining our fingers together.
“Are you okay? You’re spacing out, love.”
“My apologies,” I whispered back, giving him a
tiny grin. I blinked to where my sister was sitting and scowling at her meal.
“I call bullshit,” Masen snorted, kissing my
bare shoulder. He gently ran his finger along my jaw and turning my head toward
his. “I can see your cogs twisting, Bella. You’re thinking about how you’re
going to be trolled again. I assure you. You will NOT be torn apart by another nasty
article.”
I stared at him, lost in his evergreen depths.
“You can’t promise that, Masen,” I said. “Gevalia has free press. People can
write whatever they want. They can write that I’m a whore or that you’re
settling.”
“I’m not settling,” he said, brushing his lips
over mine. “I love you. I want you. Only you. You’re the woman I’ve always
dreamt of, cherie.” He stood up,
holding out his hand. I blinked up at him. “Take it, Bella.” I slipped my hand
into his and he gently tugged me to my feet. Looping my hand through his arm,
we left the head table. The Queen arched a brow, but Masen flashed a charming
grin. We ducked out of the ballroom and out onto a marble balcony overlooking
the gardens. I could see Masen Manor twinkling in the distance.
“Masen, you realize it’s winter,” I snorted.
“I do, but I need some fresh air. I also don’t
want our conversation to be overheard, especially by Lady Kathryn,” he sneered.
I arched a brow. “Bella, you’re it
for me. I can see a future, a forever with you. I know that what Laurent said
rattled you. The fact that your sister is complicit? That doesn’t help matters.
The people of Gevalia see how amazing you are and how happy you make me.”
“Now, why don’t you want Lady Kathryn to
hear?” I asked.
“Because she’s crazy,” he sighed. “She has
this sick, twisted belief that we’re
getting married. We’re not. We never were. We’re family, not by blood, but
still family. Lady Kathryn is the royal version of Alice, to be honest. I’d be
terrified if both of them got in league with each other.”
“Can’t we just throw my sister into jail?” I grumbled.
