Page 108

He gives one sharp shake of his head.

I think I mean to tell him to stop acting above it. Just because he can’t get his dick hard doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t. Instead, what emerges is, “You can still get pregnant on your period.”

Her jaw drops in disbelief. “No, you can’t!”

Lex–fucking Judas motherfucker–shrugs when I look at him. “Definitely not at the start of it.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Pace pushes past me to jab a forefinger beneath her chin, jerking her gaze up to his. “A good Princess would let her Prince fuck her regardless,” he says. There’s an intensity in his stare that I might be worried about, except Pace is basically championing for my dick right now.

Her green eyes hold his, and I know before she opens her mouth that none of us are going to like what comes out of it. “Show me a Prince worth being a good Princess to,” she says, low and caustic, “and maybe you’ll get one.”

The palace libraryhas always been my go-to for a quiet spot, and since I have a paper due on Monday, I camp out there for the afternoon. No one else uses this room. Not even Lex, who prefers the science library on campus. Pace likes his walls to be filled with monitors, not books.

I’m deep in my macro econ book, headphones covering my ears, when a shadow appears over the desk.

“Jesus,” I jolt halfway out of my chair, then exhale. All this semen retention is making me strung tighter than a thong. “Fuck, Danner! I told you about sneaking up on me!”

He ignores my outburst and patiently waits for me to remove the headphones. When I do, he announces, “Your Father would like to see you.”

I freeze. “Now?”

“Yes, sir.”

I take a deep breath and shut the laptop before rising, carefully sliding it and my notebook into my computer bag. Danner continues to lurk in the doorway, as if I need a chaperone up to the meeting. After theincidentthis morning, I guess that’s fair.

Tucking the ends of my shirt into my pants, I say, “Look, Danner, about this morning—”

“No need, sir. It was a stressful situation.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t deserve that.” Truth be told, it’s easy to resent Danner, just by virtue of him being an extension of our father. Even so, I doubt Danner deserves half of the shit the three of us give him.

He looks at me for a long moment before reaching up to adjust my collar. “I remember the day your father brought you home.” His shrewd eyes assess a wrinkle in my buttondown. “You were covered in blood, wailing something awful. The first time I set eyes on you, I thought Rufus was dragging in an injured animal.” He steps back, nodding at his efforts to set me to rights. I hear what he’s not saying. That’s exactly what I was–an injured animal. “Twenty years later, you’re still wailing. Even when you’re quiet.” He dips his chin. “He’s in his office. Your brothers are already there.”

“Shit.” I wince. Outside of being named Prince, we haven’t all been called to a meeting together in a long time. Joint meetings are always worse than one-on-one meetings. It usually means someone fucked up, and right now, that someone is probably me. Okay. Most definitely me.

“One more thing.” I turn and he reaches out and straightens the shoulder seams of my button-down. “There.”

I nod, searching Danner’s eyes for some clue about what I’m walking into. “Thanks.”

Moments later, I’m approaching the massive oak door to Father’s office. Bracing myself, I knock twice and enter, finding my brothers waiting, just like Danner said.

The step over the threshold feels like straddling a canyon. It’s the gulf between being a boy and man. All the emotions of childhood, the insecurities and anger, the loss and upheaval, all happened in this room. Nothing good ever happens in Father’s office.

Nothing.

Straightening my shoulders, I make the long walk across the Persian rug, passing the crackling fire in the marble fronted fireplace. Over the mantle is a massive oil painting of Father and his son, Michael. The child’s eerie eyes, as always, seem to follow each step.

Father looks up as I approach, although neither of my brothers do. Shoulders squared, chins held high, both of their gazes are focused on the man behind the desk. “Whitaker,” he says, “take a seat.”

Uneasily, I take the empty chair.

He spends a second flipping through papers. “Although I’ve been apprised that the Princess has had her monthly cycle, I thought I’d give you the official lab results from the most recent blood test Lex procured.” He removes a slip of paper from an envelope, eyes skimming over the words, lips turned down. “Confirmed negative. The Princess is not pregnant during this round, which is unfortunate, but not entirely unexpected.”

He sets the paper aside and picks up his small leather-bound notebook. He’s carried one of these with him as long as I can remember. It seems to be part calendar and part diary. Habit really, since Pace has him set up with everything online. Father is nothing if not a raging traditionalist.

Sighing, he goes on, “I know you’ve been busy with your obligations, so I thought I’d give you a tally of each of your deposits.” Verity’s accusation echoes in my head.

You’re the deficient ones.