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“Trust me. I can tell when people are fucking, and they are.”
We stepped out of the elevator and into the lobby. “If they are, why did she encourage him to ask me out?”
“I don’t know. Maybe they’re into group play.” Rhys didn’t look at me.
He was pissed. He didn’t say it, but I could feel it, and I didn’t have to guess what he was angry about.
“I had to say yes to the date,” I said after we got in the car. “Everyone expects me to bring someone to Nik’s wedding.”
Edvard and Elin had not forgotten about my husband search and kept bringing it up at every turn, but there wasn’t much they could do with Steffan gone. Now that he was back…
More complications. Less time with Rhys.
Frustration curled in my stomach.
“I see,” Rhys said in a neutral tone, but there was nothing neutral about the danger emanating from him like heat off sunbaked asphalt.
I hated that I couldn’t bring Rhys as my date and that we had to hide and sneak around, even though the only thing keeping us apart was a stupid accident of birth. It was the twenty-first century, but we might as well be living in the eighteenth.
The frustration sharpened and stabbed at my insides.
How did we go from our glorious, dreamy afternoon together to this so fast?
“You’re still expected to marry soon.” Rhys made a right turn, his hands so tight on the wheel his knuckles turned white.
“Yes,” I said quietly.
The past few weeks had been our version of a honeymoon, one in which we could be together without worrying about the thunderclouds in the distance. But the storm had arrived, and it was about to rain all over our parade.
I was the crown princess, and he was my bodyguard.
No matter how much it felt like forever, we would eventually have to part ways...unless I did something drastic.
Something no one had ever done before.
Like repeal the Royal Marriages Law.