Page 67 of At Midnight

“Maxence, no.”

He sprang to his feet and paced, running his handthrough his silky, black curls. “I mean it. I will slit the bastard’s throat.”

“Max—”

“I knew he was a horrible person. I knew he was a goddamn asshole. But for the love of God, I never thought he would do such a thing!”

“I was as shocked as anyone else.”

“Was he violent?” Max asked, his dark eyes begging her. “Did he hurt you?”

“I don’t want to discuss this.”

“Were there bruises?”

Flickawished she hadn’t blurted it out at all. This was why princesses were trained to shut the hell up. “Yes. A lot of bruises.”

“I will kill him.”

That deep growl was more malevolent than any shouting could have been from him. “Max, please. You’re scaring me.”

He stepped backward like someone had pushed him. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop right now. It was a shock. I don’t want to scare you. After this,after you trusted me enough to say this, I don’t want to scare you.” He braced his hands on his knees, leaning over like he’d been gut-punched. “But I am going to kill that bastard.”

“That might look bad, Maxence,” she said.

“I don’t care.”

“I know you’re mad and you’re just exaggerating, but—”

He looked up, and his eyes held black anger. “I’m not exaggerating.”

She had to stop this. She’dnever seen Maxence so angry before, and she’d seen him pretty angry a few times. “People will say you killed him because you wanted to be the Prince of Monaco.”

He shook his head and flicked a hand in the air, dismissing the thought. “Everyone knows I don’t want it and wouldn’t accept it.”

“Then Alexandre would kill you because he sure as heck doesn’t want to be the prince. We all know how thisends, in circles and chaos.”

Maxence straightened. “That bastard recruited me to convince you to go back to him. I was here to make you a propositionfor himafter he did that to you.”

“You are bloody good at convincing people to do things.”

He flinched, and he sighed deeply. “Yeah, I know, and he knows it, too.”

“So, what’s the proposition?” she asked, steeling herself.

“After he did that?I’ll go back and tell him to f—” He shook himself, perhaps rephrasing what he had been going to say. “I’ll tell him you said no.”

“Just tell me what he said.”

Maxence walked back over to the couch and sat beside her, angled in so that their knees were touching. His brows were lowered like his concern was for her. “I don’t want to do this.”

“Tell me. I want to know what I’m dealing with.”

Maxence took a deep breath and stared at their knees, not making eye contact with her. His voice droned in a flat monotone. “He said that he is sorry. He apologizes for everything, especially for ‘that night,’ as he called it, and for trying to use his military outside of the courthouse to force you to return to Monaco. He apologizes. He takes personal responsibility for all decisions. He wanted meto tell you that if you would agree to make an appearance of coming back to him, he would give you anything you wanted. He needs a small, civil wedding ceremony and some perfunctory pictures, just for people who might say the divorce was valid.”

“He’s said all that before,” Flicka said.

Maxence nodded. “He would need you to make several public appearances by his side per year, a limited andnegotiable number. One dance at the Winter Ball. Other than that, you’ll have your own causes, your own charities, your own appointments and calendar. You would have a separate apartment in the palace. You can have other homes, elsewhere, where you could spend up to six months per year. He’ll release everything of yours back to you and give you anything you want, anything at all.”