Page 46 of Awestruck (Starstruck Love Stories #4)
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Freya
There is a good chance I am dreaming right now rather than sitting at the breakfast table at the royal family home in Stonemere. Why? Because I am certain I just heard the butler announce the arrival of Derek Riley.
Stifling a yawn, I shake my head a bit as if that might wake me up. “Forgive me,” I say to the butler. “I believe I heard you wrong. Who is in the parlor?”
“Mr. Derek Riley, Your Highness.”
I wish I had not risen so early, beating both my brothers to breakfast. It is not that I do not believe what the butler is telling me, but I do not understand, and they could explain it to me.
“Why?” I ask out loud. But as soon as I do, I finally process what he said, and excitement bursts to life in my chest. “Wait, he’s here? In Candora?”
The butler’s lips twitch, though he is far too professional to actually smile. “Yes, Your Highness. He said not to rush you and that he is happy to wait.”
I am already on my feet, eager to see my friend.
He was not supposed to arrive for two more days, just in time for the election.
With two palace guards trailing behind me, I hurry across the house to the family parlor.
Sure enough, Derek is standing at one of the windows, looking out over Stonemere Lake.
I am surprised to see him alone; most often when he travels lately, his bodyguard, Hunter, is right by his side.
But that does not make me any less glad to see him.
“Derek!” I barely give him time to turn around before I pounce on him, leaping into his arms like a baby koala the same way Liam always does. “What are you doing here?”
His laugh is strained. “You knew I was coming.” The tension is in his voice as well, though I can tell he is trying to hide it.
Sliding to my feet and stepping back, I scrutinize my friend.
He is wearing sweats and a baseball hat pulled over his dark hair, and while this is an uncommon look for him in regular life, it is fairly normal attire for when he travels, especially if he charters a private flight.
His face is scruffy with the beginnings of a dark beard, but that is nothing new.
Unless his current role requires him to be clean shaven, he usually sports some level of facial hair.
It is his eyes that worry me. They are tired beyond the normal weariness that comes from flying to the other side of the world.
“What is the matter?” I ask, frowning at him.
I see the instant he realizes he was not properly masking. His eyes light up, facial muscles tightening his expression to one of careful nonchalance. In the place of my oldest friend now stands Hollywood’s most popular actor.
“Nothing’s the matter with me,” he says lightly. “I’m more worried about you. How are you holding up?”
As soon as I was reunited with my phone, I spent hours on a video call with my friends, assuring them that I was unharmed and safe. Derek was on that call, and though he was quiet, I was certain he believed me when I said I had no lasting damage from what happened at the debate.
I narrow my eyes. “Do not lie to me, Derek Riley.”
His chuckle sounds so natural that had I not seen the weariness and tension in his eyes a moment ago, I would believe him. “The election is in two days, Peach. You’re allowed to be stressed.”
“You came early because you thought I would be stressed?” It is a very Derek thing to do, but he already planned to come on Election Day, when the rest of my friends are coming to support me, and Derek’s schedule is always so tight.
I find it difficult to believe he happened to have an extra couple of days open when he is in the middle of filming.
“I like your hair down like this,” he says, ignoring my question. “You don’t wear it loose very often.”
To be frank, I was hoping I could convince Elliot to braid it again.
Not because Runa is incapable of doing my hair but because Elliot and I have not been alone for even a moment since we left Wulfric’s two days ago.
I woke early this morning, eager to see him, but was disappointed to find a couple of palace guards outside my door rather than my bodyguard.
They told me Elliot had been ordered by Gregor to rest.
While I agree that Elliot has not taken adequate time to heal, I do not like when he is not near.
I miss his touch. He has kept a respectable distance the last couple of days—with so much attention on me right now, that has been necessary—but there is an ache in my chest that I did not realize could build so quickly.
We have had no time alone and therefore no time to talk about… everything.
“Derek,” I say as forcefully as I can. Gesturing to the nearest sofa, I wait until he sits beside me. “Why are you really here?”
His jaw tightens, telling me I was right to think there is more at play. Pulling the hat from his head, he runs his hand through his dark hair in a way that makes him look anxious.
Derek Riley is never anxious.
“What is it?” I ask tersely.
He sighs. “I heard about the conversation you had with the gang the night before the debate. About Grimstad.”
Discomfort pools in my chest, leaving me overwarm. “Hank told you.” He was the only one who got the name of my potential betrothed.
“No, he didn’t, but I’m more worried about why you didn’t tell me.
” A hard edge enters his eyes, something I do not see in him often.
Leaning forward, he grabs hold of my hand.
“Freya, I know you. I know you’re going to be struggling with this decision, especially when you and Elliot… ” He bites his tongue.
I narrow my eyes. “When Elliot and I what, Derek?”
“Like I said. I know you.”
What he does not say is that he knows how I feel about my bodyguard, but I can see it in his eyes.
Derek is more diligent about reading the tabloids than any of us, and he would have seen not only Hot Scoop’s claims but any stories in Candoran newspapers as well.
More than likely, he read the opinion piece that I have yet to get out of my head, and he saw all the pictures.
“Talk to me, Freya.” He sounds desperate in a way, and I wonder if the last Hot Scoop story I read bothered him more than it should have.
The one that talked about how he and I are sure to be at odds now that I have Elliot in my life.
It is a good thing Hot Scoop does not know that Elliot and Derek are cousins and not simply connected through me, or I am certain things would have gotten far more complicated.
I have avoided the internet since leaving Skalridge, but perhaps people have said more. Enough to get under Derek’s skin.
“What would you like me to say?” I ask, dropping my eyes to our clasped hands. “Markham Grimstad proposed marriage, and I should have given him an answer days ago, but everything has been so…” There is not even a proper word to describe the state of my life.
Derek’s voice drops half an octave. “Are you considering him?”
“Of course I am.” I know better than to lie.
“Why?” Because it is Derek sitting across from me, he is not asking because he thinks I have lost my mind. He genuinely wants to know my reasons so he can understand.
Didn’t I want this only days ago? A chance to talk to my oldest friend about a situation I can barely think about because every time I do it hurts?
But I wanted that before someone tried to take my life.
Before Elliot kissed me. Before I thought I might lose a man who means more to me than anyone ever has before.
Before I felt like I was being torn in half.
Everything is so much bigger now.
As tears sting my eyes, I take a shaky breath.
“It is best for Candora,” I whisper. “Aligning with Grimstad gives both sides of my country a voice in a way they’ve never had before, and I do not have the knowledge to know what the majority of my people need.
Not the way he does. More than that, I have wanted to be queen my whole life, and I am terrified that uniting with Grimstad is the only way that will happen. ”
“Okay,” Derek says, calmer now. He reaches up and brushes a tear from my cheek, at the same time lifting my head so I meet his eyes. “Those are all good reasons, Freya. Except that last one.”
I laugh mournfully. “You are far too optimistic for your own good, Derek Riley.”
He snickers. “You know that’s not true. I’m being realistic. I’ve seen the polls as well as you have, and you pulled to the lead in a matter of days.”
“That was before the debate,” I argue glumly. “Before the assassination attempt. What do the polls say now?”
He frowns. “I don’t know, actually. I haven’t had a chance to get online for a couple of days. Janie’s been rearranging things so I could get here sooner.”
Derek’s most recent assistant is very good at what she does, but sometimes I wonder if he relies on her more than he should. “You could have come when you were supposed to.”
The flat look he gives me brings a bit of light to my heavy heart. “Freya,” he chides, “you needed someone to talk to, and Elliot wasn’t going to cut it. I couldn’t leave you stuck here with only your brothers for company while you deal with all of this.”
“My brothers have actually been really great,” I say with a brief smile.
Derek lifts an eyebrow. “The rogue and the spy? That’s surprising.”
Which one is which?
“Anyway.” He squeezes my hand, giving me a stern look.
“Tell me why you would choose not to marry Grimstad.” He says the word ‘marry’ like it tastes bitter, which is strange coming from him.
Those who truly know Derek know that he wants a life partner more than anyone.
But maybe that is why he thinks accepting Grimstad’s offer may not be a good decision.
To Derek, marriage is not something to take lightly.
I have never taken anything more seriously.
“Well,” I say with a bit more snap in my tone than I intend, “you already know one of my biggest reasons to decline.”