Page 43 of Coronation (Royally Forbidden #1)

Twenty-Seven

Benedict

“ N ever have I k -known a man who could fail upward quite as well as you do, brother.”

“Give me that.” I snatch the magazine away from Leopold, tossing it onto the coffee table before us.

Damien, who is situated in my favorite, well-worn armchair, grins at our youngest brother. “She’s even more gorgeous in person. It’s unbelievable. I’ve never been more jealous in my life.”

I shoot him a filthy look, but busy myself with reaching for the last slice of pizza, otherwise ignoring the pair of them.

Leo, the academic of the family, spends most of his time in Port Briar, but braves the city several times a month for the sake of family business and to see myself and Damien.

More often than not, our time together is spent sitting side by side in silence, eating whatever shit food we can get our hands on, and watching sports.

These evenings are a rare, sorely needed spot of normalcy in my schedule.

Lately, however, they’ve grown even less frequent with so much of my time taken up by Zelda .

It’s hard to pretend that I’m at all bothered by this when I all but run out the door on the days I’m scheduled to see her.

The woman in question gazes out at us from the cover of the tabloid I just snatched from Leo’s hands, beneath the bright yellow headline: Flowers for a King .

The image was taken a few weeks ago, when I brought her to the park for the play.

As PR expected, it wasn’t long before we were spotted, and a nearby audience member snapped the picture in question with her phone.

She looks stunning, half shrouded in evening shadows and stretched out on a checkered blanket beside me.

I remember the moment it was taken perfectly, can recall with painful detail the feeling of her fingers brushing mine, and the way my heart vaulted against my ribcage when I turned to look at her, only to find that her eyes were already on me.

Even after an entire lifetime of carefully keeping myself in check, I still consider resisting the urge to kiss her senseless right then and there as my greatest act of restraint to date.

I’m finding it increasingly difficult not to get caught up in the fantasy of it all, and to remember that Zelda is an actor. However it may appear, she’s made it clear that my advances wouldn’t be welcome. She tolerates me, and that’s more than I could hope for, given the circumstances.

The way she’s looking at me, though… Christ.

It doesn’t seem to matter how many times I tell myself it’s for the best we keep things professional, that we barely know each other and have two very different lives, or that I’m too old for her. I could stare into a mirror and scream those words, and even then, I don’t think I would believe them.

“So it really is all for show, then?” asks Leo, sounding faintly bemused.

He’s shown far more interest in this scheme than he typically does in any of the royal institution’s machinations.

Not that I can fault him for his general lack of interest. We all had our roles to play to support Arthur, and if I was the snob, Leo was the idiot.

His question makes Damien snort. “He hasn’t filled you in on the whole story, then? Oh, brother, you are in for a treat.”

I look between them, grimacing. “Could we not?”

Predictably, Dam ignores this, beaming at Leo.

“That visit to the movie set wasn’t the first time they met.

About a month ago, our sweet-tempered Benny-boy needed to unwind a little, so I got him an invite to a house party .

” He doesn’t need to elaborate, as god knows Leo has attended far more of them than I have.

“A certain Miss Flowers happened to be in attendance that night.”

“You’re kidding,” Leo chuckles, his attention wholly on Damien.

“Not just one night, either.” Our elder brother looks beyond delighted to be party to this information.

“He brought her to Fernmoor House afterward. Do you remember that property up in the North Country? Well, regardless, they spent the whole weekend together. Then, the great prick was called to open Parliament early on Sunday, and he left her there .”

It’s all I can do not to wince at Leo’s horrified expression.

“Don’t look at me like that. I sent a car for her.

I’m not a complete ass,” I snap, glowering at Damien.

Does he have to tell the story in the most unflattering way possible?

It’s not as if I abandoned Zelda in the countryside without a way to get home, and I feel terrible enough on my own without throwing salt in the wound with my brother’s interpretation.

“So now,” Damien continues, obviously still committed to ignoring me. “The entire country is obsessed with her, Ben is obsessed with her, and the great prat has already blown his chance.”

I truly wish I could argue with that statement, but there seems little to be gained in denying facts. Everything Damien has said is the truth, and my hating it won’t change a thing.

“You’re a bastard,” I spit instead, and both my brothers roar with laughter.

“I would rather be a bastard than an heir any day of the week, Benedict. Especially if the distinction comes with such a high standard for self-sabotage. Tell me, do you enjoy being unhappy?”

Leo comes to my defense. “Our family members living in repressed misery is how the monarchy still exists. I can’t think of a single relative, living or d-d- ” He screws up his face, obviously annoyed with his impediment, before continuing.

“ Dead. Living or dead, who could claim something as frivolous as contentment. You wouldn’t be here at all if our dearly departed father was satisfied with his life, Dam. ”

“Touché,” Damien acknowledges with a wry chuckle, shaking his head. “I think we’re losing the thread on what’s truly important, however.”

“What’s that?” asks Leo. “Brotherhood?”

“ Ha. God no. I was referring to His Royal Dumbass blowing his chance with the exquisite Miss Flowers.”

Leo looks at me, his brow furrowed. “Do you not like her?”

I’ve just taken a bite of pizza and take my time chewing, my gaze on the television without really seeing it. “I like her fine.”

“So why leave her there, then?”

A foul taste fills my mouth. I’ve thought about that morning a lot, as well as my motives for doing such a wretched thing in the first place, and keep coming to the same conclusion: I didn’t see a way forward for us, and I was furious.

Not at her—god no, I doubt I could ever be truly angry with Zelda Flowers—but at my own damned life.

In that anger and frustration, I did something I can’t take back, and fate has done a truly outstanding job of throwing it all back in my face.

“It doesn’t matter now,” I say tightly, not looking at my brothers. “What’s done is done.”

There is a long pause, and then Leo’s voice comes, thoughtful and appraising. “Not necessarily.”

Despite myself, I look around at him. “What does that mean?”

Lifting a shoulder in a halfhearted shrug, Leo hums thoughtfully.

“You could win her over. She liked you once, and she could like you again, if you play your cards right. I can think of worse situations in which to thoroughly charm a woman than an endless string of appearances engineered to look as romantic as possible. Unless you’d rather watch her slip away and end up married to yet another very appropriate socialite whom you loathe for the sake of producing an heir. ”

The mention of it alone makes me wince. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“By the look of that, you’re doing pretty well already,” offers Damien, gesturing to the abandoned tabloid on the coffee table.

“She’s an actress,” I snap, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice. “It’s quite literally her job to convey emotion. Besides, there are more variables to consider than whether or not she can tolerate me. I’m sixteen years older than her, for one thing, and for another?—”

Leo cuts me off, however, looking impatient. “You’re proving our point, brother. Listen to yourself, looking for reasons to stay m-m- miserable and alone. Your American may be younger, but she’s old enough to make her own decisions. And, at the risk of sounding crass?—”

“God forbid,” Damien mumbles, his mouth full of pizza.

Ignoring him, Leo continues, “ At the risk of sounding crass , some women prefer their men to be older. Unless you’re telling me you haven’t gained any knowledge in the past sixteen years that might be to Zelda’s advantage.” He offers me a meaningful look. “Have you told her how you feel?”

My mouth twists. “Of course not. Now, drop it. Both of you. I’m quite capable of managing my own love life.” This is a bold-faced lie, considering the state of it.

As my brothers’ conversation turns away from Zelda Flowers, however, I can’t quite shake Leo’s words.

What he told me, that not all hope is lost, and I may still have a chance at a future with Zelda, is exactly what I’ve wanted—consciously or not—since the moment I laid eyes on her.

Even so, I have enough self-awareness to recognize myself as a perpetually sour, temperamental ass, with a crown-shaped noose around his neck.

It’s hard to imagine what allure I could hold for a woman such as Zelda, who is not only successful and beautiful, but good through and through.

The feeling of the phone vibrating in my pocket is a welcome distraction from my inner turmoil, and I take it out, only to receive a sharp stab of surprise at the name displayed on the screen: Incoming Call: Zelda Flowers.

I’m on my feet in seconds, ignoring the questions from both my brothers as I stride from the room, bringing the phone to my ear. “Zelda?”

“Hey!” comes her familiar voice, a little hesitant. “I’m really sorry to bother you.”

“You’re not,” I respond at once and, recognizing the words might have come out a little clipped in my surprise, clear my throat to try again. “It’s good to hear from you. Is everything alright?”

A moment of silence. “ Um , technically yes?”

Her words have me stopping dead in the middle of the hall leading toward my bedroom, staring at the trim around the window as my pulse kicks into overdrive. “What does that mean? ”

Zelda sighs. “It’s not a big deal. I just had a bit of a security issue this afternoon. Everything is fine now, but I’m not sure it’s safe for me to stay at the hotel anymore.”

My chest is burning, and I realize it’s because I’ve forgotten to breathe. Sucking in a deep gulp of oxygen, I snarl, “Zelda. Tell me what happened this instant.” I’m gripping the phone so tightly I may well snap it in two.

If harm came to her because of her association with me… I can’t even consider it. The possibility is too horrifying.

“Well, I got back from work, and there was a man waiting in my suite. He was very worked up, apparently you’re some kind of alien lizard being, and I need protection from being compromised by your theta wave technology,” she recounts wearily, but without even a hint of concern.

“We had a good talk about it, and I did my best to validate his feelings?—”

A choked, horrified noise of disbelief comes from my mouth at this. “You did your best to validate his feelings ? Zelda, the man was insane! He could have killed you!” I turn on my heel, striding back the way I came.

“It wasn’t that dramatic. He was only concerned.”

Both my brothers look at me as I reenter the living area.

My expression must convey some of the horror I’m currently experiencing, because both are on their feet in seconds, joining me on my path toward the door.

“Is security with you now?” I demand as we exit the room, the two of them falling into step on either side of me as we stride down the empty palace corridor.

“They swept the entire floor and left. Everything is fine , Ben. I was just calling to ask if it was possible for me to use the house for a few weeks. It’s pretty close to set, and I think if I change to another hotel, it will only be more of the same.”

She’s absolutely right, and I’m furious with myself for believing that sending a few members of the royal guard would be sufficient with the madness surrounding her after our relationship went public.

For weeks now, and she’s been walking in and out of that hotel in front of dozens of cameras.

The entire world knows where she lays her head to sleep every night, and it’s totally unacceptable.

“What house?” I demand as we reach the staircase, descending down toward the small, private lobby without hesitation.

“Fernmoor House,” she replies smoothly. “I liked it there, and I’m very happy to pay rent, if you’d like.”

It’s maddening how unruffled she is by this entire affair, when it feels as though I’m unraveling.

The woman just arrived in her private space, only to find it invaded by a strange man with obvious mental health issues, and couldn’t sound less concerned.

If anything, she merely seems a little weary of the practical moving and security considerations.

As we reach the lobby, I lower the phone to speak to the cluster of guards beside the door. “Bring the car around,” I bark, then, pinching the bridge of my nose as everyone around me scatters, I lift the phone back to my ear. “Stay at the hotel. I’m on my way; I’ll take you to Fernmoor.”

“Oh, Ben?—”

“No. Not oh, Ben . This isn’t a negotiation, Zelda. Stay where you are. Don’t answer the door for anyone but me.”