Page 7 of Happily Ever After

“Thatis acceptable.” Even though it wasnotacceptable in any way.

He paused, staring at the paper, and frowned. “The Winter Ball is next week. We should open the ball with one dance. I will be the soul of propriety, and I apologize in advance for any distress. However, we must perform that function.”

Pierre was trying hard not to piss her off. To some extent, they were both forced into this situation.“I will manage.”

His jaw firmed as he stared at the paper. “You will submit to a medical examination at your earliest convenience, with understanding that you have been through a great deal in the past few days and may need some time. All procedures will be done medically, as we agreed.”

“Agreed, and thank you.”

At least he wasn’t going to be some nefarious supervillain who gloated that hechanged the terms and then raped her—

—again.

It still felt like impending rape. Her body was going to be breached, and Pierre’s genetic material would be inserted. She would be forced to carry and give birth to a child born of this procedure who was half-Pierre Grimaldi, her rapist.

Mentally, she slammed the doors on that thought.

HerLieblingwächterwould rescue her and Alina soon. He hadtold her so. She believed him. She believedinhim. He had said that even if he couldn’t, even if something had happened to him, that he had sent someone to rescue her.

She just had to believe.

Pierre said, “You posted some inflammatory statements to social media last night, during the situation.”

She folded her hands together. “They were the truth.”

“I wasn’t disputing them. However, sincethen, they’ve gone viral. The hashtags ‘Where is Flicka’ and ‘Rescue the princess’ are trending on every major site. We should get a handle on this. My PR department requests pictures of us together and your social media login information.”

She flipped her head up and stared at him. “You want my passwords?”

“Well, of course. The palace’s PR department handles all our social media. They’ll postthe pictures with some sentiments about how you’re glad to be back in Monaco and safe. Nothing outlandish. I don’t know why you’d even want to handle your own social media. It’s so tedious.”

Flicka wanted to hide her phone behind her back and keep it away from him. “I like interacting with people on there.”

“I can’t imagine why, but the PR department will take over that task for you.”

“I don’twant them to.”

“They’ll need to take over, and until we’re settled here, I’ll have to ask you to hand over your phone and other electronics. The royal family presents a united front on social media.”

“But I’ve always handled my own media.”

Pierre lowered his eyes and stared at the papers he held. “We really must insist.”

Damn, Pierre sounded just like a Swiss banker who’d turned to crime,insisting that she give up her phone so she couldn’t contact the outside world to tell them that she was being held against her will.

Pierre asked, “Shall we begin?”

Flicka stood and smoothed the wrinkles from her dress. The black fabric clung to her hips where she’d put on a few pounds because supper was the only interesting thing in the Mirabaud household. She would need to watch her carbohydratesclosely, lest her trainer Mariah lose her mind when she saw Flicka’s thighs and butt.

When Mariah lost her mind, Flicka bore the brunt of the extra burpees and planks.So many burpees and planks.

Pierre came around his desk.

Flicka reluctantly dug around in her purse that had been sitting on the floor and held out her cell phone.

He asked, “Would you mind taking the selfie? Yours turn outbetter.”

“All right.” She held the phone out and to the side with her left hand, noting where the sunlight glared in the windows on their faces.