Page 77 of Royal Trouble
“So that’s it?” she demanded, arching a brow. Before he could reply, she sliced a hand through the air as if to cut off any further discussion. “You know what? Fuck you, Xander. And fuck Valerian society. I never wanted to be part of it in the first place.”
With that, she turned on her heel and stormed down the steps. He watched as she stalked to her car, slipped inside, and slammed the door. There was no hesitation as the engine roared to life and she pulled away from the cottage. A part of him, a deep part he really didn’t want to consider, hoped she’d have a change of heart and come back, but as her taillights disappeared from sight, he knew it was wishful thinking.
Everly was gone, and she wouldn’t be coming back. He’d given as good as he’d gotten, and she’d deserved every word of it, so why did it hurt so fucking much?
He briefly considered going after her, but what would be the point? They’d said all there was to say, and then some. There was no going back. Not now, not ever.
His mobile vibrated in his pocket. He’d been ignoring it all afternoon, but he was spoiling for another fight, so he pulled it out and swiped accept.
“Get your arse up to the palace for damage control,” Liam said, tone brooking no argument.
Xander closed his eyes and drew a steadying breath. Right. Damage control. It wasn’t just him that would suffer the fallout of his latest fuckup. The news of the paternity test would open a floodgate of speculation about the entire family, their illicit affairs, and the line of succession.
Bloody hell. What had always been a nasty court rumor would spread through the country like wildfire, overshadowing the royal wedding and the creation of the Blue and Gold Foundation. And it was all his fault.
“I’ll be right there.”
“Xander?” Liam’s voice was softer this time, and if he didn’t know better, he’d have thought his brother sounded concerned. “Are you all right?”
“You mean aside from being well and truly fucked?”
Royal Bastard?
For years, there have been rumors that at least one of the Stanley heirs might be the illegitimate love child of Her Majesty’s super sexy tennis pro, Leonidas Cantrell, but alas, rumors aren’t fact, and with the palace declining to comment, we’ve been left to debate the issue endlessly in the public domain.
Until now, that is.
Looks like the palace may finally be ready to put the rumors to rest once and for all. Sorry HRH Prince Alexander, but we’re looking at you. A source close to the prince has confirmed the royal heir had a DNA test just this week, which is fascinating and all, but where are the freaking results? Inquiring minds, you know?
Look, we aren’t biologists, but it’s pretty obvious one of these things is not like the others. (And not just because he wasn’t born with a silver spoon up his ass.) Maybe HRH Prince Alexander’s blond hair and striking blue eyes are the result of recessive genes in ye olde DNA pool, but damn if he doesn’t bear a striking resemblance to a certain sexy tennis pro. (Look at those pics and tell us you don’t agree!)
Which begs the question…is the royal spare about to become a royal bastard? And why now, just days before the royal wedding? We don’t know much at this point, but one thing’s for sure… We haven’t been this stressed since waiting two years to find out who would sit on the iron throne. (And no, the irony isn’t lost on us.)
Chapter Twenty
Everly was three episodes intoThe Great British Baking Showand elbow deep in her second bag of chocolate-covered cherries when her phone rang. She was tempted to ignore it, but what if it was Marisa calling with news? Or worse, Marisa calling to push up the deadline for the additional chapters. Shit. That would be just her luck, since her brain was mush and she hadn’t been able to write a damn word all day.
The fight with Xander ruled her thoughts, and it was killing her creativity.
It had been twenty-four hours and she hadn’t heard so much as a peep from him. For all his talk about people changing, he clearly didn’t believe it. Not when the moment something shitty was printed about him, he immediately assumed she was the source. He didn’t trust her—not completely, anyway—which was why she hadn’t bothered to point out that it could have been literally anyone on the palace grounds—a gardener, a cook, a housekeeper—since he didn’t lock his door.
It wouldn’t have made a difference. The damage was already done.
The phone rang again, and she glanced at the caller ID. It wasn’t her agent, but her mother. Suddenly the idea of Marisa calling for those chapters didn’t seem so bad.
She’d never been great at lying to her mom or even keeping secrets. Hell, it was a miracle she’d been able to hide RGW. A miracle she attributed to living on different continents.
Sighing, she tapped accept on the incoming call, giving silent thanks her mother was low tech and didn’t video chat. The last thing she wanted to do was explain her puffy eyes and unwashed hair.
“Hey, Mom,” she said, trying her best to sound cheerful, though her voice was scratchy from crying. Maybe if she ate more chocolate, it would improve her mood. She stuffed another candy in her mouth and chewed aggressively.
“Hey, baby. How’re things going in Valeria?”
“Great. Things are great.”Ugh. Why had she said that? It was always better to stick close to the truth. She might be a terrible liar, but even she knew that much.
“Everly Jane Wilson. Don’t lie to me.” Shit. Mom was using her nanny voice. “What’s really going on? Is this about the story you were working on?”
Why did her mother have to be so perceptive?