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“Great,” she says.
“Do you need to go back to Sapphire Falls? Wrap anything up? Grab anything?”
She shakes her head. “I’m assuming Lauren and Mason won’t be surprised I’m coming to work for you in Cara?”
I grin. “I don’t think so, no. They might be surprised we’re getting married.”
She sits up a little straighter. “Oh, well, they don’t need to know that part. That’s really just… kind of a business arrangement. And it’s just a year. To get things moving and done. They can just think I’m taking a job with you.”
My smile drops. I take a breath. She has a point, I suppose. “The people of Cara will know about our marriage, Abigail,” I say anyway. “It will be a real marriage in every way. No matter what other stipulations you put on it.”
She meets my eyes. And nods. “I know.” She swallows. “But Lauren and Mason aren’t the types to keep track of the social life of a prince in another country,” she says. “They won’t know about the marriage part.”
I feel my jaw tighten and work to relax it. “What about your family?”
“My parents aren’t the celebrity gossip or podcast types. My sisters will know, but they’ll know the truth behind it too. And they can run interference with anyone else.”
“The truth being that you’re doing it for the farm program and only for a year.” There’s an edge in my tone I can’t hide.
“And for you,” she says.
Right. She’s doing it to help me get the throne and to keep me from walking down the aisle with someone I don’t want to marry.
I should be glad about this.
I am fucking glad about this. I get Abigail. Even if it’s for only a year, I get her.
And I’m going to do whatever I can to make sure it’s for more than a year.
“Okay.” I give her a smile. “You can move to Cara without going back to Sapphire Falls?”
“I rent the house I live in. Peyton and Riley will be happy to pack up my stuff and ship it—though I doubt many of my clothes or shoes are princess-worthy. And if I’m going to be married to the prince, I trust I don’t need a passport or immigration papers or anything?”
I outright grin now. She just kind-of said the word ‘princess’ and she didn’t even stutter. “I can get your dual citizenship taken care of. And we’ll definitely get you new clothes. Though you’ll want your regular stuff too. You are, after all, still going to be farming.”
Her smile is bright. “That’s true.”
I pick up her dress from where it got tossed to the floor. “Let me take you out to dinner tonight.”
I think she might say no, because someone might see us out and snap a photo and send it back to Cara for the gossips to talk about.
But she smiles. “Okay.”
She must not know that there are eyes and ears even here. Fine. I certainly don’t care who sees us together and starts talking. Maybe it will make our imminent wedding announcement less of a shock.
She scoots off the bed and heads into the bathroom. “Just let me shower quick,” she says, tossing a sly smile over her shoulder.
Right. Because she’s probably still sticky from my cum.
Heat arrows through me at the thought.
And the thought of the very long night ahead of us.
Because I’ve decided that I’m not fucking Abigail again until she is my wife, wearing my ring in the palace.
Is that an overreaction to how adamant she is that this is all more of a business arrangement than an actual marriage? Maybe. But there are two things Abigail wants: that farm, and, now I’m very pleased to know, my cock.
And she doesn’t get either one until she is announced as the Crown Princess of Cara.
