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And that’s when our conversation changes to something I can handle far better than Dan, my apparent fear of finding a good relationship, and my date with a man that kisses like my ninety-nine-year-old great-grandma.
“Polycarbonate! It’s a combination of acrylics and other plastic resins that looks like glass, but is unbreakable.”
Blanca’s practically drooling over my designs. “These are a must have. I need them. You need them! Every girl needs them! I bet some big designer would go crazy over these.”
I laugh excitedly. Finally something is going my way.
Danon
I wake to knocking and for a second I think it’s just my head pounding. I haven’t had a hangover like this in a long time. Sitting up, I curse. Not only does my head feel as if it’s split in two, but I’m still in my jeans from last night. The last thing I need to deal with right now is my parents.
But I’m not naive enough to think that if I ignore the knocking, they’ll go away, so I roll out of bed and stumble to the doors between our rooms. Next time I have to travel with them, I’m putting my foot down on adjoining rooms. This is bullshit. I’m a goddamn adult.
Ignoring the voice in my head telling me I’m not acting like one, I yank open the door.
I only glance at my parents before heading to the bathroom. My mother’s look, aghast like I’m an intruder rather than her son, is too dramatic for my current state, and my dad, who just shakes his head as if he expects nothing less from me, pisses me off.
Had they ever looked at Rex like this, I wonder? But I know the answer. Nope. He was the good son, the dutiful, charming one. Their future, the county’s future, the perfect son. And brother.
Splashing water on my face, I scrub my hands over my skin, cursing when I feel a burst of pain. When I look into the mirror, I understand why. Not only do I look like shit, there’s actually a bruise on my cheek bone and a cut on my eyebrow. I don’t even remember getting home, let alone getting into a fight.
“Danon, get out here. We don’t have all day.”
Leaning both my hands on the counter, I let my head fall forward and take a few breaths to prepare for the upcoming shitshow. And then I face the music.
“What the hell was last night about?” My father speaks, but I can’t answer because I’m trying to brush my mother’s fussing hands off my face.
“How are you supposed to go to the gala like this? Jesus, Danon, you’re a mess.”
“I guess it’s a good thing it’s masquerade then,” I grumble, walking around my mother to the mini-fridge. “Alexa, order me breakfast” I demand, sounding like an asshole.
“Would you like to reorder your last meal?” Alexa responds and I huff a humorless laugh.
“Last meal like the death row inmate I am.”
“You’re equating becoming the King of Denmark to a death sentence?” My father glares at me as I rise from the fridge with a bottle of water.
“I’m not Rex, Dad, to me it is.”
“That better not be booze, son.”
I roll my eyes and hold up the water, giving it a condescending shake.
“Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Danon. We’d all rather it were Rex.”
“Bente!” My father gasps and my mother’s mouth hangs open as she realizes what she’s just said.
“I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant.”
“Isn’t it? It sounds like a slip of truth to me. We all know I was never good enough.”
“Your mother just meant we’d prepared Rex. We don’t want to be shoving all this down your throat last minute, but we have no choice. Rex was in this lifestyle his whole life. And he wanted it.”
“It has nothing to do with good enough, Danon. Your Uncle Ivar wasn’t king material either, and your grandmother knew it. That’s why your father took the crown.”
“Ivar’s a tool, but even he would make a better king. Helle’s twenty, she could take the crown. I don’t want this. Doesn’t that matter?”
“No, it doesn’t. I didn’t have a choice, and neither do you. Now stop being a petulant child and take responsibility.”
