Page 55 of Heavy Crown

Once she exhausted her favorite performances, she coaxed me into sharing my passion: cliff jumping. When I told her, she laughed. Not out of malice, but delight. She couldn’t believe someone like me would enjoy such a dangerous, often illegal, sport.

Those afternoons Nick, Brice, and I spent at the cliffs as children were some of my best. No one was standing over us telling us to be better or think logically. A freefall over the edge into the clear blue below. I haven’t been since I finished university. No time for such infantile pursuits now.

“They added a clause on page three,” my mother says. “Did you see that, Alexander?”

I flip to page three and force myself to focus. A mistress clause. If I cheat, she can refuse to bear me an heir, and if an heir has already been conceived, she can cease all sexual contact. Right now, I couldn’t care less, but I can’t appear uncaring with this audience. The heir part is likely important. But realistically, if I’m cheating on her, why would I be concerned with whether she refuses to have sex with me? Apparently others are willing, so I can’t see how her withdrawal will bother me in the slightest. None of that can be verbalized with my parents present.

“Strike that out. Unless we’re adding one about her potential infidelities, I don’t like the implication I’ll stray.”

Desmond shifts beside me, and from the corner of my eye, I see his red pen hovering over the line. “Are we striking or adding a clause about her potential infidelities?”

“Striking,” I say.

“Adding,” my mother says at the same time.

Our gazes connect across my father’s broad desk. She’s clever, and I wonder whether she’s thinking of Rory like I am.

“Strike it,” my father says, overruling my mother. “Alexander isn’t the type to cheat.”

Oh, but I might become the type, might already be halfway down that path. I squeeze my thigh with one hand while the other grips the contract. The more time I spend with Rory, the less agreeable I am to this arrangement, even though I need it.

Desmond strikes out the clause with finality. The king has spoken.

I’m looking forward to the absolute control my father has. No more bartering with people. I want it. I get it.

“Page five,” my mother says. “Her family would like three public meetings, either in Bellerive or Denmark, prior to Prince Nicholas and Julia getting married.”

“No,” I say. “We agreed we’d debut my intended wife at Nick and Julia’s wedding. I’m not dangling her in front of the press before that.” I toss the contract on the desk. “Strike it. We’re bringing our secret romance into the light at the wedding. End of.”

“If we’re striking that,” my mother says, “we need to add something in its place. She’s asked for a meeting once a month after the wedding. Increase that to two?” She peers at me over the edge of the contract.

My father and Desmond might as well not even be here. Mother and I are engaged in a battle of wills. Without a doubt, she realizes I’m seeing Rory. Are these clauses Simone’s family inserted or were they my mother’s?

“If that’s a concession you think we need to make, that’s fine with me.” Inside, I’m cringing. Once Simone and I go public, it will be next to impossible to maintain anything with Rory. Either she’ll hate me, I’ll hate myself, or I’ll be so busy there’ll be no room for her.

“Desmond, bump the monthly meetings to two when you remove the dates prior to Prince Nicholas’s wedding.”

With his red pen, he makes notes in the margin.

“Is that all?” I ask.

“You’re not going to go through the contract with your usual thoroughness? This is the rest of your life we’re discussing,” my father says.

I suppress a sigh. My life up to now has been a series of compromises, so why should my marriage be any different? Whatever they put in the contract, I’ll honor.

“I trust you, Mother, and Desmond will catch anything else unsavory. The wedding is a means to an end.” I’m also done talking about the marriage I need but don’t want. Before I realized we were having this meeting tonight, I promised Rory I’d be at her place for round two of sparkly outfits and high cliffs. She starts work tomorrow in the kitchen and intends to be baking at some ungodly hour in the morning. If I don’t leave this meeting soon, I won’t be able to see her. She needs her sleep for her debut as the royal pastry chef. I’m not taking the chance a single person will have a valid criticism of her hiring.

“We’ll hold off a day to respond,” my father says. “Take the contract. If you see anything else you don’t like, let us know. It’s all a negotiation, son. Don’t be afraid to ask for what you want.”

I stare at him for a beat, and then my gaze strays to my mother, whose eyes are narrowed. What I want, I can’t have. “I’m getting what I want,” I say. “A crown on my head.” And the power that comes with it.

After a few hours of watching figure skating and cliff jumping, I left Rory’s apartment last night. Now, only a few hours later, I’m back outside her apartment door in the dark. She told me she was nervous for her first day, so rather than letting her go to the kitchen alone, I’ve decided to walk her there.

I knock on the door and listen for her footsteps against the wood floor. When the door opens, her smile is delighted and confused.

“Alex, what are you doing here?” She’s dressed all in white.

“Walking you to work.”