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“The day you left, you told me I needed to show you I planned to do better with my actions.” He shrugs, the most powerful man in the country nowhere to be seen. In his place is just a dad.Mydad. “This is me trying to do better.”
Without even thinking about it, I fling my arms around him, hugging him tightly. “Thank you.” I hold him several moments longer, wanting to savor in this moment.
The moment I feel like I have a father again.
“Those things you said in there…” I pull back. “Have you mentioned any of that to Anders?”
He heaves a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Not yet. We haven’t exactly been on great terms.”
I place my hand on his bicep. “This could help, especially since he’s suggested formally removing himself from the line of succession.”
My dad’s eyes widen, jaw dropping. “He has?”
“The first time I brushed it off. Figured it was just the shock of his diagnosis. But he keeps bringing it up. Thinks he’s saving us from having to do it ourselves. But if he knew he had your support, knew you weren’t going to push him away like you did Mum—”
“I didn’t mean to push her away. I just—”
I grab his hand in mine. “Tell him. Not me. He needs to know you love him, no matter what happens. It’ll mean a lot to him. Despite any differences you may have, he still respects you.”
He briefly closes his eyes, his shoulders falling. “Okay. I’ll talk to him.”
“Thanks.” I take another drink of my scotch, then stand. “I’ll let you get on with your day. Apparently, I have some packing to do. Not to mention, getting up to date on all the issues facing this country.”
“Just be yourself, Esme. They’ll love you even more for it.”
“Even if that’s not the perfect, poised princess the royal household thinks I should be?”
He grips my biceps. “Especiallyif that’s not the perfect, poised princess the royal household thinks you should be.” He presses a kiss to my forehead before dropping his hold on me.
I give him a smile, nothing about this man bearing even a remote resemblance to the person I thought he was. Then I spin, making my way from his office, the noose that once suffocated me whenever I walked these halls practically non-existent.
Until a familiar voice calls out, “Your Highness.”
I pause, slowly turning around as Jameson Gates strides toward me. His blond hair is as impeccably groomed as it was all those years ago, the three-piece suit he wears giving him an air of sophistication.
“Mr. Gates,” I say evenly.
“I hope you’re not upset with me.”
“Upset?” I furrow my brow.
“About throwing you to the wolves in there. Suggesting you take this trip instead of your brother.”
“Not at all. My father’s right. It’s time for me to reconnect with the people.”
“Good.”
He keeps his blue eyes trained on me for several long seconds, something unnerving about it. It reminds me of the way he briefly looked at me after he caught me eavesdropping in on a phone conversation when we were at the beach villa all those summers ago. His voice was so different from the gentle one I’d grown accustomed to. Instead it was full of anger as he demanded someone find a recording.
WasGiannathe one on the other line?
I’d forgotten all about that somewhat unnerving encounter until this moment.
Now I wonder if maybe my gutisright.
“Do you really think that homeless guy killed Gianna?” I blurt out before I consider the ramifications.
“That’s a random question.” He laughs nervously, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.
