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“Esme, you remember Henry Gates, don’t you?” my grandmother offers as I approach the empty chair, a hint of superiority in her smile. “He’s been a frequent guest of mine at the palace.”
“Of course.” I smile at the older gentleman, doing my best to remain courteous.
I’ve known the Gates family almost my entire life. My grandfather’s former private secretary, Silas Archer, is a longtime friend of Henry Gates. Even though my grandfather passed over fifteen years ago, Silas still holds a prominent position in the royal family as a member of my father’s privy council. And because he was my grandfather’s right-hand man for many years, he’s quite close to my grandmother. I get the feeling he had a hand in concocting this arrangement.
“Mr. Gates. It’s nice to see you again.”
“Likewise, Your Highness.” He bows toward me, then straightens, placing his hand on the shoulder of the man at his side. He’s practically a carbon copy of the older gentleman. Blond hair. Blue eyes. Dazzling smile. And dressed in a suit that would have most women drooling at how well he fills it out.
But not me.
“And you remember my son, Jameson.”
All eyes are on me as I turn my attention to Jameson, pretending as if this entire scenario doesn’t make my skin crawl. The anticipation in their gazes reminds me of the way my grandmother looks at the horses she hopes will act as a stud.
Jameson bows slightly. “Pleasure to see you again, Your Highness.”
“Mr. Gates.”
My grandmother glares at me from just over Jameson’s shoulder, warning me to play nice. I offer him my hand. When he takes it in his, I feel absolutely nothing.
“Please, call me Jameson.”
I nod, forcing a smile. “Jameson.”
“You look lovely today,” he states. “Congratulations on completing your studies. And in Paris, no less. Did you enjoy your time there?”
“Very much so. I’d love to go back.”
To anyone else, my statement implies I’d like to return at some point in the future. In reality, I’d give anything to leave this place right now and go back to the simplicity of my life in Paris. When I was no one special. When the only reminder of who I am were the undercover bodyguards who accompanied me wherever I went.
I came home to spend the summer with my brother before he leaves on one final deployment. A deployment he volunteered for, probably to avoid this exact situation. Once the summer ended, I’d hoped to return to Paris.
With every second I sit in this room, I feel those plans slip further and further away.
“Shall we get started?” my grandmother suggests, taking charge, as she’s prone to do.
My father may be king, may be the one who makes the important decisions about how this country is run, but when it comes to matters of the royal family, my grandmother is the driving force. The venerated matriarch. And all members of the royal household, the people who make decisions for the monarchy and royal family, look to her for guidance.
As everyone lowers themselves into their assigned seats, I remain standing. I don’t want to admit defeat just yet. Taking my seat will send a message that I’m okay with this when nothing about it is okay.
My grandmother meets my eyes, her gaze floating to the empty chair beside Jameson, a silent admonition to sit there.
“Allow me.” Jameson pulls out my chair for me.
My grandmother passes me a warning look, the severity in her expression reprimanding me not to make a scene. Truthfully, I have no desire to make a scene. But I absolutely plan to speak my mind.
“Thank you.” I make a concerted effort to ensure my response lacks any warmth. I don’t want anyone to think I’m on board with this asinine plan because Jameson Gates acts like a gentleman around me.
Once I’m situated in my chair, I open my mouth to voice my opposition. Before I can utter a single syllable, my grandmother directs her attention to Gianna, the head of palace public relations.
At least, that’s her technical title.
In reality, she’s more like a fixer.
Whenever someone associated with the royal family finds themselves in trouble, Gianna cranks up the “spin machine”, as I call it.
Her straight blonde hair and blue doe eyes may make her look sweet and innocent, but I know from experience she’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Her connections and ability to help the royal family whenever we’re in trouble make her a powerful force to be reckoned with. Not to mention the secrets she keeps on our behalf.
