Royal Marriage Market (37 page)

Christian

The She-Wolf, according to Lukas, is fuming at her inability to find me. “Shite, bro, if you come home, be prepared to be locked down. Do we even have dungeons? Because I’m sure that’s exactly where she’d put you. The She-Wolf is convinced that this is another Isabellegate.”

Elsa is asleep in the other room, but a call from Parker shortly after her eyes closed has kept me wide-awake.

Kim was willing to talk to me.

While the actual conversation was short, I laid things out as plainly as I could for her. She cried quietly, but was angry, too.

“I hate Mat’s fucking family,” she told me, and I flinched in her vehemence. She’s a good girl, a nice one (despite my teasing Elsa over what a pitiful word nice is), and it isn’t fair that her life, already riddled with upheavals, was even further upended because she had the wherewithal to fall in love with someone of royal blood.

“Are you willing to come to Paris?” I asked her.

She hesitated, unsure about what Mat would think. But then, the steely resolve I’d seen before in her character came to the forefront.

“I’ll be there as soon as possible, Christian.”

And now, here I am, fielding a phone call from my brother, discussing another royal family worth loathing.

“Did you give her the letter?” I ask. I’d left one, just in case.

“Hell no! Does it make me the worst son on the planet to admit I’ve withheld it because watching her squirm is a favorite pastime?”

“You’re the one who’s currently facing the firing squad,” I point out. “Not me.”

“Only because you’re in bloody France instead of Aiboland. The moment your feet touch our rocky soil, you’re going to be in front of the firing squad and then the gallows and then you’ll probably be dismembered, so the She-Wolf can have you sewn back up into a puppet she can control. It will be Rasputin all over again. How much longer do you think this trip will take? Because I don’t know how long I can hold her back before the hounds are set loose.”

“Don’t you mean wolves? Also, Rasputin never was hung or dismembered.”

“Bloody history nerd. My point stands, Chris. The She-Wolf is out for your blood. Now, answer the damn question.”

“If I’m lucky, the biggest issue will be resolved by nightfall. Or, at least, be partially resolved.”

He scoffs, but wishes me luck. It’s appreciated, because I damn well need all the luck I can get.

Charlotte left for the airport to fetch Parker and Kim, leaving Elsa and me to confront Mat. As the woman I love answers the door, I’m reminded of a time the
Chambéry prince
and I went sailing with friends one late summer afternoon in New England. It was a smashing time, with lots of cold beers drank and precious few prying eyes. We weren’t royals on that boat. We were just mates having a good time.

I hope we can make it through this as mates, too.

He isn’t too surprised to see me once Elsa leads him to the sitting area of the suite. A hand is extended in greeting; I take it easily. When he says, “Despite everything, it’s good to see you,” I believe him.

Elsa sits next to me on the couch; Mat chooses a chair across from us. I regret that it comes across so much like an interrogation, but as my brother pointed out, time is of the essence. I ask my old friend, “What’s going on?”

Something that sounds too close to a laugh but doesn’t have enough humor in it falls out of him. “I know you and Lukas believe you’ve got the leg up on having the world’s worst mother,” he tells me, “but let me assure you, I have you beat. My parents . . .” He shakes his head. Releases a hard breath. “Let’s just say they didn’t take kindly to discovering their only son was keen to spend his life with what they dubbed
ghetto trash.
Nor did they find the idea of their bloodline being eventually sullied by children conceived with a woman who is nothing more than a mutt in their eyes acceptable.”

“Jesus.” And then, outraged such judgments could be made about a person before even meeting them, I say, “Fuck them. They don’t know shite about Kim.”

“I said the very same thing, and they followed up with a tidy threat of their own, promising they would make Kim’s life and those of her family a living hell if I didn’t leave her and marry somebody of their own choosing. Someone who will help regain the
Chambéry
glory.”

The color drains from Elsa’s face. For all of Prince Gustav’s threats, at least she’s never had to hear this one.

“After my family lost power, they became . . . let’s say,
friendly
with those whose careers weren’t always aboveboard. That relationship has carried over the years and has proved mutually beneficial in ways I won’t bore you with, but it’s enough to say that, whenever the
Chambérys
have a problem they need dealt with, these associates are called in.”

Puzzle pieces slide in place. Kim is under surveillance because of the
Chambérys.

“Does Kim know?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “I simply told her that they disapproved. I didn’t want to worry her—she already has too much on her shoulders, thanks to her own family.”

I kiss the back of Els’ hand before standing up. “I think this calls for some drinks. I’m afraid we’re limited here, though. Is scotch okay?”

Mat nods. Elsa urges him to continue.

“See, when my parents discovered I was dating someone they hadn’t vetted, they were enraged. I was told to end our relationship immediately; I balked. The enforcers my family utilizes far too often were sent in to rough up one of Kim’s brothers.”

I nearly drop the heavy glass I’m holding.

To Elsa, he says, “Her family is too closely associated with violence themselves, so for this to happen, on their territory, no less, was intensely frightening.”

The woman I love is horrified. I am, too.

“Before I could even wrap my head around what was happening, somebody was sent after Kim, too.” He swallows hard. “She spent a few days in the hospital, believing she was targeted by a rival gang rather than the mafia.”

I hand Mat the scotch, unsure of what even to say at this point.

“I was assured that the next time my parents’ associates were sent out, they would not be so generous.” He takes a large swallow of the amber liquid, wincing as it goes down. “I believed them. Although I broke up with her, I gave one of her brothers money to get her somewhere safe.” He leans back in the chair, defeat coloring his face. “That was five months ago.”

“Have you talked to her?” Elsa asks softly. “Seen her since then?”

“I can’t risk it.” Bitterness rolls off him in waves. “I didn’t even get to see her after the attack, except for photos left in my office. So you see, Elsa, I know this isn’t exactly ideal, but I will not be the one to call things off between us. The
Chambérys
have decreed I’m to marry into the Vasas. If I don’t, I can’t even bear to consider what could happen to Kim.”

Christ. And I thought I had it bad with the She-Wolf.

Just then, a knock sounds on the door. Elsa flashes a meaningful look before going to answer it. I’m suddenly second guessing my decision to bring Kim to Paris. What if she was followed? What if the goons sent to watch her report her actions back to the
Chambérys?

But then the woman in question rounds the corner, belly large and beautiful, trailed by Charlotte and a clearly weary Parker. Mat slowly stands up, eyes wide, hands visibly shaking as he takes her in.

It is painfully clear he had no idea she was pregnant.

“What . . .” He swallows, staring at her protruding stomach. “How . . .” And then he’s across the room, his arms around her shoulders before anything else can be said. She’s weeping, so is he, and if I’m not mistaken, so are Elsa and Charlotte.

Bloody hell, I’m feeling a little misty-eyed myself.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Mat’s asking Kim.

“At least now I won’t have to knee him in the bollocks,” Elsa muses before we give the two some well deserved privacy.

chapter 58

Elsa

“I can’t accept these,” Mat says.

What utter ridiculousness. Turning to Kim, I take hold of her hand. “It’s not nearly enough, but it is a start.”

Dark, curly hair swishes around her shoulders as she stares at the emerald earrings in her hand. But she is clearly more intelligent than Mat, because her fingers curl around the gemstones. “Thank you.”

For the last hour, we discussed in detail what to do with our incredibly complex situation. The Grand Duchess of Aiboland desires a way to share in the profits of Vattenguldia’s shipping registries. My parents require liquid cash—lots of it. The
Chambérys
covet land and a throne. None have ever asked what it is we, the heirs and children, want. But now that we are all together in an exquisite suite in Paris, the lot of us decide to finally take control of our own destinies.

First up, Christian and I will help Mat and Kim go into hiding. It’s not ideal, but they’ll be together, which is what they both say they want. Parker claims that, thanks to our private investigator’s reports, he was able to find a way into her building that evaded notice—better yet, they were able to depart the same way. Kim placed a call to her family, using Charlotte’s cell, begging them to go into hiding immediately. Neither Christian nor I have large amounts of cash on our persons, but I have the emerald earrings to start with. Spiteful as it may be in the moment, I would really rather Mat and Kim have the money than my parents.

Parker and Charlotte fall in strategic mode, arranging flights and accommodations for the parents-to-be. It will not be easy; the
Chambérys a
re still influential in France and Italy, and New York is obviously out as it would be one of the first places combed over in a search for a missing prince.

None of us have all the answers yet—just the determination behind what is right.

“You know,” Christian murmurs as alternate destinations are discussed, “perhaps we ought to start a new club. The RRAS.”

I tap my chin as I consider this. “The Royal Reluctantly Amorous Society?”

He laughs before he kisses the space just below my ear. “I’m disappointed in you. The Royal Runaway Society.”

“Runaway is a singular word, you know. It would be the RRS.”

His arms wrap around me, and while they are warm and comfortable and nice, they are a far cry from brotherly, thank goodness. “Semantics.”

“First Isabelle, now Mat.” I chuckle against his shirt. “Running away has become an epidemic amongst the younger royals of Europe.”

Minutes later, Mat meanders over to where we are, hands stuffed in his pockets. “You’re going to get your way, Your Highness. We will not be married after all.”

My smile challenges the speed of light. “I do so like getting my way.”

Kim joins us; their hands clasp together, like magnets that cannot resist one another. He is tender when he urges her to sit down and rest, only to have her remind him women have been having babies since the dawn of mankind, and she’ll sit when she’s on the plane. Besides, she argues, she’s a doctor and would know more than a math geek like him.

Christian was right. I like this Kim.

Mat asks me, faint lines marring his brow, “Will Prince Gustav and Princess Sofia be upset to not get their share of the
Chambéry fortune
?”

Undoubtedly. But that should not matter in the least to Mat. “They made their bed, and now they must lie on it. The moment you two leave Paris, I will schedule a nice, long talk with Their Serene Highnesses about just such a thing.”

“I wish you luck,” he tells me. When we hug for the last time, it feels right, because brotherly, warm hugs are perfect for friends.

chapter 59

christian

It goes against every fiber of my being to let Elsa board a jet with Greta, but not myself, yet I know it must be done.

I can’t fight Elsa’s battles any more than she can fight mine.

Parker and Charlotte snuck Kim out of the hotel, with Mat publicly departing before disappearing in Paris. No note was left—Mat feared that if he even mentioned Kim by name, her family would immediately be targeted. It was best to leave without word, and with as little trace as possible. They flew directly to Scotland to marry, but beyond that, Elsa and I remain in the dark.