Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
She looks past Kynan to me and offers a faint smile of uncertainty.
“Well, now that Jackson is done with his dipshittery,” Kynan says softly, but neither of us looks over at him. “Please feel free to use my office as long as you need.”
Dipshittery?
I can’t help but look at him, and he winks as he exits and closes the door behind him.
My head swivels back to Camille. I check her out head to toe and then do it again. “What are you doing here?”
“Um…”
“Never mind,” I mutter and snatch her into my arms. My mouth is hot on hers, and I’m not sure I’ve ever felt anything as right as this.
Her arms go around my neck, fingers threading through my hair, and I kiss her as if my very next breath depends on it. I bend her backward, kiss her for what seems like forever, but then a strange, uneasy feeling comes over me. I lift my head slowly and look out through Kynan’s office window. Several people are watching us, and the minute I make eye contact with them, they scatter like cockroaches.
Moving my eyes back to Camille, I let her stand upright but I don’t release her. “Again, what are you doing here?”
Her arms stay around my neck. “I came to get you.”
“Get me?” I ask, not understanding what that means, but by the way my heart starts galloping, I think I have an inkling.
“Yes,” she says with a smile. “I want you to run away with me… wherever you feel like. Somewhere here in the States or Europe or even Africa. Anywhere we want to go.”
“Extended vacation?” I tease, because I know she’s talking about something big.
Instead of answering, she adds a new destination. “To Bretaria, if you want.”
I go still.
Bretaria? Where she’s expected to marry a rich royal?
Camille takes a breath and when she lets it out, she says, “Apparently, the whole royal-and-rich thing is not a true prerequisite for my prince.”
“Says who?” I ask curiously.
“My father.”
I’m confused. “But… isn’t he the one who told you the type of man you had to marry? I know damn well he’s the one who told me I wasn’t good enough for you.”
“As to the latter, he regrets those words and said they were out of anger,” she explains. “As to the former, he never actually came out and said this is the type of man you have to marry. It’s just that he and my mother kept pushing those type of men toward me as it was their preference. But my father told me that he’d much rather I be happy and in love, no matter where the man is from or how much money is in his bank account.”
I’m reeling. That’s huge.
“Your father is now playing matchmaker, huh?” I ask.
“He literally shoved me onto his plane to come after you,” she replies, and I chuckle at the imagery. “Of course, he insisted I go to bed and get a good night’s sleep first.”
“If you slept, then how did you get here so fast?”
Camille laughs. “Turns out my father’s plane is a lot bigger than mine—and a lot faster.”
“Makes sense.” We smile at each other, no words needed, just happy to be in each other’s arms. We now have potential.
Serious potential to be something.
“You said we could go anywhere,” I say, coming back down to earth. “You didn’t give up your right to the crown, did you?”
“No,” she replies, stepping out of my embrace and clasping her hands. “My dad gave me several choices, and well, I guess I need to know if any interest you.”
“Choices?”
Camille nods. “You could come back to Bretaria with me with my father’s full approval. And there would be no pressure for us to be anything other than what we are right now, although my father seems to think we’ll be so much more.”
Fuck… I think that too. The king is smart.
“Or,” she continues, “I can take some time off. A sabbatical is what he called it, and I can come here and be with you, so we can see what we might become together.”
“Or,” she says in a somber voice, and I can hear within her tone that while she’ll consider it, it won’t be the right choice for her, “he’ll let me abdicate my right, and he’ll choose another family member as his heir. I can be free of the crown forever.”
“Not an option,” I growl, reaching out to take her hands. “You love Bretaria and the people. You have a deep sense of duty to them. You not being involved in the monarchy and the mines is not an option.”
“But I don’t want you to give up your job here,” she says, pointing out a dilemma for her. “I can’t ask you to give up what you love so I can have what I love.”