“You could have just waited until your uncle died and then married whomever you wanted.”
“No,” Pierre said, frowning. “I couldn’t. That’s not the way it works.”
“Why not?”
“Because I might die,” he said.
“That would be Maxence’s problem.”
“But he won’t take it. He’d abdicate.”
Flicka knew exactly why, too. “Alexandre is next in line.”
Pierre laughed out loud. “Can you imagine a murderer as the Prince of Monaco? We’d have a revolution.”
“Never been proven,” Flicka said, shuddering at her memories of the violence that day.
“Everyone knows.”
“Then give the damn thing to Christine.”
“She wants it even less than Maxence.”
“Then whoever is number five,” Flicka said, exasperated.
“You can keep going down the list, but it doesn’t matter. It’smyjob. Iwantthe job, and I want my children to have the job after me.”
“Which children?”
“Ours.I told you my children with Abigai have no claim, none whatsoever.”
“But they’re your children.”
“Yes, but the crown doesn’t recognize illegitimate children.”
“And she’s your wife.”
“Not legally. Not in Monaco.”
“How could you do this to the woman you love?”
Flicka gritted her teeth and waited to see whether Pierre answered about her or Abigai.
He said, “I don’t know. It upsets her so much. These few months have been Hell on Earth. She threatened to throw herself out of a window at the George V, so I had to stay with her that night. She was distraught. It broke my heart, how upset she was.”
He had, indeed, answered her question. “I’m upset. Am I breaking your heart?”
“You’re royal,” he said, “like me. You should understand. We have a dynastic marriage.”
Misery and rage merged into a new, white-hot force in Flicka’s body.
“No, I’m not like you.” She looked up at him. “I thought I could handle anything you did, but I was wrong. I can’t be married to a man who loves another woman, who has another family. I want a divorce.”
Pierre stood. “You can’t divorce me. I married you for Monaco. You’re a perfect Princess of Monaco. You’re beautiful and accomplished, and we’ll have beautiful children together who will be the next generation of sovereign princes.”
Flicka nudged a picture of Pierre surrounded by three laughing children. “I don’t want children. I’ve never wanted children.”
Pierre’s eyebrows lowered. “Of course, you do. Women want children. Women want to be mothers and have a family.”
