“Not me,” Flicka said. “We’ve discussed that, and we’ve discussed it a lot. And now, I certainly would never want children with you.”
Pierre rubbed his face with both hands. “I married you to provide for Monaco.”
“I thought you married me because you loved me,” she said, using the base of her tumbler to press wet circles onto the glass of the coffee table.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Pierre said. “We don’tmarryfor love. We’re royalty.”
She said, “I married for love.”
“Well, you shouldn’t have,” Pierre said. “This is a dynastic marriage. It’s to provide an heir for Monaco and publicity for the country. You can’t divorce me. You’ll do your damned job like I have all these years.”
“Of course, I can divorce you,” Flicka said, standing. “It’s written into the pre-nup.”
He stepped around the table. “You can’t divorce me. I’ll lose the throne. A divorced person can’t be crowned Prince of Monaco. It’s a Catholic sovereignty.”
“Not my problem,” Flicka said. “Maybe your buddy the Pope will give you an annulment, anyway.”
He grabbed her arm. “I will never agree. I will never sign the divorce papers.”
Flicka shook off his hand. “You say that like you have a choice in the matter. I’m invoking the conditions in the pre-nup. You don’t have to agree to anything. I’m leaving you, right this very minute.”
She walked toward the door, planning to stagger to Wulfie’s suite or just get a separate room for the night. She couldn’t stand being in the same room with Pierre for even one more minute.
Behind her, Pierre said,“Quentin.”
Quentin Sault stepped into Flicka’s path and grabbed one of her arms.
Pierre caught up and glared down at her from half a foot taller than she was. “You’re not leaving. You’re not divorcing me. A princess’s job is to spit out royal kids and look pretty for the cameras. You’ll stay and have pretty little princes and princesses for Monaco anddo your job.”
“I’m done, Pierre.” She struggled, but Pierre’s hands and Quentin’s were too strong for her.
“I’m not going to allow you to ruin everything. I will not allow one silly little girl with bourgeois notions about marriage make me lose the throne of Monaco. I married you so that I could inherit the throne and be the prince. If I wanted to throw it all away, I would have married Abigai.”
Flicka pulled harder, but she couldn’t break their grip. “Let me go.”
Pierre glared down at her, and his dark eyes held fury like she’d never seen in him before. He swelled with rage as he inhaled, and his face twisted into something ugly and vicious.“I’ll kill youbefore I let you file for divorce.I’ll kill youif you run or try to fly to Paris. If you go to your brother, I’ll kill himandhis pregnant wife.”
“You wouldn’t!” Flicka said, starting to panic. “You can’t get to Wulf. TheWelfenlegionwill protect him from anyone.”
Pierre clenched his teeth so hard that Flicka heard them grind. He said, “I have a person inside their security perimeter. I will give the order, and no one will be able to touch me. Your family lost your kingdom, but we still have the divine right of kings in Monaco. No one can indict me or even investigate me, and I have diplomatic immunity everywhere. I will kill Wulf, Rae, and any baby they have if they try to help you.”
“Please don’t,” Flicka begged him. “Don’t hurt them.”
Pierre looked up. “Quentin, hold her.”
He grabbed Flicka’s arm away from Pierre and held her wrists.
Pierre reached down to his leg and took a knife from somewhere near his shoe. He held it near Flicka’s neck. “I thought you would be different because you’re a princess. You should have understood. But you’re just like all the others. You want too much from me. You want things I can’t give you, and you’re stupid.”
“I thought you loved me.”
His laugh was cruel. “I’llmakeyou have a baby. I’ll flush those stupid birth control pills of yours down the toilet, and I’llmakeyou pregnant. I need you to produce legitimate, royal heirs, and I don’t give a shit about how that happens. Once I get you back to Monaco, you won’t be going anywhere until you shit out enough little princes and princesses that I won’t need you anymore. The Prince’s Palace is a fortress, and it can lock you inside just as well as it keeps invaders out.”
The life that he described assailed Flicka. She jerked her arms, fighting to get away, but she couldn’t move her head because Pierre was holding a sharp blade too close to her neck.
He might accidentally cut her.
Or it might not be an accident.
