She said, “No, Pierre.No.I’m not returning to Monaco. Ihave divorced you. The divorce is final.” She reached backward with her hand and found Dieter’s strong, warm hand right there, just as she knew he would be waiting to touch her and support her. “Our relationship is over, Pierre.”
“But I need you.” Pierre took one step toward her, glanced above her head, and didn’t come any closer.
“No, you don’tneedme. You do need to go back to Abigai andbe a father to your four children with her. Jesus, Pierre. You made me ‘the other woman.’ I hate that. I wouldneverhave done that.”
“I’ll be everything you want me to be,” Pierre said. “You win. You win everything. If you tell me to jump, I won’t ask how high. I’ll just start jumping as high as I can.”
Flicka caught a glance of her father’s smug, tight smile.
She told Pierre, “It’s not goingto work, Pierre. I remember all those little spats that we had when we were dating, and you never budged an inch. This is too late. We’re done. It’s over.”
“I’m begging you to listen to me,” he said.
“But you won’t listen to me! I said that we’re done.We’re over.”
Dieter’s hand tightened around her fingers.
Pierre said to her, “I love you.”
“You don’t love me, not even ‘in your own way.’You betrayed the one thing I needed from you, the only thing. I was willing to stay in that sham of a marriage with you, but you crossed the only line I had. And it was a sad line, Pierre. It was apatheticline. I would have stayed with you forever. I would have fulfilled my obligation to stay married to you and do the job for Monaco, but you broke every part of me that night. You loved someoneelse. You made a life and a family with someone else. You beat me up, and you raped me. You put your hands around my throat, and you choked me. I thought you were going to kill me.”
“I wasn’t going to kill you.” His voice was light, teasing, like he was trying to make a damned joke out of him strangling her.She hadn’t been able to breathe.
Flicka twitched forward, almost leaping across theroom to punch him, but she said, “Not that time, and there will never be another time.” She held onto Dieter’s fingers that curled around hers. “I want you out of my life. Don’t ever speak to me again.”
“You can’t leave me,” Pierre told her.
“I assure you, I can, and I already have.”
“I’m in the line of succession for the Kingdom of Hannover. Youcan’tdivorce me.”
Flicka wanted to stomp herfoot at Pierre’s total misunderstanding of royal law. “Succession to the Hannoverian throne is regulated by semi-Salic law, Pierre. It’s agnatic-cognatic primogeniture. Itcan’tbe passed through a female except in the case of a total extinction of the male line, like when Sophia, Electress of Hannover,almostinherited the throne of England. That was only because she was the last Protestant royalin Europe. Even if you and I had had a son, he couldn’t have inherited Hannover through me. If anything happens to Wulfie before he has a son, some cousin or other will inherit everything. There are tons of agnates between me and any inheritance. Patrilineal descent to sons. All the time. Every time.I’m a girl.”
Pierre’s scowl deepened. “But you can’t divorce me. Our houses and our dynastiesare intertwined. I’m a Prince of Hannover.”
Flicka shook her head, trying not to get bogged down in the minutiae of royal inheritance law that Pierre should damn well know, anyway. “You’renota royal Hannover prince, Pierre! It’s just a courtesy title. People who marry into the Hannover royal family are given courtesy titles of prince or princess, butthey aren’t royal titles.You’renotinthe succession line. The title can’t be inherited. It’s like a participation trophy. Everybody gets one, but it doesn’t mean you won anything.”
“Wait,”Dieter said from behind her.
She turned her head. “Yes, I know. I ‘forgot’ to mention it. We’ll talk about it later.” She looked back to Pierre. “I won’t ever come back to you. I never want to see you again.”
“Flicka, please!” Pierre ran twosteps toward her.
Dieter yanked her shoulder backward and spun her behind him, ending up with his gun pointing at Pierre again. He stared down the sights at the advancing prince.
Pierre, however, had fallen to his knees, his arms outstretched in the most desperate of supplicant poses.“Flicka,I am begging you.I’ll do anything.”
Dieter lowered his gun, obviously assessing the situation asnon-threatening.
Across the room, Quentin Sault had drawn his weapon and clasped it in both his hands, but it pointed at the floor, just in front of his foot.
“Open your damn ears and listen to me, Pierre,”Flicka growled, holding onto Dieter’s tight waist and peering around the bulk of his strong shoulders. “This,right here,is part of the problem. I saidno.I saidnever.You aren’t listeningtome.You’re only focused on what you want, and what you want is usually a piece of ass. I’m not your piece of ass, and I’m not your pedigreed uterus to breed royal babies for Monaco, either.Get out and leave me alone.”
Pierre staggered to his feet, only a few steps away from her. “Flicka, I’ve begged. I’ve pleaded. I’ve promised you everything. Don’t make me angry.”
“I don’t care whetheryou’re angry or not, Pierre. Get out.”
Anger shook Pierre’s body, from his fists to his grinding jaw. “If you divorce me, I’lltakethe crown of Hannover away from you. I’ll sue you for it. It’s mine because I married you.”
