“Why are you speaking of me in the third person?”
“I’m royal. It’s what we do. They call itthe royal wefor a reason. Now let’s go.”
“Where?”
“Outside to make a statement.”
My eyes shoot open wide. “I can’t go out there looking like this and I thought we decided we weren’t going to do that.”
“I’m over it. You’re clearly over it. Let’s make a statement already and move on.”
I’m finding it very difficult to argue with that logic. “Fine. Give me five minutes so I don’t look like something out of a horror film.”
“Five minutes. I have to make a phone call if we’re doing this.”
I hop off the bed and enter the bathroom, wincing when I get a look at my reflection. “Yeesh.” I look like that girl from that movie whose head spun around as she vomited green shit everywhere. Which for some reason makes me start to crackup. I think I have cabin fever, which just feels spoiled given where I am and the fact that Sebastian and the children didn’t leave the palace for three years before I met them.
I quickly brush out the snarls from my hair and apply some makeup including bronzer because I’m as white as a sheet. After I go into the closet and pick out a sweater and cute jeans because that’s who I am, and I refuse to dress up for them and play their games.
There. Evidently, I’m taking this by storm when originally ignoring it was my idea. Sebastian wanted to make a statement since it happened.
“Ready?” Sebastian calls out to me from the other room.
“Like a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest.”
“Pardon?” He pops his head into the closet. “What does that mean?”
“You people and your language barriers. It means I’m about to get my ass kicked since I can’t do much of the ass kicking.”
He rolls his eyes at me. “You’re being dramatic.”
I sigh. He’s cute and all and great in bed, but sometimes I swear, this man doesn’t feel my American sarcasm.
“Let’s do this before I change my mind.”
He steps into me and takes my hands. “Bellamy, if you truly don’t want to, we don’t have to. But you can’t shy away from the world, and frankly, it’s time you spoke to them. I know it’s the last thing you want to do, and I know attention is far from your favorite thing, but let’s give them some hell.”
“That was very American of you to say.”
He grins. “I thought so. Let’s go.” He smacks a kiss on my lips and when we step into the hall, Althea is there, typing furiously on her phone.
“Ah, here you are. Everything is all set. You will make your speech or however you intend to do it and the shops you requested are ready followed by the restaurant.”
“Shops? Restaurant?”
Sebastian throws me a side-eye. “My wife wants to walk around and explore Geneva. I picked out a few shops I thought you’d like and a restaurant I know you’ll love.”
“I take back every bad thing I ever said about you,” I tell him as we step into the elevator.
“You don’t mean that.”
I snicker. “You’re right. I don’t. Let’s get this over with so I can eat—I mean shop.”
Sebastian takes my hand, giving me a small, reassuring squeeze. “Here goes nothing.”
As we step out of the hotel, a sea of flashing cameras and clamoring voices assaults us. The press swarm around us like a pack of rabid wolves, desperate for any morsel of news they can sink their teeth into. This is how celebrities must feel, and it’s beyond weird to categorize myself as one.
“King Sebastian, Queen Bellamy! Is it true that your marriage is on the rocks?”
