“We’ve compiled a list.” She picks up a folder from the side table and holds it out to me. “Twelve candidates from appropriate families. You’ll meet them over the next several weeks, starting in Paris and then Munich the next day, before you return home to meet the rest.”
I take the folder, but don’t open it because I already know what’s inside. Names, titles, and family connections that have been carefully vetted and approved by those in charge. These women look perfect on paper, but will probably put me to sleep before the appetizers arrive.
“Thanks, Mother. Can’t wait to enjoy my grand tour of disappointment.”
“A grand tour ofpossibilities. Please at least try.” She reaches across and squeezes my hand. “We want you to be happy, Louis. That’s all we’ve ever wanted. Choose a partner you can build something with, even if it’s friendship at first. Okay?”
“Okay.”
Two nights ago, Addison’s eyes darted to my mouth when she thought I wasn’t looking. She challenged everything I said. She was a storm I wanted to walk straight into, and now I’m stuck pretending I don’t feel the aftermath every time I close my eyes.
“It will work in your favor,” my mother encourages. “It always does.”
“I believe that to be true.” I squeeze her hand back because I owe them this much. “I’ll try. I promise.”
“That’s all we ask.” She lets go and smooths her skirt. “Your flight leaves at sunrise tomorrow, so try to get some sleep.”
I rise and bow to her, then walk to the door with the folder of candidates tucked under my arm.
Later that night,I sit on the edge of my bed with my suitcase packed and the little black book open in my hands. I glance outside.
The sea is silver under the moonlight, and the palace is quiet around me. There is nothing but the distant sound of waves against the cliffs and the ticking of the clock on my nightstand. I flip through the pages of the book and look at all the names and scores, and I wonder if I’m the problem.
Maybe I’ve been searching for something that doesn’t exist. Maybe my father is right, and love is a luxury I was never meant to have. I close the book and set it on the nightstand, then turn off the lamp.
As I lie back against the cool sheets while the moonlight paints across the ceiling, blue-green eyes and dark red lips fill my mind. I want to know her favorite color, how she takes her coffee, and what she looks like first thing in the morning with her hair messy and her guard down. But wanting those things is pointless because she’s Patterson’s little sister, and she lives an ocean away.
Tomorrow, I’ll fly to Paris to meet three more women who will probably score somewhere in the thirties. Then Munich and wherever else my parents want me to go. I’m their faithful servant, and I have to stop thinking about a woman I can never have before it becomes an issue.
3
ADDISON
The palace sent a plane for me. It wasn’t a commercial flight with a first-class upgrade, but an actual entire private jet with the Montclaire crest on the tail. The flight attendant called me Miss Cross and offered me expensive champagne before we even took off. I spent the seven-hour flight sketching in my notebook and trying not to feel like a fraud, which is difficult when dealing with royals. I’m used to wealth, private jets, and luxuries most people aren’t, and my name has gotten me very far in life, except in the art world. My work is judged on skill, not who my older brothers and father are.
The plane descends, and I see Montclaire sitting on a cliff overlooking the Mediterranean. The castle is white stone and terra-cotta roofs and windows that catch the afternoon sun like liquid gold. When my feet hit land, the air smells like salt and jasmine. Beauty is everywhere I look. Roses spill over ancient walls in shades of coral and blush, while cypress trees line the long driveway. In the courtyard, an oversized fountain splashes.
I want to capture this on canvas.
“Addison!”
Delphine appears at the top of the stone steps, waving with both hands like we’re old friends instead of two people who’ve met a few times at different art shows in the city. Today, she’s wearing a bright sundress the color of lemons. Her tan skin glows in the sunlight, and I think she’s the prettiest princess I’ve ever seen.
She practically skips down the stairs to meet me. She pulls me into a hug before I can properly curtsy to her. “None of that princess shit. Glad you made it safely!”
“Thank you,” I say, automatically knowing we’re going to be great friends.
“How was the flight? Did they take care of you? I instructed them to give you my favorite champagne.”
“The flight was incredible, and the champagne was wonderful. I needed it.” I’m smiling so hard that my cheeks hurt. “So, this is where you live?”
“This is it! Paradise, isn’t it? I hope you’re ready to have some fun with me this summer. I think I might need a wingwoman.” She loops her arm through mine and starts leading me toward the palace.
“I’ve heard I’m an excellent sidekick,” I tell her with a laugh.
“Come on. I’ll give you a quick tour before we go through all the boring official stuff.” She rolls her eyes.
The quick walk-through takes two entire hours. Apparently, the full tour would take four.
