“No. Nothing happened, exactly.” James glances at his watch, slightly flustered. “Right, must dash. Don’t forget my birthday later this month. I’ll send you invites once everything is finalized. And stay out of trouble in the meantime. Both of you.”
Ethan smiles warmly at James. “Of course. And I’ll keep an eye on Theo. We’ve got a lot work to do anyway. We’ll be busy till then.”
I give James a bemused glance and blow him an irreverent kiss.
James rises and heads off.
“Another pint?” Ethan asks, and I nod. At least he’s not treating me like one of our projects needing a makeover, unlike James. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
Which leaves me alone to consider I’ve got about three weeks to escape James’ latest plan to reform my profile—and come up with my own. And to get Stefanos out of my head.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The next day, after the requisite scroll through the news, including international headlines, my gaze lands on a top story about the raising of the sunken Greek yacht off Paxos. Complete with video of yesterday’s recovery work, it’s also a great opportunity to trot out again the video of Stefanos and me looking stunned on the deck of the listing yacht when our rescuers arrived. There’s a discussion of the environmental impacts of the sinking on the reef, the irresponsible behavior of young royals, and profiles of both of us—Stefanos’ public profile glows till this point in time—and enough said about mine. Plus, a bonus analysis of how I’ve disgraced the Greek royals. I grimace.
Great.
Somehow, despite James’ efforts, I don’t think Duke Edward of Wiltshire is the salve to my problems. Not in the immediate future anyway.
I scroll through the images of the floating boom placed around the yacht to contain any possible oil or chemical spill. Which, after searching through a few stories, thankfully, it doesn’t look like any spill happened. But there’s obviously the physical impact on the coral reef and the disruption of habitat. Which ultimately tie back to me.
There’s got to be a way to make this better. And hopefully get Stefanos talking to me again.
“Fuck.”
Which is when my phone rings and I soon find myself on a video call with Freja.
“Hey, sis. It’s been a minute.”
“Hey, yourself.” Freja frowns, shaking her head. “I’m sure you’ve seen the news. Everyone has seen the news about you and your yacht incident. World headlines, Mamma says.”
I make a face. “Yeah, I’ve seen the news. In all sorts of excruciating detail. As if living through it the first time wasn’t bad enough.”
Freja’s frown deepens. “I don’t know how, Theo, but you must fix this. Don’t forget my situation. I can’t move on with my life while you’re making headlines around the world for another one of your stunts.”
“You mean I’m putting a cramp in your plans to abdicate?” I lift my eyebrows at her. If she doesn’t have the guts to say it directly, I have no problem helping her out. “Shame.”
“I wouldn’t put it like that. But yes. It’s not helping anything.”
“You could… not abdicate. It’s an option, you know. That would be ideal.”
Freja sighs. It’s a sigh of frustration, but there’s also something vulnerable in it. Which is why what she says next cuts so deep. “Theo, I’m not annulling my marriage. And you—you’re not married, and you’re not doing anything significant. Becoming King will be a chance to… to grow up.”
“Ouch. Tell me what you really think.” Stung, I give her a sharp look. Something twists in the pit of my stomach. Possibly the wound she just made. “Just because I’ve made a lot of different choices than you doesn’t mean I’m a waste of space. Fucking hell?—”
“That’s not what I’m saying. You know I love you. But…” She looks unhappily at me, and the glimmer of tears in her eyes leaves me in knots. I can’t handle it when my sister cries. “Everything’s a disaster right now. I need you to step up. Please, Theo. I need you. We all do.”
Wearily, I rub my face with my hands. “Oh, Freja. This is a fucking mess, yeah. Agreed. And it’ll take some time and effort to get out of it. And I’m sure nobody wants you to abdicate to have me as King like this.”
“This is exactly my point. You need to fix this situation, please. And become King.”
“You really think I want to be King?”
“You did this on purpose?” Freja counters, wide-eyed. “Falling in love?”
“No! Hell, I don’t know.” Falling in love and marrying a man with a criminal record was definitely a choice.
She purses her lips. “Help me. Help yourself. You know our lives are meant to be of service to the people.”
