Page 2 of Fallen Crown

Jag, my main security detail, lets out a low whistle. “You want to work with that?”

Working with her is the price I have to pay for what I want. A spot on the team. By the time we leave for the race, it won’t be me wishing I’d stayed out of the event, it’ll be her.

If someone is nice to me, I’m nice in response. Be a dick to me, and the attitude I whip out will be bigger. Much bigger. Get a measuring tape. I dare you.

She wants to block me from participating, and I won’t let her win. She’s about to get a reminder of how influential the royal family can be.

Chapter Two

Maren

After a disastrous board meeting, the last thing I’m after is more bad news. Unfortunately, I booked the appointment with my divorce lawyer, who is also my cousin, for today, since I was already in the area. After some quick retail therapy for another pair of running shoes, I make my way to Caitlin’s office in the center of Tucker’s Town.

I glide through reception and take the stairs to her office. It’s three flights, but I need to let off some steam before I broach another subject that’ll make me extra salty. Fucking Enzo leaving Bellerive and heading to America at the first sign of trouble. Trust me to fall in love with and marry a man who’s a worse husband than my father.

Caitlin’s secretary, Pam, rises from behind her desk when I open the stairwell door. Her broad smile spreads across her weathered face. “You’re one of the few people who doesn’t take the elevator. I hear you’ll be off on another adventure race soon. When was the last one? Six months ago?”

A dark cloud descends over my mood. I shouldn’t be surprised when people bring it up as though I’ll be participating. For years, I’ve trained and raced with my teammates, and I thought I’d race until I died. The exhilaration is addictive. Or it was. Six months ago, I believed a lot of things that turned out to be untrue.

“Taking this race off,” I say. May never race again.

“Still not recovered from your injury?” Pam asks.

The tightness in my gut is almost unbearable, and a hand strays to my stomach. “Just decided to lead in a different way. Is Caitlin available?”

“She’s on the phone, but you can go in. Her mother called.”

Perfect. Caitlin and I can be in foul moods together. I rap my knuckles on the door before entering her spacious office. She rotates her chair away from the ocean view. Her blond hair is in a messy bun, and her glasses are perched on her nose. Whatever her mother is saying causes Caitlin to grimace and roll her eyes at me.

Her mother is my father’s sister, and while my generation is privileged, we’re aware of the silver spoon lodged in our mouths. Most of my siblings and cousins are doing their best to avoid the spoiled or entitled titles. Caitlin does a lot of pro bono work across the island, and I spend my time supporting charities and promoting fundraisers designed to make people’s lives better. Every race I’ve done since I was a young teenager has been in support of a charity, and we’ve always met or exceeded our fundraising goal.

My father’s generation of Tuckers didn’t even realize the table was set for them, let alone acknowledge the spoon feeding them. I’m sure you can imagine how that’s worked out. We’ve been battling their self-centered attitudes for years.

Caitlin holds up a finger. “Mom.” She lets out an exasperated sigh. “Mom. I have to go. I have a client.” Her lips purse. “That’s none of your business, but yes, they are a paying client.” She winks at me.

Once she hangs up the phone, her shoulders slump. “Why can’t they just be normal?”

“I blame our grandparents,” I say.

“At least our grandparents thought they were fighting to maintain the Tucker name through the assets they acquired and the things they did. Our parents sold off everything, kept the money, and seem obsessed with amassing more wealth.”

“Mine are still silently seething that King George wouldn’t give them an honorary title.” I sink into the chair across from her. “They really thought they had a chance of throwing my sister at Prince Alexander when he was on the hunt for a wife.”

“Thirsty doesn’t look good on anyone. Doesn’t matter how much money you’ve got.”

Secretly, I was happy my older sister wasn’t interested in luring Prince Alexander, and that was before the debacle with Denmark and his hasty marriage to a foreigner. Between Prince Nicholas and Prince Brice man-whoring around the world since they were teenagers, and Prince Alexander’s notoriously icy attitude, the royal siblings could battle the elder Tuckers for the dysfunctional title.

“Have you given any further thought to filing for divorce?” Caitlin plants her elbows on the table.

“I’m not filing.” I drag my purse onto my lap as a shield. “He can be the quitter. That’s not me.”

“At least let me formally file the separation documents. It’ll give you more options and an easier path to divorce eventually. If you two reconcile, then those documents mean nothing, anyway.” She gives me a searching look. “You seem better since you went on the meds. Maybe you should reach out to him.”

“I’m also not doing that. He blamed me for the...” Even thinking the word causes my stomach to roll. The meds might have evened out my emotions, but they haven’t erased my memories. “Then when I couldn’t get over it fast enough for his taste, he left the country to give us both some space.” I throw my hands out. “That wasn’t what I needed. Maybe if he stayed, I wouldn’t have needed the medication.”

Caitlin doesn’t say anything, but her eyes soften in sympathy. She’s poured herself into her work, and if she wants the life I tried to build for myself with Enzo, she’s never given me any indication. When her parents suggested she put herself forward for Prince Alexander’s wife search, she’d laughed in their faces. Her relationship with her parents is a tad more confrontational than mine. Must be the lawyer in her.

“If you don’t want to divorce him, then one of you needs to reach out.”