Page 87 of Fallen Crown

The ink on my separation papers is still fresh. Yes, Enzo and I haven’t lived together in almost a year, and I can’t even remember the last time I felt as close to Enzo as I do to Brice, but appearances matter in Bellerive and soon across the globe. Brice will be front and center for InterFlix, which means I will be too. I’m already a little panicky about how we’ll be portrayed, questioning whether I made the right decision in forging ahead on camera.

I jumped into my marriage with Enzo, and I didn’t care whether it was the smart choice or the right choice. At the time, I wanted what I wanted. Enzo and Bellerive, and the only way to get it was by getting married.

Coming to Fiji, I filed for separation because I knew I’d developed feeling for Brice, but my decision to end my marriage was largely an impulse. I can’t make the same mistakes with Brice. He’s not an interloper in Bellerive who people will forget, and a scandal with him will follow me forever. Every time we’re at a function together, enter the same room, speak in passing, people will talk. A fling in Fiji we could explain away as a showmance or the dreaded rebound, and people might have a short memory. Going beyond this race, back to Bellerive like this, is risky.

No matter how Brice thinks or feels about me now, I’m well aware of his track record with women. He doesn’t do serious. He doesn’t date exclusively. That means what he really wants is to keep having sex, and that feels dangerous to my heart. A small part of me, that I try not to acknowledge, already considers him mine in ways I shouldn’t. If I let myself really believe in what’s between us, I’ll never find my way back out.

My separation and divorce haven’t been easy, and there were some really hard days, but I’ve never questioned whether I could survive them. With Brice, I’m connected and in tune with him in ways I’ve never been with anyone else. To have him, really, truly have him, and to lose him would devastate me. So much easier not to want what he’s offering at all.

Just before lunch, Wren texts me that she’s coming back to the room, and we reluctantly get dressed.

“Tomorrow,” Brice says as he tugs on his shirt, “I’m not going back to Bellerive. There’s a climate change summit in Denmark that I’m scheduled to attend. I thought I’d have a bit of time at home, but with the race delay, I lost it.”

Denmark. Freja. Though I’d never paid any attention before, I did a search for her yesterday, and there are several photos of them at events in Denmark looking comfortable and, in some, downright cozy. Another reason I shouldn’t be pinning any hopes on Brice. It won’t work. He doesn’t want a long-term relationship with anyone, and I can’t give him the children he wants.

“Okay,” I say while I tie my hair back at the mirror. “I hope it’s a good trip.”

There’s a heavy silence between us, but if he expects me to pry for more information, I won’t. His royal life is none of my concern. Every time I inch toward believing we might work as a couple, something reminds me we can’t. At some point, I need to not only acknowledge those roadblocks but remember them. The last year was hard, and giving myself another hard year when I can prevent it would make me an emotional masochist.

“I’m hanging out with Wren this afternoon, but I’ll see you at the after-party,” I say.

“Are we—” Brice runs a hand through his hair and takes a deep breath. “Are we okay? We felt solid this morning, but now there’s this weird distance between us again.”

I close my eyes and run my fingertips along my temple. “My mind is just a bit muddled,” I admit.

“Doesn’t have to be,” Brice says, and he sits on the edge of the bed. “Talk to me.”

There’s a knock on the door, and I’m sure it’s Wren. The window to get Brice out the door without being seen might be short. It’s one thing for people to believe Brice and I are sleeping together, but it’s quite another for anyone to have photographic proof.

“Later,” I say as I check the peephole. “You should go while you have the chance.”

When I step away from the door, he’s at my side. He loops an arm around my waist, and he buries his face in my neck before placing a lingering kiss there then my temple and a quick peck on my lips. “Later,” he says with an unexpected firmness before slipping out the door while Wren slides in.

“How was your night?” Wren asks as soon as the door clicks closed.

“He definitely knows his way around a woman’s body.” I keep my voice deliberately light, even though I’m sure she’s not asking what the sex was like.

“Not a shocker,” Wren says. “Charm oozes out of him. He’s a tube of toothpaste that can’t be capped.” Wren goes to the mini fridge and takes out her water bottle. “What are you two doing once this is all done tonight?”

“He’s going to Denmark,” I say, “and I’m going back to Bellerive.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“I don’t know what to tell you.” I sit on the edge of the bed, and then I flop back to stare at the ceiling.

“The two of you clearly have feelings for each other, but you’re fresh off a divorce, and I mean fresh. I was all for a rebound, but the way he looks at you doesn’t feel very rebound-like.”

“He’s also been clear from the start that relationships aren’t his thing.” I twirl a strand of my ponytail around my finger while I’m lost in thought. “I think I miscalculated this whole thing. I’m so confused. The only thing I’m sure I don’t want is a scandal. At some point, he’s going to move on from me. It’s inevitable, and I can’t be the woman he left behind. I can’t.” The Tucker family is used to managing public perception. While I don’t want anyone to believe I cheated on Enzo, even if I did, I also don’t want people to think I was just another notch on Brice’s bedpost… even if I am.

“The woman Prince Brice left behind? Yeah, that would not sit well with you.”

I’ve tried to keep my expectations realistic where Brice is concerned, but I know they’ve slipped several times into desires that are a lot bigger and deeper than we likely warrant. “Nothing about us has been simple.”

“Does it need to be?”

“Everything with Enzo felt simple.”

“Until it wasn’t.”