Don't Promise (Don't 3)

Damon scowled. “Dominic.”

“Ok. At least someone has had a relationship. What happened?”

“It is not appropriate to discuss the personal lives of the royal family,” Sutcliffe admonished me. “They should remain private.”

Damon shook him off. “She may ask anything she chooses. That’s why we’re here. Nothing we do remains private. Our personal lives are front page news.” He turned to me. “It didn’t work out with the girlfriend.”

I tilted my head. I wanted more information than that.

Damon sighed. “She left. She couldn’t handle the spotlight. The press hounded her non-stop. It reached the point that they camped out in front of her parents’ house. She couldn’t go to work. She couldn’t go to the market. There was an assault.” His voice was hushed.

“Assault?”

“One of the camera crews pushed a camera in her face when she was visiting her parents. She shoved him out of the way to get in the front door. He filed a law suit, claiming she assaulted him. That was the last straw.”

“Oh my God.”

“It was eventually dropped,” he explained. “But the damage was done.”

“And Dominic? There wasn’t anything he could do?”

He shook his head. “No. He even offered to step away from the crown. But he let things get too far before he even considered that. It was too late. She left the country. She said it was the only way to have a normal life.”

I felt a small hold around my neck as if something had clamped against my throat. The fishbowl the royal family lived in had already destroyed one relationship. Were we next? We were still new. Budding. Growing. Exploring. To even say we were a we, seemed too new. How would we ever survive anything like that?

“I see.”

Sutcliffe rapped his hand on the table. “What happened to Prince Dominic isn’t our concern.”

“Like hell it’s not,” Damon snapped. “He’s trapped. We’re all trapped. That’s what the crown does. It destroyed him. Look at him now. He drinks the demons away. I don’t even recognize my own brother. It is every bit my concern.”

Sutcliffe lowered his eyes. “I’m sorry, sir. Of course. He’s your brother. His health is the concern of the country.”

“Why is that?” I questioned. It sounded like he had been put through enough being a member of the royal family. It had cost him his girlfriend and his freedom.

“He’s next in line for the throne,” Sutcliffe answered.

Oh shit. That was a problem. I’d only heard bits and pieces. But Dominic’s story was starting to come together. I didn’t need his entire history to understand how the pressure could lead to his impulse to drink.

I remembered Damon telling me how the Galonian crown was passed to the next monarch. I knew he would never step down. There was only one way Dominic would become king. My stomach rolled with nausea at the thought. Damon would have to be dead for that to happen.

“Molly can have her own set of apartments,” Damon started. “She’s right. No one will know what part of the roof she’s under.”

“Sir, she doesn’t have a title. You can’t give her apartments.”

He growled. “Fine. I’ll give her a title.”

My heart pulsed an extra beat.

“That requires a ceremony. She must be presented to the court as well as your cabinet.” Sutcliffe started to perspire on his forehead. He reached for a silk handkerchief. “I believe I can put the events together in six months. That is if I work day and night.”

Damon laughed. “Six months? I said tonight.”

“Impossible.”

I held my breath. I knew Damon well enough he didn’t like to be told no, especially when he had an agenda. Right now, that agenda was me.

“I’ve been committed to modernizing the monarchy. This is my opportunity to do it publicly. We’ll have the ceremony in private and Molly will be presented this evening in the blue ballroom. Invite the court and the cabinet. Make sure my brothers and sister are there.”