Royal Treatment (Royals of Danovar 2)

“I have no idea how to read this.”

Eric stabbed a finger at one line. “This is the most promising anti-cancer drug I’ve ever seen. Right here, this shows how it attacks the metastasizing cells with a sort of virus, loaded down with anti-cancer drugs. It targets them in a completely new way, slips past all their defenses and doesn’t even harm the bodies’ healthy cells the way chemotherapy does.”

Simon looked up at him. “You got all that from this one line?”

“Yeah,” Eric said, waving at a servant to refill his coffee. “I have a degree in chemistry.”

Simon pulled off his reading glasses. “How did I not know that?” he asked, astonished.

Eric shrugged. “I hardly told anyone. I guess I was okay with being the party boy if it was a curated image,” he admitted. “But to verify it by failing to get my degree, and for everyone to know about it…well, that would’ve hurt.”

Simon tossed his glasses on the table, scanned across the table full of documents and printouts, and shook his head. “Eric, you are an idiot,” he said.

Eric laughed. “See, why would I go public with my degree if even my family still thinks I’m an idiot after finding out about it?”

“No,” he clarified, “you’re an idiot for the way you think of yourself, and for the way you treated Anna.”

Eric’s fingers tightened around his mug. “What do you know about it?” he scoffed.

“I know you love her,” Simon said, daring him to contradict it.

Eric glared and fumed for a moment but then had to swallow and looked away, finding that he couldn’t contradict it. With that realization, all his anger crumbled to dust and he saw it for what it really was: defensiveness. “Shit,” he said aloud.

“Yeah,” Simon said. “That.”

Eric blew out a breath and grabbed another paper, trying to refocus on the healthcare bill before his emotions dragged him under, but it was useless. The words all blurred together and all he could see was t

he betrayal on Anna’s face. Had he really said those awful things to her just because he couldn’t believe in himself, because he cared more about what a bunch of strangers thought of him than the feelings and advice of the woman he loved? What kind of a dick was he? And the ironic part was, he’d created all his own problems. If he hadn’t said what he had last night, she could be here right now, helping him sort through this mess with fresh eyes.

He’d had the perfect woman, and he’d run her off because he’d wanted to give the public a false happy ending rather than the truth.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, rubbing at his face in exhaustion and anxiety. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. What am I gonna do?”

“What do you want to do?”

He sighed and shuffled the healthcare papers back into a single pile. “First, I want to run these senators over with the biggest monster truck I can find. After that, I want to go find Anna and see if I have a snowball’s chance in hell of her taking me back.”

“Good,” Simon approved, then backtracked. “The second thing, not the first. Don’t do the first thing.”

Eric stuffed the papers back in his bag and rose. Feeling sick to his stomach—Anna had every reason to refuse to see him ever again—he tossed Simon a salute and then went home to figure out how to win back the woman he loved.

17

Anna paced back and forth in the tiny room, an ancillary chamber to the Parliament hall. She was practically snarling, like she was a lion in a cage or something. First Eric informed her—by memo, which felt like sacrilege after all the deeply personal notes they’d sent each other that way in the past—that he needed her to testify about her research before Parliament. Then he didn’t even have the decency to try to pretend that this was about her duty to the crown, and not what had happened between him and her. She felt like she was being strong-armed into defending his bill before the senators. And right now, she was feeling anything but helpful.

She swiped at her eyes and tried not to notice that her fingers came back wet. She didn’t want to miss him. She didn’t want to feel like her heart was being ripped in half. She wanted to stay angry, damn it, and if Eric ever dared to show his face—

The door opened and Eric strode in.

She whirled on him. “What are you doing?” she hissed. “I’ve been waiting for an hour. Do you know how slow Parliament is? I can hear everything through those doors, and those numbskulls have been nattering about nothing forever. Why do you even want me here? I’ll have you know, I don’t appreciate being forced to defend your bill. I’ve already given you my thoughts on how you could get them to pass it, but as you’ve shown quite clearly that you aren’t willing to listen—” She swiped at her eyes again, furious that she was still crying. She didn’t want him to see her crying. She didn’t want him to see her in such a vulnerable position, not anymore.

He closed the door behind him and held out his hands. “Anna,” he said, some strong emotion winding beneath his voice. “Please, let me explain.”

She crossed her arms. “Fine. Explain.”

“I was a jackass.”

She blinked. He didn’t look defensive or upset anymore, like he had the last time they spoke. Now he looked earnest and worried and determined, still holding his hands up like she was a spooked animal he was afraid might bolt. “Go on,” she said grudgingly.