The Royal and the Rebel (Royally Pitched 2)

Before Rowan could lie to his mother, someone knocked on the door. Without a word, she hurried to open it.

“You must be Juliana.”

Rowan watched Juliana’s face, but she didn’t flinch from the familiarity of his mother’s greeting.

“I am,” she said. “You must be Rowan’s mom. He looks just like you,” Juliana proclaimed. She then leaned forward and kissed his mother on both cheeks. “I am so happy to meet you.”

She even sounds like a delighted fiancée, he thought.

“Charmed,” his mother said with a saccharine-sweet smile. “Please call me Jalissa. And your timing is perfect. We were just discussing Rowan’s plans for after his surgery.”

Juliana didn’t miss a beat. She nodded and walked into the room, beelining for Rowan. She placed her hand on his shoulder in greeting, and he stayed her by grasping her wrist. He pulled her down onto the plush arm of the chair. Juliana played along, even leaning down and placing an unenthusiastic, dry peck on his mouth.

“We haven’t had an opportunity to formalize plans yet,” Juliana said, covering for Rowan.

“The doctor set a date for the surgery. And since I’ll be back in Armenta, I am planning to stay there. Like we discussed.”

Juliana nodded. “They set the date? That’s great. Now, I can move forward with changing my schedule,” she said.

She played it perfectly. Loving, devoted, and interested. He could see his mother eating it up. Hook. Line. Sinker.

“My mother was just asking who was going to take care of me.” Rowan hated putting it out there. He didn’t want her to feel obligated, nor did he want her to see him in such a vulnerable state. Unfortunately, his little plan wasn’t giving him much choice.

She might have been able to feel the tension coiled tight inside of him because she squeezed his shoulder again. “Of course it will be me.”

“Well, dear, it might be the make-or-break moment of your relationship. He’s quite the bear when he’s feeling helpless.”

“Like that’s any different than normal,” Juliana whispered for only Rowan to hear. “I’m sure we’ll manage. But if we don’t, I’ll have plenty of time to change my mind.”

Rowan’s mother laughed. “Oh, she has a sense of humor. How novel.”

Rowan resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He knew his mother well, and it was apparent she already liked Juliana after only a couple of exchanged words. As Juliana and his mother talked, Rowan watched and listened. Juliana’s hand remained on his shoulder, her elegant fingers perched on the ridge of his collarbone. As the conversation swirled around him, he noted Juliana’s genuine interest in what his mother was saying.

She kept doing that—surprising him with her sincere attention. He knew she’d been conditioned from birth to engage in the small talk necessary to get through her day. He remembered the lessons he’d been forced to attend. They should have named the classes Small Talk 101 or How to Feign Interest in …

But he was starting to think she came by it naturally. Perhaps it was a family trait because the Altamiranos were especially adept. And hell if it didn’t give him something else to like about her. Or hate about her because it made him see her differently than he wanted to. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, the realization startling.

“Are you okay? Do you want me to move?” Juliana asked, immediately aware of the change in him.

He reached across and encircled her wrist again, staying her. The scent of her surrounded him. He fought the push and pull of her. Because while he didn’t want her to move, there was a part of him—a part getting smaller every day—that wanted to fling her away. It had to be the impact of his injury making him weak, powerless to stop this tumble. With his career gone and the pressure from his mother and the duke, he was merely feeling helpless. And having her around allowed him some control over what was happening. He was simply grasping at the lifeline of her—something he could still control. It was the only explanation possible.

“No,” he growled.

Juliana side-eyed him. Then, she looked over to his mother and said, “He’ll be more of a bear than this?” It was delivered with a cheeky grin, and his mother’s laughter pealed throughout the room.

“I like this one,” Jalissa said to Rowan.

“You would,” he muttered to himself.

The truth of it was, he’d never introduced his mother to anyone besides Meena. She hadn’t approved of the love life she saw portrayed in the tabloids, and he wasn’t going to try to defend his choices to his mother when he hadn’t been serious about anyone. But damn if he couldn’t see his mother lapping up all the attention Juliana was raining down on her. Wedding bells and christening gowns were flashing through his mother’s mind.

He was leading them all down a dangerous path, offering up illusions without any way to follow through on them. The familiar burn of hatred blazed through him. He wouldn’t be in this position if his hand wasn’t being forced by the duke. If he could just convince his mother to leave, to turn her back on the man once and for all, they could both get their lives back.

Some days, it worried him. His lack of feeling for the duke. The other man operated in a calculated manner, every action weighed for maximum effect. Even dealings with his children. In his efforts to save himself the grief his mother suffered from her love for the duke, Rowan’s selective friendships and distant relationships resembled the duke’s carefully constructed circle. Ornaments one might use to decorate. They looked good and were chosen for greatest aesthetic appeal, but when trends changed, they were interchangeable. Rowan hated to admit to any shared qualities, but he couldn’t deny he’d cut his friends out of his life when it suited him, nor could he deny he’d entered into a fake relationship with Juliana to shirk the responsibilities his mother had insisted were his birthright. Yes, if he looked too closely at who he was, he would be forced to admit he might be as brittle as the man who had fathered him.

“Rowan!” His mother’s pointed bellow and the slight pressure of Juliana’s fingers brought him out of his dark, spiraling thoughts.