The Wicked Prince

“Wow,” I said again because I had nothing articulate to add to that. “That’s more than he does for his brother these days, but I’m sure you know that.”

“Oh, brothers are always there for each other, that’s the beauty of it. The King is busy and Aramis has his own life. He has a son and now another family to spend time with.”

“How lucky for him.” I swallowed again and looked at my watch. “We should get going, Aramis. The King and Queen are waiting for us. I could take the car first and send it back over to pick you up if you wish.”

“No, it’s fine, I’ll ride with you.” He stood, setting a hand over Esmée’s. “I’ll be back this weekend to pick up Oscar.”

“I look forward to seeing you. Maybe by then I’ll be out of this bed and ready to walk around with you.”

“Take it easy, Esmée. Only do as much as you have to. You have around-the-clock staff for a reason.” He shot her a look as he stepped away from the bed and walked over.

“It was nice meeting you, Joslyn. Meeting you has solidified everything my son told me and has made me realize just how much I love the loyal royal staff.” She smiled.

“It was nice meeting you as well.” I walked out of the room before my face contorted into anything less than pleasant. The way she spoke to me was reminiscent of the Queen Mother’s conversation this morning. Maybe that was why the two got along so well. They felt everyone else was just here to merely entertain and serve them.

“You’re leaving?” Oscar asked when I reached him. He was sitting at the dinner table with an older man, his grandfather, I assumed.

“Yes, but I’ll see you in a few days.”

“Okay. Thanks for the toys,” he said with a grin and a sparkle in his green eyes that matched his father’s.

“You’re welcome.”

Aramis was on my heels, but stayed to say goodbye to his son while I walked outside. Pierre was there to open the back door of the SUV. For a moment, even after he settled into the driver’s seat, we were silent.

“So, how was it?” he asked. I met his gaze in the rearview.

“It was fine.”

“Your face is tomato-red. I’d say you’re not doing fine.”

“It was awful,” I said honestly. Pierre and I were friends. He was more part of this family than some of its members. He offered a small smile.

“It can’t be easy meeting your boyfriend’s . . . baby’s mother?” He frowned slightly. “At least you know you have nothing to worry about.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” I looked back at the white house. “She’s pretty, nice, talks very much like his mother, despite not being an aristocrat.”

Pierre chuckled. “Well, then, you definitely have nothing to worry about. Aramis would never marry a woman who reminds him of his mother.”

“I think you’re confusing brothers.” I raised an eyebrow. “Elias, sure, he went off and found himself a commoner with sense and style and grace.”

“All things the Queen Mother doesn’t have?” Pierre raised his own eyebrow.

“You seem to want them to cut off my tongue.”

“They don’t do that anymore,” he quipped.

“Allegedly,” I added, and he said at the same time.

We both laughed. I felt my body temperature lower back to an acceptable degree and suddenly felt at ease. Maybe the issue wasn’t Aramis or Esmée. This was on me. I’d been hired to do a job and pretending to be with him was part of that job. Work is work. You don’t have to love it, you just have to get it done. That was how I needed to look at this situation, but when I saw Aramis walk out of that house, looking gorgeous in his winter clothing, I wasn’t sure I could stop being angry enough to remember that.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Aramis

Once again, she didn’t say a word to me in the car on our way to the community center. I sat in the front with Pierre. There was no use in sitting beside a person who obviously didn’t want anything to do with you, even if it was the person you were willing to give up everything for. Of course, Joslyn didn’t know that and I wasn’t sure I’d tell her today. I’d planned on doing it today. After speaking to my mother this morning, I came to the realization that this pretend stuff was bullshit. You couldn’t pretend what we experienced last night. I couldn’t help but shake my head at that thought. Me, of all people, complicating sex with emotions. This was Joslyn though. I felt like I’d known her my entire life, even though we’d met when she and my sister were teenagers, and I was the slightly older brother who was addicted to partying and popping pills. That summer, when Pilar brought Joslyn along to Versailles for a holiday, it felt like fate, kismet. From the moment our eyes met, I felt the spark. It was the very spark I’d kept hidden under countless jokes. I wasn’t ready for commitment back then or in the years that followed. I enjoyed the party, enjoyed being the center of attention, enjoyed the tabloid rumors, but things had changed quickly for me since the accident. Since Oscar. Things were still shaky with my mother, who was doing everything in her power to repair our relationship, but it was difficult. I’d lost seven years of my son’s life, and for what? It was something I’d spoken to Esmée about today. I was ready to go on record about my son, to accept him publicly and let the world know how proud I was to be his father. Esmée wasn’t so sure. She’d managed to live under the radar all these years, managed to dodge the tabloids. It was yet another thing I needed to speak to Joslyn about since she was in charge of putting out statements. When I saw that we were nearing the community house, I took a breath and turned around to see her typing furiously on her cell phone.