“But he was older,” Benedict repeats. “He knew better.”
I shrug. “His family came to the resort. My mother and father worked there. It was summer, and I was left to my own devices. I was old enough to take care of myself. I was supposed to stay at Grandmère's house, but it was hot and stuffy. So I snuck up to the resort to meet the rich kids. And that’s how I met Chad.” I’d felt so fancy in my dollar store sunglasses. The girls laughed at me, but Chadwick talked to me. As soon as I learned his name, I should have known he'd be a dick.
“He said he would take care of me,” I explain haltingly. “I assumed that meant to marry me and love me forever. And then…” I suck in a breath and say the rest in a rush. “I missed my period—I’d never done that before—and told him. When I went back the next day, he was gone. His mother pulled me into this sitting room where the Cawthorne family had all assembled. They made it clear that gold-diggers weren't to be tolerated. I guess I was a lesson to the younger kids.” I wipe the wet off my cheeks.
The room is still and quiet as a tomb. “What about your period?” Benedict asks gently. He’s really being too good.
“Chadwick must have told his parents. Mrs. Cawthorne had me go into a small side room where they’d arranged to have a private doctor administer a pregnancy test. Luckily, it was negative. Mrs. Cawthorne watched over me the whole time.” I look down at my hands. “I think… I think that if it had been positive, the doctor would’ve done more. It was so humiliating,” I end on a whisper.
Benedict rubs my back slowly. I have to get through this.
“When it was clear I wasn’t pregnant, Chadwick’s mom handed me an envelope of money.”
For your silence, she’d said. I assume your parents don't know about this, nor their employers. I suggest we keep it that way. Better for all involved.
“I knew then that she would complain. My parents would lose their jobs, which meant they wouldn't be able to pay their mortgage. The resort was the biggest employer in town. So I went home; packed a bag. I put up an ad saying I was a pet sitter and willing to travel. I had graduated high school early, and was just trying to figure out how to save up enough for college. I told my parents that I wanted to travel. I completely lied to everybody.” I cover my face. “I’m sorry.” I wish I wasn’t sitting on Benedict’s lap. “I should just go—”
“No, darling. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry you went through that. The way those people treated you… no wonder you hated me.”
“No. I didn’t hate you.”
“Didn’t trust me, then.”
“Maybe.”
He keeps rubbing my back.
“So now you know my secret. I never thought it would blow up like this. I didn’t know they would be here in New Arcadia, I didn’t know—”
“Shhh, Frankie.” He stops my word torrent with his fingers, then his lips. A light kiss, there and gone. “We’ll figure it out.”
“No.” I feel numb, and so tired. “I can't do it anymore. Don't you see? They're going to call me a gold-digger again. They'll use this to tear you down. The scandal will be huge. I can't do this.”
“I can protect you,” he says, and I want to believe him.
“But is it worth it?”
“Yes.” He tips my chin up. “Frankie, you're worth it.”
“No. It’s not going to work. We’re just delaying the inevitable.”
“The way I see it, there’s a way to fix this.” He shifts me off his lap onto the couch, and tucks the blanket around me.
Then he gets down on one knee.
I shoot up straight in my seat. “Benedict,” I say in alarm. “What are you doing?”
“What I should have done in the first place. Darling…” He takes my hand. “I know it’s unconventional…”
He’s proposing for real. This isn’t the way this conversation needs to go. I start to mutter under my breath, “No, no, no—”
“Shhh. Please. I know it’s been hard. I know you’re scared. But we have something here. Something real. And I… I want more.”
“Benedict.” He’s not thinking with his head. He’s as lost in this farce as I am. I have to wake him up, make him see. It’s fake.
“Frankie.” His thumb strokes over my knuckles. “Let me protect you. Make me the happiest man in the world. As my duchess, you’ll belong anywhere.”
Tempting. So tempting.
You think you could ascend to our set? Mrs. Cawthorne had hissed. You will never be good enough. You will never be one of us. She’d thrown the envelope at my feet. Take the money, and go. Don’t let us catch you around here again.
I could marry Benedict. I could pretend this theater is real. We’re not acting anymore. Our feelings have changed. But feelings fade. Chad’s did.
In one year, when Benedict wakes up from the fairytale, will he forgive me? Or will he resent me forever?
I swallow around the mountain-sized boulder in my throat. “And then what?” I prompt him to think it through.
“We move in together for real.”
I make a show of looking around at this room—one of many in the manor’s wing Lady Ursaline gave over to our use. “Face the paparazzi and the Cawthornes together?” We’ve run from both of them in the span of a week. But that's not the biggest problem. Benedict grimaces and opens his mouth, but I grip his hands tighter and lean forward. “It’s not them that’s the problem, is it? It’s the queen’s cabinet. They don't want you to become king or crown prince.”
He leans back, nostrils flaring. That punch landed.
“This isn’t going to work,” I say slowly. I knew this relationship was fake. I knew it would end. So why do I sound so heartbroken? “You can’t protect me. Not from this. The scandal will get bigger and bigger, and eventually they’ll pull out bigger guns. They’ll find out the truth of your birth. It’ll be everywhere.” I pull my hands out from his and paint an imaginary headline. “Crown Prince, a bastard in every way.”
The lines of his shoulders turn to stone. I hate not pulling my punches, but he’s not being sensible.
“They’ll call you a fraud,” I say. “And even if they don’t, the wrong people will find out and hold it over your head forever.”
He blinks and glances away, and I know I have him. I cup his beautiful face in my hands, lifting his head to mine as his stubble scratches my palms.
This is the death blow. Dagger to the heart. And I have to make sure it goes all the way in.
“Fairytales aren’t real. This relationship isn’t real. It means nothing. Not compared to everything you’ve worked for.”
“No,” he says, and he sounds just as broken as I do.
“The crown, Benedict. Eye on the prize.” He means too much to his country. I won’t let him let them down.
“No,” he growls. “I won’t allow it.” He rips my blanket away and surges forward, pushing me back on the couch. He guides me down and stretches over me, his hand already slipping my sweatpants down. I reach for him, too, sliding my hands under his soft t-shirt to stroke the flexing muscles underneath. He frees his cock and finds my entrance, gliding into me with only a few pauses to let me adjust to his size. I run my nails over his lower back and further down, where I cup his taut buttocks. I can’t deny the way we fit together.