It was all too real. Too damn real.
Once they were inside the gates, he threw himself out of the car and raced up the steps and past the doormen. His footsteps echoed down the halls, then again as he pounded up the stairs. He sprinted to his father’s wing, then collapsed with relief into his sister’s arms.
“He’s weak, but he’s alive,” she whispered. “Leo, I think he’s waiting for you.”
She pulled out of his embrace, gathering herself. Her hair was a mess, her face streaked with tears, and deep shadows accented her eyes. But she smiled at him, and he smiled back. God, he was so glad to see her.
“I need to go in.”
She nodded, then hung back as he hurried to the doors as the attendants pulled them open. The doctor was at his father’s bedside, and bowed when Leo came in. Leo waved off the formalities. “How is he?”
“Your father is strong,” the doctor said, then lowered his voice. “You have arrived just in time, Your Highness. I am sorry.”
“Leave us.”
The doctor nodded, then left the room, leaving Leo alone with his father. He moved to the bed and sat on the edge.
“My son.” The king’s voice was barely recognizable.
“Don’t try to speak, Father.”
“Why not? It will do no … harm now.”
Leo’s heart clenched. Both at his father’s words and at his cadence that reminded him of Skye. God, how he wished she were at his side.
“Don’t be afraid, son,” his father said. “You are ready. And so am I. Ready to see your mother and brother again.”
“I miss her,” Leo said, fighting tears. “And I will miss you.”
“I love you, Leopold. You and your sister. And I love this … country. Rule it well. It is hard … when the responsibility of that kind of … love rests on your shoulders. But … our small corner of … the world is at a precipice. It is … ready to move forward.”
“I don’t understand.”
“There is … no reason … a woman cannot rule. No reason … we cannot be … a center for science … and technology.”
“Father, I—” He didn’t know what to say. His father had never once spoken of his children’s desire that Gisele succeed their father. If he’d believed his eldest could rule, why hadn’t he set those changes in motion?
“What … ever you choose, know that I … support you. You will wear the crown, my son, though I cannot say for how long. And while you … sit the throne, you will be a great leader. And one day, I hope you find a woman to sit at your side … as queen consort. For love, rather than duty.” He reached out, his grip weak as he took Leo’s hand. He said nothing more, his breathing turning shallow.
Leo sat with him through the long hours, and by morning, his father was dead.
Gisele had come in during the night. Now, tears streamed down her face as she rose and pulled the blanket up over their father’s face.
“The King is dead,” she whispered, her voice thick with tears. She met Leo’s eyes. “Long live the King.”
Chapter Twenty
Skye watched Leo’s first press conference live on the internet. His coronation wouldn’t be for another year, in a ceremony of extreme pomp and circumstance with heads of state and the country’s archbishop in attendance. For now, he was “simply” ascending to the throne, having become the king from the moment of his father’s death just before dawn.
In truth, though, there was nothing simple about the process, as there was plenty of to-do about the whole thing. So much, that Skye wondered if he would even have the chance to mourn.
She felt the tightness in her heart and wished that she was there with him. Not because she wanted to be in the role of girlfriend to the king—she shuddered at the thought of that spotlight—but because she wanted him. Already she missed him, wanted to comfort him. And she hated the machinations of Fate that kept them apart.
She shook it off. They were star-crossed lovers if ever there were any, but at least they’d both had their moments of bliss.
Now, Skye tapped out a quick text sending both her condolences and congratulations. She didn’t even know if he would get the text. For all she knew, his phone had been only for his time in the States. Or perhaps Jürgen would screen his messages and keep this one from Leo for fear of distracting him from his duties.
Bottom line, the odds that a king would text her back were ridiculously slim, which was why her heart twisted so damn much when, five minutes after his press conference ended, she received his reply.
Thank you. I miss you. L
She released a shuddering breath and pressed the phone to her heart. Then she jumped, startled by the light tap at her bedroom door.
“It’s me,” Bart said. “I’m meeting Hannah and Matthew at The Fix. You should come.”
“I don’t know if I’m—”
“You should come,” he repeated. “Come on, Skye. Sitting in here isn’t going to make you feel any better. And Leo wouldn’t want that for you. Neither do we.”
She closed her eyes and sighed. They were right, of course. “Fine,” she said, then changed out of her PJs and into real clothes before heading down to street level with Bart so they could walk the short distance to The Fix.
She’d expected looks and questions when she reached the bar. After all, the staff and many of the customers knew her—and now they knew who she’d been dating.
What she hadn’t expected was the crowd gathered outside her condo.
They shouted questions as she and Bart walked, Skye keeping her head down as Bart muttered, “No comment, no comment, come on, folks, can’t you give her some space?”
Finally, at the corner of Sixth and Congress, she stopped and faced them. Obviously, they weren’t backing off until she said something. “I … love him. I miss … him. And I … know he’ll be a … great … king.”
That was all she could manage, and she was certain she sounded like an idiot, but at least she’d spoken. She owed Leo that.
“You did great,” Bart assured her, hurrying her the next few blocks to the bar. Strangely enough, her comment seemed to have shut down the frenzy, and they arrived without any more demands for quotes or pictures or rudely shouted questions about how Leo was in bed. The answer was excellent, but that wasn’t something that Skye intended to share.
“Rough walk?” Griffin asked, as he and Bev entered the bar at the same time.
“Next time, we’ll take a taxi,” Bart said. “Idiotic for such a short distance, but it’ll at least give Skye breathing room.”
“I survived,” she said. “And it will … die down now that he’s … King.”
“Until the coronation,” Bart agreed. “Then it’ll start up all over again.”
That was true. But that was a long way off.
Bart waved to Hannah and Matthew and started across the bar, but Skye held back, tugging Griffin to the side as Bev peeled off to sign a few autographs.
“How … do you do it?” Skye asked.
To his credit, he didn’t pretend to misunderstand. He was an A-list screenwriter with a body half-covered in burns, including his face. His soon-to-be wife was an Oscar-winning actress. And he’d accepted the fact that he was going to be in the spotlight.