Jeffrey grunts in what sounds like surprise, but I try not to take it personally. I have a well-earned reputation as a womanizer, but as soon as I say “I do,” all of that is going to change.
“No, I don’t plan to cheat on my wife,” I insist. “When I say my wedding vows, they’re going to mean something. I would prefer to be promising myself to my perfect match, not locking myself into a life of celibacy and strained politeness with a stranger, but…” I clench my jaw and square my shoulders. “That depends on whether I can convince Elizabeth that we’re a disaster waiting to happen. Before it’s too late.”
Nick and Jeffrey both fall silent for a moment before Nick murmurs, “That actually makes a lot of sense.”
“I didn’t realize you felt this way,” Jeffrey says.
“What way?”
His gaze shifts to the left, but I know what he’s thinking.
“No, I’m not going to be like Dad,” I say softly.
Bitterly.
I refuse to be anything like our father, a raging narcissist who made a fool of our mother again and again before abandoning his family to follow one of his much-younger lovers into the mountains of Nepal. I enjoy being single—hell yes, I do— but in the past, when I’ve promised a woman an exclusive relationship, I’ve kept that promise. I intend to do the same with the woman I marry.
“All right,” Jeffrey says with a nod. “I’m in.”
“You’re in! Perfect.” I sit up straighter, shifting my gaze Nick’s way. “And you, baby brother?”
“As long as you promise not to hurt her feelings,” Nick says, still not sounding completely sold.
“Of course I’m not going to hurt her feelings,” I assure him. “But even if I do have to hurt them a tiny bit, think about how much better that is than the alternative. Elizabeth would be miserable as my wife. Better to make her a little sad now than to trap her in a wretched existence. Right?”
Nick’s lips pucker as they shift to one side. “I guess. I just hate seeing her cry. I still remember that night with the snakes.”
“You were four years old,” I say.
“So? I still remember,” he says, his puppy dog eyes shiny with feeling. “She was shaking so hard her sisters had to carry her down the stairs to their parents’ room.”
“And their parents sent them right back up,” Jeffrey adds, nodding at Nick before turning his attention back to me. “They haven’t had the life we’ve had, Drew. It’s not just the money. They’ve had it hard in other ways.”
Jaw tight, I nod. “I know. But this really is for the best. Elizabeth deserves the chance to find happiness on her own terms. Kicking me to the curb will be good for her. Empowering. Who knows what mountains she’ll climb once she’s decided to take her destiny into her own hands.”
“And what if she doesn’t?” Nick asks. “What if she decides to go through with it anyway? No matter how awful you are?”
I shake my head. “That isn’t going to happen.”
“And if it does?” Jeffrey presses.
“It won’t,” I say, steel in my voice. “Failure isn’t in my vocabulary, you know that. Not when it comes to the things that matter. And right now, nothing matters more than this.”
Nothing.
I’ll have Elizabeth out of my hair long before the wedding, and then I can focus on the things that really matter—ruling my country, protecting my people, and ensuring a legacy Grandfather would be proud of, even without a bride by my side.
This is basically already in the bag. The gun is loaded, and the prey will soon be in my sights.
All that’s left is to pull the trigger.
Chapter Four
Sabrina
Failure is not an option.
Failure is not an option.
Failure is NOT an option.
No matter how much you want to set off a bomb in the middle of Elizabeth’s relationship with Andrew and watch the interpersonal fallout rain down from the sky, you can’t ruin this for her.
Do you hear me, Self?
You will be on your best Elizabeth-like behavior no matter what.
I lecture myself the entire walk down the mountain
Lizzy offered to drive me and my large, rolling suitcase to the helipad before she headed off on her “vacation as Sabrina.” Still, I insisted on going alone, the better to avoid a teary goodbye. Besides, the walk to the helipad at the edge of the village—used for the rare emergency airlift over the mountains to medical care—gives me a chance to get my head in the game.
The drive to Gallantia’s capital city can take upward of six hours, and that’s when you don’t get behind a farmer towing a trailer full of sheep or a tourist bus slowing to a crawl at every curve to admire the mountain views. I would gladly have taken the drive—the longer it takes to get to my fake fiancé’s side, the better—but Elizabeth gets violently carsick. Andrew knows that, and I can’t afford to arouse suspicion before I arrive.