Page 50 of Heavy Crown

I shake my head and chuckle. If I was the type of person to believe in fate, this jewelry case would be a sign. Even though that’s not me, I’m drawn to a necklace in the back corner. A square of jade is surrounded by white gold and hangs on a matching box chain necklace. Simple but beautiful.

“I’ll take this.” My voice is husky as though I wasn’t speaking to the associate only a moment ago. “And the third one from the left in the top row for my mother.”

“Would you like them both gift wrapped?”

Rory’s birthday was a couple weeks ago. Friends traditionally give each other presents. “Yes,” I say. “Wrap them separately.”

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and when I take it out, there’s a photo text from Brice. When I open it up, my breath catches. Rory and Brice at Wino Wine Bar. She looks happy and sober, and Brice looks very, very drunk. My heart kicks, and a jealous surge causes my muscles to tense.

While I’m staring at the photo, remembering and then memorizing her face, cursing myself for leaving the country, my phone buzzes again.

Thought I should confess my sin before you came home. Posey, Brent, and I took her out last night. Doc cleared her of the concussion this morning. Maybe you already know.

Did anything else happen between Brice and Rory? If not, will it? He could be with her. Marry her. Give her normalcy and a royal existence. She wouldn’t become a slave to the Crown and country like I am, like my wife will be.

Asking what happened between them would be in character for me, but the reason I want to know is not. I’m not preparing for a scandal; I need to ease the panic seizing my chest.

Desmond hasn’t called me yet, but I’m sure he’s been in touch with Doctor Bennett to confirm Rory can start in the kitchen on Monday.

Just drinks? I text him back before I can lose my nerve.

Drinks for me. Mostly water for her. She’s a good girl. A winky face caps the text. Then another rolls in. We were supervised the whole time, and I kept my hands to myself.

A classic Brice response—part teasing, part serious—but it does the trick. My heart rate slows, and the cool sweat that had broken out under my armpits recedes. He was being his typical social self last night. Nothing more.

I shouldn’t care, and who she chooses to spend time with shouldn’t matter. All week, I’ve avoided making contact with her. But it’s not because I don’t care and she doesn’t matter.

The associate returns with my wrapped gifts in a small, glossy bag emblazoned with the shop’s name.

My stomach swirls with excitement at the thought of seeing Rory again. In a few hours I’ll be back in Bellerive. After dinner I can sneak away and see her for myself.

Desmond meets me at the front entrance, clipboard in hand. “I trust you had a good trip back and enough time on the plane to formulate your shortlist.”

“I don’t even get a day to consider?” I fall into step beside him on the way to my office.

“Do you need a day?”

I sigh. The entire flight I made pro and con lists for all the women I’ve met over the last month. Seventeen women in total. Ten in Bellerive and seven while on tour. From there, I’ve narrowed it to three whose pros and cons were acceptable to me. As Nick claimed, I’ve done my best to keep the decision clinical.

“Your mother is already waiting in your office.”

Of course she is. The bag from the jewelry store is dangling from my fingers and inside are two necklaces. They labeled them with a J for jade and the other with an R for ruby, my mother’s birthstone. Trying to sort them out without my mother noticing will be a delight I hadn’t anticipated. As we walk, I peer into the bag and locate the R one, and then I pass the bag with Rory’s gift to Desmond.

“Pretend you asked me to pick up something for your wife if my mother asks.”

“Your highness?” Desmond’s face pinches in confusion before clearing. “Prince Alexander, we’re literally picking your wife today.”

“I’m aware.” I leave it at that and stroll into the office. “Mother! Lovely to see you. I had a chance to stop at the jewelry store you love.” I pass her the long, slender box.

“Oh, Alexander, you didn’t have to.”

I can already tell from her tone that I made the right call. She loves jewelry and is never without rings, earrings, necklaces, or broaches adorning her.

“I realize my behavior recently hasn’t been typical, and I wanted to get you something to recognize that.” Not an apology, exactly, since I don’t intend to stop doing what I’m doing.

She gives me a shrewd glance before ripping off the paper. She unfurls the necklace and lets the light dance off the diamonds and rubies. “It’s lovely. Perfect. I’ll wear it to dinner tonight. We’ll be celebrating your selection, I hope?”

I slide into my desk chair and purse my lips. “I’ve narrowed my selection to three.” My mother hasn’t even noticed the bag in Desmond’s hand, but she definitely would have noticed it in mine. “You, Desmond, and Father can confer on who seems like the best choice for the country diplomatically and socially. They’re equal in my estimation.”