Page 101 of The Royal Art of Revenge

“Whatever. I have lots of money.”

“A homicidal maniac?”

“I’ll help you hide the bodies.”

“Damn, you’re good.” There’s a gentle warmth to her laugh I haven’t heard often as she sets the brush down and runs her fingers through her hair. “I’ll hold you to that. Although you probably shouldn’t be breaking the law as the crown prince.”

“True. Wait until I’m king, then.”

“Why?”

“Then I’ll be the law.” I grin and pat the bed. “Come here. I want to ask you something.”

“Something that requires me to be right next to you?”

“I’m becoming rather fond of you being right next to me, so yes.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, you know.” She gets up and comes over, perching on the edge. “What is it?”

I reach for her hand and toy with her fingers, gently tickling her palm. “Tomorrow. The day after. Whenever you were planning to. Don’t go back to your father’s house.”

Hattie pauses. “Why not?”

“I’m deeply concerned about his reaction to you tonight. I truly believe he’d have hit you if I didn’t come in time.” I meet her conflicted gaze. “That’s before I even think about how Rosalyn and Jasmine might treat you. I can’t protect you inside that house, Hattie.”

Her throat bobs as she swallows, and she looks down at our hands. “You’re right. I don’t want to believe it, but realistically, I know you’re right. I’ve never seen him like that before.”

“I’m worried. They could do anything to you and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Her shoulders tense. “They wouldn’t. I mean, not now everyone knows about us. Maybe.”

“Hattie. If there’s even a sliver of a doubt in your mind…”

She peers up, meets my gaze, and hesitates. I can see it in her eyes—she can’t say for certain. She doesn’t know.

“Stay here. Please.” I reach over and rest my hand against her cheek. “Move into the palace right away, instead of waiting like we were planning. I don’t trust them.”

“I…” Her uncertainty is written all over her face, and she looks down again.

She doesn’t want to believe it.

I’m not going to convince her this way. Even though she saw him lift his hand, she isn’t ready to accept that he might hurt her.

Rosalyn? Sure. Jasmine? She already has proof of that.

But William? Her dad? No, she can’t believe that, and I understand why. Nobody would. Nobody would want to. It’s unfathomable to think your parent would hurt you.

“Okay, let me rephrase that.” I raise our clasped hands and kiss her knuckles. “I want you to move into the palace. Even temporarily while emotions are so high and what we’ve just done is so raw to them.”

“I know what you’re doing,” she mutters. “You’re just changing tactics to convince me.”

“Is there anything you don’t notice?”

“My father’s true dislike for me, I suppose.” She sighs and looks up, pushing her hair from her eyes. “You’re right. It’s not a good idea, but is it really all right for me to move into the palace? Where would I live?”

I blink at her. What on Earth is she talking about? “Here. With me. In my apartment.”

She presses her lips together. “Before we get married? The media will have a field day with that.”