Royal Heir (Westerly Billionaire #3)(43)

He told himself Rachelle was no different. Instead of spending another moment on her, Magnus decided to contact a couple of the women who were already considered a good marriage match for him.

I don’t have to prove myself to anyone.

He’d known from the first time he’d met Rachelle that indulging in her would be messy and complicated. He hadn’t predicted it would be this complicated, but hers was a gift that just kept giving. First a needy brother, now a manipulative grandmother. The path to sex with Rachelle was a minefield of drama.

As he drove himself back to his palace, he couldn’t stop thinking about how dejected Rachelle had looked as she’d spoken of her grandmother. It reminded him of how she’d been hurt by her brother’s rejection. Part of him wanted to protect her even while another part was pulling away.

What is my fascination with her?

Is it because she doesn’t want to see me?

A royal prince—a powerful one at that. Yet she would rather spend the night alone in a cheap hotel than with him.

Similar thoughts plagued him even after he’d arrived back at his palace. He told himself her opinion of him didn’t matter, but that didn’t stop him from rehashing their conversations in his head.

Rachelle was a proud woman who spoke her mind—he liked that.

Wealth and power were not her goal, or she would have followed her grandmother’s plan, perhaps even to the point of attempting to trap him into marriage. Instead, she’d turned her back on her grandmother and him.

Memories of her in the garden were impossible to keep at bay. They circled and nipped at him until he could no longer ignore them. There was no other woman, suitable or not, who held his interest the way she did. It would be a waste of time to contact other women before he resolved this issue.

Why would a woman be so open one day and then want nothing to do with a man the next? He dismissed Phillip’s wife’s theory. Which part did I screw up? When I helped her brother? When I honored her by taking her to see my father? I’ve been honest with her about what I want. I would think that would be applauded.

He remembered how she’d looked on the way into his father’s palace. She wasn’t turning me away before her grandmother arrived.

A thought came to him that put a smile on his face. She’s embarrassed by how eagerly she would have come to me.

I can work with that.

Perhaps I should be giving advice to Phillip.





Chapter Sixteen

The next morning, shortly after Rachelle had finished getting dressed, even though she had nowhere to go, a letter was delivered to her hotel room. She sat on the edge of the bed and opened the formal envelope by peeling off the royal seal. It was an invitation written in calligraphy on thick cream-colored stock paper. “The Master of the House has been commanded by His Majesty to invite Rachelle Westerly to a reception by the King for the Orphanage Development Committee at Pavailler Palace on Tuesday.” Rachelle skimmed the rest for the date and time. “Dress: Lounge suit/day dress. Guests are asked to arrive between six p.m. and six twenty p.m. A reply is requested . . .”

She threw the envelope onto the bed beside her.

Fuming, she called her grandmother. “I’m not going, but I can’t believe you would sink that low. Orphans? Really?”

“Well, hello, Rachelle. Good morning to you as well.”

“There is no good morning that starts with being blackmailed into doing something.”

“I agree. Now why don’t you tell me what has you in a tizzy?”

“As if you don’t already know.”

Delinda sighed. “Must we go round and round? I don’t know what you’re upset about this time. Either explain it to me, or call me later when you’ve calmed down. I have neither the time nor the patience for guessing games.”

Rachelle read the invitation aloud. “Are you saying you didn’t orchestrate this?”

“It’s genius, but I can’t claim it as mine.”

While talking to her grandmother, Rachelle searched the Internet for how to politely decline going but found nothing. “Are you kidding me?” she muttered. “Doesn’t anyone decline a royal invitation?”

“I don’t believe they do, dear. Especially not to receptions regarding orphans.” Rachelle could hear the smile in Delinda’s voice.

“I’m glad you think this is amusing, Delinda. I don’t. And I refuse to be manipulated. I told Magnus yesterday that I didn’t want to see him again, and I meant it.”

“You did? Well played, Rachelle.”

Breathe. Count to ten. Think of all the reasons why swearing doesn’t help a situation. “I’m not playing. Maybe that’s what you don’t understand. I don’t care what’s all over social media. I don’t care that your pride was dented and that you think sticking it to the prince will make you feel better. Do you care at all about how I feel? Let me tell you why you can’t answer yes. You don’t know me well enough to know what I care about. That’s the tragedy here. Not my reputation. The real tragedy is that you don’t see how much you hurt the people you claim to love.” Rachelle hung up the phone and fell backward onto her bed. Well, that went well.

Was it past time for me to say that?

Or should I have kept it to myself?

I don’t know why I think I can help Eric or anyone else when I don’t even know what the hell I’m doing most of the time.