The Wild Heir(28)

“I know your mother would be so proud of you,” he says, “just as I am. This is everything we could have wished for you. When I sent you off to England I had hopes that you would meet someone right for you. Had hopes you would aim high and marry someone great, someone worthy in title and stature. And now you are. Now you’re living out your mother’s dream for you.”

Oh fuck. FUCK.

“Plus, I know you benefit as well,” he adds. “Now you’ll have a position of power. You’ll have that voice you’ve always wanted. You’ll have the money and means to make a difference. Isn’t that what you told me a few years ago, your plans for after university? I always thought it was very noble and altruistic of you, albeit a futile path. But now, now you can actually make a difference. That must feel good.”

Shit. He just keeps talking. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him talk so much, nor have I heard him sound so happy, and so damn…proud of me. Not only that, but he actually has a point. He’s appealing to my sacrificial side. The side of me that could actually go through with this in order to get my lifelong dream.

It makes me sick.

Because this is all a lie.

And I have to burst his bubble.

I have to disappoint him and everyone else who is staring at me right now.

“Isabella?” my father asks. “Are you there?”

“Yes,” I say softly, then clear my throat as if that will give me resolve. “Yes, I’m here. It’s just a lot to process.”

“I understand,” he says. “Just know that you’ve made the right choice.”

Tell him. Tell him now.

“I’m so proud of you, darling,” he adds.

Aaaaaand I’m dying.

Okay. Okay, so maybe I don’t have to correct him now. Maybe I’ll just correct him later. Like tomorrow. Or in a few days. Let him think that we’re getting married and then I’ll tell him the truth. I just don’t want to spoil the moment.

By pretending to go all in, it feels like the easier way out.

“Thank you,” I tell him, my tongue feeling sluggish as I talk. “I should probably get back to the dinner party.”

“Of course, dear. I will call you in a couple of days to check up on you.”

“Okay.” I pause, wondering if I should tell him I love him even though sometimes in the past it’s gone unanswered.

“Take care,” he says and hangs up, and that answers that.

I stare at the phone in my hand and then slowly pass it over to the Queen, reluctant to meet her probing eyes.

“Well?” she asks. “What did he have to say? Anders was talking to him for quite a bit in the other room, and I never heard what they were discussing.”

I think I’m going to faint. I sway a bit on my feet and suddenly Magnus is at my side, his arm going around my waist and holding me up.

“Are you okay?” he asks, peering down at me.

I nod. “I think I had too much champagne and excitement,” I manage to say. I try to straighten myself so that my body isn’t pressed back against his massive chest. The man is built like a boulder.

The man? You mean your fiancé.

No. No brain, don’t you even start.

He leads me back inside and through my weary gaze I see the King looking at me with a sheepish expression on his face, like he’s just gotten busted for lying.

Which he has.

Bigtime.

I can’t believe he did that!

But more than that, I can’t believe I didn’t have the nerve to stand up to my father and tell him the truth. I just made everything a million times worse by lying because I’m eventually going to have to burst his bubble.

I’ll have to make him disappointed in me once again.

It’s either that or I actually get married to Magnus.

Who actually hasn’t proposed, mind you.

I sigh loudly as Jane approaches me, her steps wobbly, champagne in her hand. “Do you want something to drink?” she asks and her eyes go to Magnus standing right behind me, his hand still at my lower back. Suddenly it’s all I can focus on. The warmth of his large, flat palm, the strength in the way he presses against me. The fact that he’s still here shows concern that I didn’t peg him to have.

But as much as I need to talk to Jane and fill her in on what the hell is going on, this is about me and Magnus and he needs to know more than anyone.

“I think I’ve had too much champagne,” I tell her and then glance up at Magnus over my shoulder. “Perhaps Magnus could show me to my room.”

His eyes widen ever so slightly but he just nods. “Of course I can.” He looks over at his mother. “Where is she sleeping?”

“Take her to the blue room beside Mari’s,” the Queen says. “Her bag is already there.”

I can tell there are a million glances and silent messages being passed between everyone here, and not everyone is thinking the same thing. I’m pretty sure at this point only the King and I know what’s going on.

“I am so sorry to bow out of the evening early,” I tell them, trying to give them a warm and genuine smile that doesn’t at all show the turmoil that’s rolling inside of me.

“We are so delighted you were able to come,” the Queen says.

“Very much so,” the King says delicately.