A Prince on Paper (Reluctant Royals #3)(39)

Johan tucked his boxer briefs into a corner of the suitcase with four sharp jabs before allowing himself to speak.

“Are you saying that you don’t trust my intentions or you don’t trust Nya’s ability to make her own decisions?” He asked this carefully, though a cascade of unexpected anger at his friend rushed through him. Even if Thabiso didn’t know everything, he should know Johan. “And before you answer that, meng ami, remember that you have quite the colorful dating history and you met your wife while lying about your identity.”

Tav tensed beside them, as if worried he’d have to break up a fight.

Thabiso stared at Johan hard for a long moment, and then sighed, relaxing. “Dammit. It appears my alpha persona only works Naledi.” He stroked his beard and gazed at Johan, worry still in his eyes. “Look, you’re one of my best friends. She’s my family now. I know you have a hastily constructed plan, but let me tell you, those don’t always work out. I don’t want either of you getting hurt.”

“I won’t hurt her. And she can’t hurt me,” Johan said flippantly, mustering his best frivolous Tabloid Prince smirk.

Thabiso shot Tavish a look. Tavish whipped his head toward Johan, widened his eyes, blew out a puff of air through pursed lips. “Mate. Mate.”

“It’s a PR stunt.” Johan shoved the bags of apricot candy Lukas was obsessed with into the front pocket of his suitcase. “You know how I am. I don’t do relationships, love, or any of that nonsense. We’re friends and we both agreed to this, and when its effectiveness is over we’ll part ways. It’s as simple as that.”

“Simple?” Tav chortled, pulled out a chair, turned it so the back faced Johan, and straddled it. “That sounds like a recipe for a fucking mess.”

Johan closed his eyes and pressed his thumb to the bridge of his nose. He deeply regretted ever having convinced Tav that sharing your feelings was a good thing. Now his friend was going all Maestro Tav, like Johan was one of the students in Tav’s European Martial Arts classes.

“And what did the priestess have to say?” Thabiso pressed.

Annie had called in the head priestess from the temple to bless the engagement, even if there could be no huge celebration. The woman had sat privately with Johan and Nya, stared at them for several long moments, and declared that they would have a long and fruitful relationship if they were truthful with themselves and the world.

Nya had gasped, and Johan had been startled, but he’d reminded himself that all it took to forecast someone’s future was a bit of insight into human emotion. He shocked people the same way all the time, and Ingoka wasn’t working through him. He knew better than to say that, though. He was a skeptic, not a jerk.

“She said whatever she thought sounded good.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Thabiso placed his hand on Johan’s shoulder, lightly. “Please do not hurt Nya. She is hurting already. And do not hurt yourself. You can say what you want, but how many years have I known you?”

“Not long enough to know that math is my worst subject, apparently.”

Thabiso wouldn’t be deterred. “I’ve known you since before the fast cars and late nights and flashing cameras, yeah? I’ve watched you grow and change, and I maybe notice the things you think you hide by fluttering those lashes at people.”

Anxiety clawed its way up Johan’s back. Johan played a role, and usually Thabiso played one, too: the friend who put up with Johan’s jaded outlook on the world and talked him out of doing anything too ridiculous. But now Thabiso was tugging at Johan’s mask, the one he wore even around friends. The one that he’d slipped on while standing over his mother’s grave, eyes dry and heart flooded with tears.

Thabiso released him, as if he’d felt Johan’s muscles bunch beneath his grip. “I’ll back off. But don’t think that those walls you’ve put up to protect yourself will hold. Some people are wrecking balls, you know. Ask my wife.”

Johan was really beginning to understand the term smug marrieds.

“Okay, okay, Biso Ray Cyrus.” Johan dropped back onto the bed, his hands behind his head and his face schooled into nonchalance. “It’s not like we’re in love or anything.”

And that was true. Whatever it was that Johan felt for Nya wasn’t anything like love. It was just a swelling sensation in the middle of his chest whenever he saw her or thought of her, and the desire to be around her as much as possible.

Besides, everyone was acting like Nya was some complete innocent, when she had someone texting her love messages all the time. When he’d asked if the man would be upset about their arrangement, Nya had become all flustered and said it wasn’t serious so it didn’t matter.

“It’s just for fun,” Johan said with finality.

Tav burst out laughing. “Good luck, mate.”

Johan sighed. He was going to need it.

“YOU KNOW WHAT we’re gonna ask,” Portia said.

Nya, Ledi, and Portia were seated in the small lounge area of Nya’s room. Pajamas were on, head scarves were tied, and a nineties rom-com was streaming on the flat screen. Nya sat cross-legged on the floor, applying an oil mix to her scalp and braids. The scent was calming, and massaging it in was something to focus on apart from her decidedly strange reality.

“What?”