Twisted Games (Twisted, #2)(89)

The Daily Tea was a celebrity news and entertainment media company that included the country’s most-read magazine and one of its most-watched television stations. Some considered it trashy, but it had a huge audience.

Mikaela followed me to the sitting room, where I picked up the remote with shaky hands and turned on the TV.

“…reports Princess Bridget is in a relationship with her bodyguard, an American contractor named Rhys Larsen.” The Daily Tea host’s voice trembled with excitement. “Larsen has been by her side since her senior year at the prestigious Thayer University in the U.S., and suspicions about their relationship have abounded for years…”

For years? That was, for lack of better words, utter bull crap. Rhys and I hadn’t even liked each other years ago.

I watched, disbelief searing through me, as candid pictures of us flashed on-screen with the host’s voiceover commentary. Us walking down the street with Rhys’s hand on my lower back—to steer me around a puddle when I wasn’t looking, if I remembered correctly. Rhys helping me out of the car at a charity gala while our eyes locked onto each other. Me standing a little too close to him at an outdoor event a few months ago, but only because it was freezing and I needed the body warmth.

All innocent moments that, framed in a certain way and captured at a certain second, made them look like more than they were.

Then the more damning photos surfaced. Rhys glaring at Steffan during our ice-skating date, looking for all the world like a jealous boyfriend. Him pressing me against the car in the parking lot of the Royal Botanic Gardens. Us leaving the hotel where we’d spent that one glorious afternoon, our heads bent close together.

How the hell had someone captured those pictures? Other than the ice rink, we hadn’t spotted any paparazzi following us. Then again, we’d been distracted—horribly so.

On the bright side, there was no mention of the sex tape. If The Daily Tea had gotten their hands on it, it would be the only thing they talked about.

“Is this true?” Mikaela asked, her eyes huge. “Tell me it’s not true.”

“They’re just pictures,” I deflected.

I breathed a little easier. Only a little, because it was still a huge mess, but it was fixable. They didn’t have the video. “We can—”

“BRIDGET!”

Mikaela and I exchanged wide-eyed glances as my grandfather’s bellow thundered down the hall.

Uh-oh.





An hour later, I sat in my grandfather’s office with Elin, Markus, and Nikolai, who’d insisted on joining the emergency meeting. Mikaela had been politely but firmly dismissed. I wasn’t sure where Rhys was, but it would only be a matter of time before he was roped into the conversation.

“Your Highness, you must tell us the truth. It’s the only way we can help you fix this.” Whenever Elin was pissed, her left eye would twitch, and right now, it was twitching hard enough to pop a blood vessel. “Is there any truth to the allegations?”

I’d reached a fork in the road.

I could either lie and drag out the charade, or I could tell the truth and let the chips fall where they may.

If I did the latter, Rhys would be fired, but he was probably already on the chopping block whether or not the allegations were true. He was too high profile now, and people would gossip regardless. The palace couldn’t afford that kind of distraction.

But if I lied, I could at least buy us some time. Not a lot, but some, and that was better than nothing.

“Bridge, you can trust us,” Nikolai said gently. “We’re here to help you.”

Not really, I wanted to say. You’re here to help the crown and its reputation.

Perhaps that was unfair, but it was true to varying extents. They didn’t care about me, Bridget. They cared about the princess, the crown, and our image.

My grandfather and brother loved me, but when it came down to it, they would choose what was good for the royal family as an institution over what was good for me.

I didn’t fault them for it. It was what they had to do, but it meant I couldn’t trust them with my best interests.

The only person who had ever seen me and put me first was Rhys.

I looked around the room. There was my grandfather, whose expression remained neutral even as anger and worry flickered in his eyes. Markus, tight-faced and tight-lipped, who was no doubt fantasizing about wringing my neck. Elin, who for once wasn’t looking at her phone but was instead staring at me with bated breath. And finally, Nikolai, by far the most sympathetic of the bunch, though wariness creased his brow.

Then I thought about Rhys. His rough hands and rough voice, and the way he held me. Kissed me. Looked at me, like he never wanted to blink.

Baby, we’re way beyond like.

I took a deep breath, steeled myself, and took a fork in the road.

“The allegations are true,” I said. “All of them.”

I heard a sharp intake of breath all around. Markus pinched his temple while Elin flew into action, her fingers moving over her phone fast enough to start a Category Four hurricane.

Disappointment carved deep grooves into Edvard’s face. “Mr. Larsen’s employment is terminated, effective immediately,” he said, his tone sharper than I’d ever heard it. “You will end the relationship and never see or speak to him again.”

He spoke not as my grandfather, but as my king.