Twisted Games (Twisted, #2)(98)

“Why do you think, Mr. Larsen? The world thinks I’m a prince. I am a prince. Do you really think I’d jeopardize that to claim kinship with an American bodyguard who, I might mention, has been quite rude to me in every interaction we’ve had?”

I stared Andreas down. “How did you find out?”

When Christian handed me the paper with my father’s and brother’s names, I’d almost thrown it out. I knew in my gut opening it would lead to trouble. But in the end, I couldn’t resist.

Two names.

Andreas von Ascheberg, my half-brother.

Arthur Erhall, my father.

Our father.

I was related to the two people I despised most in Eldorra. Go figure.

Andreas was silent for a long while. “When I found out Nikolai was abdicating, I was…worried. About Bridget. She’d never cared much for the throne, and I didn’t think she even liked Eldorra that much. She certainly spent enough time away from it to give that impression. I thought she wasn’t suited for the role of queen.”

Barbed wire dug into my heart at the sound of Bridget’s name.

Blonde hair. Sparkling eyes. A smile that could light up even my cold, dead soul.

It’d only been three days, and I already missed her so goddamned much I would’ve cut off my right arm for the chance to glimpse her in person, but she’d been locked up tight at the palace since she left the hospital. Probably busy planning her engagement to Steffan.

Acid seeped into my veins, and I forced myself to focus on what Andreas was saying instead of spiraling again.

“I realize you don’t have a high opinion of me, but I do want what’s best for the country. Eldorra is my home, and it deserves a good ruler.”

I bristled at the implied insult. “Bridget would make a damn good ruler.”

“Yes, well, you’re biased, aren’t you?” Andreas drawled. “I had someone dig into what she’d been doing during her time in New York. Figure out where her head was at. They mentioned you two seemed…close. Closer than the average bodyguard and client.”

“Bullshit. I would’ve noticed a tail.”

“You were distracted, and it wasn’t one. It was multiple.” Andreas laughed at my dark expression. How the fuck had I missed a tail? “Don’t feel too bad. They weren’t there to hurt her. Just gather information. I was curious about you, the bodyguard who seemed to have my cousin so enamored, so I had my people dig into your background, including your parentage.” His smile hardened. “Imagine my surprise when I found out we had the same father. Small world.”

His tone remained light, but the tenseness of his jaw suggested he wasn’t as unbothered as he wanted me to think.

The story was plausible, except for me missing the tail. I had been distracted, but I didn’t think I’d been that distracted.

My mind flashed back to my uncharacteristic confrontation with Vincent in Borgia, the last-minute trip to Costa Rica, and the thousands of tiny things pre-Bridget me would’ve never done.

I do not become personally involved in my clients’ lives. I am here to safeguard you from physical harm. That is all. I am not here to be your friend, confidant, or anything else. This ensures my judgment remains uncompromised.

I scrubbed a hand over my face. Fuck.

“Say that’s true. Want to explain to me how you’re a prince when your father is a mere lord?”

Erhall. Of all the people, it had to be Erhall.

Bile rose in my throat at the reminder we were related.

Andreas’s eyes shuttered. “My mother had an affair with Erhall. My father—my real father, even if he wasn’t my biological one—didn’t know until she told him before she died. Six years ago, cancer. I guess she wanted to go with a clear conscience. My father didn’t tell me until before he died, three years ago.” He barked out a short laugh. “At least my family can take secrets with them to their graves. Literally.”

“Does Erhall know?”

“No,” Andreas said a little too sharply. “And he won’t. My father was the one who raised me, not Erhall. My father…” A shadow flickered across his face and disappeared. “He was a good man, and he loved me enough to treat me like his own son even after he found out I wasn’t. Erhall, on the other hand, is a sniveling weasel.”

I snorted. At least we agreed on something.

Andreas’s smirk returned as he took another sip of tea. “Here’s a secret for you. I don’t want the throne. Never did. I’d step up if I had to, of course, but I would much rather have someone else fill that role—as long as they’re capable. The throne is the most powerful seat but also the smallest cage in the palace.”

“That’s utter crap,” I growled. “You’ve made your intentions clear multiple times. The meetings with the king and Speaker, the ‘helpful’ visit to my guesthouse the night before Nikolai’s wedding. Remember those?”

“Bridget needed a push,” he said coolly. “I wanted to see if she’d fight for the crown. But I also came back because…” He hesitated for a brief second. “I wanted to give Erhall a chance. See if we could connect somehow. That’s why I asked to shadow him during his meetings, more so than me wanting to be king. As for the guesthouse, I was trying to help you. I’m not an idiot, Mr. Larsen. Or should I call you Rhys, now that we both know we’re brothers?”