Prologue

Charlotte

Have you ever been so locked up in your own world that you feel like there’s no way out?

That’s me in a nutshell.

When my family’s secret was revealed and the Scandalous Sinclairs were exposed, I thought I could simply enjoy a normal life. A real life, with real friends that I could call my squad, or be part of their squad—I’m not picky—and do such brilliant things with them on weekend and holidays.

You know, like a regular woman would.

Unfortunately, I’m a princess.

Worse, I’m the spare princess and, unlike my male counterpart only an ocean away, I am not allowed any sort of freedom.

No, you may not post on Instagram.

No, you may not open a Facebook account.

Or use that Snapchat filter.

Or discuss your opinion on anything on a blog.

You get the gist of it, but I did it all anyway…under a pseudonym. I’m not that rebellious.

I am, however, a prisoner in a lovely, gilded cage. Really, I shouldn’t complain. My twin sister has it much, much harder since she is queen, or rather will be queen once her coronation is approved by Parliament. All she has to do is marry a suitable king consort.

While all I have to do is maintain a smooth course, not make ripples, and stay away from people who would rather sell anything about us to the paparazzi than become our true friends.

Since we were forced to flee into exile at such a young age, none of us really made new friends. My brothers and sister were my only friends. Private tutors at home saw to that.

Actually, my panic attacks saw to that.

I’ve outgrown those, thankfully. Okay, so at nearly twenty-seven years old, I’ve mostly outgrown them.

With a sigh, I lightly tap my fingers along my keyboard and stare at the blank page in front of me. I wrangled an invitation from my brother Theo to come work at Sinclair Enterprises, assuring him that I would know just what to do to revitalize our marketing department.

I lied.

I’ve no bloody clue as to how to market ocean Internet connection repair services or software that goes along with it. From a cursory look, there isn’t a group on Facebook about it…but there are far more interesting pages.

Pages I have to remind myself that I’m not allowed to view at work—and not because they’re naughty.

Oh, no.

It’s all due to a man, the most unsuitable man in existence for a princess like me. Which is why I have to forget that he exists and write up copy for a marketing campaign.

See, this is what loneliness and boredom do to a woman, I remind myself. Should have taken Della’s advice and gone to the children’s wing of St. Claire Hospital to volunteer my services.

Except I can’t forget that he exists.

Glancing around, I dig through my purse and snag my mobile, pulling it out and clicking on my Instagram account. The first image that pops up in my feed is on him, post-workout. His chest is glistening and his abs…his abs are divine. I trace a finger over them, then move up to his broad shoulders. He’s so fit, so sexy, and that smile—that cocky, confident, million-watt smile.

How can anyone resist him?

I sigh dreamily and start to tap out a comment. After all, it’s my duty as a follower of his to let him know how much I appreciate his efforts to keep himself healthy.

Theo steps into the office, looking particularly harried. While my brother’s reputation hasn’t been the best, in the last few months he’s turned quite serious, which means he’s more likely to notice my sneaky ways.

Fumbling with my mobile, I attempt to swipe the screen and shove it into my purse at the same time…with success. I sit up straighter and give him an innocent smile.

“Will you be done in time to get ready for tonight’s charity ball?” he asks.

I nod. “It never takes me very long.” And no one comes to see me, anyway.

“It takes every woman very long.”

“And every brother named Theo.”

“Touché.” He grins, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “However, I won’t be in attendance this evening and I’d consider it a personal favor if you were to man my station instead of simply making an appearance.”

My skin prickles at the thought of all those people in attendance. “But the punch bowl is always near the center of the ballroom,” I protest.

“Have them move it.”

I tilt my head to one side, pursing my lips. “As if I have final say.”

“You’re a royal. You always have final say,” he reminds me.

“Not against Della.” While my sister-in-law wasn’t born into a royal family, she’s always been like a second mother to me, which means I respect her greatly—even if I find the things she likes and says to be rather odd.

He rolls his eyes. “Against everyone except Imogen.”

“I don’t like using my ranking to get my way.”

“Yes, it’s rather boring of you.”

I gasp. “So you’d be fine if I started acting more like you, missing balls because I have a hot date?”

“God, no. But I can’t help if I’m popular with the female population.”

Called it. He has a date with some unsuitable woman. “Double standard.”

Theo executes a perfect bow. “At your service.”

“Men,” I huff. “I swear, if I were of a mind to have you locked in the dungeon at the royal palace, I would.”

“So you’ll stand in for me.”

I stand up. “Naturally.”

He crosses the room and kisses my forehead. “Thanks, Char.”

“You owe me, Theo.” I give him a serious look. “One day I will need you and no matter what, you must support me.”

His eyes twinkle. “Planning to overthrow your sister?”

Tilting my head to one side, I purse my lips. “You know me better than that.”

“I do, which is why you’re my favorite youngest sister.” He cocks his head to one side, like a little boy about to get in trouble. “Still…a good old-fashioned uprising would move you up at least one spot on my list.”

“Shoo. Leave before I change my mind and order you to the ball,” I tell him.

He sketches a bow and leaves, but not before calling out, “I fully expect a report on how scandalously you behaved, Char.”

With a shake of my head, I mutter, “Expect all you want, but this wallflower will remain scandal-free.”