I spend the next several hours in my office finalizing the preparations for the conference. The comings and goings of the staff have finally dwindled to nearly nothing, and I’m able to focus on getting a few other non-conference related things done. And my friend from college should be here soon—perhaps I’ll even have time to see him before the main part of the conference gets underway.

There’s a rustling near my desk. I don’t look up, I just shuffle the papers I’m looking at to the side. “Gustav, if this is about—”

“Hello, Princess.”

I startle before I look up at William.

He frowns. “You didn’t eat your breakfast.”

I’d barely thought about the untouched tray that still sits on the corner of my desk. “I forgot about it. I’ve…had a lot on my mind.”

“Clearly.” He drops into one of the chairs on the other side of my desk.

“I trust the reception went well?” My eyes drop back to the papers near my computer. There is no easy way to hide them now without drawing attention to them.

“It did. I’ll admit, I had no idea the level of importance of this conference. There are some high level dignitaries here.” He clears his throat. “Sophia and Nicholas are here. You didn’t have anything to do with those invitations, did you?”

I lift my gaze to his. “I thought it would be nice for you to see your family, though I wasn’t certain they would come. You didn’t really believe I would keep you from seeing your family again, did you?”

His lips curl into the smallest of smiles. “I never would have believed they would travel to Rosvalia. Not after everything that’s happened between our families.”

I shrug. “Perhaps it’s time for us all to begin acting like adults.”

He nods. There’s something strange going on with him, but I can’t put my finger on it. “Perhaps it is past that time.”

“I suppose it is.” I motion to my desk, trying not to draw any attention to what is sitting there. I was so surprised—and excited, I’ll admit—by what was delivered today that I couldn’t help but open the envelope. I just hadn’t expected William to return to my office so quickly.

“We should go and eat dinner and retire to our quarters.” William’s gaze finds mine again, and I could swear there is more than a small hint of what he would like to do in our quarters again tonight.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness. As you can see, I have too much to do. And I’d remind you, there is no our quarters any longer. You have your suite and I have mine. I—”

“I know what he did.”

“I…” My brow wrinkles when I realize what he’s said. “You know what who did?”

“James. James Camden. I know what he did to you.”

I feel the color drain from my face, and I search William’s eyes. There is no way he knows what happened at the end of our relationship—no way he’d be sitting here speaking to me if he did. “What is it you think you know, Your Highness?”

“Your brother told me all the details. I don’t think it’s necessary to repeat them. Let’s just say if I see the bastard again, I won’t be responsible for what happens to him.”

“William—”

“He’s a horrible man, Justine. And to think that you still carry a torch for him—”

“I never said I still carried a torch for him. I would never—”

“You told me you believed you would only love once in your life. That you could never love another person.”

“I never said another person. I said I believed you only really fall in love once.”

“And James Camden was that love for you.”

“I thought so.” I nod. “Yes.”

“Even though he never loved you.”

I sigh. “You don’t know what happened, Your Highness. You weren’t there. You weren’t the one who had to—”

“I know what happened. I can tell you exactly what happened. This man—if you can call him that—preys on women like you.”

I lean back in my chair, studying him. There’s no way he knows. I don’t know what it is he’s talking about, but there is no possible way he would be sitting across from me if he knew the truth. I lift a brow. “Women like me?”

He nods. “Women with…” He pauses, almost as though he knows he’ll regret saying aloud what he’s thinking. “Women who have issues with authority figures.”

“Oh. Women like me.” I splay my hands on my desk. “Women with daddy issues.”

He nods. “Precisely.”

“I’m glad I’m the one who said it and not you. Otherwise, I might think you as much a misogynist as the other men in my life.”

“Justine—”

“No, please go on, Doctor William. I’m so enjoying this psychoanalysis.”

He frowns. “You know exactly what I mean. The man used you. He used you for his own disgusting need to feel like a man. But you have to know—that isn’t how a man treats a woman he loves.”

“Oh, and you know about this because of all the women you’ve loved?”

“Yes.” He nods. “Yes.”

“I see. And all these women you’ve loved—you’ve told them all this?”

“I’ve…what?”

“Told them all you loved them? All…seven of them, wasn’t it?”

He lets out a heavy sigh. “I do not understand how it is you’re able to turn every conversation we have around on me. We are not discussing my past. We’re discussing yours.”

“I’m just trying to figure out how it is you know so much more than me about this whole love thing, William. You aren’t that much older than me. So if you’ve loved seven women—”

“I didn’t love them. Not like…” He stops, looking into his lap before he lifts his gaze back to mine. “I didn’t feel the same way about them.”

“As you feel for me?” I let out a venomous laugh. “Right.”

“He used you.”

“Yes. And according to you, I used him—for approval. For my daddy issues, wasn’t it?”

“Justine—”

“You don’t know what happened, William. And I’m certainly not going to tell you of all people—”

“Your brother told me what happened—”

“My brother did not tell you anything.” I take a deep breath to try to calm my pounding heart. I can’t have this discussion with William. Not now—not ever.

William’s gaze narrows. “He said there were others—other women like you. Your professor had many others. And he said that you knew about it and allowed it to go on all the same. He said—”

“There were others?” I search his eyes. “You mean other women.” It doesn’t even come out as a question.

“Yes. Other women. And that you knew—”

My cheeks burn. “I did not know, but I can’t say it surprises me.”

His frown deepens and he studies me for a moment. “You didn’t know?”

“No.”

He shakes his head. “How is it that you don’t want to race out of this room and kill the man?”

“I…I don’t know. I only know that he said things I wanted to hear, and I saw the things I wanted to see.”

William only shakes his head.

“I was in a situation of my own making. In denial. And there came a time at the end of our relationship when I was no longer able to be in denial. When things became real very quickly.” I close my eyes for a moment, wishing I could somehow forget about the agony that still twists in my stomach when I allow myself to remember.

I open my eyes to look at him again. “I don’t know what you want from me, William. I’ve told you I’m no longer in love with James.”

“You’ve also told me you’ll never love another person.”

“I don’t believe that is exactly what I said.”

He raises his gaze to the ceiling, shaking his head. “I don’t know how to convince you.”

“To convince me of what, exactly?”

He drops his gaze to meet mine. “To convince you to give me a chance—”

“I have given you a chance, William. Many chances, in fact.” My eyes drop to the envelope on my desk, and I remember that in seventy-nine days, this will all be over. My heart is already breaking at the thought of having to leave him—and I know he’ll never understand.

I look up at him again. “You should go to your family. I’m sure they’re wanting to see you. It’s been almost a month—”

“But I only want to see you, Justine. Can’t you understand that?’

I stand, hoping he’ll take the hint that he needs to leave—now, before I fall apart right in front of him.

But he stays in his chair as I motion to the door. “Go and see your family—”

He stands and turns to face me. “Is there any—any—chance at all you could grow to love me?”

“What?”

“I don’t believe we are meant to only love one person. I—”

“Then you’ll be fine.” Something turns in my chest at the thought of William loving more than one woman. Something that feels too much like jealousy. Something that wants to tell him I’ve already considered the possibility of learning to love him.

But I can’t expose myself to him like that. Not when he could use it against me.

“But I won’t be fine.” He takes a step toward me, backing me into my desk. He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me against him. “You don’t understand at all, Justine. I will not be fine.”

I’m not sure what it is he’s doing to me, but his touch is like fire. I want him—more than ever. And I want him to always be mine. “William—”

His lips find my neck, and a second later, the spot just above my collarbone that melts me. I moan as he lifts me, setting me onto my desk. He roughly hikes my skirt up, and I wrap my legs around his waist as he presses against me.

My desk is still littered with papers, but I don’t care if he clears it all onto the floor.

He lifts his lips to whisper into my ear. “Tell me you want me.”

“I want you.”

“Say it again.”

“God, William, I want you.”

That seems to be all it takes. A moment later, he has me on my back and is unbuckling his pants.

He stops suddenly, his brow furrowing.

I lift myself onto my elbows. “What is it?”

He motions toward my desk with his head. “What is that?”

I’d forgotten for a moment, and now I remember the envelope sitting next to me. But there’s no way to hide it. Not now. Instead, I reach up and grab the front of his shirt, pulling him toward me. “I said I want you, William. Don’t make me beg.”

He looks at me, then back at the envelope, then back at me again. “Justine—”

“William.” There’s a sharp edge to my voice. “Don’t.”

“What is that?” He looks at the envelope again before he stands, refastening his pants. He takes a step back. “Damn it.”

I sit up, pulling my skirt back into place. “William, you don’t know—”

“I do know, though. Do you really take me for such a fool?”

I shake my head.

“Were you going to tell me?”

My shoulders drop. “William—”

“Seventy-nine days. I’ve been doing the countdown, but I didn’t know what I was counting down to. Some surprise in seventy-nine days. I suppose I’d hoped that it was going to be something… Fuck, I don’t know what I hoped. But that’s it, isn’t it?”

I frown. “If you would listen—”

“In seventy-nine days…” He shakes his head. “In seventy-nine days, you’re moving back to America. That’s it, isn’t it?” He points at the envelope. “Yale admissions. Yale. I imagine if I checked their calendar, the spring semester will be starting in about seventy-nine days. Won’t it? Won’t it, Justine?”

It’s over, I think. There’s nothing I can say to him. No way to deny it. He doesn’t understand how this all came to pass—doesn’t understand why I didn’t go to graduate school last year in the first place. And now he never will. I can see by the look in his eyes that he doesn’t care enough to hear any of the reasons, and I suppose he shouldn’t care. I haven’t given him any reason to.

He kicks my desk. “Damn it, Justine. Just say it.”

“Yes. Yes, William. That is exactly what is happening in seventy-nine days.”