Monday

Five women left. Three weeks until I’d marry one of them. Scratch that. Six women. I wasn’t throwing Charlotte out of the running just yet. I wasn’t giving up on her until she chose someone else because I would always choose her.

Now if I could just make her see that.

Instead, I was stuck going on five dates with women I didn’t want as my queen, interviewing them for a job they had no chance of actually getting. Just getting their hopes up.

Basically, I was an asshole.

“You’re quiet this evening,” Oliver remarked as we headed toward a private dining room in the palace.

“Not much to say, I guess.”

“Hmmm.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He gave me a full shot of side-eye. “I’ve known you for years, Jameson. Just because I was Xander’s guard doesn’t mean I wasn’t just as observant as you.”

“And?”

“And I’ve never known you not to have anything to say. Quite the opposite really. I’ve always depended on you to fill the awkward silence. To distract everyone from the real issue by drawing attention to something asinine you’d done just to take the heat off one of your siblings.”

“Usually I’m thankful for how observant you are.”

“As you should be.”

Cocky bastard. Not that he didn’t deserve it. He was number one in his class both for his university degree and the academy. But in that moment, I’d wished he’d followed his damn movie-star good looks into that particular field instead of going Freud on me.

“Shut up, Oliver.”

“Noted,” he said with a smirk.

We rounded the corner, and my heart leaped like a schoolboy at the sight of Charlotte waiting for us outside the door. She had on a black sheath dress with a high neckline, and a hemline that skirted just above her knees. Perfectly appropriate, maybe even ordinary. But damn did she make it the sexiest dress on the planet. Maybe it was because I was getting to know what was under that dress. Maybe it was because, for the first time in my life, I was free to let myself linger on what a beautiful woman she really was without the guilt of fantasizing about my brother’s intended.

“There you are,” she said with a tight smile.

“Oh, Charlie is displeased,” I said to Oliver.

She huffed. The Duchess of Corbin actually huffed in my direction. God, I loved getting under her skin, watching her flush, seeing those emerald eyes spark.

“You’re five minutes late, and Lady Ophelia is waiting for you.”

I shot Oliver a look, and he immediately stepped away, muttering something like, “good luck,” under his breath.

“Have dinner with me instead.”

She rolled her eyes. “Jameson.”

“Charlie.”

She swallowed, and my eyes watched her throat move, wishing my lips were on it. “You have five ladies left to choose from. Narrowing down during these five appointments will help you choose. You need to have an official fiancee in the next two weeks.”

I leaned forward until one of my hands met the wall by her ear, caging her into one side, but not the other. She could move if she wanted.

Choices, my Charlie. Choices.

She didn’t.

“The wedding should be in three weeks,” I reminded her, lowering my head so our foreheads nearly touched.

“You at least need to give the girl a week to get a darn dress.” She smoothed my tie, correcting an imperfection that I knew wasn’t there.

“Do you have a dress?” I asked softly.

“Not. The. Point.” she brushed her hands down my lapels. “Now, Lady Ophelia is lovely. She’s twenty-three, fresh out of University and she majored in psychology in hopes to get her doctorate.”

I pushed off the wall, stepping back from her. Mood broken.

“Okay.”

“Oliver will be with you, and the staff, of course, but that’s it.”

“You’re not coming in with me?” Disappointment sang through me like a damn opera, all loud and melancholy. I’d been depending on having her with me, showing her how wrong all of these girls were—that she was the only woman for me.

“Nope. Would kind of kill the mood, don’t you think?”

“And what if it all goes horribly wrong?”

“You just ask her what her thoughts are on our diplomatic ties with Switzerland.”

“Wait. What?”

She reached for my hair, and I stepped further away.

“Ask her about Switzerland.”

“No one can get that question wrong. Asking people what they think of the most neutral country in the history of...history gets you one answer. Everyone likes Switzerland.”

“Exactly. But when you ask that question, Oliver will signal me, and I’ll come in and find some urgent reason you’re immediately needed elsewhere.”

A slow smile spread across my face. This was going to be easier than—

“And you have to wait at least a half hour before it will get you any of my attention,” she said with a smirk.

Fuck.

“Great.”

She reached for my hair again, and I lightly captured her wrist.

“Leave it alone.”

“You look like you just crawled out of bed with another woman.”

“Well, the only woman I’ve been remotely intimate with in the last month has been you, and since we were in the prep room, and not my bed, that’s a physical impossibility.”

A delicate flush came over her cheeks.

“Well, you still look like—”

“Me. I look like me. Stop trying to make me look like Xander.”

Her lips parted, and she stepped back. “That wasn’t my intention.”

“Sure it was. It always is, at least that’s been the theme for the past few weeks. I’m not Xander. You can’t turn me into him.” I kept my tone soft, hoping my words sank in with her instead of triggering her temper.

“I know you’re not Xander,” she said softly, dropping her gaze.

I sucked a breath in to steady my nerves, carefully choosing my next words. “Of course you do. Because if I was Xander, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. You’d be in final fittings for your dress, eager and willing to marry me, not trying to wed me to someone else,” I whispered.

“That’s not fair,” she answered in the same hushed tones.

“Yeah, well there’s a lot of that going around this month.” I looked away, taking just the few seconds I needed to get my shit under control. “Shall we?” I asked Oliver.

He opened the door, keeping his eyes averted.

God help us all if the guy ever decided to write a book.

“Jamie…” Charlotte said softly, a tone of pleading in her voice I’d never heard before.

I knew she wanted me to understand. To give her a fucking minute. I knew she’d been through hell with Xander, that just a few weeks ago she’d been his. She needed a year, a month, a week...a fucking minute. But I didn’t have that minute to give, not with three weeks until I had to fulfill the Parliamentary requirement.

I stopped at the threshold of the door, seeing Lady Ophelia rise from her seat. Then I turned my head toward Charlie.

“Charlotte.”

With a single nod, I walked in to have dinner with Lady Ophelia.

Three hours later, I hadn’t once asked her about the State of Switzerland.

Tuesday

Oliver and Charlotte walked with me down the wide hallways of the Elleston Museum of Natural History. She rattled off facts on Lady Amelia’s accomplishments, her breeding, charities, and hobbies.

I nodded, taking in every piece of information I could as we approached Amelia...and her mother.

“I wasn’t aware this was a double date,” I said out of the side of my mouth.

Charlotte smothered a laugh, and I felt that pop, the release of tension that had been there since last night’s dinner. Thank God. I needed to move forward with Charlotte, not backward.

“I’ll take care of it,” Georgia promised, bringing up the rear.

Lady Amelia smiled, all teeth, the very image of the Cheshire cat. I peeked at her mother. Make that two Cheshire Cats. Yeah, this one was not going to work.

“Your Royal Highness,” they said in tandem.

I turned my attention to her mother, bowing my head. “Countess Devanny.”

“Your Highness. We’re honored that you would consider our Amelia.”

I nodded to Amelia. “Of course. It’s lovely to see you again, Lady Amelia.”

She dropped her gaze, attempting to look demure, before narrowing her eyes on Charlotte. “Duchess of Corbin. How...interesting that you’re here.”

My fucking hackles rose.

“Charlotte has been one of my best friends since we were children.” I tried to keep my voice flat, but given the way Countess Devanny’s eyes widened, she’d heard the warning.

“Oh, of course,” Amelia said with a fake ass smile in Charlotte’s direction. “Tell me, Duchess Corbin, how is it that you inherited the title when your parents still live? Was that not your mother and father I saw at the Engagement ball?”

How-fucking-dare she. That night was one of Charlotte’s worst ever, and she brought that shit up in what? Hopes that she’d embarrass her?

Before I could take a breath to end this girl, Charlotte gave my tricep a discreet squeeze.

“You did see my parents that night. But the title was my father’s and he died when I was fourteen years old.”

They year after they’d signed the fucking betrothal.

“Since the Corbin title was his, my mother became the Dowager Duchess, and I became Duchess. The man you saw at the party was my stepfather, whom I love just as much as my first father. I can absolutely understand how confusing it can be, and I’d be happy to send you the most recent chart of Ellestonian Aristocracy if it helps.”

Damn, my girl didn’t need me to save her. She saved herself.

Lady Amelia’s face fell, and the Countess rushed in to rescue her. “Of course, Duchess Corbin, she simply forgot.”

“Understandable,” Charlotte said with a slight head nod of forgiveness. In the food chain of aristocracy, Charlotte could eat both of these women for breakfast.

“Shall we?” Countess Devanny asked, ushering all but Oliver away.

I watched Charlotte walk away, her head held high and lost a little more of my heart to her. How could I not? She was the epitome of grace, wit, beauty...and a sharp ass tongue.

Amelia turned to look at the nearest painting, the lights shining on her blue-black hair, and I sighed. Oliver cringed and shrugged.

I stepped forward to look at the impressionist piece.

“That poor girl.” Amelia turned her huge eyes on me.

“Charlotte?”

She nodded. “It must be terribly hard to go from being a breath away from the crown to the Prince’s leftovers.”

So. Fucking. Done.

“What do you think of our alliance with Switzerland?”

Oliver coughed, smothering a laugh.

“I’m sorry?” she blinked in confusion.

“Switzerland!” I damn-near yelled.

I didn’t wait for Charlotte to come riding in on her white steed and stilettos. I simply nodded to Amelia, turned on my heel and left, Oliver close behind me.

“Jameson?” Charlotte asked, halfway back to us with a concerned knit to her forehead.

“Switzerland.”

“A half hour, Jaime,” She said softly, reaching for my arm.

Her touch didn’t calm me, simply made me even more certain.

“Fucking Switzerland, Charlie.”

A tiny smile escaped her perfect lips, and she shook her head. But she took my arm and got me the hell out of there as the Countess of Devanny sputtered.

Wednesday

“The gardens are lovely,” Lady Mary said, stopping to smell the roses. No, literally, the woman paused at every single flower.

We’d been in the garden for twenty-eight minutes and made it maybe thirty feet.

“So, I heard that you recently parted ways with your fiance,” I said softly. “I wouldn’t normally pry, but I wouldn’t want you putting yourself into a romantic situation when your heart isn’t healed yet.”

She looked up at me, her brown eyes warm. She truly was beautiful, all soft curves and pleasing lines. Sure, she was trying to look that good, and Charlotte was an effortless beauty, but I was trying my damndest not to hold these women up to the standard of Charlotte.

They’d all fail.

“I’m perfectly fine, Your Highness, but thank you.”

“Are you certain? It’s only been a few weeks. I would understand if you felt torn, if you still loved him, even.”

She smiled. “Of course not, Your Highness. You see, I left him for you.”

I blinked, stepping back a little, my eyes immediately finding Oliver’s.

The man had on sunglasses, but I still saw his eyebrows go up half an inch.

“For me?”

“Of course. With my bloodlines and your newly acquired status, how could I not put myself into the running?”

“You left the man you were engaged to marry...for the chance at being my wife?”

“For the chance of being your Queen.”

My blood ran cold, to what I assumed was the temperature of her heart.

“Is that not romantic, Jameson?” she asked.

I bristled, knowing I’d never given her permission to use my first name. Not that I usually cared, but she made it sound dirty...and not in the usual way that I liked.

“After all, isn’t that what Alexander did? Break off his engagement?”

I backed up even further, and she stalked me. “For love. Xander broke off his engagement for love, not for a crown. He gave up a crown for love.”

She blatantly ignored me. “I’d be the perfect Queen.”

Yeah, I’m so not giving you the ring of power.

Not that this girl had even seen Lord of the Rings.

“Yeah...so what are your thoughts on our alliance with Switzerland?”

She ignored me, leaning up to brush a kiss on my jawline. “We would be perfect together. Our children would be beautiful.”

“Switzerland!” I barked.

She blinked rapidly. “Well, I really do love their chocolate…”

“Prince Jameson? There’s a matter that requires your immediate attention.” Charlotte’s voice was a godsend.

“Oh, no. Really?” Mary asked.

Charlotte looped her arm through mine. “I’m afraid so.”

“I’m delighted to say it is so. Thank you, Lady Mary. It’s been....enlightening.”

I walked off with Charlotte on my arm.

“That bad?” she asked quietly, Oliver following us out.

“Yeah. That’s not going to happen. Ever.”

Thursday

I found Lady Katherine in the bowling alley.

Yes, we had a royal bowling alley in the palace.

She looked up from where she was picking out a ball. “Your Highness.”

“Lady Katherine,” I said. “Nice jeans.”

She blushed and bit her lower lip.

“Guess I can lose the jacket and tie.” I stripped off my tie and my jacket, leaving me in my suit pants and dress shirt.

“I’m only here because I’m the second only in rank to Lady Charlotte,” she said, her tone blunt and no-nonsense.

“You’re here because Charlotte thinks highly of you, and her opinion is priceless.”

She swallowed, her eyes widening. “May I be honest?”

“Please do.”

“I don’t want this.”

How...refreshing.

“Me either.”

She sighed in obvious relief. “It’s not that I don’t think you’re handsome, or you know...the most eligible bachelor in the world.”

“I did beat out Harry,” I said with a grin.

She laughed, and the sound was clear and delightful.

“I just...I want love.”

“Me too,” I agreed. “So now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, how about two friends spend an hour bowling?”

Her smile was instant. “That sounds...perfect.”

Friday

“Where exactly is Charlotte?” I asked Oliver as he walked me toward the pool house on the Palace grounds. And by Pool House, I mean five thousand square foot cottage. AKA, where Xander and I had thrown parties during our University years that our parents turned a blind eye to.

“She’s on her way. I believe she got caught up in her duties.”

“Duties. Right.” It was easy to forget that Charlotte was an aristocrat in her own right. That she had people she was responsible for the same way I was. She simply handled it all so effortlessly.

“And this date is happening in the pool house.”

“Per the candidate’s request,” he said. “Candlelit dinner for two. I believe she asked for something intimate so that you could get to know each other.”

“That’s reasonable.”

Oliver opened the French doors to the house.

“What’s her name again? I didn’t look at the dossier on this one.”

Because I’d grown dependent on Charlotte. It was a blast of cold water, the reminder that if I didn’t convince her to stay, I’d be on my own for the rest of my life.

“Lady Genevieve.”

I walked in the house to see the candlelit table.

“Genevieve...Blanchard?” Oh. No.

“Yes. The Baron of Gableshire’s oldest daughter.”

Fuck. My. Life.

“Jameson, is that you?” She called out from the bedroom.

“Wait here,” I ordered Oliver.

“Your Highness…”

“Trust me; she’s not looking to murder me. Now, stay. Here.”

The muscles in his jaw flexed, and he spoke into his earpiece. “You cleared this house of all but Lady Genevieve. You’re sure. No staff, either. You checked…” Oliver nodded. “Very well.” His eyes met mine, still tense. “You may go.”

“Why, thank you,” I said in exaggeration.

He almost growled and shook his head.

“Anyone tell you that you look like Stephen Amell when you get all testy?”

“I am not some Hollywood actor in a green hood, sir.”

“Well, you know in case he needs a stunt double, you could apply.”

He glared. “It would be a much more restful job than chasing after your ass.”

“Noted.”

Adjusting my tie, I walked into the main floor master suite, which was lit by candles. On the large bed, Genevieve was on her knees, thighs spread, wearing nothing but a black lace teddy. Her blonde hair fell to the sides of her breasts, and she gave me a smile that I’d seen far too many times.

“Jameson.”

“Genevieve. Maybe you’d like to put some clothes on?”

She crawled toward me. “That’s not what you said the last time you called me here.”

Fuck. This is what I got for fucking aristocrats.

“Things have changed.”

“In a month? They’ve changed that fast?”

Damn it. She’d been a moment of weakness after Willa had left Xander, when I thought Charlotte was going to marry my brother. Hell, Genevieve had been a moment of weakness more than once. At least once a month through our University years.

“They changed the instant Xander abdicated.”

She came up on her knees, running her hands over my shoulders. “We’re good together.”

“We were good together. In bed. That was all.”

She raised a single, plucked eyebrow and started to undo the row of buttons down the front of the lingerie. “And we can be more.”

“We can’t.” I stepped back. “We always agreed it was sex only.”

“When you were the spare,” she said with an unspoken duh.

“Genevieve. It’s not going to happen.”

Was she a good fuck? Sure. She was also a viper, ready to bite anyone to get what she wanted, which had always worked out for me when I needed a discreet release. But that was then.

“I know you want me,” she purred, slipping the straps of the teddy off her arms.

“Actually, I don’t,” I said honestly. Damn, I wasn’t even hard for her.

Guess my cock belonged to Charlotte, too.

She bared her breasts, and I looked away.

“Switzerland!” I yelled, walking out of the room.

Charlotte was there, talking quietly with Oliver by the French doors, but her head snapped in my direction when I damn near ran into the room. “Switzerland.”

“Jaime, it hasn’t been—”

“Get back in here, Jameson!” Genevieve moaned, coming through the door behind me.

I didn’t need to turn around to know that her breasts were still bare, Charlotte’s face said it all. She looked stunned and a little heartbroken.

“Switzerland,” I said clearly, keeping my eyes on Charlotte.

Charlotte’s breath left in a rush, but I kept walking toward her until we were only a foot apart.

“Jameson, come finish what you started. We’ve always been so good together. Remember Barcelona? That balcony with the restraints?”

“Restraints?” Charlotte mouthed.

“Switzerland,” I said softly.

“You sure you don’t want to—continue? I’d hate to interrupt something with so much history and promise.” She stared at me head on, challenging me with her eyes, her posture, her...everything.

Uncaring that Oliver was right next to her, I grasped Charlotte’s hand and put it straight on my dick. My very soft, very uninterested dick. “Switzerland, Charlie.”

Oliver stepped between me and Genevieve.

Her shoulders dropped, and her lips parted. “You’re…”

“I don’t want her,” I whispered. “But if you keep your hand there much longer, I won’t stay in this condition.” Already I was swelling, my blood rushing to where Charlotte held me, her hand squeezing me lightly.

“Well then let go,” she hissed.

I held both of my hands up, showing her that I already had.

Startled, she glanced down and quickly removed her hand. That’s right. You had ahold of me all on your own, sweet Charlie.

“Switzerland.”

She couldn’t cover the smile that quirked the edges of her lips up.

“Fine. Switzerland.” She spun on her kitten heels and walked out.

Oliver must have called other security because a couple of female suits showed up and made sure we could make a clean exit.

“I bet you miss Xander,” I said to Oliver as we began the walk back to the palace.

“He’s a friend, and I do miss him. But damn, you make life a lot more interesting.”

Saturday

Flowers in hand, I knocked on Charlotte’s door.

“You look nervous,” Oliver said, standing off to the side of me.

“I’m not nervous,” I replied.

“You sure? Because your ears are bright red.”

I glared at my head of security and knocked again.

“Only someone that nervous wouldn’t give the woman a couple of minutes to answer.”

“Shut up, Oliver.”

I raised my hand to knock again but stopped myself just before my knuckles made contact.

“Nervous,” Oliver stage-whispered.

The door opened, saving Oliver from a serious helping of side eye.

“Jaime?” Charlotte asked, confusion clear on her face.

Her hair was down and loose, and the green henley she wore was the same shade as her eyes. She looked dressed down, comfortable, and utterly fuckable.

“It’s date time,” I said, holding out the flowers to her.

She took them but shook her head. “You don’t have plans for tonight.”

“Yes, I do. With you.”

“Jaime…”

“Come on. You’ve put me through torture the last five days. Give me tonight. We could both use a little fun.”

She tugged on her bottom lip with her teeth as the debate raged in her eyes.

“But I’m not dressed.”

I took in the jeans that hugged her curves and nearly came undone. It had been a decade since I’d seen her in denim.

“You’re perfect,” I told her, gesturing to my own jeans and baseball tee. “Break out of the stuffy palace with me, Charlie. Please?”

I waited precious seconds while she decided.

“Just as friends,” she clarified.

“As whatever you want.”

An hour later, she was staring at me like I’d lost my mind.

“A drive-in movie theater?”

“I aim to please. Or surprise. Either way.”

“I’m definitely surprised,” she said glancing out of the windows of my Range Rover as Oliver parked us dead center to the huge screen.

“I figured you probably hadn’t done something normal in a while.”

“I’m not sure we could call this normal,” she said, pointing to the eight black SUVs that surrounded us.

“It’s as normal as you’re going to get,” Oliver muttered.

“Front and center,” Charlie said.

“Yeah, I know this guy who has some pull.” I winked at her.

“You sure about this?” He looked over his shoulder at us.

“I’m sure the car is bulletproof, which means I’m basically only in danger from an RPG, or Charlotte.”

Oliver paused.

“Oliver, no one is parked on some random tower with an RPG on the off chance I might be here tonight.”

He narrowed his eyes at me and sighed. “Fine. Press the button in case of emergency.” He motioned to the red button on the console that would bring the entire armed forces to my rescue.

“Yeah. Got it.”

He muttered something but left us alone in the car, locking the doors with an audible click.

The screen came to life in front of us, and Charlotte shifted in her seat.

“Should we move up front?”

“Nope,” I said, reaching behind us to bring out a bag full of snacks. “Popcorn, skittles, M&M’s, milk duds...what’s your poison?”

“Anything chocolate, I guess,” she said, her voice more than a little tense.

“That stick is worming it’s way up your ass again, Charlie.”

She snorted. “I just figured we could see the movie better from the front seat.

“Probably, but the back seat is the best place to experience the movie.” I moved the bag to the floor. Then I reached over and tugged Charlotte into my side, draping my arm around her shoulders. “See?”

She tensed. “Friends, Jaime.”

“Stick up your ass, Charlie.”

She sagged into me with a chuckle, and I wanted to fist pump in victory. Her curves fit against me perfectly, her head resting in the curve of my shoulder like she’d always been meant to be there.

We made it through the first half hour of the movie in that exact position, occasionally brushing hands when we both reached for popcorn.

“This is nice,” Charlotte said softly, snuggling her head into me.

“This is pretty perfect,” I agreed. Turning my head, I brushed my lips across her forehead, savoring the moment. We could have so many just like this if she’d just give me a chance. I could make her happy, give her everything she could ever want. Be whomever she needed.

She shifted, looking up at me.

Fuck me, those eyes were my undoing.

In slow motion, I lowered my mouth to hers, giving her every opportunity to say no, to pull away.

Finally our lips met, first the soft brush of invitation.

“Tell me no,” I whispered.

“We shouldn’t,” she answered, shifting so she could hold my face in her hands.

“That’s not a no.”

This time she kissed me, hot, hungry, and open-mouthed. My tongue swept inside her mouth, reclaiming it as my own. This was how I’d wanted to spend my week—with her. Not with five other women. This was how I wanted to spend the rest of my life.

She moaned, shifting her hands to my hair.

I gripped her ass and pulled her on top of me. Her breasts were so soft against my chest as she parted her thighs to straddle me. My fingers tangled in her hair as my tongue dueled with hers. Kissing Charlotte felt like the beginning of my life. Nothing mattered until this moment, and nothing would matter after if she walked away.

“Wait,” she said, pushing back against my chest. Her breasts heaved with her rushed breaths. “Someone could see.”

I slid my hands up her thighs until I gripped her waist. “That’s half the fun.”

Desire shot through her eyes, but then she looked around us. “Jameson, I’m serious.”

“Babe, the windows are blacked out. Superman himself could not see into this car.”

As if that was the only confirmation she needed, her mouth crashed back into mine, and it was sweet. So fucking sweet. She rocked her hips over my growing erection, and I groaned. We were separated by only layers of clothing, and my first instinct was to rip hers off and thrust home, to claim this woman’s body the way she’d claimed my very soul.

Her hands tugged at my tee shirt, and I obliged, pulling it over my head.

“Holy. Shit.” Her eyes raked over my bare chest, down the lines of my abs. “I’ve always known that you’re gorgeous, but Jaime…” Her fingers drifted over my pecs, tracing every muscle. “You’re perfect.”

“Perfect for you,” I said, and then kissed her, unable to hold back.

Our kisses grew frantic, and when her hips began to rock over mine again, I gripped her lightly, shifting her so I’d hit against her inseam.

This time, she groaned, throwing her head back.

She was glorious. I’d never seen a woman so sensual, so lost to what we were doing. My dick screamed at me, begging for friction, for pressure, for anything Charlotte would offer. I thrust again, and Charlotte’s nails dug into my shoulders, no doubt leaving little crescent marks.

“God, yes,” she moaned, as my hands cupped her breasts.

“Exquisite.”

“Yes. I want...I want…” she undulated, pushing her breasts into my hands at the same time she rolled over my cock.

I felt like a high school kid, about one more dry hump away from coming.

“What do you want, Charlie? Tell me. Anything you want, I’ll give it to you. Just ask. It’s yours. I’m yours.”

She went rigid.

“Oh my God. What am I doing? What are we doing?” she scrambled off my lap into the furthest corner of the backseat.

“We were having the hottest makeout session of my life.” I turned to face her.

“Jameson. You’re getting married in two and a half weeks.”

“I am,” I agreed. To you.

“And I’m...you’re...what are we doing?” Her hand flew to cover her face.

I gently took her hand away so I could read her eyes. Charlotte was always so composed. She could play politics with the best, but her eyes were always a dead giveaway.

“We’re doing whatever you want.”

“Don’t mock me.”

“I’m not.” Why couldn’t I be more eloquent? I needed the perfect thing to say, and nothing I thought of came close to what I was feeling. “We can be whatever you want.”

“I’m serious, Jameson.” Flustered, she ran her hand over her hair. I couldn’t wait to wrap that hair around my hand while I took her from behind.

“So am I. Yes, I have to get married. Yes, you’ve said you refuse to be the woman I marry. But that doesn’t change the fact that you are the only woman I want.”

Her lips parted, her eyes huge as if for the first time she believed what I was saying.

“We can be whatever you want, Charlie. You want to just be friends? I’ll probably die of sexual frustration, but I’ll honor your wishes. You want to make out in the back seat, then baby, my lap is yours. You want me to fuck you every day until you walk away? I’ll do that, too.”

“Until I walk away…”

My fingers trailed down the soft skin of her cheek. “You walking away is the only way you’re getting away from me because there’s zero chance I’d turn my back on you. On this. I’ve wanted you for too damn long.”

“So what? I’m supposed to help you find a wife by day, and sleep with you by night? What does that make me?”

“It makes you human. This is all your choice, Charlie. I’ll go with whatever you say. That’s how desperate I am for you, how badly I want you. I will take whatever you’re willing to give me for as long as you’ll give it for.”

“Like I could ever keep up with you sexually,” she scoffed.

“I have a feeling you could more than keep up with me. And if you’re worried, then I’ll teach you. I can show you ways to get off that you’ve never dreamed of.”

“Whatever I want?” she clarified. “Even if it’s just kissing, or just...sex. No relationship, no falling in love. Just...physical.”

I told my aching heart to shut the hell up. It didn’t matter if I loved her more than my own ambition, and she saw me as a sex toy. I wasn’t lying—I’d take her any way I could get her. If she only wanted sex, then I’d fuck her so well that she’d never leave. I’d brand her body with my own, until I was the only one she got wet for, the only one she could ever imagine being with.

I’d used sex for so many things. For pleasure. For power. For a cure for boredom.

But I’d never used it to win someone’s heart. But if it was my best weapon in the war for Charlotte’s heart, then it was a good thing I was more than up to task.

“Well? For the first time in your life, you have a choice, Charlie. What’s it going to be?”