“Very good. That should do it, then. I don’t much care for what kind of flowers we choose—I just need something that will work for the ceremony!”

I hung up the phone before the clerk had a chance to say anything else, and in frustration I slammed it down on the table. I hadn’t spent any time at all helping with the planning of the previous wedding, and I now saw how much work it really was.

I hadn’t spoken with Sophia since she had stood me up at the altar, and I didn’t want to. The last thing I needed to hear from her was an apology. If she was really sorry, she could have at least said or done something that showed she was. Instead, she left me standing up there like a fool in front of everyone, including my parents.

I was frustrated planning this second wedding as well. The last thing that I wanted right now was to get married, and these feelings were heightened after what had happened the last time I tried. There was nothing appealing about the concept of finding a woman to spend my life with, especially since it was because of Mother and Father that I was in this situation in the first place.

I had gone to them immediately following the wedding, begging them to reconsider and give me a chance at the throne without having a queen. But my father was adamant that if I was going to be fit for leadership, I was going to have to have that support behind me, no matter how little I wanted it to be there. The fact of the matter was that I didn’t want it to be there at all, not in the least, but I did want the throne more than anything, and I was willing to do a lot to ensure that I got it.

Arabella, my new fiancée, had been largely responsible for the wedding planning, and I had been happy to let her do it. She was a beautiful Dutch girl whom my parents begrudgingly approved of, and I had taken her as a replacement for Sophia. It didn’t matter to me whether it was Sophia or Arabella—neither one of them made me feel a thing.

I spent much of my life numb. I didn’t think, and I did as little feeling as possible. The only thing that mattered to me was that I was going to be king of this country. That would be my lot in life, and that would be what mattered.

“Excuse me, sir?” A voice came from behind, and I whirled around, visibly irritated that anyone would dare to disturb me. Moretti stood in the doorway looking concerned, and I took a quick breath in and let it out slowly.

“What is it?” I asked coldly, and he held up a piece of paper in his hand. My heart sank as I suspected it to be something from one of my parents, but at the same time, there was a feeling of hope that they might have come to their senses and were going to release me from this ultimatum. I would have been happy to break it off with Arabella and tell her that I wished her all the best in life.

Perhaps my heart was meant to be alone in life. Perhaps it was one of those situations in which I had found love and let it pass, too scared to make anything of it, and too much of a wuss to act upon it.

Moretti cleared his throat and stepped inside the room.

“I hate to interrupt, Your Highness, but you should know that there is an American woman who has been trying to get a hold of you. I have been informed she has called looking for you nearly thirty times in the past ten days, and they are getting rather tired of dealing with her down in your office.” Moretti spoke as though he, too, were tired of what he had been hearing, but once he’d shared the news, he rose and waited for me to give him his orders.

Immediately, I knew it had to be Sasha. I didn’t know what she could possibly want, but I could only imagine she must have seen that I was engaged once more, and she was going to sink her claws into my life again. She was, no doubt, angry that I had become engaged again so quickly, but this time I didn’t care. All I cared about was that I was going to get the throne, and I didn’t want to have her or anyone else’s opinion standing in my way.

“Tell them that she is the very reason I changed my number in the first place! I don’t want to have anything to do with her, not now, and certainly not in the future! I don’t care what you tell them to do down in the office, but make sure they know that I’m not going to be taking any of her messages, nor am I going to care to see her should she decide to come back,” I ranted as I walked back and forth.

I could sense Moretti’s eyes on me as I paced, but I wasn’t concerned with his thoughts. I had already gone through one failed wedding. The last thing I wanted was to have to deal with another. Not now, not when I was so close to achieving my dreams.

Moretti stood for a moment, as though he were trying to decide the best answer. At last, he gave a curt nod and turned on his heel, and it was clear he didn’t agree with what I had to say. I wondered if he happened to know more about the situation than he was letting on, but I quickly dismissed the thought.

As soon as the door closed behind him, I felt my mind begin to wander. I couldn’t help but remember the night I had stolen with Sasha before she had gone. It was the last real time I had gotten to spend with her, and I regretted that things had taken a turn. Sure, she had told me what she thought of me before she left, but I had never gotten the chance to tell her how I really felt about things—about her.

About us.

There was a pain in my chest as I turned and walked toward the window on the other side of the room. I had looked out that window so many times, watching the sea lap against the beach and get swirled back into the waves of the ocean. Often in the past when I’d done this, I’d thought about what it would be like to live life wild and unpredictably. I’d thought about how I would do what I wanted to do and not worry about what would happen.

At the time, I had always thought that meant that I could party my life away—sleeping with who I wanted to sleep with and going where I wanted to go. Drinking what I wanted to drink and smoking what I wanted to smoke. I had lived the life of a lazy party boy, and I had thought that I was enjoying every second of it. But, if there was one thing the past few months had shown me, it was that life was fleeting, and it was bound to take a new turn at any moment.

I clasped my hands behind my back as I looked out the window, drawing in a deep breath. I looked around the room. This was where Sasha had come that night. She had walked through that very door, looking almost like an angel in that little dress she flaunted.

She had looked incredible as she walked up to me, and the moment that our lips met was still one of my most incredible moments in life. All I could think about was the way she had smelled so fresh and clean, the way she had held me when I had her pressed up against me, and the way it had felt when I had put myself inside her.

It was as though I was home—there was nothing that I felt I couldn’t accomplish, nothing that held me back. I felt as though I were on top of the world, and there was nothing that could stand in my way. When I had looked down into her eyes as I made love to her, the way she moved beneath my body, the way she locked eyes with mine, completely unafraid of what we were doing or what was coming next.

At that moment, I had felt that I could take on the world. If I had her, I would be able to accomplish anything—anything. I felt a tug in the back of my mind, and I couldn’t help but wonder what had happened. Why had I told her that I was going to go through with my marriage to Sophia? Why had I thought that I was going to?

Why had I believed that Sophia was a better option than Sasha? It didn’t seem to matter how I spun the situation around in my mind—the more I thought about it, the less sense it made, even to me.

For a fleeting moment, I wondered what would happen if I acted on the impulse. If I were to suddenly toss aside my life and contact this girl from across the ocean and tell her just what I thought about her. I wondered what she wanted, why she was trying to contact me, and I wondered—what if I was actually willing to give up on the life I thought I’d always wanted to be with her?

It was true, never before had I felt the connection with anyone that I had felt with her, and for the brief time that I had known her, I had known what it was like to be happy.

I shook my head. I wasn’t going to think about this any longer, and I certainly wasn’t going to trouble my mind with the what-ifs that kept coming forth. If I was going to be king, I was going to have to marry someone who my parents would be happy with me marrying. In order for that to happen, I was going to have to select someone from royal blood.

If I was going to be happy with this woman, I was going to have to do the one thing that I didn’t want to do—I was going to have to put as much room as possible between me and Sasha. I was going to have to cut that woman out of my life entirely, and forget about any chance of having a future with her.

What we’d had was fun, and it was likely the only time I would ever experience a real connection with someone.

It was what it was, and I was going to have to move on. I felt a twinge of pain run through my heart as I thought about cutting Sasha out of my life for good, but I knew that it was for the best. I was going to get rid of her, and I was going to gain the throne.

But, at that moment, though my resolve was strong, my heart wasn’t in the decision.

This was purely political.