The ballroom was filling up. I managed to paste a smile on my face as I shook hands and made polite small talk, all the while keeping my eyes on the door. I hadn’t heard from Emily since she’d sent me a text a few hours ago about some incident that happened at her site. I’d tried calling her several times, but she hadn’t picked up.

I was starting to panic.

I needed Emily here tonight. Not only was she giving the speech that I knew would turn reluctant donors into enthusiastic ones. A speech I did not have a copy of, should push come to shove and I had to give it myself. But I was lost without her. I felt like a tosser for even admitting that. But there it was. I was jittery, uncentered. Awkward.

I hoped she was all right. Maybe her mobile had gotten damaged somehow in the incident. It could’ve run out of battery, too. Maybe she was pulling up to Buckingham right now. I imagined her running through the back entrance, up the stairs, darting through the maze of halls.

She’d be walking through that door at any minute. I just knew it. She wouldn’t leave me hanging like this. It wasn’t like her. She knew how important tonight was to me, to my family. She knew how important my family was to me, and how I wanted to honor my parents by building on their legacy. We’d managed to successfully juggle our lives so far. Tonight would be no different. She was just running late, that’s all.

“You all right, old man?” Rob murmured, clapping me on the shoulder. “Where’s Emily?”

I glanced again at the door. “She’s coming. You haven’t heard from her, have you?”

He furrowed his brow. “I haven’t. Why? Is something wrong?”

“No.” I shook my head. No use in making Rob panic, too. “Nope, everything is fine. She just got caught up at one of her projects. She’ll be here soon.”

He clapped me on the shoulder again. “Glad to hear it. No offense, Kit, but I think she’ll be a much more engaging speaker than you. Doesn’t hurt that she’s got these perfect, juicy—”

“Rob?”

“Yes?”

“Do me a favor and don’t finish that thought. Look, there’s Henry Spencer. Make yourself useful and go talk to him.”

“On it,” he said, and disappeared into the throng.

I checked my watch. Emily was due to make her speech in an hour.

Where was she?

* * *

I charged up the stairs and sprinted down the hall, holding my gown in one hand and my clutch in the other. My heart hammered inside my chest. My throat was so tight I could hardly breathe. Sweat had broken out under my arms and along my scalp.

“Shit,” I panted as I ran. “Shit!”

The back hallways of Buckingham Palace seemed to go on forever. I kept running, the muscles in my legs burning.

I finally reached the door I was looking for. It was still open. For a moment, the knot of dread in my chest loosened. Maybe I wasn’t too late. Maybe I hadn’t missed the whole thing—

The knot tightened right back up when I moved into the ballroom and saw that it was empty. The clink and clatter of china filled the room as footmen cleared the tables. The enormous windows on the far wall were black with night, the hand-blown panes reflecting the glow of the chandeliers.

Tears blurred my vision.

“Shit,” I said again.

I’d missed it. The fundraiser. The speech.

Everything. I’d missed everything.

Oh my God, I missed it.

I hoped—Jesus, I really hoped—I hadn’t fucked up Kit’s plans for the school by missing the fundraiser.

It had taken us hours just to get the flooding under control at Stallings Castle. The fire department—charmingly called the “fire brigade” here in England—had to come. An ambulance was called to treat a nasty gash on the plumber’s leg. We filled the only dumpster we had with half the debris. Then we’d had to wait for another to be brought in so we could dispose of the rest. I’d spent hours on the phone with architects, engineers, and preservationists in an effort to figure out what had happened and how we could fix it.

The whole thing had been absolute chaos. Even now, the dank taste of dust and sewage lingered in my mouth, making my stomach turn. I’d had to pull over twice on the drive home to throw up. I couldn’t tell if it’d been the stress or the smell that had made me sick. And of course I hit traffic. It took me twice as long as it usually did to get back to London.

Then I’d rushed to get ready. But the dust and grime had stuck to my hair like glue, and the poor hairstylist had to wash it twice just to get it all out.

With trembling fingers, I wiped away a tear. That’s when I saw Kit. He was sitting in a chair by the bar, his elbows on his thighs, a drink hanging between his knees. His bowtie was undone. His hair was a mess, like he’d been tugging at it all night.

As if he knew I was looking at him, he glanced up. I sucked in a breath. It hit me just how tired he looked. Dark circles ringed his eyes, the whites of which were bloodshot. The lines of his face were hard. His shoulders were sloped.

He looked defeated. Worn out. I knew right then that the fundraiser had not gone well. And I had a feeling it was all because of me.

A moon of regret rose in my throat, choking me.

“Kit,” I breathed. “I’m so, so sorry. I tried—”

“Don’t.” He shook his head. “Please don’t, Emily.”

I moved across the ballroom, slowing my stride as I approached him. Even from several steps away, I could feel the cold emanating off him.

“How did it go?” I asked carefully.

He shook his head. My heart collapsed.

“It was a bloody disaster,” he said. “I tried to improvise a speech, but I was so worried about you—I was so angry…”

I looked down at my hands. “I feel horrible.”

“It was embarrassing, Em. I felt like I was up at that podium with my dick in my hand. People laughed, even though it wasn’t supposed to be funny.” He scoffed. I met his eyes. They glittered, sharp and icy. “You knew how important this was to me, Emily. You know how the foundation is the only connection I have left to my parents.”

I swallowed. “Please, Kit, let me explain.”

His brows jumped. “Explain what? We were relying on you, Em!” His voice rose. “What could’ve possibly been more important than being here tonight? You blew me off. Nothing can explain that.”

The breath caught in my throat as an unwelcome pulse of anger moved through me. Egged on by exhaustion, that anger grew and grew. Did he really think a collapsed ceiling was nothing? That my work was nothing?

“You think I wanted to miss this? You think I chose to have a ceiling literally collapse on me today?” I took a step forward. “I didn’t blow you off. I was taking care of a very serious emergency at one of my projects. My reputation is on the line here, Kit. If I screw this project up…”

He straightened, setting his drink on the bar beside him. “That’s just the thing though. It wasn’t that you couldn’t walk away. You chose not to walk away. You chose your project over the fundraiser. You chose your project over me.”

“That’s not fair,” I shot back, the anger rising up my spine. “You know how important my work is to me. And yet here you are, expecting me to just drop everything—even during an emergency!—to give a little speech at your fundraiser.”

Kit’s face darkened. “A ‘little’ speech? Are you fucking serious?”

Somewhere nearby, a footman dropped a plate. Kit glanced over my head.

“Leave us,” he barked. “All of you, leave the room. Now!”

There was a quiet rush of footsteps on carpet as the footmen did as they were told. Then Kit and I were alone, the silence surrounding us enormous and hard.

* * *

Emily looked as exhausted as I felt. But that didn’t mean I forgave her for what she’d done.

That didn’t mean her betrayal didn’t hurt.

Because that’s what this was. A betrayal. She’d made a promise, and she hadn’t come through on it. How was that fair, considering I’d come through on every promise I’d ever made her?

It had been careless of me to trust her like this.

She’d made me reckless all over again. Just like I feared she would.

And now I was paying the price.

My family and my foundation were paying the fucking price.

Up until a couple hours ago, I genuinely believed that Emily and I could have our cake and eat it too. I believed Emily could keep her job and be my right hand man—woman—whatever. But maybe the Queen had been right. Maybe I was naive to think we could have it both ways. Being my consort was a full time job. It was too important to treat as a side gig.

I never wanted to force Em to choose between her career and our relationship. I wanted her to have both. I wanted the world for her. But there had to be a balance, right? There had to be an understanding that we’d always choose each other over everything and everyone else. I had to know she’d be by my side. Always.

Right now, Emily was not choosing me. And that cut me more deeply than I ever thought possible.

“So you’re saying you can’t screw up your precious project, but you can screw up your obligations to me,” I said.

My heart contracted at the pain I saw in her eyes. The anger.

We were both being torn apart. Torn by our obligations. Torn from each other.

Fuck, this hurt.

“That’s not at all what I’m saying,” she replied. “I could not walk out when the whole house was flooding! I wanted to be with you, Kit, I did. But there was nothing I could do.”

“Are you serious? Em, you could have called.”

“Kit, I was literally knee deep in sewage. How was I supposed to call you?”

I pushed off the chair and stalked to where she stood. Clenching and unclenching my hands, I said, “What about putting your very capable assistant in charge so you could come back to London and help me fund the School for the Arts?”

“There was no way Aly could’ve handled a mess like that on her own. No one could.”

I shook my head, defeat overtaking rage inside my chest. “You don’t get it, do you? People are going to suffer because you weren’t here. People are depending on us—the kids attending that school are depending on us, Em. We let them down tonight.”

She looked away, blinking. “Well, I’m here now. I can help. I’m ready to help you guys, Kit.”

“It’s too late.” I offered her a tight smile.

Emily studied my face for a long moment. She began to nod, slowly, rolling her lips between her teeth. “Right. And it’s all my fault.”

“You being holed up at Stallings Castle certainly didn’t help.”

Her eyes went wide as she ducked to get in my face. “I’m sorry. But I already told you there was nothing I could do.”

From the way she said it, she wasn’t sorry at all.

“I don’t accept your apology,” I snapped.

“Yeah, well, I don’t accept what a dickhead you’re being right now.” She shoved a finger into my chest. “You know how much I love what I do. You said we’d try to make this work. But here you are, forcing me to choose between you and my work. And I kind of hate you for it.”

* * *

My pulse skittered as Kit’s eyes searched mine. His were sad and angry and tired.

“Hate me all you want,” he said, his voice softer now. “But that’s just how things are, Emily. I don’t want to force you to choose. If there was something, anything I could do…you know I’d do it. I’d move heaven and earth for you. I just need you to do the same for me. I’m disappointed you didn’t.”

I dropped my hand and looked away. I knew, in my rational brain, that he was right. That it was normal to expect your fiancée to put you first above everything else.

But that was just it. Maybe I wasn’t normal. Maybe I was damaged in some essential way I still didn’t understand, even after all this time.

Maybe I’d been stupid to trust Kit. Stupid to trust myself.

I felt trapped, like my back was up against a wall. No matter what choice I’d made today, I would’ve lost something precious to me. If I’d chosen to come back to London, I would’ve likely lost the Stallings Castle project. Maybe even EP Designs. If I’d chosen to stay at the castle, I would’ve lost Kit’s trust.

Which was exactly what was happening right now.

Honestly, what the hell was I supposed to do? All my options sucked.

“I’m doing the best I possibly can,” I said, my voice shaking. “The juggle hasn’t been easy, Kit.”

He scoffed. “Trust me, I know.”

I shook my head, looking away. “Maybe we’ve bitten off more than we could chew. Is there really enough space in our lives for my job, and your work, and all the royal duties we’re expected to take on?”

His eyes were sad when they met mine. “I don’t think there is.”

“So what do we do?”

He was still looking at me.

“We choose,” he said at last.

I looked at him. Looked at his face, his eyes. His mouth.

I was so in love with this man. But I still couldn’t seem to choose him. I still couldn’t force myself to put him first over my career.

I knew that wasn’t his fault. But I still wanted to blame him. Blaming him was easier. Neater.

I mean, come on. As am ambitious millennial, wasn’t I supposed to be doggedly dedicated to my job? Wasn’t I supposed to be selfish when it came to my career? I’d poured my heart and soul into EP Designs. It had been the one thing I could rely on. Husbands and hook-ups came and went. But my ambition sustained me. It got me through the highs and lows.

It was the one thing I had absolute faith in.

And now Kit was asking me to give it up? Maybe he wasn’t so different from Luke after all.

“So is this how it’s always going to be?” I said. “Are you always going to make me feel guilty for ‘disappointing’ you because I had the gall to want to succeed in my career?”

His eyes lit with anger. “You’re not just choosing your career, Em. You’re choosing you. And that is not how relationships work.”

Rage ripped through me, so hot and so potent it brought tears to my eyes. How dare he?

How fucking dare he?

“Maybe this relationship is over, then,” I said.

Kit’s nostrils flared. The anger in his eyes burned brighter, then faded into hurt.

“Are you serious?” he asked.

I swallowed the sudden tightness in my throat. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I am, Kit. You and I both know I was never cut out to be your perfect princess.”

“I don’t need a perfect princess!” he said, voice strained with panic as he stepped toward me, shoes catching on the carpet. “I just need you to be there for me. Your current work load is clearly keeping you from doing that. What I was born into, what my life is like—it’s not normal. We can’t expect to be two normal people who go to normal jobs every day and go back to a normal home every night. Emily, I’m going to be king of England. I didn’t ask for it. I wouldn’t want the crown if I could protect my family and my parents’ memory without it. But I’m going to be king, and I need a queen who is as dedicated to this life, and this country, as I am. I want you to be that person. I chose you. And now I’m asking you to choose me, because I can’t fucking do this on my own.”

Kit’s voice wavered with emotion. His eyes were wet. Pleading. I was hurting him, I was hurting us both, and I hated myself for it. But I was already in too deep. I couldn’t go back now. What was I supposed to do? Give up the business I’d spent the last decade of my life building so I could go be Kit’s pretty little wife? That wasn’t me.

I wanted Kit. But I wanted my dreams for EP Designs to come true more. Almost losing my firm taught me just how much it mattered to me. To my happiness.

“I’m sorry,” I said, taking a breath through my nose. “I can’t do that. I won’t give up my business.”

Kit’s face fell. I felt like dying.

“So you’ll give me up instead,” he said with a pained smile.

I looked away. “Only because you’re forcing me to choose.”

“See, I don’t think that’s it.” He shook his head. “I think you’re making this choice because you believe I’m going to let you down. I know you, Em. And I know you’re still not convinced I won’t hurt you like your ex did. Here’s the thing, though. Have I ever let you down before? I’ve come through on every promise I made. I’ve given you everything I have. But it’s still not enough, is it?”

Nothing is ever enough for me.

Shit, I was going to cry. What was wrong with me? A handsome, hot, interesting, sexy, amazing guy was standing in front of me, begging me to marry him. To make a life together with him. And I was refusing him at every turn.

But I had to protect myself, didn’t I? I had to be smart.

“You know, I’m not asking you to give up your business so I can keep you barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen,” he continued. “Being my consort is a full-time job. It can be as challenging and as rewarding as you want. You can make a real impact, Em. A real difference in peoples’ lives. You’re so good at connecting with people. You have a gift. Use it for good.”

“The only job I want is with EP Designs.” I bit my lip to keep it from trembling. “I like working in design too much to give it up.”

The look he gave me then—the vulnerability in his eyes, the tears—ripped my heart in two and knocked the breath out of me. I resisted the urge to reach out to him. Comfort him.

He sniffed, looking away as he blinked back his tears. He shoved his hands in his pockets.

“It’s clear you want to go,” he said. “So go. I won’t stop you.”

I hesitated. As much as I wanted our argument to end so I could stalk off in righteous anger, now that it was actually over, I found I wasn’t ready to go. I felt too awful and had done too much damage to leave now.

Apologize, a voice inside me urged. Tell him you’re sorry, that you love him, that he’s given you the most wonderful month of your life. Tell him you’d give up anything for him, and then do it. Give it all up.

“You’ll handle the press release, right?” I said instead, referring to the release we’d prepared weeks ago for our fake breakup. It was ironic—no, it was sad—that the breakup had ended up being real.

Kit’s shoulders sagged. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and held it up to me.

“Of course,” he said. “I’ll make the calls.”

“Great.” I swallowed. “I guess this is goodbye, then.”

Kit’s fingers were busy dialing a number. He pressed a button and lifted the phone to his ear, looking up. The tears in his eyes glittered in the light of the chandeliers.

Oh, Kit.

“Yep. Guess so.”

I looked down at the gorgeous ring on my finger. It was so beautiful. So me.

“Here.” I took the ring off and handed it to him. “Don’t forget this.”

Kit took the ring, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “Thanks.”

He started talking into his phone, and I took that as my cue to leave. Glancing one last time around the ballroom, I turned and headed for the door.

I made the right choice. The smart choice. The choice a liberated, empowered, kickass girl boss should make.

So it didn’t make sense that my gut was telling me—no, screaming at me—that I’d just made the biggest mistake ever.

Not that it mattered. What was done was done. Kit would go his merry way and find a perfect princess. And I would finally move to London full time and keep chasing down my dreams for EP Designs. It was what we both wanted.

I just wish getting what I wanted hurt a little less.