3. Xander

CHAPTER 3

XANDER

“ Y ou have to like at least one of them,” Atticus says as the last of his potential brides filters out of the room. “You have no idea the amount of paperwork I had to have them sign before they even got here.”

“And you shouldn’t have wasted your time,” I say, brushing by him out of the conference room to the stairs that lead to my chambers. “It would have been better to forget this marriage idea and start searching for another way to win the approval of the public.”

“What about that date you went on with that one woman last night? She was fine.”

I arch an eyebrow. “She told me that she wanted to be queen.”

“She would be if you marry her.”

Rolling my eyes, I take the stairs two at a time, my cousin trailing behind me. “I thought the point of this whole thing was to find a woman that the people are going to like? To show them that I’m a family man? How is that going to work with a woman who only cares about becoming a queen?”

Atticus makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat as we reach the top step. “Well, you might have a point about that, but I think you should reconsider those other women.”

“And I thought we weren’t going to be leading a parade of women through the palace and hoping they keep their mouths shut.” I shove open the heavy door to my room, rummaging around in the closet for a pair of shorts and a fresh shirt. “If the media sees you ushering lines of women in and out of the castle, they’re going to have a field day.”

Atticus pauses, shutting the door behind him before leaning against it. “You might be right about that, but I still think that you should be taking the plan seriously. This could be your chance to prove to the people that you really do care about them, but you’re throwing it away.”

“I’m not throwing it away,” I snap. “I just don’t share the opinion that the best way to win over the people is to lie to them.”

I disappear into one of the other rooms to change, coming back out and dropping down onto the couch by the window.

“I don’t know why the two of you can’t see that this is a bad press day waiting to happen,” I say. “None of those women you brought me are even people I would consider lying to the country about.”

As Atticus huffs and paces the floor, I grab a stack of reports from the coffee table, flipping through the pages. Each one I pass has numbers about my approval ratings should this scenario or that happen, but few have any with actual information on the country.

I stand and head for the gym connected to my quarters. “I’m going to be running and ignoring the fact that you all think marrying me off is the best idea you can come up with. If you need me, find someone else.”

Atticus opens his mouth to protest but snaps it shut as I disappear into the bathroom and through a door on the other side leading into the gym.

Shutting the door, I twist the lock into place.

Music pounds through the speakers as I press the button on the stereo. Pop music fills the room, echoing off the walls.

I turn on the treadmill, setting it to my normal running pace.

Once everything is making plenty of noise, I head to the wall of mirrors behind the weight rack. A thin divot on the side of the last mirror is just big enough to read my fingerprint before a hidden door swings open on the opposite wall.

Grinning, I slip into the secret passage, closing it behind me and heading for the castle’s exit.

For one evening, I want to remember who I was before the crown.

The sand is soft and warm beneath my feet, even as the sun sinks toward the horizon.

Thankfully, the beach is private, with guards at either end keeping out the rest of the world.

Except today, it seems. There’s a lone woman sitting in a dress that hugs her gorgeous curves, clinging to her like it was made for her. Strands of smoky auburn hair catch the dying light, showing off deep strands of mahogany.

When the woman looks up, it feels like her sea-green eyes are staring straight through me. I take a deep breath, wondering if she’s one of those women who pursue members of the nobility, begging for anything they can get from them.

It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been out taking some time to myself and a woman hunted me down.

“Sorry,” she says, her voice soft and lilting, even when it cracks. Based on her accent, I assume she’s American. “I know it must look pathetic for me to be crying on a beach, but believe me there’s a good reason for it.”

I study her for a moment, but there’s not an ounce of recognition that shines in her eyes.

She has no clue who I am.

And that might make her the most intriguing person in the world right now.

Nearing her, I tuck my hands in my pockets. “I’m sure there is. Nobody comes to a beach to cry unless they’re really heartbroken.”

The woman wipes the end of her bright red nose on the back of her hand, her laugh awkward. “I’m really sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for.” I sit down beside her, digging my bare feet into the sand. “Want to talk about it? I’ve been told that I’m a good listener.”

She snorts in the most unladylike fashion, and it only makes her more attractive. Yes, she’s beautiful, but from what I’ve seen, the way she carries herself is nothing like any of the other women in the castle.

Would she act differently if she knew who I was?

Her freckled cheeks flame a red nearly the same shade as her hair. “I’m making an idiot of myself.”

I chuckle, leaning back and bracing myself on my hands, looking up at the colorful streaks that dart across the sky. “Not at all. I think you’re coming across as someone who’s had a really hard day.”

Her head tilts to the side before she holds out the hand that she didn’t wipe her nose with. “I’m Amy.”

“Xander.” I shake her hand, the corner of my mouth twitching as she pulls away. “So, tough day?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” She pulls her knees to her chest, the fabric of her dress stretching tight over the top of them. “I’m supposed to be at my best friend’s bachelorette party in Mykonos right now, but obviously, I’m not.”

“How come? Did you fall out or something?”

“No, nothing like that, though it should be coming.” Amy rakes her fingers through her hair before sliding an elastic band off her wrist and tying the curls back. “I missed my plane because I thought the flight was in the evening, not in the morning. Then I tried to get another flight. Got on a boat and ended up here with no way to get to Mykonos over the next day or two. Even if I did, the party would be over.”

I trace a foot through the sand, building it into a small pile. “I wish I could help you with that.”

If I really wanted to, I could. Right now, I could march her up to the castle with me and arrange for my helicopter to take her to Greece.

But I’m not going to.

There’s something about her that makes me want to get to know better.

What kind of woman would trespass on a private beach and then spill her issues to the first person she saw?

Amy sighs, squeezing her eyes shut before opening them and looking at me. “And that’s not even the start of all the things going wrong in my life. It’s just the icing on the cake.”

“Doesn’t sound like a good cake.”

She chuckles darkly. “I’ve spent the last few years of my life working as a pastry chef at a fancy hotel, and I still can’t seem to get through my life properly. Money goes too fast, days aren’t long enough, and all my friends are moving on while I seem to be staying in one place with no sign of ever advancing in life.”

My eyebrows rise as I try to figure out what to say to all that. “You know, from what I hear, that’s a pretty normal way to feel.”

“Yeah, sure. If I was twenty-four instead of twenty-seven. I’m counting down the days until I’m thirty at this point. And it seems like by thirty, you’re supposed to have your life together.”

I grin at that. “I’m a year older than you, and I know for a fact that I don’t have my life together.”

In fact, if I was willing to tell her the truth about who I am, then maybe she would see that we’re in the same boat.

The closer I get to thirty, the more I feel like I should have life figured out.

With the crown now sitting on my head, that feeling has only gotten more intense.

Amy sighs, tucking a strand of hair that’s fallen loose behind her ear. “You seem like you have everything put together. I mean, what is there to figure out when you’re living on an island and enjoying beaches like this every night?”

“A lot.”

She bites the inside of her cheek, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “You don’t say much, do you?”

“Not all the time.” I stand and reach out a hand down to her. “Walk with me.”