Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27560 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27560 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
I reach out and touch his arm. I don’t want him feeling alone in this. “Do you think it’s anxiety?”
“I used to think that then the dreams started changing. Right about the time you got here. Now there’s a man in them. He’s dark and I can’t see his face. Hell, maybe it’s my father. Whoever it is, he breathes funny. It’s a weird noise.”
I need to do some research later. Maybe Violet knows if Rafe’s father ever had a breathing disorder. Maybe she can give us more insight into his family and why his kingdom doesn’t seem to know anything about him.
Before I can suggest this, Rafe changes the subject. “What do you like to paint?”
I still have a million more questions for him about his past and the nightmares. But he’s clearly done talking about it for now. “Still life mainly. You know, everyday items artfully arranged. I’ve been thinking about doing landscapes though. The mountains here are—”
His phone rings out, startling us from the moment. He steps away from me to pick up the phone and frowns at it.
“Is it Roman again?”
He nods. I suspect he’s afraid of learning he is the prince.
“Go ahead,” I encourage quietly. I already know in my heart what Roman is going to say. There’s no way that Violet made a mistake. Rafael is a prince even if it’s hard for him to acknowledge this.
He answers the call and listens for a moment before he says, “We’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
When he ends the conversation, his jaw is tight. He glances at me, a storm brewing in his Atlantic gaze. “It’s time to learn if I really am your prince.”
9
RAFE
The birds are chirping. The sky is blue with white fluffy clouds overhead, and woodland creatures are rustling in the forest. All around me the world is at peace, continuing to spin. But as I walk toward Roman’s house, I feel like a man going to the gallows.
Beside me, Aurora slips her hand into mine. She gives it a gentle squeeze and looks up at me with such trust and devotion in her eyes. Could she be happy living as a simple mountain man’s wife?
That’s what I was really asking her back there when I wanted to know what she loved about her life. I’m no fool. I can’t offer her the splendor she’s used to. All I can give her is a warm bed and a man that will make her the center of his world.
“Whatever happens, it will be OK,” she says this like what we’re about to discover won’t change everything between us. But of all people, I know that nothing in life is permanent. No one wants you forever, no matter how good you are or how much you try to please them.
I give her hand a gentle squeeze. I try to memorize how soft her fingers are against mine. Try to remember how beautiful she looks when the sun hits those freckles on her face and the way her dark eyes light up when she’s in the throes of her pleasure.
By the time we arrive at Roman’s cabin, some part of me is already preparing to let her go. Maybe it’ll be easy. Maybe the moment she hears I’m not the prince, she’ll reject me. There will be no long discussion, no tearful goodbyes. She’ll simply walk out of my life, and I can pretend that she isn’t walking out with my heart.
Roman opens the door at my knock and beckons us inside. The grim set of his mouth tells me I won’t like what he found.
He points to the couch indicating that we should sit, but I can’t sit. I need to be on my feet. I need to be moving. I pace the length of his living room, my boots clomping across the hardwood floors that he personally built.
Roman’s construction business has done very well. He could live anywhere, but he’s chosen a remote location in the mountains, and he only drives to work when necessary.
“What is it?” I bark.
He looks at me, and I’m almost certain that I see sympathy in his eyes. He’s the big brother of our group, the oldest one and the man that looks out for everyone. Now he’s turned his pity on me. It’s almost more than I can stomach. “She’s right. You’re a prince.”
I’m suddenly woozy. The ground underneath my feet is no longer solid. My voice grows louder and more insistent with each word. “If I were really a prince, I’d know it. And if I am the prince of the Republic of Wherever, then why has no one ever told me?”
“It’s the Republic of Portia,” he quietly corrects. “And your father believed in the eugenics movement. Are you familiar with it?”
From her place on the couch, Aurora gasps.