Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Galen dropped his arms. “He’s offering to pardon me? What the fuck does he have to pardon me for? I committed no crimes.” No crime except being loyal to the only true Crown Prince. If Theo’s father, the former king, was still alive, none of this shit would have happened. But a strange illness took him at the hale age of fifty-five, and hell if any of the court physicians could figure out the cause of it.
Murder by poison, most likely, though there wasn’t the slightest bit of proof to uphold Galen’s belief.
Even Theo didn’t believe him.
“You followed Theodore Fitzcharles III into exile. You’ve been plotting with him to stage a coup of your own.”
Galen didn’t let anything show on his face. It stood to reason that rumor had flown back to Thalania on quick wings. He and Theo weren’t exactly in hiding, but he didn’t want to advertise their intentions—at least not until they had enough cards up their sleeves to ensure they could win. Until that point, he would deny it to his dying day. “I don’t know what you’ve been smoking, old man, but we’re just trying to pick up the pieces after the blow you dealt. How’s Phillip these days? Do you still suck his cock morning, noon, and night?”
Dorian’s mouth went tight. “There’s only one person in this car who sucks cock, and it’s not me.”
“If you say so.” Galen shrugged. “You should have called. It would have saved you the jet fuel. I’m not coming back. I made my choice. You and Anne should learn to live with it.”
“There’s more.”
He clenched his jaw and waited. This wouldn’t be good. Dorian never stopped scheming and seeing a decade’s worth of plans come to fruition wouldn’t be enough to change that. His father went and proved him right with his next words. “We’ve arranged an advantageous match.” When Galen just stared, Dorian smiled wider. “Thought that might catch your interest. Camilla Fitzcharles.”
Galen laughed. He couldn’t help it. The whole situation was too fucking absurd. “You want me to marry Cami? The same girl whose diapers I changed? Are you out of your fucking mind? She’s a child.” She was fifteen… no, it was August. She would have turned sixteen over the summer. Galen shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re into, but I don’t fuck kids.”
“She’ll be of age in two years. Hardly that much time to wait in the grand scheme of things.”
“Even when she’s of age, she’ll still be a kid. I’m not marrying a fucking kid.” Not that Galen had any intention of marrying in the first place.
But if he ever pulled that particular trigger, it sure as hell wouldn’t be for political gain.
“Next time, try a phone call and don’t waste everyone’s time.” He climbed out of the car and headed for the plane. It should be well on its way to being refueled, and then he’d be en route back to New York.
Back to Theo.
Meg spent the day working and stewing over the knowledge sitting like a rock in her gut. Not only was Theo back in New York, but he was meddling in her life. Not just meddling, but swinging around his giant moneyed cock like he thought he had any right to.
She poured three shots of whiskey and slid them across the bar to the waiting men. What does Galen think of all this? She didn’t know because she hadn’t seen evidence of him since Theo showed up.
It didn’t matter.
Theo crossed the line when he paid for her tuition. She couldn’t afford to repay him. If she could, then she would have paid the damn tuition herself. He wasn’t stupid. He knew that. Which meant he was using this money to lasso her to him and hell like she was going to let that stand.
“Meg?”
She glanced over to find her best friend Cara watching her with worried dark eyes. “Yeah?”
“Honey, are you mad at that glass? You’ve been glaring and scrubbing for like five minutes. It’s clean.” Cara gently extracted the tumbler in question from her grip and set it on the shelf below the bar. “You want to talk about what’s bothering you?”
She couldn’t talk about what was bothering her. Not without admitting that she hadn’t been completely honest with her friend about her financial situation. Cara knew she was broke, but there was broke and there was drowning. Meg was doing the latter. Admitting that aloud to anyone was as good as admitting she’d failed. Cara might not see it that way, but it was the monkey on Meg’s back. Her problem and her problem alone.
Plus, if Cara knew how bad it was, she’d try to help, and Meg knew all too well how money changing hands changed a friendship. Right now, they were on equal footing. Two graduate students slumming it as bartenders to supplement their income while they pursued their respective degrees—Meg in accounting and Cara in fashion design. If Cara lent Meg money or got involved in her debt in any way, there would be no going back.