Twisted-Games

and will never want your money, your title, or any form of relationship with
you. As far as I’m concerned, my father is dead. He died when he walked
away thirty-four years ago.”
Erhall flinched as I, too, stood, my height throwing a shadow over his
hunched form. I nodded. “Have a good day, Mr. Speaker.”
Bridget and I made it halfway to the door before he said, “Arranged
marriages aren’t only for royals, Mr. Larsen. People have been forced into
loveless marriages long before Her Highness was born.”
I paused and looked back, my eyes locking with Erhall’s. I glimpsed
another flash of regret, but it wasn’t enough. Not for what he did to Deidre,
and not for what he did to me. There was no excuse for how he’d handled the
situation.
Instead of responding, I closed the remaining distance to the exit and left
him there, sputtering and alone in his cold, oversized office.
Bridget waited until we entered the elevator, away from the prying ears
and eyes of Erhall’s assistant, before she spoke. “We should make our rounds
on the speech circuit,” she said. “We’d make a killing.”
A laugh rumbled in my throat. A heavy weight had lifted off my chest,
allowing my laughter to flow more freely.
“Hard pass for me. I’m not typically a speech kinda guy.”
“You did good in there.” Bridget squeezed my arm, the movement
conveying more than any words could, before a glint of mischief lit up her
eyes. “I thought Erhall would rupture an artery. Imagine if we’d mentioned
Andreas too.”
Andreas had been adamant about never letting Erhall know the truth
about him. He had more to lose than any of us if the truth about his parentage
came to light, and I had no problem keeping the secret—partly because I
respected his choice, and partly because it kept him in line. Even if he didn’t
want the crown, he was still on my watch list. Anyone who could possibly
threaten Bridget was.
“So. Battle number one won,” I said as the elevator stopped on the ground
floor of the Parliament building. “What’s next?”
Bridget’s mischief gave way to determination. “Next, we win the war.”
“Damn right we will.”
I held out my hand, and she took it, her small, soft palm nestling perfectly
in my bigger, rougher one.
The doors whooshed open, and we stepped out to a frenzy of camera