Yvonne Lindsay - The Once and Future Prince / Pretend Mistress, Bona Fide Boss - The Once and Future Prince

“If that’s all they authorized you to offer me, let me tell you what ‘middle ground’ translates to with them: ‘Our way, or the highway.’ They keep saying ‘make a commitment and we’ll work it out.’ But what they really want is for me to uphold the very policies I disagreed with so strongly that I paid the highest price for the chance of changing them. I thought ceasing to be a Castaldinian would be worth it if my punishment started a movement to support my views, instigated a climate to incubate change. But they made sure my side of the matter was never heard. And they want me to be king of this stuck-in-time land? Who do they think they’re kidding?”

She exhaled. “I really think the time for kidding is past.”

“ No kidding, pun oh so intended. Say—I gather King B didn’t tell you that his need of me isn’t as desperate as he makes it out to be. He forgot to mention that tiny matter of two more men who are equally capable of taking on the role as I am, didn’t he?”

The way he said King B…! Her lips twitched. “In fact, he did mention them.”

His eyebrows rose, genuine surprise tingeing his expression. “He told you about Durante and Ferruccio?”

“He didn’t mention names. Just that there have always been three candidates for the crown, with you topping the list.”

His face settled back into that knowing expression. “Did he tell you why I topped the list?”

“Just that you, as impossible as it sounds, are less problematic, that you hate him and Castaldini less.”

He shook his head in a mixture of irony and something that looked like grudging admiration, even fondness. “That old fox. Always telling enough truth to make his logic irrefutable, hiding enough to make himself too noble to be denied. So he kept his accounts in the present, didn’t say why only I was considered worthy. Until I blew it big time, that is.”

She sat up. “My conspiracy theory centers are all ears.”

He laughed, lay back on the couch. She didn’t follow, somehow. “It’s not a conspiracy, it’s worse. It’s something far more petty. And far more damaging. You know it well. It goes by many names. Tradition, conservatism, ancestry, bloodlines. All I have on those two men is an accident of birth that made me eligible and eliminated them from the running.”

Suddenly something clicked. “Durante? As in Durante D’Agostino, King Benedetto’s estranged eldest son?”

He nodded.

“Whoa. The current king’s son. The cardinal no-no.”

He gave a vicious snort. “And even in their hour of need, the old farts can’t bring themselves to overlook the letter of a law that should have expired when the need for it did.”

“In their defense, that law has made Castaldini one of the most stable kingdoms in the world.”

“And the most stagnant.”

“And you took advantage of that law yourself,” she retorted. “Seems you always thought Durante—your best friend—as good a candidate as you, yet you didn’t make a peep about changing the law to give him an equal playing field.”

He sat up again, his eyes spitting emerald fire. “And I’m ashamed that I didn’t. I’m even more ashamed that I saw the error of my ways only when I had no choice anymore. But now that I have the choice again, I’m making up for being a party to such a backward practice. I’m daring them to really let the best man win.”

“I do believe that’s who they believe you are.”

“I’m only the best man because I’ll be more acceptable to the masses, who’ve been indoctrinated to accept only the old laws.”

“Isn’t that a huge factor to consider? Don’t you factor in popularity and acceptability when assigning your CEOs?”

“If I ever take the crown, it would be to move Castaldini to the point where laws that no longer suit the times are phased out. I would start by seeing to it that the people come to decide who’s best for Castaldini without ticking off a list of criteria topped by an outdated, demeaning and just plain prejudiced birth requirement.”

She gaped at him as everything he’d said slotted in place. And she exclaimed, “You’re a social reformer and a modernizer!”

“You say this with the same revulsion you’d say ‘a womanizer. ’”

“It’s not revulsion. It’s realization. I’m shocked. I was led to believe you were revolutionary, but not in that sense.”

“In what sense, then?”

“In the establishment-destroying, eco-depleting sense.”

“And you believed that?”

“Why not? You’re ruthless in your takeovers and your enterprises are sprouting mega-size urban developments.”

“So? My conquests are prospering. Go check with my longest-term ones and ask if they’d change a thing. As for developments, I build those where it suits the social and ecological climate, and after careful consideration of all ramifications. I don’t go around haphazardly overdeveloping land and exhausting resources.”

She somehow believed every word, no need to check. She should have let it rest, but she found herself adding, “And why should your being a womanizer revolt me? It’s none of my business.”

One formidable eyebrow shot up. “Really? Interesting.” Then both eyebrows dipped into an ominous line. “And I’m not.”

“Not what?”

“A womanizer. I have too many handicaps to be one.”

“Handicaps?”

“Fastidiousness, wariness, allergies to pointless pursuits…”

“Don’t men consider physical gratification the point?”

“Do you always go around dispensing general condescension on all men, or am I just blessed? And then, you’re counter-asserting that women don’t consider physical gratification of importance? The old paradigm that women want emotion while men want sex?”

“That paradigm has stood the test of time and the approval of the majority. That’s not to say it applies to everyone.”

“It sure doesn’t apply to me. And physical gratification comes with a womanful of traits, whims, demands and trouble.”

“In other words, it comes attached to a sentient being.” His eyes remained steady, as if he was trying to read her mind. She let out a shaky breath. “Phew. The one way to avoid such nuisances is to…rent a companion. And I can’t see you doing that.”

His eyes turned lethal. “You always had perfect sight.”

“Then how do you find any women who fulfill your criteria of being a non-imposition? And you think Castaldinians are unreasonable?”

“My criteria aren’t affecting present and future generations, I can make them as unreasonable as I like. I don’t need to make concessions, either, since feminine wiles no longer work on me.”

“You mean they once did?”

“Oh, yes, all the way.”

Her heart did its best to explode from her ribs.

He’d—he’d been…in love? All the way? Before or after her? And he was telling her all this…why? Warning her off while pulling her in? Was that what her tormentor was trying to do to her?

Suddenly he sat forward, thrust a hand into her hair. He let a thick lock sift through his fingers before he groaned, “Not that it doesn’t suit you, it does, even more than your natural hair color did, but what made you dye your hair black?”

Leandro groaned again. He’d swerved from the vulnerabilities he was exposing, groped for the diversion of something that gnawed at his curiosity. And she looked as if he’d slapped her.

“Don’t you mean why did I stop dyeing my hair blond?”

He gaped at her. “You’re a natural brunette?”

“You didn’t realize that? But then it stands to reason.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“You knew nothing about me, apparently.”