Magnus and his father shared a long look that ended with Magnus returning to his seat. “Of course.”
When the king was once again seated, he turned to Delinda. “My apologies. As my only child, my son has too often gotten his own way, and I have allowed it. It is time, however, for him to take on more responsibility.” He turned back toward his son. “We have spoken regarding you cultivating a humanitarian role. This is the perfect opportunity to do just that.”
Wait, am I a humanitarian project? “I don’t understand,” Rachelle said aloud.
Delinda remained surprisingly—or strategically—silent.
The king said, “Rachelle, if it so suits you, do my son the honor of accompanying him on his next few public engagements . . . as a personal favor to me.”
Rachelle’s eyes flew to Magnus’s. The same man who had talked about little else beyond wanting to get into her bed now looked put off by the idea of spending time in public with her. Part of her wanted to say yes, just to stick it to him, but she’d never been a spiteful person. It was, however, a wake-up call regarding how he actually felt about her. “Although I am flattered by the idea that I could help your son’s image, there are many better-suited escorts, I’m sure.” She hadn’t meant to stress that one word so bluntly, but she’d never been good at hiding how she felt.
The king’s eyes narrowed with displeasure, all of which he directed toward his son. “Magnus, what have you done that a guest of ours would refuse such an offer?”
Delinda interjected, “Your Majesty, I’m sure the fault is not your son’s. My granddaughter has always been shy.”
Shy? Really? I was doing fine before you arrived. I don’t need your help, and that’s what I’ll tell you the first chance I get.
The king sent Magnus a pointed look.
Magnus smiled, but it looked more like a baring of teeth. “Rachelle, it would be my pleasure.”
No, it wouldn’t. You don’t like being forced. Neither do I.
“It’s settled, then,” the king said. “I’ll have arrangements made. How long will you be in Vandorra, Rachelle?”
Rachelle opened her mouth to say she wasn’t sure, but her grandmother answered for her. “She has taken a leave of absence from her job, so there’s no rush for her to return. I’ll remain as well. I do like to stay busy, though. Idle hands and all that.”
“What sort of things do you like to do?” the king asked.
“I would love an excuse to gather some of my dearest friends. I spent a great deal of time in Europe when my husband was alive. Do you know of anything coming up?”
Slapping his hand down on the table, the king said, “It has been nearly twenty years since Vandorra has had a royal ball. Would you be interested in helping me plan one?”
Delinda lowered her eyes as if she hadn’t essentially planted the idea, and Rachelle wished she could call bullshit right then and there. Delinda was neither meek nor unsure by nature, but she was playing so for the king, and it was working. “I haven’t planned a ball in years, and those were always charity events. Is there a local cause that could benefit from such a thing?”
What the hell, if the crazy train was pulling out of the station, it might as well do some good. “The children’s hospital was looking for funding to build long-term housing for families.”
“An excellent idea, Rachelle,” the king said. “Magnus, Mrs. Westerly and I will plan the ball. Why don’t you and Rachelle look into suitable housing locations near the hospital?”
“I would love to,” Magnus said, but his eyes told a different story. Like her, he was holding his opinion in check, but he wasn’t actually planning to go along with any part of this.
He turned to look at her. Rachelle’s stomach lurched painfully. He’s not happy—not with the situation and not with me. She raised her chin and met his gaze. Well, I’m not happy, either. Get over it.
I’d tell Delinda to go home, but my opinion on anything has never mattered to her.
Rachelle had gotten so lost in her thoughts that she’d stopped listening to the conversation. When she tuned back in, it was to hear her grandmother’s preliminary invitation list. The king looked impressed by the names she was dropping. Magnus looked skeptical that she had those connections. Had it been possible to speak to Magnus without being heard, Rachelle would have assured him that if her grandmother said she knew someone, she did. I don’t know what her goal is, but the one thing you shouldn’t do, Magnus, is underestimate her.
Magnus kept his silence only out of respect. His father was obviously enamored of Delinda Westerly, and she was using it quite shamelessly against him. It was hard not to admire the skill of her technique. She hadn’t come with demands, but certainly an agenda. Had she told his father what she wanted, he might have agreed or he might not have. The genius of her method was how she made his father believe each idea was his own.
Magnus was willing to let her think she had fooled him as well until he determined her endgame. One of her goals appeared to be that he spend time with Rachelle.
It was possible that she was fishing for a title for her granddaughter. She wouldn’t be the first. The ever-shrinking pool of monarchs had some seeking a title for the novelty of it.
What made him think she might have a surreptitious secondary goal was her list of influential invitees to the ball. He would have expected her to pull from the families who were most closely linked to her: the Andrades, the Corisis. She could have claimed affiliation with other royal families in an attempt to validate Rachelle’s suitability. Either might have impressed his father, but instead, she’d chosen political leaders who held influence over Vandorra. Some had signed agreements with Magnus recently, while he was still in negotiations with the others. It was as if she was reading from Magnus’s contact list, claiming each as her own. Her list was not a vain act of name-dropping, it was a veiled threat—and his father did not have enough information about Magnus’s recent dealings to recognize it.
Watching Delinda in action made Magnus reassess every interaction he’d had with Rachelle. Apples didn’t fall far from their trees. He was forced to ask himself a difficult question: Did she dupe me?
From meeting him on the red carpet to nearly having sex with him in the garden—how much had been orchestrated as part of a larger plan? When seen through that lens, many things made sense that hadn’t before.
When something seems too good to be true, it usually is. Rachelle would have him believe that money and power were of no consequence to her, that meeting him had been a coincidence. She was all loyalty, sweetness, and fucking rainbows. Of course it wasn’t real. No one was that nice.
Was even Eric involved? His pain had seemed real. It was more likely that Rachelle and her grandmother had seen Eric’s condition and used it to their benefit.
Magnus shook his head. He’d love to have dismissed the entire idea as paranoia, but the reality was that his jaded view of people had saved his father in the past. Let them believe they have us duped. And I’ll do what I always do—whatever it takes to protect my family.
He smiled at Rachelle and liked that her confidence wavered in response. Want to spend time with me? You will, but on my terms.
Chapter Thirteen
After an excruciatingly long lunch that had felt more like a hostage situation, Rachelle sat across from her grandmother in the back of a Bentley Mulsanne Grand Limousine in the front drive of the palace. Everything she’d held in for the last few hours was ready to burst out, but she struggled to choose where to start her rant. She wondered if Magnus was in a similar state now that he was finally alone with his father.
“Delinda—”
“Since when am I Delinda to you? You’ve always called me Grandmother,” Delinda said. She leaned forward and instructed the driver to take them both to where she was staying.
“No,” Rachelle said. “I’m staying at the Royal Hotel.”