“Of course, Your Highness,” Marcel said. He exited the same way he entered.
As the door closed, Quincy’s eyes narrowed as he turned to his father. “Confer with me on what?”
“The wedding.”
“Your wedding? I think you want to speak with your future wife on those matters, Father. I’m afraid I don’t know the first thing about place settings or flower arrangements.”
His father sighed as he got to his feet. “I meant your wedding, Quin.”
Quincy sat up as he stared at his father. “I thought we’d been through this. I’m not ready.”
“That is not for you to decide anymore,” Lamont informed him. “Quin, you are twenty-three, the perfect marrying age. There are plenty of suitable bachelorettes ready for you to take their hands, many of whom are daughters of very powerful and very wealthy parents.”
“I thought it was the twenty-first century. Why do I still have to have an arranged marriage?”
“The year doesn’t matter when you’re royalty. This is your duty, and I expect you to do it.”
Quincy crossed his arms tightly over his chest, flashing the tattoos his father disapproved of, especially the one on his hand of a skull with tropical flowers coming out and beneath it. “And if I refuse?”
Lamont leaned on his desk, making sure he looked his son in the eye. “Then you will not only fail your king and country, but you will shame the memory of your mother. Quin, I love you, son, but it’s time to step up and become the prince you must be for our country.”
“By marrying someone I don’t like?”
“I have selected a few for you to look at. You have met all of them at least once,” Lamont commented and reached into his desk drawer. He pulled out several folders and handed them over. “I expect you to make a decision and invite that woman to my wedding in three months.”
Quincy stared up at him, wide-eyed. “Seriously?”
“Yes. I am no longer at an age to have children, and neither is Melinda. For this line to carry on, you must marry and bear sons. I’m sorry, but this is what it means to be a prince. Now then, to other business.”
“Sure, just like that,” Quincy snapped as he tucked the folders under his arm and stood. “I know what my duties are, Father. I will see to it that Olivia is given a rundown of what is expected of her. Will you force her into marriage as well?”
Lamont didn’t speak but handed over another sheet of paper. “This is the list of events over the next few months. You both are expected to attend. Show her what she will be required to do.” His father sat back down at his desk and started to read over more papers, leaving his son to stand there.
“Anything else, Your Highness?”
“Yes. You are to be an example to Olivia of how royalty behaves. Do not disappoint me. You think I’m being hard on you now? I can be much worse. Now go. You have business to attend to.”
Quincy bowed his head reluctantly, turned, and left his father to deal with other issues. The folders under his arm burned against his side. He wanted to throw them out and never look at them, but he knew that wouldn’t solve the problem. His father would hound him about it until he picked someone, and if he didn’t, the king would just step in and do it for him.
He should feel lucky he was at least being given an option—not that it made him feel any better. There was nothing to do now but head back to his rooms and start perusing the files of the selected women.
His steps slowed as a much better idea crossed his mind. He wanted to get to know this soon-to-be sister of his, and what better time than now? He hurried to his rooms, set the folders down, and headed down the hall to check in on Olivia. There was just something about her… When their hands touched, a bit of electricity shot between them. He wanted to know all about this woman and what made her tick. What set her off so he could find new ways to drive her crazy. Anything to distract him from finding a future wife.
When he reached her door, he found it open and peered inside. “Knock, knock?”
“Yes?” She came out from the bathroom and paused when she saw him. Immediately, she sank into a curtsy, dropping the makeup bag in her hands.
“You don’t have to do that with me,” he told her with a smile. “Only if we’re in public, really.”
“Sorry,” she mumbled and bent down to pick up the mess. He hurried over to help her, letting his hand brush over hers once again and smirking when the same electric shock went through him. Olivia flinched, and he knew she’d felt it too. “I’m still new to this, you know.”
“Yes, I do know, which is why I’m here.” They stood together, and she quietly thanked him for his help. “I’m to show you the ins and outs of being a royal member of this family. Starting now.”
She glanced at the bed, and he followed her gaze to her half-unpacked suitcase. “Now?”