Settling the Score (The Summer Games #1)

“Isn’t this place divine, Frederick?” Caroline asked, reaching her hand up onto the table for mine.

I nearly yanked it away, but I didn’t want to embarrass her. I left it there for a second or two and then pretended to cough so I could pull it away and cover my mouth.

“I didn’t think places like this even existed in Rio.” At least not the part I’d seen. We’d driven by flip-flop stands and beach shops on the way in, nothing nearly this fancy. It almost seemed like a place like this didn’t belong in the easy party atmosphere in Rio.

Caroline batted her manicured hand like I was crazy. “These places exist everywhere, you just have to know where to look.”

I nodded and fought the urge to tug at the collar of my shirt.

“Actually, Caroline, I’m glad we have a quiet moment. I’ve been discussing things with my mother—”

“Are you ready to order?”

I glanced up to see a waiter hovering over us, dressed in black with a protruding belly and an oily mustache. He didn’t even notice that he’d cut me off.

“I think—”

Caroline nodded, anxiously. “Yes, I’m starved.” I studied her as she rattled off a few appetizers and entrees for us. She looked to me for approval, and I just shrugged and let her order; it was easier that way. She’d really done herself up for the dinner. Her long wheat-blonde hair was curled in loose waves and she’d coated her lips in enough red stain to last ten years. Her eyes were dark and heavy. I couldn’t imagine keeping mine open with all the stuff she had smudged on them.

Andie wore makeup to events, but most of the time when I saw her, she’d just come from practice. She was light, fresh, freckly, and tan. She was a breath of fresh air and I would have traded all the money in the world to have her sitting across from me at that fancy restaurant. She’d make fun of the place, swearing she didn’t need a different fork for each bite. We’d pretend to like our overpriced salmon, and then we’d sneak out for a burger afterward.

I wanted that so badly, which is why I needed to be honest with Caroline.

“Listen, Caroline…”

She took a long sip from her water and leveled her gaze on me. The conversation wouldn’t be easy, and the longer I stalled, the worse it would become.

“I’ve spoken with my mother about breaking off our betrothal.”

“You’ve spoken with your mother?”

Why had I said it like that?

“I’d like to break off our betrothal,” I repeated, a bit more determined.

She swallowed and set down her glass, eyeing its placement on the table.

“You’re serious?” she asked, finally meeting my eye.

I nodded. “Yes.”

“Is there someone else you’re interested in?”

Her voice was calm, but there was a hint of something behind her eyes. Jealousy? Annoyance? Caroline and I had known each other our whole lives, but I wouldn’t have called her a friend. Her family knew mine, and we were occasionally invited to the same events. I’d seen her around every now and then after it’d been announced that she and Henry would marry, but after his death, she’d nearly fallen off the face of the earth as far as I was concerned. Then, my mother had brought her up casually one day. “Have you heard from Caroline lately?” I’d ignored her interest then, but she hadn’t let that deter her. My mother continued to bring Caroline up for months before she finally came out and said it during breakfast one day.

“I think you should marry Caroline Montague.”

I nearly choked on my piece of bacon. “What do you mean, marry her?”

“She was intended for Henry for a reason…she’s a wonderful match. Anyone would be lucky to have her.”

I shook my head. “So then, let anyone have her. I’m not going to agree to an arranged marriage.”

She halted then, but didn’t retreat. “Right.”

But that wasn’t the last I heard about it. For months, she brought up the idea. I’d push her away and change the subject, but she kept on prodding. She’d drop hints about familial responsibility.

“Whether you like it or not, you are a duke, and one day, running this family’s affairs will be your fulltime job.”

I’d never wanted that part of my legacy. I was happy to sit back and let Henry take the reins, but after his untimely death, the decision wasn’t mine to make anymore.