And she left it behind.

A message doesn’t get more loud and clear than that.

A maid walks past the open door in the hall and I bark at her. “Get Winston here. Now!”

I hold the necklace in the palm of my hand when Henry and Simon—and then Fergus—walk in.

“When?” I ask my butler.

“Miss Olivia left last night.”

“Why wasn’t I told?”

“You told her to go. I heard you tell her myself. The whole house heard you yell it.”

I flinch.

“Just followin’ orders.” And his words drip with sarcasm.

Not today, old man.

Winston steps into the room, his lips etched in that constant, self-important smirk. And I want to punch it off his face. Why didn’t I do that yesterday? When he suggested that Olivia would ever…Fucking hell, I’m an idiot.

“Bring her back.”

“She’s arrived in New York by now,” Fergus says.

“Then bring her back from New York.”

“She left, Nicholas,” Simon points out.

And Henry begins, “You can’t just—”

“Bring her back!” I shout, loud enough to make the frames on the walls tremble.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Henry grips my shoulders. “You tell the men to bring her back and they will bring her back by any means necessary. And then we’ll add ‘international kidnapper’ to your résumé. She’s not a bone, Nicholas—you can’t order her to be fetched.”

“I can do whatever I want,” I hiss.

“Bloody hell,” Henry curses. “Is this what I sound like?”

Panic. It rises like smoke up my throat, choking me, making my hands clench the pendant like a life preserver. Making me think wild thoughts and say idiotic things.

Because…what if Olivia won’t come back? What will I do then?

Without her.

My voice turns to ash. “She’ll come back with them. They’ll explain it to her. Tell her…that I made a mistake. That I’m sorry.”

My little brother looks at me like I’ve lost my mind, and maybe I have.

Simon steps forward, gripping my arm. “Tell her yourself, man.”

The downside of responsibility and duty is that it gives you tunnel vision—you don’t see the big picture, the options, because the options were never yours to have. You see only the track that you’re locked onto, the one that takes you through the tunnel.

But every once in a while, even the most dependable trains jump their track.

“Prince Nicholas, you can’t go in there.” Christopher rushes out from behind his desk, trying to get between me and the Queen’s closed office door. “Your Highness, please—”

I burst through the door.

The Japanese Emperor stands quickly and his security men go for their gunbelts. The Emperor holds out his hand to them. I see this all in the periphery. Because my eyes are fastened onto the Queen’s—and if looks could kill, Henry would’ve just gotten a promotion.

“I’m canceling the press conference,” I tell her.

Without blinking, she turns smoothly to her guest. “Please accept our sincere apologies for the interruption, Emperor Himura. There is no excuse for such rudeness.”

The Emperor nods. “I have six children, Your Majesty. I understand all about interruptions.” He glances my way on the last word, and reflexively I lower my chin and bow—a sign of respect.

My grandmother looks past my shoulder to the doorway. “Christopher, show Emperor Himura to the blue drawing room. I will join him momentarily.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Once my grandmother and I are alone, her indifferent façade drops like a boulder catapulted over an enemy’s wall.

“Have you lost your mind?”

“I’m canceling the press conference.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I’m going to New York to see Olivia. I’ve hurt her terribly.”

“Out of the question,” she hisses, eyes glinting like the edge of a blade.

“I’ve done everything you’ve ever wanted! I’ve become everything you wanted me to be—and I’ve never asked you for anything! But I’m asking you for this.” Something cracks inside me, making my voice splinter.

“I love her. It can’t end this way.”

She regards me, silently, for a several moments, and when she speaks her voice is gentler but still resolute.

“This is exactly how it needs to end. Do you think I’m a fool, Nicholas? That I didn’t know what you were thinking?”

I open my mouth to reply, but she goes on.

“You thought you could postpone the wedding for a time—and perhaps you could have. But the fact remains, the day will come when you will be a husband and a father. You will be a king. And what will Olivia be then?”

“Mine,” I growl. “She’ll be mine.”

I see her in my head—those smiling, rosy lips, the way her eyes dance when she looks at me. When she’s happy—when I’ve made her happy. I think of the way her thick, dark lashes fan out against her perfect skin while she sleeps—peacefully, because she’s sleeping in my arms. I remember the feel of her soft touch and the sheer, miraculous contentment I feel when I’m just lying beside her.

“The word ‘mistress’ doesn’t carry the same weight it once did, but it is still not a pretty thing to be, Nicholas. And there are no secrets, not in this world, not anymore. You will have a purpose to fulfill, a destiny. You will have the admiration and devotion of a country. And Olivia…will have its scorn. Possibly the derision of the whole world. You’ve seen it play out—time and again. The nannies who take up with their married movie-star employers, the young interns ensnared by powerful men. It’s never the man who is shamed and ruined. It’s always the woman—the other woman—who gets burned at the stake.”