Page 29 of Claimed By the Crown Prince
She’d thought she’d had him all sized up. In a box markedPlayboy Reprobate.
But—as the headlines had alluded to—was he that any more? Was he changing?
She had to admit that he had far more substance than she’d given him credit for. A self-made billionaire in his own right, apart from any royal inheritance. And he’d done all that while being dyslexic—an added challenge.
Laia cleared up the breakfast detritus. Dax had disappeared somewhere into the thick foliage of the forest. No doubt cursing her with every step. So far, her plan to seduce the man was going very well. Right now, he couldn’t stand her.
Brava, Laia.
She dumped the plates into the sink to wash later, and went up to her bedroom to take part in a scheduled online meeting with her advisors in Isla’Rosa. Perhaps she’d do better to focus on the very big stuff coming down the tracks—like being crowned Queen of Isla’Rosa—rather than fantasising about seducing a man way out of her league.
Dax was still angry, and now frustrated. He pushed leaves aside as he powered down yet another path. Thick foliage lined the track. Sweat was springing from every part of his skin in the humidity. He had no idea where he was heading, but he figured he couldn’t get too lost because the island was small.
He eventually emerged at a small sandy beach. Its serene beauty distracted him for a moment, before he remembered to stay angry. And not to think about Laia’s big green eyes. Or the expression of contrition he’d seen in them even though she’d sounded defiant.
He pulled off his sneakers and sat down on the sand under the shade of a tree.
The problem was, he was angry for his brother—of course. Ari didn’t deserve this. His whole life had been dedicated to the service of his—their—country. And supporting Dax.
After the car accident that had killed their mother, it had been as if Ari had known that Dax needed space to get away from Santanger and what had happened. The awful tragedy, his part in it, and all the toxicity that had led to it.
Ari had persuaded their father to let Dax finish school abroad. And then a year later their father had died and it had been just the two of them. By some unspoken agreement, once Dax had graduated from high school Ari had let him carve out a life away from Santanger.
Only Ari had known the full extent of all that Dax had to carry, and Dax had known his brother felt guilty. For not noticing more. For not being there. Even though he’d had his own huge burden to carry. Taking on the weight of the crown.
But that was why Ari had let Dax have his freedom. It had been a tacit form of asking forgiveness.
So Dax had gone away. For a few years he had lived a hedonistic life as the Playboy Prince. Carousing to escape his memories and the past. But it hadn’t lasted half as long as people thought it had.
He’d grown bored with it quickly—but then he’d realised that he could use it to his advantage. When people underestimated him—and that was most people, most of the time—he used it against them.
In the process he’d built up a global empire. But lately he’d had to come to terms with the fact that his reputation wasn’t doing him any favours any more.
His time playing the playboy was coming to an end, and for the first time Dax wasn’t sure which way to go. Ari had the kingdom and his upcoming marriage. Even if it wasn’t to Laia, it would be to someone. He would be creating a new life and the next generation.
Dax knew his anger wasn’t just for his brother being made a fool. It was more complicated. It was anger at himself, for wanting a woman he couldn’t have.
The way Laia had looked at him just a short while before, asking questions that cut right to the heart of who he was and hismodus operandi, had not been expected...or welcome.
‘So what’s your story? Will you marry?’she’d asked. As impertinently as...as a queen would.
It was rare for Dax to meet someone who was his equal in the way she was. In terms of social standing, as afforded to them by an accident of birth, but also in terms of experience.
They’d both grown up in their respective bubbles of royal courts. With great privilege. A mix of home schooling and other exclusive establishments with the children of presidents and the wealthiest people on the planet.
It was a world Dax was inextricably bound with and to, and yet he’d distanced himself from it in many ways. But, no matter what he did or where he went, he would always be Crown Prince Dax. The spare to the heir. The bad boy to Ari’s good boy. A reputation he’d created and cultivated but which was beginning to feel more and more restrictive.
The burden would lift slightly once Ari had heirs and they took on the Crown Prince or Crown Princess title.
‘Will you marry?’
Dax shuddered at the thought, his mind flooded with memories of his father parading his latest mistress through the palace while his mother screamed and wept in her rooms. Make-up running down her ravaged face. Breath smelling of gin. Eyes glazing over as she eventually calmed down and the medication the doctors had given her did their work in her blood system.
Dax had hated those doctors for coming in and giving her so many pills, because he’d seen the way she disappeared and became pliant. Quiet. But she’d wanted the pills. Needed them. More and more. Until she hadn’t been able to get through a day without them.
Ari had come in one day after she’d had a hysterical bout and he’d looked horrified. ‘What’s wrong with her?’
Dax had felt guilty—as if it was his fault she was in such a state. As if he should somehow stop it. He hadn’t had the appetite to tell Ari that this was how she was nearly every day. Nothing unusual. And he was the one she wanted by her side. Consoling her. Listening to her.