up on current events and most likely wouldn’t embarrass him, he scowled internally, realizing reading the paper was a good way to avoid talking to him.
After breakfast, they walked along tall-ceilinged corridors to the first floor of the palace and the office of the minister of protocol, their footsteps the only sound around them. If a servant caught a peek at Dominic, he or she froze in place and bowed as he passed by. He barely noticed until he caught a sideways glance at Ginny’s face and saw it scrunch in confusion.
“I don’t like the fuss.”
She peeked over. “Excuse me?”
“I don’t like the fuss. But respect is part of the deal. To be an effective leader, your subjects must respect you. Trust you to rule well. Bowing is a sign that they trust you.”
“Interesting.”
Annoyance skittered through him. “It’s not ‘interesting.’ It’s true.”
“Okay. Maybe I said that wrong. What I should have said was it’s interesting that it’s true because it gives me a whole different perspective of you as a leader. It helps me to see you as a leader.”
It shouldn’t have relieved him so much that she agreed. But he told himself it only mattered because he needed for her to respect him, too, for the years they’d be married.
Finally at the back of the building, they took an elevator to the first floor to the working space of the palace.
“Holy cow. This is big.”
“It’s huge.” He pointed to the right. “The king’s offices are over there. My offices and my brother’s are near his. To the left,” he said, motioning toward a long hall, “are the general offices. This is where our ministers and staff work.”
* * *
Not able to see the end of the hall, Ginny blinked. It went so far it was almost like looking at an optical illusion.
He smiled. “I know. Impressive.”
She said, “Right.” But when her gaze swung around to his, she was no longer talking about the size of the palace. Everything about being royalty was bigger, better, grander than anything she’d ever seen or experienced. The truth of being a commoner washed through her again. His family might have normal bickering siblings with a traditional disciplinarian dad, but she couldn’t forget they were rulers. Rich, powerful. The kind of family she shouldn’t even cross paths with, let alone marry into.
“This way.”
He took her elbow to guide her and sparkly little pinpricks skittered up her arm. She didn’t know which was worse—being incredibly attracted to him or her good reaction to his brother and dad. Either one of them could get her into trouble. She shouldn’t have admitted the night before that she’d have loved to have had a family like his. She could see it had made him curious. She’d tried to downplay it by being distant that morning, but she knew they were going to talk about this and she knew he had every right to ask. The question was: How did one explain living with a cheating, lying, thieving alcoholic to someone raised with such structure, such finery?
The minister of protocol turned out to be a short older woman whose green eyes lit when Ginny and Dominic entered the room.
She rose from her seat. “Prince Dominic!” She rounded the desk and hugged him. “I hear congratulations are in order. You’re about to have a baby!”
It was the first time anybody had actually been happy about her pregnancy or spoken of her baby as a baby, instead of a ruler or a prince or the guy who would be king. Ginny’s heart filled with warmth and she forgot all about her dad, her past, her rubbish upbringing and the fear that someday she’d have to explain it all to Dominic.
The minister turned to Ginny. “And you.” Her smile was warm, but didn’t reach her eyes. “Congratulations on your upcoming wedding. Welcome to our home.”
Stifling the urge to curtsy and the vague feeling that the minister didn’t quite think her good enough, she said, “Thank you. But I still haven’t made a decision on the marriage.”
Dominic took over the introductions. “Virginia, this is Sally Peterson, our minister of protocol.”
“You may call me Sally.” She motioned to the chairs in front of her desk.
“Because Virginia is on the fence, I thought perhaps you could better explain to her why our getting married is a good idea.”
“Okay.” Sally folded her hands and set them on the desk. “What’s the best way to explain this?” She thought for another second, then said, “Because your child will someday be our ruler, there isn’t a court in the world that would refuse us the opportunity to train him, to bring him up to be our king. Which means you have four choices. First, marry Dom.” She smiled at Dominic. “Second, don’t marry Dom but live in the palace with your child to help raise him or her. Third, don’t marry Dom, move back to the United States with a contingent of bodyguards and household servants until the child is twelve and will attend boarding school, and fourth, give up all rights.”
Her voice softened. “I’m certain you don’t want to give up all rights. Not marrying Dom, but living in the palace and helping raise your child makes sense, but will expose Dom to all kinds of gossip. He could be perceived as being unfit as a ruler if he couldn’t even persuade the woman he’d gotten pregnant to marry him.”
The thought of the ramifications for Dom made her blood run cold. She might not really know him, but she knew him enough that she could not let that happen to him. “What would happen if we got married?”
“You would need to be seen in public together at least twice before you would announce the quick wedding. We will also announce the pregnancy at the same time so that the rumors of a pregnancy don’t take the sheen off your wedding day. The theory is if we get it out immediately it won’t be ‘news’ anymore.”
Exactly what Dom had told her.
He caught her gaze and smiled at her.
Once again she saw a glimpse of the guy who had whisked her away the night of their fateful dalliance. Stiff and formal or not, almost-complete stranger or not, he was the father of her child and his needs had to be considered.
“Plus, if you marry Dom, your position gives you a bit of power so to speak. You can use your celebrity to support causes. As someone who’d worked in education, you may wish to host events to raise awareness or to build schools anywhere in the world.”
“Oh.” That was amazing. Something she hadn’t considered and something that would give her a chance to impact the world. Just the thought of it stole her breath. “That would be great.”
“Plus,” Sally said with a chuckle, “a royal wedding is fantastic. Your gown would be made by the designer of your choice.” She laughed. “And money is no object. The guests will be royalty and dignitaries from every country in the world. You would get to meet your president.”
“The president of the United States would be invited?”
“And he’d attend.” Sally smiled. “Our royal family is influential. We don’t just control waterways. We have oil, which gives us a seat in OPEC.”
It was hard enough to adjust to the knowledge that Dominic was a royal. Now she was being told his small, seemingly insignificant country was powerful?
Oh, boy.
Dominic’s hand stealthily slid from the arm of his chair over to her hand. He caught her pinkie with his, linking them.
She swallowed. He’d done that in the limo on the way to the club in Los Angeles. A small, sweet, simple gesture that made her heart catch and her breathing tremble. He recognized that all this information was becoming overwhelming for her. And the pinkie knot? It told her he was there for her.
Damn, but he could be sweet.
“But, as