Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
The country.
His country.
The country Theo would rule someday, if they managed to pull off a coup.
Galen cursed himself for his fanciful thoughts and checked his phone. There was nothing from his best friend, which shouldn’t have sent his instincts clanging, but Theo tended to let his stubbornness get in the way of his good sense, and being back in New York… Yeah, Galen knew exactly where his friend’s head was at.
Theo promised to keep his hands off Meg for all their sakes, but Galen didn’t think for a second that promise would hold. Theo had a strange moral code and though he took his word seriously, he would create loopholes with that big twisty brain of his, and then it would be up to Galen to get them out of trouble.
Again.
Most days, he didn’t hold it against his friend. It was just the way Theo was.
Galen owed him everything. Wading through shitstorms from time to time was a small price to pay for a tally sheet he’d never balance even if he spent the rest of his life as Theo’s shadow. His friend—his fucking Crown Prince—would be pissed to hear him say it, but it was the truth.
And he wasn’t solving a damn thing by standing here, brooding on shit he couldn’t control. Theo would do what Theo would do. Galen was in Thalania for twelve hours. He’d deal with whatever situation arose when he flew back to New York.
In the meantime, he had a different kind of nightmare to deal with.
Family.
While Galen technically hadn’t been exiled, he couldn’t set foot in the palace without causing an international incident. The current Crown Prince was Theo’s little brother, Edward, and while he wasn’t a bad kid as such things went, he was seventeen and heavily under the influence of his uncle. That bastard, Galen would love to spend five minutes alone with. Unfortunately, it wasn’t in the cards.
A matte silver Rolls Royce waited next to the hangar, and he rolled his eyes as he stalked to it and slid into the backseat. “Nice car, old man.”
Dorian Mikos curled his upper lip at the sight of his son. “If I’d known you were going to dress like a peasant, I would have put down a towel.”
Galen glanced down at his worn jeans and raised an eyebrow. “Some of us don’t feel the need to wave our dicks around to prove how much money we have.” His father, on the other hand, was dressed in a three-piece suit that some designer had likely created specifically for him. It shone a little with every move, giving a hint of purple against the blue as the sun danced along its surface. Combined with the alligator loafers and a fucking lacy handkerchief tucked into his front pocket, he looked every inch a dandy. All he needed was a jeweled cane to swing about.
Dorian stared at him for a long moment as if deciding how best to manipulate the situation to his advantage. He was good at that shit, but Galen knew his tricks better than anyone. Just like he knew how his father reacted when his manipulations failed—with his fists. He leaned back against the door and crossed his arms over his chest, intentionally taking up more space than strictly necessary. That’s right, you asshole. Tread carefully. “You summoned me. I’m here. Might as well stop wasting both our time and get down to business.”
Another beat of silence. Dorian gave a warm smile. He was a slimmer, more metro version of Galen, dark hair groomed within an inch of its life, his carefully curated five o’clock shadow giving just enough edge that he played up his masculinity despite his clothing. An act. All of it was an act. Dorian changed personalities the way some predators changed camouflage. The end game was all that mattered to him, and if it meant staging a coup against a reigning monarch, he wouldn’t blink.
He hadn’t blinked when he’d tried and failed to take out Theo’s father fifteen years ago.
Don’t dwell in the past. He wants you here about the future. Pay attention.
Finally, Dorian leaned forward. “Your mother wants you home.”
For fuck’s sake. “Not this again.” His home had never been in any of the many properties his parents owned. His father made damn sure of that. When Galen was sixteen, shit hit the fan, and the only person who offered him a safe space in the storm was Theo.
Theo was his fucking home.
Not even Thalania could compare.
And the man sitting next to him who just happened to be his sperm donor sure as fuck didn’t figure into it.
“She convinced Phillip to agree to pardon you. And you know what Phillip agrees to, he’ll get Edward to agree to. His hand is so far up the Crown Prince’s ass, it’s a wonder the Phillip’s voice doesn’t sound when Edward speaks.”