Page 6 of Rags to Royals

And my grandfather’s delight—and stubborn insistence—over the idea of an O’Grady-Olsen wedding makes me absolutely willing to believe he bet a grandson on a losing hand on purpose.

Making my doubts even stronger, he and Alfred wrote up the agreement on the back of the playbill from the show they’d seen earlier in the evening. This “binding agreement” is whisky stained, smudged, and about seventeen words long. It was also witnessed by men who were just as drunk, not to mention subordinate to both my grandfather and Alfred. But everyone insists it’s completely official.

‘Everyone’ being my grandfather, Alfred, and all of our parents. Meaning that legal or not, there isa lotof pressure, guilt, and manipulation within the family behind making this happen.

And hell, it might be ‘legal’ too. In Cara, anyway. My grandfather is the king. He is more or less the law.

And now, tonight, my grandfather told us all for the first time that they’d assumed a baby would be the ultimate outcome. He and Alfred wanted their families united byblood.

A child. A real, humanpersonwho would be a combination of two old, wealthy, influential families’ DNA.

Jesus Christ.

I blow out a breath.

I’m the last man standing. The third and final available O’Grady grandson.

And Astrid is Alfred’s only other granddaughter.

This is crazy.

But kings have this really annoying habit of thinking they can always get their way.

Because they can always get their way.

“Cian? Can I talk to you?”

I turn and find Astrid looking up at me with wide blue eyes. She looks absolutely panicked.

Which makes complete sense.

Miles Stafford, Astrid’s best friend, is standing just behind her. He looks concerned as well.

“Yeah. Of course.”

I’ve known Astrid my entire life. I have been living in the US for the past twelve years, but until I was seventeen, I lived in Cara. Our families have always been close. I’ve always liked Astrid.

Besides being smart, bold, and beautiful, she’s also now famous. She’s a gymnast. Was nearly an Olympian. If it wasn’t for a devastating fall during the qualifying rounds, she would have likely brought a gold medal home to Cara.

Because of her, and her hockey star brother Alex, the world is discovering our tiny, remote country. Astrid and Alex have put Cara on the map, and they are truly heroes in our country.

Despite her injury, she’s now an advocate for athletes with disabilities, an inspirational speaker, a children’s book author, and has a number of endorsements.

Yeah, I should probably just marry her.

If this had all come up two years ago—pre-Scarlett—I would have.

Astrid crosses her arms. “We can’t do this,” she says.

“No?” I ask.

“It’s nuts,” she insists. “We’ve always thought so even when it was Linnea and Torin who were supposed to get married.”

I nod. “Did you have any idea this might happen? To us, I mean?”

“None,” she says, shaking her head. “And I’ve never heard anyone talk about there needing to be a… ba—baby.”

She stumbles over the last word.

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