Page 52 of Royal Hottie
He stands and looks down at me. “I’m so disappointed in you. You’re selling out for what? Money? Prestige? An ego boost?”
I leap to my feet. “I’m not selling out! I know this must be hard for you to understand since you never had to work a day in your life, but having a career I can be proud of means a lot to me. It’s not selling out to want to take care of yourself.”
He takes both my hands. “I’ll take care of you. Stay by my side and you’ll want for nothing. We’ll continue on this important path together. Come with me to my meeting at the UN and let them know you want to be part of it.”
I’m torn by the sincerity in his voice. I don’t want to leave him, but I also don’t want to give up what’s important to me. I’ll lose myself. Worse, he seems to want that, believing what I do is not worth a thing. But it is to me, and I know it brings joy to others. I won’t allow myself to be his appendage, dependent on him for everything. That’s just not how I’m made. I want, no, Ineedto stand on my own two feet.
He gives my hands a squeeze. “Don’t underestimate the good PR we represent together. We’re the power couple.”
My shoulders slump. That seals it for me. I can feel myself retreating from him and this public world he lives for.
“Phillip, I care about you a lot.” My voice breaks, choked with emotion, and I take a deep breath. “But this is your path, not mine. I don’t want to be there just for PR and photo opportunities. Let’s…how about this? We’ll stay in touch, we’ll visit whenever we can, and-and…”
He pulls away.
“I’ll be cheering you on,” I finish lamely. There’s no easy way to merge our two paths, but I’m not ready to let go of him.
He crosses his arms and frowns. “Maybe I don’t know you as well as I thought I did. I thought we were on the same page. Same values, same cause.”
I don’t know what to say. Maybe he’s right. I can’t make myself into whatever ideal image he had of me. I’ve been honest with him. His work is important, but it’s not my work. And it’s clear he doesn’t value my work.
He goes to the balcony window and jerks the curtains open. The setting sun casts him in shadow, a proud regal figure, shoulders back, legs spread apart. He conquers whatever he sets his mind to. He has no idea what it is to struggle, to have to work hard, to need to achieve anything. Our two different worlds can never coexist. He belongs on the world stage, and I need to be grounded, working at what I’m good at, carving out my own niche in the world. And my family means everything to me. As an only child, I’m close with my parents, and I want to be close with my sister too.
I worry my lower lip. Phillip and I got so close on this trip too, living and working together. God, I hate the distance between us right now. “We still have a week together.”
He doesn’t bother to turn around. “I think it would be best if you leave now.”
I gasp, my stomach dropping. “That’s it? We’re done?”
He turns, his expression hard. “Do you expect me to pretend everything is good between us?”
“It could be. We still…we connected. I—”
“We’re on two diverging paths,” he says coolly. “Let’s not make this any harder than it needs to be.”
I stumble back, shocked at his dismissal.
He pulls out his phone. “You needn’t look so stricken. This was your choice. I asked you to join me; you declined.”
I lift my chin, tears blurring my vision. “Then I’ll go!” I wipe at my eyes, grab my purse, and rush to the bedroom, looking around for my suitcase.
Phillip appears in the doorway. “I’m calling my valet. He’ll pack for you and accompany you to the airport.”
“Don’t bother!” I find the suitcase in the huge walk-in closet and wheel it out, tossing it on the bed and unzipping it.
“I told you I’m taking care of it.”
I hate how calm he is, like it means nothing to him that I’m leaving. Like we meant nothing at all! I grab my stuff from the dresser drawer in one big scoop and toss it in the suitcase.
He walks out of the bedroom, done with me and my annoying independence. No problem because I’m done with him and his demands. It’s his way or no way. Forget that!
I empty the second drawer of clothes and cram everything in. The closet holds all the formal wear Phillip bought me, and I leave it all behind.
I head for the bathroom, grab my toiletry bag, and stuff everything inside it in a mad rush. I toss the bag in the suitcase, zip up the case, and wheel it to the living room, where Phillip is sitting on the sofa, looking at his phone.
“I’ll pay for a cab and find my own way home,” I tell him.
He doesn’t reply.
