A Princess for Christmas - Jenny Holiday Page 0,102

booty call was a booty call. And Dani was right. They were both enjoying themselves, so what was the harm?

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Marie blinked as she stood in the doorway of the library, where her father had silently led her after so rudely dispatching Leo. Father hadn’t even waited for her to close the door before lashing out.

She eased the door shut and tried to think what was happening. Had he found out about the cabin somehow? How was that possible? The only people who knew were Leo and Kai, both of whom she trusted absolutely.

Had Gabby let it slip? She sighed. “Look, I can explain—”

“Anyone could have seen you. Out in the open like that.”

Out in the open? Oh.

“It’s shameful. You’re shameful.”

Tears rushed to the surface. She had never heard her father like this. He could be cruel, yes, but usually in a passive-aggressive way—like the way he’d treated Leo and Gabby so often the past few days.

She knew what he was referring to, though. He had been the source of her sense that she and Leo were being watched earlier.

“The duke, duchess, and their sons will arrive tomorrow morning. What if they’d come today? What if they’d seen you?”

“Max is coming?” She would be so happy to see him. “But I thought he was in Cambridge for the holidays.”

“Max has had a change of plans.”

“But—” Did that mean he wasn’t doing a PhD? She was afraid to ask.

“I don’t know why I’ve indulged you for so long. It’s time for your guests to leave. Mr. Benz has booked a late-night flight out of Zurich and has arranged a car to take them. They’ll need to be ready by six.” He sat at his desk and opened a newspaper, clearly done with her.

“No.” Marie had to swallow the gasp she nearly emitted. It was getting easier to say no to him, but still, she had surprised herself there.

He whipped his head up—he was surprised, too. “I beg your pardon?”

She had defied him a bit, before, as it related to the goodwill ambassadorship, but this was different. This was personal. But she’d be damned if Gabby went home before Cocoa Fest. Leo had been so kind to Marie in New York, driving her around, buying her treats, opening his home to her when she was alone. She refused to repay that generosity by letting her father run him out. “Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. They’re not leaving tonight.”

“Yes, they are,” he said with exaggerated patience, like she was a child.

She was determined to stand her ground. “The whole point of them being here is to experience an Eldovian Christmas. Gabby’s worked so hard on the festival. They’re staying.” Should she say more? She thought back to her father’s appalling treatment of Gabby the other night at dinner. Yes, in fact, she should. “And what’s more, you will stop insulting them.”

“That sounds remarkably like a threat,” the king snapped, not even bothering to conceal his anger. “Let me give you a little tip, my girl. Threats are more effective when you clearly state the consequences. I will stop insulting your guests, or what?”

Marie channeled her mother’s quiet certainty as she lifted her chin. “Or I will stop doing your job for you. I will stop jumping when you issue your orders and leave me to try to execute them without letting me have any meaningful input.”

She watched a bunch of different emotions go to war on his face. Shock, anger, and, finally, hurt.

It was the hurt that weakened her resolve. Softened her. “All I’m asking,” she said gently, “is that they stay through Christmas and that you stop harassing them. It’s unkind. They’re alone at Christmas.” Just like we are.

The hurt was gone from his face. That was something at least. But he almost looked like a stranger now. She thought she’d seen the hard version of her father. The man whose grief had changed him into a more austere version of himself. But this version was worse. It was frightening in its blankness.

“I will make you a deal,” he finally said. He spoke with eerie calmness. “Your friends stay until Boxing Day as planned, and I announce your engagement to Maximillian at the ball.”

“No.”

There it was again. How remarkable. Such a little word, but so powerful.

“I don’t want to marry Max.”

“You don’t want to marry Max,” he repeated. She would have expected him to revert to the anger he’d displayed a moment ago, but his tone was