Royal Ruse - Emma Lea

Chapter 1

Francesca

“Take a breath, Lucas,” I said as I flopped on my bed, holding the phone to my ear while simultaneously holding in the sigh begging to be let out.

“Please tell me I’m doing the right thing, Frankie,” Lucas said. The tremor in his voice was a dead giveaway to just how freaked out he was.

“You know I can’t do that,” I replied. “You love her, though, right?”

“Clarissa is exactly what I need in a wife,” he said, and I rolled my eyes.

Clarissa was annoying and vain and vapid and I didn’t like her at all, but I knew Lucas’ mother loved her and would be overjoyed if—when—Lucas asked her to marry him. Me, not so much.

“But do you love her?” I asked again.

Lucas was my best friend, and we’d been best friends since we met on the first day of college. Harvard was a big, scary school, and I’d glommed onto Lucas almost from the moment I bumped into him and spilled his armful of books everywhere. He was awkward and adorable and the sweetest guy I’d ever known. I, on the other hand, was a little more rough and tumble and had been accused of being too brash on occasion. We shouldn’t work as friends, but we did, which was why I’d never pursued the crush I had on him. No way was I going to jeopardize our friendship when I knew there could never be a future between the two of us.

That didn’t mean I wanted him to marry Clarissa, though.

It also didn’t mean I could tell him my honest thoughts on their future union.

“I enjoy spending time with her,” he replied. “And we have a lot in common. Mother loves her and Clarissa loves Mother, so…”

Should I point out to him he still had not told me he loved her? Probably not. I’d already pushed him enough, and I knew if I pushed too hard he would curl up in a ball like an armadillo and not speak to me for a few days.

“So you’re going to ask her then?” I prompted. “You’ll propose to Clarissa tonight? I hope you booked a great restaurant. Have you bought the ring?”

“Yes, yes, and yes,” he said, sounding more confident with each affirmative answer. “I booked a table at Menton months ago and I had the ring custom made. I stalked her Instagram feed for design ideas.”

I rolled my eyes again. Of course Clarissa had been posting pictures of engagement rings on her Instagram feed. She was as subtle as a tank rolling down a hill.

“Ooh, Menton, classy,” I said brightly. “So, you’re all set then. This time tomorrow you’ll be a fiancé!”

“Oh God,” he muttered.

It shouldn’t make me happy that he seemed to be doubting his decision to ask Clarissa to marry him, right? I mean, that would make me a bad friend…wouldn’t it?

Before I could say something to assuage his fears, I heard a commotion on his end of the phone and the unmistakable voice of his mother.

“Uh, Frankie? I have to go. Mother is here.”

“No problem,” I replied, but he’d already disconnected.

I groaned and tossed my phone onto the bed.

“Why, God, why? Why did it have to be Clarissa?”

I growled again in frustration and kicked my legs against the mattress like a two year old throwing a temper tantrum.

I wanted Lucas to be happy. I wanted him to find someone who would love and adore him like he deserved, but that person was not Clarissa. And it might be selfish of me, but I wanted him to find someone I could be friends with too. Clarissa didn’t like me and she tried to drive a wedge between my friendship with Lucas every chance she got. I knew that if—when—he married her, it would be the death knell for our BFF status.

But maybe that was the wake-up call I needed. I couldn’t pine away for him indefinitely. We would never be more than friends, so I had no right to wish away his happiness just because I didn’t get on with his significant other. I valued my friendship with Lucas above my pride, so if that meant making nice with Clarissa, then I would. I would do anything for Lucas.

The alarm on my phone sounded, and I groaned again as I sat up and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. I had an appointment with my dissertation supervisor and I couldn’t be late. I was so close to finishing my Ph.D. in sociology, if I

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