Page 7 of Cross Me

The symposium was being held at a renovated school in East London. Usually, I found myself in grand ballrooms or at the theater, Alexander by my side. The simple school was a breath of fresh air compared to those places. Children’s art had been framed, lining the corridor that Brex led me through. We were met at the end of the cramped hall by a beaming woman in a lilac dress suit. She dipped into a slight curtsy and I felt my cheeks grow hot.

I’d learned to expect this. Liaisons and MPs and community leaders were always advised on Royal protocol before a member of the family greeted them. Despite being married to Alexander, I didn’t really feel like the Queen and would never get used to it. My husband had confided in me once that he didn’t like it either. But not liking it was different than feeling embarrassed by it. At times I felt like an imposter in my own life: a fake playing a role who would be found out at any moment.

“Your Majesty, it is an honor to have you in attendance today. I’m Mrs. March. I spoke with your team.”

“Of course,” I said, torn between trying to sound casual or benevolent—and achieving neither. When exactly would I get good at this?

“If you’ll follow me, they’re almost ready for you. The keynote is about to wrap up.” Mrs. March started to lead us toward a door marked backstage.

That wasn’t in the schedule I’d been given when I was asked to do this event. “I’m sorry. Did you say the keynote is wrapping up?”

“Yes,” Miss March said with a nod, “and then you will be presenting the award. That reminds me. I have some notes for you. We can’t tell you what a thrill it is to have you here to do the honors.”

She passed a couple of index cards to me and my spirits plummeted.

“I thought I was asked to participate in the symposium.” I wished my brain would catch up with my mouth, which seemed to be running away with itself. Did it really matter what they’d asked me to do? Yes, said a little voice I tried to ignore. I’d wanted to be included. I’d wanted to contribute more than a quick public appearance.

“We would never expect such an intrusion on your time.” Miss March seemed horrified at the thought. Next to her, it looked like Georgia was trying to bite back a smirk. We’d gotten all dressed up, dragged two dozen guards through London traffic, and we were here to give out a trophy. Georgia was probably enjoying this.

“It was just a miscommunication,” I said, glancing around for a momentary out. My turbulent emotional state threatened to get the best of me and I wasn’t going to give Georgia the satisfaction of seeing me crack. “Is there any way I could use the loo?”

“It’s right this way.” Miss March started to take me in the opposite direction, but Georgia stepped between us.

“I’ll take her,” she said sweetly.

I wondered if she was fooling anyone. Miss March stepped away, looking possibly mortified that she’d presumed to help me. I sighed, knowing this was my life now.

If I had hoped for a moment alone, I should have known better. Usually when Norris was with me, he stood outside the door, giving me space to panic or cry or touch up my lipstick. Georgia escorted me inside.

“This really isn’t necessary,” I said.

“That’s why you’re not the bodyguard,” Georgia pointed out. “Alexander was quite specific with his instructions when he discovered you’d rearranged his security assignments. We’re not to let you out of our sight.”

The petulant streak in me wanted to remind her that they’d sat with their backs turned to me in the car. Then, I realized one of them had probably watched me in the mirror the whole time. I gritted my teeth and opened my purse, digging inside for lipstick. I reapplied it halfheartedly, not really needing to. I had asked to come in here and now I had to make it look like it had been for reasons other than to quiet my nerves. I didn’t trust myself to use the toilet without breaking into tears. I definitely didn’t want Georgia reporting to Alexander that I’d been crying in the loo.

“What shade is that?” Georgia asked, eyeing the tube in my hand.

Was she for real? She wasn’t really the type for idle chit-chat. Unlike me, Georgia seemed to have a knack for speaking in an offhanded manner. I didn’t believe for a second she was interested in swapping make-up tips or braiding each other’s hair. “It’s Fuck-Off-Red from the Let’s-Not-Pretend-We’re-Friends collection.”

Georgia didn’t so much as blink. Instead, she shrugged. “You’re right. We’re not friends. I was being nice. I promised Brex I would be less of a bitch.”

“But you’re so good at it,” I said.

“Only compared to some.” Georgia leaned against the sink, folding her arms over her black fitted jacket. “Are you ready?”

So much for collecting my thoughts. I dropped the lipstick back into my bag and nodded. It wasn’t really my fault she rubbed me the wrong way. No warm-blooded woman would be able to look at her husband’s former submissive without getting a little jealous. I had once thought that Alexander’s playboy past would be the hardest thing for me to overcome. Now I still questioned if I was enough for him. I could blame Georgia for that.

Before I was married, she had warned me that Alexander needed things—physically, emotionally—that I would never be able to give him. Was I failing him? Was that why he was so possessive of me now? He promised me he didn’t need that in our relationship. But every time I offered him my submission, he had taken it. Maybe Georgia had been right all along. Maybe that was why he controlled my outings so strictly. The thought made my stomach turn. Given that I was only ever a few hours from morning sickness, it wasn’t a welcome sensation.

We returned to the others, and I did my best to tuck my thoughts away. None of that was why I was here. Once we were shown into the wings, I excused myself to look over the notes they’d given me. There wasn’t much to do. Everything had been written out for me. Everything had been planned. I was simply a player in someone else’s game.

CHAPTER THREE

CLARA

The speech was taking forever. Since I wasn’t going to participate, I wanted to get my part over with. I peeked between the curtains that kept the audience from seeing backstage. The auditorium was completely full, packed with people who shared something in common with me. They had all come here because they wanted to change the world. The Child Watch Initiative was a relatively new coalition aimed at everything from increasing access to education, to promoting STEM courses for girls, to putting a stop to child trafficking. They were out there learning what they could do to impact children’s lives while I waited in the wings to present an award. My role was ceremonial, just like my life was becoming.

“They’re almost ready for you,” Brex said, coming up beside me.