Aziza sat up straight as she waited for Greg to answer her.
The world below had long since disappeared beneath layers of cotton-like clouds, leaving only brilliant blue sky stretching endlessly in every direction. Sunlight spilled across the wing, making the polished metal gleam. It should have been peaceful.
Instead, it felt as though Aziza’s entire life had been left somewhere beneath those clouds. She had come to Las Vegas hoping to forget Travis. Now she was flying to Europe as someone's wife.
My husband.
The words still didn't feel real.
“You want to know right now,” he finally asked, his eyebrows raising as though he heard something shocking.
She nodded, “You did say that you’d explain everything during the flight.”
“Right…” his voice trailed off for a moment as he unbuckled himself, and began to stand. “I need a drink.”
“That’s what got us in this situation in the first place,” she said, looking out the window again as she rested her forehead lightly against the cool window. He had spoken under his breath, but Aziza still heard him.
They were silent again. Neither of them moved, but she could feel his gaze on her.
“You’re right,” Greg finally said, exhaling. "I..."
He stopped.
She heard him plop back down in his seat before she stole another glance at him. His jaw was tight and he was unusually quiet. She'd never seen him struggle to find words before. Usually Greg always had something to say. A joke. A sarcastic remark. Some ridiculous story. Now… nothing. He sat on the edge of the seat, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees as he stared at the floor. His fingers were loosely intertwined, though every few seconds one thumb rubbed nervously across the other.
This was new. From the moment Aziza woke up to this bombshell, she only saw Greg lose his cool briefly. After that, he was himself again. It didn’t seem as though the news of their elopement fazed him at all. Well, aside from when those men were trying to throw her out of the honeymoon suite.
It struck her then. Until now, she'd assumed he had everything under control. He had been the calm one. He was the reassuring one who kept her from freaking out. He embodied the prince he claimed to be. However, looking at him now, he looked just as overwhelmed as she felt. The realization softened something inside her.
"Greg?"
He looked over immediately, "Yeah?"
Aziza offered him a small smile, "I've been thinking."
"Oh?"
She nodded.
"If we're going to Valoria because of the marriage..." She hesitated. "How does that stop the tabloids from finding out?"
Greg rubbed the back of his neck. "It doesn't."
"Oh… ok, I’m confused."
"It just...lets us get ahead of it."
She frowned thoughtfully, "So, your family can… control the story?"
"More or less."
Before she could respond, another horrifying realization crashed into her.
"Oh no."
Greg looked over. "What?"
"My passport," she froze, as her eyes widened. "I don't have it. I left it in the dorm room, since we were only going to Las Vegas. There was no need for me to bring it."
She looked around in growing panic, "I can't even enter another country."
Greg blinked at her for a long moment, just simply staring. She almost thought he hadn't heard. Then, he laughed. Not loudly. Just enough for the corners of his mouth to lift.
"What?"
"You really are thinking about everything."
"It’s not funny."
"Isn't it?" His smile softened. "But you'll be okay."
"How?"
"You're with me.”
She looked at him blankly, "I don't understand."
"As my wife, you'll be admitted under royal authority," he said, matter-of-factly.
"My...what?"
"My wife."
The word landed between them. It was just as strange as her earlier thought of my husband.
Greg continued before she could dwell on it. "We'll get all the paperwork taken care of once we're home."
"You make it sound so easy."
"It won't be,” he said, smiling apologetically, leaning back in his seat as he scratched his cheek. "But we'll make it work. Besides, technically you're considered a Valorian now."
Aziza stared. "I'm...what?"
He chuckled again, "Congratulations."
She let out an incredulous laugh despite herself. "This is insane."
"It really is," he said, still smiling. “I never thought I would find myself in a situation like this.”
She nodded slowly.
For several moments neither of them spoke. Then Greg released a heavy sigh.
"I honestly don't know what we're going to do."
She turned toward him.
"I've been pretending I do," his honesty surprised her.
"I mean..." he looked toward the ceiling as he thought. "Maybe… we tell everyone we'd already planned to get married."
"You mean… maybe…" she echoed, wondering how he could only come up with a half-baked plan.
He shrugged as he continued, "We say we kept the engagement private."
"And Vegas?" He was obviously forgetting a lot of the details.
"We leave Vegas out."
Aziza considered that. "I suppose..."
"My family's public relations team will come up with something better."
"You have an entire public relations team?"
He smiled sheepishly, "I have several."
"Several?"
"Occupational hazard."
She shook her head, "This is unbelievable."
"It gets worse,” he said, looking away.
"I don't doubt it.
She grew quiet before speaking again. "What if..."
Greg looked at her.
"What if,” she continued, facing forward and looking at the floor, “we don't tell anyone?"
She saw him frown from the corner of her eye, but she continued anyway, "We quietly cover up the elopement."
She looked back at him as his expression slowly changed.
"And while everyone's distracted…” she swallowed. "...we get an annulment."
Silence followed. When he didn’t say anything, she hurried to explain.
"I know marriage is sacred. I've always believed that. I don't believe people should just walk away from marriage." She lowered her eyes. "But this is different. We weren't exactly thinking clearly. So… if it protects your family… if it protects both of us… I'd be willing."
"No."
The answer came so quickly it startled her. Greg hadn't merely disagreed, he'd rejected the idea outright. His voice had been firm and absolute.
Aziza blinked, "Oh."
Neither of them spoke.
Finally, Greg looked down at his hands. "I don't think we should."
"You don't?"
He slowly shook his head, "No."
"Why?" she asked, almost whispering.
He hesitated. "My family doesn't believe in divorce, either. Or, annulments unless there are...very specific circumstances."
“So they'd never approve?" Aziza asked, leaning back in her chair.
"They'd hate it."
She looked at him curiously. Was it just his family that felt that way, or did he feel the same?
"But that's not the only reason," he continued.
"No?"
He met her eyes. "I think we should stay married."
Her heart skipped. "What?"
"I mean it."
"But..." She searched his face. "Why?"
He smiled faintly, "There are practical reasons."
She waited.
"It would help both of us."
"How?"
“Okay, so… forgive me for bringing this up, but I know Travis hurt you.”
Her shoulders drooped slightly as she looked away.
He continued gently, “It was a terrible breakup and everyone, or at least a lot of people on campus know about it."
She hated that part most of all.
"If we stay married," Greg said softly, "you don't become the girl whose boyfriend cheated on her."
She looked back.
"You become the woman who married a prince."
She couldn't help laughing, "That's your sales pitch?"
"It sounded better in my head," he said, shrugging his shoulders.
She smiled despite herself.
He smiled back.
"I just..." his voice became quieter, "I don't want him getting the last chapter."
Her smile slowly faded and so did his.
They were silent once again.
"And..." he hesitated again, as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I've… I've liked you…"
She blinked. "What?"
"...ever since we met."
"I’m sorry, I don't think I heard you." Aziza said, leaning close to him so she could hear better.
His ears turned slightly pink.
"I said..." He leaned closer without realizing it. "...I've liked you ever since we met."
Her face began to burn.
The space between them became surprisingly small. They were way too close. She could see tiny flecks of gold hidden in his blue eyes. Yet, neither of them moved. Neither of them breathed. For one impossible moment… it felt like the rest of the airplane had disappeared.
A polite voice interrupted them. "Your Highness?"
Both of them quickly pulled away as they looked up at once.
“Yes…” Greg asked, through clenched teeth.
One of the flight attendants stood beside their seats wearing a professional smile.
"May I bring either of you something to drink?"
Greg leaned back in his chair, "A whiskey, plea—"
He stopped.
Aziza slowly turned toward him, without saying a word. She simply looked at him. One eyebrow raised. Greg seemed to immediately remember the conversation they'd had earlier about drinking. How it caused the whole predicament they were in.
Sighing dramatically, he said, "A soda."
The attendant smiled politely. "Certainly, Your Highness."
She turned toward Aziza, "And for you, Miss—"
Greg's expression hardened instantly.
"My wife is not 'Miss.'"
The young woman's smile vanished. "I… I'm sorry, Your Highness."
"You will address her properly," he continued. "She is Princess Aziza. Or 'Your Highness.'"
The cabin seemed to grow quieter. His voice remained calm, but there was enough authority behind it to make even one of the nearby security guards glance over.
The attendant immediately bowed her head, "My deepest apologies, Princess."
Aziza's eyes widened, as she quickly smiled reassuringly. "Oh! It's alright."
The young woman looked relieved.
Aziza turned toward Greg.
"Greg."
"What?"
"You scared her."
"I corrected her."
"You scared her."
"I merely—"
"Apologize."
Greg looked positively offended. "We don't generally apologize to palace staff."
Aziza folded her arms as he stared at her. She stared right back, refusing to back down.
Across the aisle, Mike bit the inside of his cheek.
"Don't," Greg said, looking over at Mike.
Mike looked away. "I'm not doing anything."
"You are."
"I haven't said a word."
"You were about to."
Mike's shoulders began shaking.
Greg sighed, before looking at the attendant again. "I'm sorry."
She blinked, "It...it's quite alright, Your Highness."
Aziza smiled warmly. "Thank you."
She looked back at the attendant, and said, "I'll just have a glass of water, please."
"Of course, Princess."
The attendant curtsied politely before hurrying away.
The moment she disappeared into the galley, Mike lost the battle. A laugh escaped him.
Greg looked over, "I knew it."
Mike held up both hands innocently. "I tried."
"You failed, miserably."
Even Reggie, who was near the front of the cabin, looked up from his paperwork with the faintest hint of amusement before returning to his work. Aziza wanted to laugh too, but she managed to hold it in. It was refreshing to finally see them break their stuffy personas.
Silence settled over the cabin again.
Now that the stewardess was gone, all Aziza could think about was what almost happened before the girl showed up. She and Greg clearly had a moment and if she wasn’t mistaken, he was about to kiss her again.
Shaking her head, Aziza finally took the time to look around in the luxurious cabin around her, anything to get her mind off the almost kiss. This plane wasn't anything like the commercial flights she'd taken growing up. The cabin was spacious, with cream-colored leather seats arranged in pairs, polished wood paneling lining the walls, and soft golden lighting that made everything feel warm despite the tension hanging in the air.
She looked over at Mike again. She still wasn't used to thinking of him as Greg's bodyguard instead of simply his goofy roommate. Mike had a tablet balanced on one knee, though she doubted he'd actually read more than two lines in the last twenty minutes. Every so often his eyes drifted toward Greg.
Protective. Always watching.
She glanced over at Reggie, as he calmly reviewed what looked like several folders filled with notes and schedules while occasionally murmuring something to another suited man seated beside him.
Security.
She'd counted three of them altogether. Each wore dark suits with tiny earpieces that blended almost seamlessly into their appearance. They looked more like businessmen than bodyguards, but none of them seemed to miss a single movement.
Several minutes later, the attendant returned with their drinks, while another one moved quietly through the aisle, speaking in a soft voice as she checked on everyone else. Even both of the attendants seemed different somehow. They were professional and polished, like they belonged in this world. Unlike her. Aziza glanced down at her clothes and folded her hands in her lap. She definitely didn't belong here. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
The girl carefully handed Greg his soda, then Aziza her water.
After thanking her, Aziza took a sip, allowing the cool water to run down her throat and help steady her nerves. Then, she looked back toward Greg.
"You said this arrangement benefits both of us."
"It does," he nodded.
"Ok, I understand what I get out of this," she said, studying him. “But, what do you get?”
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he stared at the unopened soda can in his hands. This was becoming a pattern with him. Every time she asked him a question, he seemed to shut down before answering.
"There is one more thing you should know," he began, still staring at his soda can. "You need to understand something about me."
He paused again, looking over at Mike for help. Aziza glanced at Mike as well, only to find him suddenly interested in his tablet as though he wasn’t listening to their conversation.
Greg sighed heavily, as he looked at her. "I have a past."
She remained quiet, her eyes locked with his.
"I've made a lot of mistakes." His voice had lost all humor. "The tabloids love me. Not because I'm charming, but because I'm usually doing something stupid."
He gave a humorless laugh, as he looked away again.
"I've had parties shut down by the police. I've dated too many women. I've embarrassed my family more times than I care to count. I've spent years earning the nickname 'The Wild Bad Boy Prince.'"
Aziza frowned as she listened carefully. "But that's not the man I know."
He smiled sadly, "I appreciate that, but to the public… that's exactly who I am."
He rubbed a hand over his face.
"So when news of this marriage comes out..." he continued. "They won't believe it. They'll assume it's another scandal."
She slowly nodded. “So, this is what you meant earlier when you said you had to ‘stay out of trouble and not embarrass the Royal Family.’”
"Yes, my parents finally had enough," he confirmed, looking at her again. "They gave me one last chance to enjoy being a normal student."
He glanced toward Mike, "With Michael making sure I didn't kill myself."
Mike gave a mock salute. I knew he was listening, Aziza thought, her eyes narrowing.
Greg rolled his eyes before continuing, "If I messed up… my freedom was over."
"And now?" she asked.
Greg looked back at her. "Well, now that I have to go home, after everything that’s happened, there was no doubt in my mind that I had to bring you with me. I don't want to leave you behind to deal with the media. I also need my parents to see that I'm taking this marriage seriously. Bringing you with me… proves that."
Aziza slowly lowered her gaze to the glass in her hands. So… that was it. This wasn't because he…
No.
This was because he needed to repair his reputation, to prove he'd finally grown up.
Her heart gave a tiny, disappointed ache before she quietly pushed the feeling aside. Of course it wasn’t about anything more than that. It made sense and it was practical. This was exactly what a prince would have to do.
Greg shifted slightly in his seat. "So..."
She looked up.
"Will you do it?" his voice was softer than she'd ever heard it. "Will you stay married to me?"
Aziza searched his face. She still couldn't quite read everything hidden behind his eyes, but she knew one thing. He had trusted her with the truth.
Slowly, she nodded, "...Okay."
A small smile spread across Greg's face.
"Okay," she repeated. "I'll give our marriage a chance."
For the first time since waking up in that hotel room, the uncertainty between them seemed to ease ever so slightly. Neither of them knew what waited in Valoria, but whatever it was… Aziza knew that they would face it together.