The Unlikely Heir (Unlikely Dilemmas, #1)

by Jax Calder

Tops and tails sounds like an interesting sexual position. And…now I’m thinking about Oliver again because it’s a joke I want to share with him. And okay, okay, it’s also because if there’s anyone I’m interested in exploring sexual positions with right now, it’s definitely Oliver. Our

“I guess this is quite the change of scene for you, isn’t it, Callum? From the land of hamburgers and hot dogs to the world of top hats and tailcoats,” he says. “Yep. I’m definitely not in California anymore.”

I don’t think I’ve completely nailed it, so I send a sideways look at Nicholas to see his technique, my face heating when he catches me. Shit. I feel like I’ve just been caught cheating on an exam.

“I promise I’m not armed or dangerous,” Oliver replies. That’s a pity. Because I’d really like to see what kind of weapon you’re packing.

“That’s the job of the monarchy as well,” Nicholas says. “To put the country first.” “Yes, I’m aware of that,” Oliver replies. His gaze snaps to mine for a second before he glances away. A lump grows in my throat. Is there a double meaning in his words? Is he trying to explain why he abruptly cut off our friendship after we kissed?

“It’s hot today,” I say. Apparently, talking about the weather is the height of my conversational skills right now. And the tabloids don’t think I’m British enough!

“I’ve gone with the favorite. My philosophy is to always play the best odds.” “My strategy is to pick the name I like the best.”

“Let me guess, you picked Stirrup Trouble.” My stomach swirls. “How did you know that?” His eyes are dark and full of hidden depths as he stares at me. “I thought the pun would appeal to you,” he says quietly.

“You didn’t ruin anything.” “Oh, come on, you’ve been ghosting me so hard that Casper would be jealous of your skills.”

“So now I’m not allowed to go to the ball either?” Somehow Edwin, as a fifty-year-old man, manages to channel a sulky Cinderella.

And I think I like the guy more now than I did before. His sense of humor. His acute observations and brilliant mind. His kindness. It’s a slight balm to know the reason we’re not communicating right now is because he feels something for me too.

“That sounds like a marvelous plan,” Nicholas says. “I would love the chance to talk to Oliver more about the policy initiatives his government plans to roll out this term.” Is this Nicholas playing pretend heir? Trying to show Callum up by his interest in the government of Britain. Or am I too suspicious and cynical after spending so much time in the quagmire of British politics?

can’t help the laugh that falls out of me. It’s a laugh I didn’t know I was capable of producing. A free, joyful sound. A smile lights up Callum’s face in response. This is what Callum and I do. We animate each other.

“What happened? Are you okay?” Callum immediately heads over to his brother. “I just twisted my ankle.” Nicholas’s face is screwed up in a scowl. “I was wondering what was taking you two so long, so I headed back to find out and stood in a rabbit hole.”

“We should go for a swim,” I say. He looks at me as if I’ve suggested we should start farming unicorns.

Callum’s family passes down crowns and titles. My family passes down dog tags.

“Do you ever…do you ever think about it?” The vulnerability in Callum’s eyes draws the truth out of me with a force I can’t control. “I can never stop thinking about it,” I say quietly.

“I’m actually reading about Somali’s Queen Arawelo. During her reign, she banished gender roles and used to hang male rapists and prisoners by their testicles.”

My suspicion mounts as I stare at the photos. “Why are all the guests you want me to be aware of single females between the ages of twenty and thirty? What is this, blind dating, royal style?”

So tonight will not only involve me trying to remember the complicated steps of Scottish dancing but also fending off Raymonds’ matchmaking skills while trying not to pine for Oliver.

“I’m impressed with your knowledge of Gaelic.” “You really should just be impressed with my ability to Google,” I reply.

“I would like you to meet Calista Podmore.”

Could anything be more agonizing than being set up with a woman in front of the guy you have feelings for?

Callum and Calista. They’re a perfect alliteration. Even the alphabet is conspiring in their favor. And I’m so bloody jealous. I’m a seething, frothing mess of jealousy.

“You are the most beautiful man alive,” he whispers. “You haven’t even seen the best part yet,” I manage to get out, and Oliver pauses to quirk an eyebrow. “How do I get to see the best part?” “It’s kind of a case of you show me your best part and I’ll show you mine,” I say, and Oliver’s face breaks into a smile that makes my heart pound double time.

When I glance at Oliver, he’s looking at me with laughter and desire in his eyes. “You’re so…you,” he says, and the way he says the words is the highest compliment, the best thing in the world.

From my perspective, I’m pretty sure my feelings for Oliver are an eternal flame. A coal-seam fire like the one in Australia that’s been burning for six thousand years. “Yes.” I decide not to share my coal-seam fire theory with him. Besides, who knows how Oliver really feels? He’s told me he loves me, but his flame for me might be a birthday candle, easily extinguished in a single breath.

“But she’s prepared to sell me out to the highest bidder, which makes it obvious that my mother doesn’t love me. That’s what is embarrassing.”

Callum laughs, and it’s like a balm to my soul. “You actually think phone sex with me would be sexy? You know how much I ramble when I’m nervous. I’ll probably start talking about the history of lubricant.”

I try not to blush, but I’m fairly sure the heat my face is generating could be used to power a whole city. Mateo’s eyes widen for a second, but then his frown line reappears as if he’s still confused, like he’s dismissed the normal conclusions he would draw in these circumstances because it’s too unlikely.

To sink slowly into the body of the man I love, to see the emotions flicker on his face, the flash of pain at the initial burn, which then clears and changes to something else. Awe. We’re watching each other closely, our gazes locked together.

“Lots of Roman and Chinese emperors were queer. Did you know that of the twelve recognized emperors of the Western Han dynasty, ten had at least one male partner?” My eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”

“I want you to have these.” Callum stares at me. “I can’t take your dog tags, Oliver.” “I want you to.” I swallow hard. “I can’t do anything else to show you’re mine. I can’t publicly claim you. But I can give you these to wear. I want to know something I’ve worn for years is now next to your skin.”

“Do you feel differently about royalty now that you know me?” I ask. Oliver stills. “What do you mean?” “Walter Bagehot, an English essayist, wrote: Above all things, our royalty is to be reverenced, and if you begin to poke about it, you cannot reverence it…its mystery is its life. We must not let in daylight upon magic.” “Your magic thrives in the daylight, Callum.” He places a gentle kiss on my shoulder. “The more I know of you, the more I revere you.”

It’s only when I hear the sheets crinkle next to me that I realize it’s not quite business as usual this morning. “Oh shit…hold up…give me a second…” But it’s too late. Herbert has eased his way into my room.

Oliver rolls over, squinting his eyes in confusion at Herbert. And I see the exact moment when Herbert realizes the identity of my overnight guest. He drops the tray. Its contents shatter all over the floor in a cacophony of clanging.

I’ve never been a possessive person, but I have this crazy urge to claim Callum now. To howl it to the heavens that he’s mine. Make sure the whole world knows he belongs to me, that if they mess with him, they become my mortal enemy. If they hurt a single hair on his beautiful head, I shall hunt them to the corners of the earth and through the afterlife to get my vengeance.

And so I chat with Riccardo about his role long enough to satisfy any lurking media that there’s no enduring grudge between me and my ex-husband, but not long enough to start rumors of a throuple—I know only too well how the British press works.

I’d never have discovered how effortless being with the right person is, how it can provide happiness at a deeper level than I’ve ever experienced before.

His eyebrows tilt up and he squints at me. “How well do you know him?” “I’ve spent a bit of time with him. He was at Balmoral while I was there over the summer.” “Is he the dimwitted himbo he comes across as?” “No. He’s actually one of the cleverest people I’ve ever met,” I say coolly. Defending Callum to Garett will only raise his suspicion, but I can’t help myself. I won’t let anyone disparage Callum in my presence.

Until I realize there’s one other person in the world who would recognize my grandad’s dog tags. Dog tags that have holes punched in both the bottom and the top. And that person is standing right next to me. I shoot a look at Garett. His mouth has dropped open, his eyes wide as he stares at the dog tags around Callum’s neck. Fuck. Garett turns to me, the shock evident on his face.

It turns out I didn’t need an upper-class, slightly less ambitious but better-connected version of myself. I needed someone to counterbalance me, make me look at the world in a different way. And Callum does that.

As I talk, I can see her eyes glaze over, and it causes me to have a sharp pang in my chest for Oliver. Oliver, who listens to this kind of trivia and asks me follow-up questions. Oliver, who never seems to tire of the random things I want to talk about. This is why going on a date is so wrong. I’m not looking for my other half, the person meant for me. I’ve already found him.

I’ll arrange it with my security team. It’s so sexy when you talk logistics to me, baby.

“It’s probably better than Llywelyn the Cabbage,” Oliver says. Happiness sparkles inside me. “You remember that random conversation we had?” “I remember every one of our conversations, Callum,” he says as he pulls me into his arms and kisses me.

I say everything but because it’s a fun challenge to think up ways I can tell him I love him without actually using the words.

“You don’t want to know,” I say. His eyebrows fly up. “Why don’t I want to know?” I exhale deeply. “Think of the worst person it is possible for me to be with, and you’ve got it.” His eyebrows threaten to fly off his face and shoot for the moon. “You’re not fucking Harry Matheson, are you?” he says.

Before I know it, my mouth is open, and I speak. “What the fuck are they doing about it? If Scotland Yard thinks there are credible threats to him, hunt them down and take the bastards out! Treason legislation has been around since the 1300s. Use it!”

“What the hell was that outburst earlier? I didn’t know you felt so passionately about security for the royal family.” I can’t lie to him. Not about this.

“But that would mean you’d have to be king. Do you want that?” My lips are almost numb as I force the words out of my mouth. Nicholas shrugs. “Not really. But I’d do it if I had to.”