A Duke by Default (Reluctant Royals #2)

by Alyssa Cole

He didn’t want to become that kind of man just because someone he was attracted to now worked with him.

reminded herself that gruff was a synonym for “acts like an asshole because other people enable him.”

She felt the sudden, ingrained shame of having asked for something she wanted, but fought against it and waited.

“Pull out your sword,” she commanded and Tav was certain it was the sexiest thing a woman had ever uttered to him.

Every morning, Portia took five minutes to “empty the trash” rattling around in her head and “sort” it into “bins” in varying levels of priority: SMELLY BROCCOLI—DISPOSE OF NOW; PRETTY GROSS—CHUCK IT ASAP; STARTING TO SMELL WEIRD; and *SNIFF* EH.

shaking her head side to side, as if she could knock loose the unhelpful thought patterns her mother had kick-started in her brain.

It would be one thing if she could dismiss the words outright, but her mother wasn’t totally wrong . . .

“Just because your parents don’t appreciate what you do doesn’t mean it holds less value. You’re trying to be true to yourself, and not to hurt anyone in the process. What more can you ask of yourself?”

“I know that feeling,” he said. “Everyone acts like you’re just supposed to find what you love right away, and if you don’t, just do something you don’t love. And if you do neither of those things you’re being selfish.”

And when all Portia wanted to do was make people happy, every insinuation otherwise was a reminder that no one, not even her family, could see through the veneer of hot mess to the real her.

People focused so much on the prince slipping on Cinderella’s lost shoe that they didn’t realize the real happily ever after was the moment she realized she was brave enough to go to the damned ball alone in the first place.

That was the thing with creating something; you put some bit of yourself into it, if you did it well, but fuck if you could control what bit of yourself that was.

“Aye. Just a warning, love—the non-fic dukes are not nearly as fun.”

Portia hadn’t been aware that cream could be spread in a threatening manner, but it most definitely could.

“But when you talk about fake personas and silly rituals, remember that some of us can’t opt out of that stuff. Before I even open my mouth, I’m judged based on whether I’m perceived to be pretty enough or wearing the right thing—not too revealing, not too frumpy, not too cheap looking, not too fancy. When I do talk, it’s whether I’m articulate enough. So while you’re rightfully annoyed by this, just remember that at least half of the population has to adopt these fake personas and silly rituals just to get through the day.”

Seeing an enemy at the gate, an enemy who could rip you to shreds, and then taking that deep breath, lowering the drawbridge, and inviting them in. You’d been defending your castle for years. Lowering the bridge must have been so hard.”