Casey Anderson isn't expecting much from her Mark - but when her soulmate turns out to be Prince August, the boy next in line for the throne, everything changes.
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In a world much like our own, Casey Anderson is trying to navigate her senior...
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I've barely had any time to process our phone call when my father comes - practically storming - into my room.
Leah's got her hand on my arm, the two of us huddled around my phone. We literally couldn't look more like we were up to something if we tried.
My father strides over, takes my phone from my hand, and turns to Leah. "Get out," he hisses. Leah just gives him a look, arms crossed.
"She can stay," I say, then immediately wither under the force of his glare. "I mean - I tell her everything, so..."
"Go to your room, Leah. I am not asking."
Leah takes a moment to stare him down, before sending me a reassuring smile and leaving, footsteps audible long down the hallway.
"What were you thinking," my father says, so angry he's nearly spitting. "Not just contacting her, but trying to hide her from us? We'd agreed to find her, to acknowledge her! You could have ruined everything with your recklessness."
"I just wanted some time," I try, but father's having none of it.
"I don't care," he says. "No - listen. Imagine she goes to the press. It would be a shitstorm, August. Do you understand that?"
I'm a little taken aback. My father hardly ever swears - it's a true sign of how upset he is.
"She wouldn't," I say. "She wouldn't do that."
"You don't know that," he growls out. "August, you don't know her. I don't care that she's your soulmate. You've had one phone call - "
"Did you track my phone?" I interject.
He just shoots me a look of loathing. "You are a teenage boy, August, not a spy. It wasn't that hard to figure out what you would do, given her phone number."
"I don't regret it," I say, and that seems to stop him short.
He sits down on the edge of my bed, rubs a hand over his face. "I know you don't," he says. "That's the problem, August."
I don't say anything. I don't know what to say.
I don't know how to make him hear me.
"You won't contact her again, do you hear me?" he asks. "Not without our permission."
I nod, eyes cast downward. I don't really have another choice - I have to go along with what they want, if I want them to accept her at all.
I have no power in this situation, and he knows that.
"Good," he says, standing up and smoothing the fabric of his pants. "I expect you at dinner."
"Yes, sir," I say dully, not looking up until my father leaves.
