The King Takes A Bride (Royals Book 4) by Danielle Bourdon

newspapers on the bed, all with a different variation of the same message. Snarling, he thrust a hand through his hair and paced in clear agitation.
    Chey rifled through the other papers, not bothering to read the details of the articles. She already knew what it said. Or what the basic premise was.
    “What are you going to do?” she asked, looking up from the pile to Sander.
    “I'm going to have to do damage control, that's what. I've arranged for some time on camera to explain it away. Mattias and Gunnar will be there to back me.” He all but growled the words.
    Chey got out of bed and reached for the robe she habitually laid over the back of a nearby chair. Drawing it on to keep out the chill pervading the chamber, she moved closer to Sander.
    “What will you say?”
    “That this was a suggestion by Paavo, that's what, and that the other brothers and I don't support or agree with it. I'm going to force Paavo to shoulder the blame since he put us in such a precarious position.” Already dressed in a suit that made him look austere and professional, Sander stopped by a chest of drawers to add cuff links and a tie clip. After, he scraped his hair back into a neat, low tail.
    “Do you think it will change anything right away? With the people, or the guests attending the wedding?” Chey couldn't wrap her mind around what might or might not happen. She needed coffee, stat.
    “I'm sure the entire country will be abuzz with rumors and gossip. The only thing I can do now is play it down, like it's not a big deal. Paavo's lucky I don't shred him on live television. As for the guests, they'll still come. They'll just be a lot more curious and questioning than before.” He faced her once he was more put together.
    Chey stopped a few feet away, hugging her arms around her middle. Today she felt the pregnancy more than at any other time thus far. She knew without checking that her waist had thickened just a little more. Still imperceptible in clothes, much to her relief.
    “Maybe this will be the end of it, then. You can put rumors to rest and people will eventually forget about it.” Chey suffused her comment with all the confidence she could muster.
    Sander met her eyes. His glittered with irritation at Paavo's unexpected move and doubt over her remark. “Only if the universe shifts and things start actually working in our favor for once,” he said with cryptic cynicism.
    “It will.” Chey stepped closer and rested a hand on his biceps. “I'll go get a shower so I can be there when you talk to the press.”
    “Meet me downstairs, hm? I need to go have a quick meeting with the council members and make sure Mattias, Gunnar and I are on the same page.” He bent to press a quick kiss on her cheek.
    “I'll be there shortly.” Chey watched Sander depart. The line of his shoulders was strict and unforgiving, his posture rigid with anger.
    She couldn't blame him.
    Twenty minutes later, attired in a concealing pant suit the color of wine, hair and make up done, she exited the chamber. Even before she hit the main floor, Chey detected a low buzz of gossip running through the staff and some of the guards. She relied on neutrality to keep the questions at bay. Chey needn't have worried; no one asked. The staff might have concerns of their own, but they kept it between themselves.
    On her way to the media room, Hanna waylaid her with quick questions about the reception. Did she want the linen napkins to match the table cloth or another color in the flowers? Who did Chey want to partner with for the father-daughter dance? Was she going to do her 'intimate' interview with the press discussing her background and future today or tomorrow in light of current events?
    Cautioning herself against irritation at the endless list of things, Chey paused in the long hall to figure out answers. She didn't know who was going to partner with her for the father-daughter dance. Her father was dead. Perhaps it was best, she suggested, if they