CHAPTER FOUR
Please don’t fit. Please don’t fit. Please don’t fit.
The mantra had been running through Izzy’s mind for the past thirty minutes, ever since driving home with Boyd and Jovan to retrieve the box from her RV. Now she sat in Rowdy’s office with the wooden box on her lap, waiting for the others to join her.
That still doesn’t explain why you would give me the box.
Because I am your husband.
Her husband.
Izzy’s vision blurred. She felt light-headed.
She clutched the box with its mother-of-pearl inlaid design. She didn’t want to drop it on the tile floor. All these years, she’d carted the box around, carefully, but not overly so. The value had been sentimental, not monetary.
Now...
Izzy Poussard, a princess and a crown prince’s wife?
No way.
Okay, some women—maybe many w
