Courted: Gowns & Crowns, Book 1 (8 page)

“America!” Emmaline blinked, her voice swinging back toward disbelief. And maybe a little bit of shock. “You’ve got to be joking. I understand it here in Garronia—I mean, he’s the prince—you’re the prince.” She turned to Kristos, as if he had any doubt about whom she was talking. “But surely this isn’t an actual story-story. It can’t be.”

Cyril’s lips thinned. “England’s young Prince Harry getting drunk at a bar was a story-story that lasted in the international media for five days, Miss Andrews. Here we have a crown prince about to take on his royal duties as monarch-in-training, and one of those duties is managing generations’ worth of traditions among a people known for their long memories.” Cyril stopped short of betraying the worst of those traditions, thank God, but the old man’s wry expression told Kristos that he knew he was doing him a favor. “Don’t think your father didn’t try the same thing.” He nodded curtly to the Americans again, but his gaze never left Kristos. “Miss Andrews has advised us that she and her friends will be departing our shores tomorrow afternoon.”

“So soon?” The urgency in Kristos’s voice rang loud even in his own ears. Still, he could be excused for being desperate. He needed Emmaline
here
if she was going to appear to be a legitimate potential bride-to-be. She couldn’t flee the country. Not yet, anyway. “Surely we could convince you to stay longer.”

As Emmaline blushed, Cyril continued, his voice now a shade more exasperated. “For the duration of your stay, Miss Andrews and Miss Simmons—and perhaps for the duration of your travels until you return to America, we would like to offer the protection of the GNSF—Garronia’s National Security Force. To ensure your safety.”

“A security force!” Emmaline exclaimed, and even the more jaded Francesca’s eyes went wide. “Surely that’s not necessary.”

Cyril’s face was grim, but he didn’t say anything for a long moment, and, like a smack to his forehead, Kristos suddenly realized the full impact of his rash actions both at the beach and now, in the Visitors’ Palace. In his simple enjoyment of having Emmaline in his arms—and, far worse, his
continued
interaction with her in the grand ballroom—he’d effectively painted a target on the woman’s back. Now she would be pointed at, harassed, photographed, and even stalked because of him.

Cyril’s offer of the GNSF seemed to be simply a gesture of royal
politesse
, but the fact that he thought such measures were remotely necessary drove Kristos’s guilt further home. He should man up and face his responsibilities, dammit, even though the prospect of having Emmaline for a little longer was so tantalizing, it was all he could do not to reach out and grasp it with both hands.

Only to stave off the future, of course. Not for anything more than that.

But still…

“I’m so sorry, Prince Kristos.” Emmaline’s confused gaze met his. “I should never have kissed you on the beach—and certainly not here. It was irresponsible of me. But we can make it right.”

Cyril snorted, but Emmaline was already shaking her head. “No. No, this is silly. We can leave now, before anyone realizes I’m gone. You can make a statement that we’re old friends, that we met in college study abroad, whatever. We’ll slip away as quietly as we can, and you won’t see us again.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“No,” Emmaline said again, her voice firm. “If I stay, it will ruin everything, and I…I would hate that.” She turned and focused on Cyril again as Kristos stared at her.
Ruin everything? What is she talking about?

But Emmaline had clearly made up her mind, and now faced Cyril directly. “Tell me what we need to do.”

Cyril’s words were direct and to the point, but Kristos found his own gaze turning to the TV again. Every channel now had something on the “American princess-to-be” sighting, and a few had devolved into generic video taken of him while in GNSF uniform, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but in front of the camera. Talking heads were already speculating about how long his relationship with “the unknown woman” had lasted and what would happen next.

Another wave of guilt rolled over him. Emmaline and her friends were now in danger because of him.
What had he been thinking?

“Double the security team,” he said, his hard voice overriding Cyril’s. He glanced at Emmaline, then waved to one of his men. “Phone.” The man gave him his cell phone without hesitation, and Kristos swiped it on, scrolling to the contacts. He pressed a button, and an instant later, his own phone sounded in his pocket. Cutting off the call, he handed the device to Emmaline. “Take this. Call me the moment you get safely into your room, and we’ll make arrangements for your transport to wherever you’re headed next. I’ve put you in danger, and I apologize for that.”

She was shaking her head, but he could see the beginning edge of distress settle over her as her gaze strayed again to the bank of TVs. He turned her toward his security detail, worry already knotting his gut.

“Just go,” he said.

Chapter 5

“You’re tougher than you look, babe.”

“Like that would take much.” Em grimaced as she and Frannie made their way back through the streets of Garronia’s capital city. With the assistance of the GNS whatever group, they’d received new clothing, including the kingdom’s traditional brightly-colored scarves that effectively covered their hair and draped down over their shoulders.

Told to walk hunched over and quickly once they reached the streets of the city, they’d been taken along a series of passageways that the guards had explained were cut into the very rock of Mount Nazar, where the royal residence was located. They’d ended up about a quarter mile away from the Visitors’ Palace, and once they’d made it into open territory, the guards had fallen back to a respectful distance. Deciding to play it safe, she and Fran had steered well clear of any TV monitors, at least until they’d made it to their hotel.

There, an unusually large number of people—many of them with the kind of real cameras that marked them as professionals—milled around the airy open foyer. Frannie and Em hunched further, muttering into their makeshift disguises. They’d worked out what they would say if they were caught, but no one so much as looked at them.

Em felt like she was walking through some kind of dream landscape. They were actually doing it—evading the paparazzi, paparazzi who were all here in this hotel because they wanted
her
picture. It was almost exciting if she ignored the roiling nausea in her gut.

Fran squeezed her arm. “Hang in there, girlfriend. This honestly is going to be the best vacation story ever. Focus on that.” A cry went up outside of the hotel’s front entryway as they reached their elevator bank, and Em glanced that way, noting that the gawkers had caught sight of one of the guards.

They’d discussed this in advance too, that having the guards enter the hotel would be a clear indication that Emmaline was on-site, so it was better to create a distraction outside, so she and Fran could more quickly return to their rooms. After all, they weren’t
officially
in any danger, just unduly popular for the moment.

Worked for her. In front of them, the elevator door swished open, and she bolted for it.

“Hold the doors, please?”

Frannie’s startled laugh turned into a cough, and Em didn’t trust herself to speak, so they both crowded into the elevator, practically shrinking into themselves to keep quiet as Nicki and Lauren breezed into the elevator car. The door slid shut, and Frannie straightened first.

“About time you guys got here.” As Nicki and Lauren jerked back in surprise, she pulled off her scarf then shook it out like a pillowcase.

Nicki recovered first, her eyes bottle-cap round. “Oh God!
That’s
what you bought shopping? You were supposed to make her look hot, Fran, not like some sort of Greek grandma.”

Em pulled her own scarf off as Frannie kept talking. “Did you not have your phones? Because we totally just caused an international incident.”

Em winced. “Really, Fran?”

“What are you talking about?” Lauren’s brows shot up. “You were photographed? Today at the beach? I thought something like that might happen, but then when no one said anything, I figured you made it out of there without being noticed. Then my phone ran out of juice.”

“I shut mine off because I didn’t think roaming charges in the middle of the mountains would be such a hot idea,” Nicki put in. “And, oh my God, you would not believe how much fun we had!”

“Seriously, what happened?” Lauren’s words carried over Nicki’s as they exited the elevator and turned left toward the room. “And I want
every single minute
from the moment you arrived at the palace, which I know Em has memorized. But I also know Fran will add the juicy details that Em didn’t notice. So Fran wins.”

Em’s laugh bubbled up in her throat as Frannie started talking. She felt like hugging her friends, despite all the craziness. Without them, she wouldn’t be in this paradise. Without them, she wouldn’t be soaking in this sunlight, roaming these streets—

Kissing a prince.

Now that they were safely out of range of the paparazzi, she allowed herself to relax. Not bothering to try to wipe the silly grin off her face, she pulled out her key card first, the others standing back because she was
always
the one to have the key card ready, just as she was always the one with the lists, the printed research pages, the multiple copies of directions. After only a couple of days, they’d developed a pattern in hotels, restaurants, even taxi stands. A pattern that was eerily similar to how they’d interacted as college friends, and yet different. Richer.

Wanting to gather all her memories close to her heart, Em heard the locks give way and pushed inside—then stopped short, Nicki almost running her over.

“What in the
hell
?” Lauren herded them all into the room, closing the door quickly behind her.

“What the fuck happened in here?” Nicki pushed past Em, picking up speed.

Em could only stare, all the tension returning to her body, just that quickly. The room was in total disarray—suitcases pulled out and unzipped, papers spilled out over the ornate coffee table that was the centerpiece of the tiny suite, everything upended.

“Who’s in here?” Nicki yelled, bounding through their small suite to one of the bedrooms. “I will kick your sorry ass is what I’ll do!”

“Check the safe,” Lauren ordered, but Em was already on it. She and Frannie rushed into the second bedroom, and Frannie went on to the bathroom, calling the all clear to echo Nicki’s shout. But Em didn’t have to crouch down at the foot of the bed to know something was terribly wrong.

“Empty.” She reached inside the safe to swipe her hands in the empty space. “Passports all gone. Everything’s gone.” She rocked back on her heels
.

She needed to call Kristos. She knew she needed to call Kristos. But right now, she couldn’t resist a completely irrational spurt of anger at the man. They had been simply Americans enjoying a beautiful day at the beach before he’d run into her. Since then, they’d become some sort of weird media sideshow that was turning seriously scary. “There’s nothing left in here.” She searched all around the safe, picking up the clothes that had been pulled from the hangers and tossing them on the bed. “Nothing in the safe, I mean. I think the only thing we had in there was our passports, though.”

“Money?” Lauren asked sharply.

“Carrying it,” came a chorus of responses, which meant they all had their driver’s licenses too—not that those would do them any good.

“Good. That’s a start.” Lauren looked around, as if this wasn’t the first time she’d returned to find her hotel room ransacked. Somehow, that made Em feel even worse. Why had she let herself kiss Kristos at the beach? And why in God’s name had she gone back for
more
? “We’re going to have to call the embassy in Greece. Garronia isn’t big enough to justify having one here. For fuck’s sake. Our passports.” Lauren kept muttering as she strode over to the phone. She picked up the receiver and punched the button for the front desk, but Em’s attention was on Fran.

Frannie looked as shocked as she felt.
This is all my fault.

She didn’t realize she’d said it out loud until Fran’s gaze snapped to meet hers.

“It most certainly is not your fault,” she retorted. “You didn’t ask to get rescued by the freaking King of Siam. You went for a
swim
. The rest is on him, and believe me,” she said resolutely, moving over to sift through her dresser drawers, “that boy is going to pay.”

“You’ve got that right.” Nicki strode back into the suite, her scowl deepening. “Rifled every single bit of our clothes in there—bathing suits, underwear, you name it. We’re going to have to wash everything in bleach. Nothing else except our passports seems to be taken, though. Thank God Lauren warned us about not bringing jewelry.”

“They weren’t after money,” Frannie confirmed, hefting an ornately beaded bag and waving it at them. “There’s still five hundred dollars left in here—and it was sitting out. Just our passports. They didn’t even try to make it look like a normal theft.”

“But why? To steal our credit information?” Nicki scowled. “Seems like an awful lot of hassle to go through to cap some random Americans.”

“Except we’re not random Americans, not anymore.” Em wrapped her arms tightly around her waist. Her eyes went to the television screen, but she couldn’t bring herself to turn it on. Instead, she pulled out her phone, stiffening her resolve to make the call. “We’re the evening news.”

Her phone rang in her hand, surprising her so much, she dropped it.

“What the hell!” Nicki growled. Lauren turned around at the unexpected ringtone and spied the device, narrowing her eyes as Em snatched it back up. Em swiped on the phone and held it to her ear.

“Hello?” she managed.

“Oh, good.” Kristos’s rich voice sounded even more foreign over the phone, and the lurch of her heart warred with the anxiety spinning through her stomach. “You hadn’t called, and the men—”