Going Royal 01 - Some Like It Royal (16 page)

Daniel had pursued her to become a princess and she’d become one. The media noticed, his friends noticed and her long-distance-don’t-really-know-them family noticed.

From their first kiss to the first time they’d made love—it had been all about being a princess, a princess in love. They’d put on a grand show.

Too grand.

She swiped at her tears angrily. Somehow she’d fallen for the dream, the ideal they were constructing. She’d started to believe in the charade.

She knew better.

“I knew not to do this. It’s why I said no sex to begin with.” The anger pouring out was all directed to herself. Daniel falling for her as a princess wasn’t his fault. She let him play the game—reveled in the seduction. “Idiot.”

Pushing off the bed, she refused to look at the rumpled sheets. She was dressed in ten minutes and tying on her tennis shoes. The shower continued to run, so she picked up the phone and called the front desk to order a car. The drive to Los Angeles would take a couple of hours, but if he was to seal the deal, he needed the Princess Alyxandretta on his arms, not the thoroughly disheveled lover with nothing but shorts, T-shirts and jeans at her disposal. The desk promised to send a car for him.

His keys sat on the desk. She found a pen and took the coward’s way out—she wrote Daniel a note.

The grand duke is in Los Angeles.
Martin called.
Your deal is on.
We have to be there.
Taking the car.
I
need to get ready and will meet you at the
“
ball.
”
Called for a car to drive you back—lots to do so I won’t disappoint you.

Adding the location and the time of the event she sniffled and signed it with just an
A
. She set the note on the pillow and circled the bed to grab her bear.

There was nothing else for her in the cabin—just a dream that she’d let herself believe in for five minutes.

If only she could learn her lesson. At the door, she hesitated again. It wouldn’t take her long to tell him the message in person, but the water continued to run and his keys were heavy in her hand.

She needed to get the hell out while she still remembered who she was.

No, he’d hired her to be a princess and to help him enter the European market. It was time to live up to her end of the bargain without any strings or emotional attachments. She buried her pain under a veil of practicality. She’d managed for years without anything—or anyone—of her own.

She could do it again.

But once she was in the car and headed toward Los Angeles, all she could think about was Daniel. Daniel at his desk. Daniel in their—his bed. Holding her. Smiling at her. Teasing her.

Alone, she could cry.

Even princesses can be fools.

Chapter Nineteen

“Your Highness.” Victor frowned as he eyed her red-splotched face. “You cannot continue to tell me nothing is wrong.”

“It’s really not important, Victor, and I would prefer it if you could just call me Alyx from now on. You did your job, I’m Her Highness in the papers, and Princess or Grand Duchess or whatever it is they want to call me.” She smoothed down the black dress. She’d considered the red or the blue, but elected for the simple spaghetti-strapped black velvet sheath that fell to her ankles. The split on the right leg was perfectly respectable, stopping just above the knee. In the black Manolo Blahniks, she would present a classic appearance.

She’d called Victor to meet her at the dress shop after she took the time to get her hair done. All that was left were her cosmetics and she still had an hour before she was due at the grand duke’s hotel.

Victor snapped his fingers and the two women who’d been assisting him stepped out of the room. Closing the door, he leaned back against it and folded his arms. “No, it is important. You’ve been crying on and off for hours. Your eyes are puffy, your nose is red and your voice is thick with the clog of tears. I cannot help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

As if to illustrate his point, she grabbed some tissue and turned away to blow her nose. “There’s nothing you can do, except maybe help me fix this bride-of-Frankenstein face.”

“Princess.” It must have been her imagination, but the cool brisk tones of her acting coach softened with gentle sympathy. The tears leaked out all over again.

“Don’t do that.” She sniffled.

“Do what?” He looked genuinely baffled.

“Be nice. Don’t be nice.” She pressed the tissue to her nose and turned around to face him. “Tell me to put my chin up and my shoulders back. Remind me that posture is important and that my tone of voice should always indicate interest no matter how dreadful the conversation. When I am outside this room, I am always on display and no one is to be trusted, not even my closest advisors, because royal stories sell whether I’m a real royal or not.”

A brief smile touched his lips. “Why should I have to remind you, Princess? The student has become the master. It has shown in every image taken of you. You walk with grace, you speak with poise and now, amidst all these dreadful tears, you stand as if you should be noticed.”

A watery laugh bubbled up. “That’s not helping either.” She dabbed at her eyes and fanned her face. She was so hot. Her cheeks blazed with it and her eyes burned. She was a dreadful crier and her red nose felt twice its normal size.

“Talk to me about it. Let out what is eating your soul apart inside. Perhaps it is not as bad as you think it is.” The cool, practical teacher was back, but the empathy in his eyes begged her to tell him everything.

“I shouldn’t gossip with the staff.” She sniffled and then chuckled.

“True. For the next—” he glanced at his watch, “—twenty minutes, I quit. I am no longer in your employ. I am merely a man who once taught you and would very much like to be your friend.”

“Really?” Did he mean it or was this just another acting lesson?

“Absolutely. So tell me,
Alyx
—” he emphasized her name, “—what’s wrong?”

Blowing out a breath, she dabbed at her eyes again. “The grand duke sent me a necklace with my family crest on it. He sent it via an old friend of his—I’m assuming that has some meaning, because you know, you don’t ask you friends to look up pretenders to the family and deliver a royal crest on an exquisite piece of jewelry.”

“No, that definitely has meaning.” Victor checked the door lock, then walked across the room to run a washcloth under cold water.

“So that kind of has me nervous about actually meeting him tonight. Mr. Prentiss said that I was the spitting image of my great-grandmother. It’s why the grand duke accepted me as a family member without meeting me.” She glanced down at the necklace nestled in the black velvet box on the vanity of the dressing room they’d taken over.

Victor crossed back over to her and plucked the tissue from her hands and replaced it with the cold cloth. One hand on her shoulder, he guided her over to the settee and nodded to it. “Sit—put that over your eyes and let’s see if we can get the swelling out.”

“My dress,” she protested. Yet another lesson he’d hammered home. When dressed for the evening, avoid sitting as much as possible to minimize the lines and wrinkles marring the outfit.

“We can take care of it. Sit.” He glared at her until she did as he ordered and pressed the cold cloth to her overheated eyes. She wanted to weep with relief. He arranged a pillow so she put her head all the way back, then moved away. The water turned on again. “Continue.”

“Why do you think there’s more?” She didn’t want to confess everything. Feeling a fool was one thing, admitting it something other. After all, she’d been born in the real world where there were real consequences for stupid actions.

“Because the grand duke’s gesture of friendship and family is hardly worth crying yourself sick, no matter how shocking you may find it. Foster care taught you to retreat from close ties. I understand that and eventually, the grand duke will as well, but this is a reason to celebrate. Perhaps weep a little for the previously lost chances, but not sob as though your heart is broken.”

She peeled the washcloth away from her eyes to peer at him. Victor returned with a fresh cold cloth and traded them out.

“So tell me. Why are you crying, Princess?”

“I fell in love with him. He’s wonderful. He’s funny. He’s kind. He’s generous.” The words spilled out in a rush and Victor wavered beyond the sheen of tears in her eyes. “I wasn’t supposed to love him. I wasn’t supposed to believe we could have something. It was all a masquerade, a charade to get his business deal.” Saying it out loud made her feel foolish. “He never lied to me, Victor. He never told me that he wanted a real affair. He was plain as day when he propositioned me and I understood the terms of the contract. I said no sex and then I had sex with him.”

“I see.” Victor cleared his throat.

She laughed, a wheezing noise, and lifted her hand, palm up. “A lot of sex, and I knew—from that very first kiss this was a bad idea—”

“Why?” he interrupted. “Why is it a bad idea?”

Pulling the cloth away, she stared at him. “He kissed me because you told him to.”

“No.” Victor shook his head slowly. “He kissed you because he wanted to. He protected you because he wanted to do that as well. I just gave him the excuse he was looking for.”

“You can’t know that.” She frowned.

But what if he was right?

What if Daniel
had
wanted to kiss her? At Napa, they’d been alone in their bedroom and again in the limousine. They’d escaped into Big Bear alone.

Of course, by then they were already kissing and he was a man. Men had needs. God knew, she’d had them after those soul-scorching kisses.
Never mistake sex for love.
She had no idea which of her foster mothers told her that, but it was right about the time she’d reached sixteen and asked to go on the pill.

“Of course I can.” Victor pushed the cloth back to her eyes. “Keep that on there. Your eyes are already looking better and we want all that puffiness gone.”

“How can you know?”

“The same way I knew you really were a princess the first time I saw you. You possess an elegance and regal bearing that can’t be taught. You needed some guidance and to believe in yourself and yes, the protocol lessons.” He tweaked her pride, but the humor in his voice gentled any possible insult. “But all I did was polish what existed, brought out the diamond and made it shine.”

“And you think Daniel wanted to kiss me?” She crossed mental fingers because she wanted so much for that to be true.

“Absolutely. From the first moment I met you, he hovered there, protective, but not intrusive. He took to touching you far easier than you did to being touched. He followed you with his eyes and enjoyed the kissing lessons. As, I am fairly certain, you did too. When you became lovers, I’m certain that was a choice on both your parts and it had nothing to do with the business deal. No matter what you might tell yourself, the two of you make a delicious couple and it was visible to all who watched you.”

“Do you really think so?” She wasn’t fishing for compliments or pushing further, she just couldn’t escape the horrible certainty that she’d mucked everything up. What she wasn’t so certain about was which worse—the fact that they took their affair to intimate heart or that she’d fled the cabin rather than confront him.

“Well, if you want to finish what you started, Princess, take the negotiation to him publicly, then court him with a battle—if it is about you. He will fight for you. If it’s just about the deal, he will avoid the scandal.”

“What do you mean? Tell the world about the contract?” She wiped at her eyes.

“No, repudiate him. If you break up with him in public, make it a real fight—he’ll either fight for you because
you
are who he wants or retreat to avoid that scandal that might hurt his business...”

“I can’t do that.” She shook her head. She could never put Daniel on the spot like that. Not after everything else. Real affair or not, he’d been so damn kind to her. Maybe too kind, but she liked to think they were friends, and she didn’t screw over her friends.

“Then you put on your prettiest face, you stand up there and meet your family and you remember—Daniel Voldakov or not, you are the Grand Duchess Alyxandretta and you have a family and a position and friends all your own that have nothing to do with any deal.” He squeezed her shoulder. “Remember, Princess, in fairy tales, the darkest moments come before the prince can rescue the princess.”

The pain in her chest receded and she sat up slowly, giving him a wry smile. “But what if I turned my prince into a toad because I didn’t think about what I was doing?”

“Then you must choose to risk your heart and decide what it is you want and then fight for it.” He offered her a hand and she took it. “And that, my darling princess, is the end of our friendship time. We must usher you along if you are to be presentable this evening.”

The smile that curved her lips this time felt genuine and lacked any waterworks. “Thank you, Victor.”

He bowed, stern eyes relaxing with a hint of a twinkle. “It is my honor, Princess.”

After that, he let the cosmetics and hair women back in. They made no exclamations over the wreck of her complexion or the muss of her hair, but bustled about getting her ready. She concentrated on breathing, staring at the necklace with the royal crest waiting for her to don it when the ladies were done.

She made acquaintances, but not friends. She committed to short-term projects and she always left before they could ask her to go. Rhonda called her adventurous—but it wasn’t adventure, it was running away.

She never called her college roommate.

Or her foster mothers.

She’d focused on forgetting her foster siblings, particularly the younger ones—the hardest ones to say goodbye to.

If she didn’t get close, she couldn’t be hurt.

When Daniel took her to Sacramento, she’d stared at that strip mall where her house used to be and felt the devastating loss of that night sixteen years before. It was a lot like losing her parents all over again.

Only she didn’t go home with a stranger.

She went home with Daniel. And no matter how much she rejected him, he didn’t walk away from her. He gave her space, but he didn’t abandon her. He fought with her, he challenged her and he backed her up against Victor.

And then he’d kissed her, held her, made her laugh until her sides hurt. He played with her and he talked to her.

He
played
with her.

Her stomach rippled.

“Victor?” She glanced up at the mirror, wildly aware of the women working on her face and her hair. He looked over at her, cell phone in his hand.

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“How do most fairy tales end?”

“It depends. Do you prefer the traditional tales or the Americanized version?”

She grinned. “I’m definitely an All-American kind of girl.”

“Then happily. We have a plan?”

“Yes.” She nodded slowly. “Yes, we do.”