Going Royal 01 - Some Like It Royal (4 page)

Seven days from first meeting to signed contract. It beat every other business deal, hands down.

Hopefully it would be all the more successful.

Chapter Five

Waking in the kingsize bed didn’t get any easier. Four days and nights spent in Daniel’s sprawling estate, occupying a bedroom easily twice the size of Rhonda’s entire apartment, and she still jerked awake. She slept on the far right of the bed, closer to the door than the twelve feet of ceiling-to-floor windows looking out over the garden below. A six-foot dresser and nightstand lined the brick wall next to the bed and a desk and sofa sat along the opposite wall.

Sitting and pulling her knees to her chest, she rubbed the sleep from her face.

The weirdest part of the room, however, was the spiral staircase that extended upward to the deck on this side of the house. The patio or salon was for her exclusive use. Daniel promised that although his bedroom next door shared similar access to it, he would cede the area to her for privacy.

What the hell was I thinking?
She stared around the room, always a little lost for what to do when she woke in the palatial suite.

A knock on the door sent her scrambling off the bed and she pulled the comforter to her chest. “Come in.”

Daniel stepped inside, carrying a tray with coffee and croissants. The man delivered it every morning, like clockwork. “Good morning.” He always looked so put together and delicious, from the open collar of his button-down shirt to his pressed slacks and casual loafers. Even his hair didn’t have the decency to be tousled.

She caught sight of herself in the mirror and immediately wished she hadn’t. Her hair’s natural curl took over when she slept—like Gremlins fed water after midnight—and turned spiky and stuck straight toward the ceiling.

“Morning,” she mumbled, glad this was a job and not an actual date.

The first morning he brought coffee, she hadn’t been able to muster a greeting. He’d strolled into the room with a knock, set the coffee on the nightstand and gave her that heart-stopping grin before sailing out again. The second morning, he’d brought the coffee and spent a minute waiting for her to get out of bed and accept it.

Yesterday, he’d joined her for coffee.

It wasn’t that he was bad company. Far from it, actually. She just wasn’t used to someone being cheerful in the a.m. She could care for a little less morning time, perhaps postponing it until after twelve.

He handed her the cup with a bemused look. “Maybe you should go to bed earlier.”

Alyx was almost too tired to glare, but she tried, delivering it over the rim of the coffee cup. “I was only up late because you wanted me to memorize the family tree and then we had to watch those two documentaries about the Czar’s descendants.”

She would never admit to a certain amount of fascination, particularly on the pieces that referenced her grandfather. Nor would she engage him in another debate about whether the man her father called dad and the grand duchess’s grandson were one and the same.

Daniel remained convinced—she had her doubts.

Better to let that argument lie.

“Okay. Well, drink your coffee and then take a shower and drink more coffee. Victor will be here this afternoon to have lunch with us and do the initial assessment of our coupledom.”

Alyx sighed.
There ain’t no such thing as a free lunch.
Time to earn my paycheck
.

She walked away from him, coffee cup in hand, to look out the window. The garden formed a geometric pattern of colors. Landscaped around a koi pond, roses flourished, daisies occupied a section and row upon row of morning glories and impatiens formed the colorful border. The whole of it was surrounded by a white stone wall that matched the white stone brick of the house and profusions of white jasmine spilling down its sides.

But the best part was also the most solitary. A white-roofed gazebo set off in the corner offered sanctuary with a splash of vivid color with its blue-painted wood. A table and chairs sat beneath on the pavestones that made up its floor, but it remained lonely with no flowers or growth attached to it.

Maybe that was why she liked it.

“Alyx?”

“Do you ever go out there?” She glanced over her shoulder. Daniel studied something on his digital tablet.

“Where?”

“Out there, in the garden.” She jerked a thumb toward the window. “Do you ever go out there?”

Daniel crossed the room and glanced outside, distraction evident in every gesture. “Not often. We held a launch party for some investors there last year. By the way, Victor wants us to make a list of what we’d find the most uncomfortable to do. I started one, I thought we could go over it at breakfast and put our thoughts together.”

“Not using an exquisite place like that makes me uncomfortable,” she murmured, looking back at the garden. Maybe she could get out there and walk around before their “instructor” arrived.

“What?”

She gave him a half smile. “Nothing. I’ll be down for breakfast in a few minutes.” He needed to leave before she could shower.

“Okay.” He picked up his coffee cup and paused in the open door. “Do you want to sleep in here or my room tonight?”

She choked on the hot brew and coughed violently as it burned her windpipe. Her eyes watered as she met his concerned expression. “Why the hell would I sleep in your room?”

“My staff will be here in the morning. Theresa arrives at 6 a.m. She’ll definitely notice if we’re not sleeping together.” The sanguine delivery did not ease the shock of his statement.

“We have a no-sex clause. Are you forgetting that?”

Amusement settled across his face and he leaned on the doorjamb. “Hence the use of the word ‘sleep.’ The beds are more than large enough for us to share and not touch. But she’ll notice and remember. You agreed to perform twenty-four, seven. Theresa only comes on Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Fridays. I gave her a couple of days off to get you settled, but she’s here tomorrow. Those nights, we have to sleep together. The rest of the week you can sleep in here.”

He was serious.

“Why can’t we just get up and slip into the other room via the deck upstairs?” It seemed a little clandestine to plot “waking up” together, but that would be preferable to actually sharing a bed.

“She’s going to come in and clean your room. It’s part of her job. She’ll notice the bed’s been slept in. Don’t worry, Alyx.” The slow grin spreading across his lips had a decidedly unsettling effect on her equilibrium. “I won’t bite. See you downstairs in ten. We have a lot to do.”

“Thirty,” she called after him belatedly, but the door already shut. She stared at her rumpled bed. She could sleep in the car on those nights or...

Her shoulders relaxed. Okay, she could sleep on the floor in his room or the sofa. If his room was anything like hers, it would have plenty of space. Her heart knocked against her ribs and she drained the coffee. If he kept dropping these surprises on her, she would need to add some vodka to the coffee to keep up.

Shower first.

Round two would arrive as soon as she went downstairs.

* * *

Daniel checked his list for the third time and glanced at his watch. She’d lingered in the shower far past the ten minutes he’d instructed. On the one hand, he liked that she enjoyed the house, more because she didn’t have to sleep in her car. On the other, he had two back-to-back phone meetings to dial into and he wanted to go over the list before they started.

Breakfast on Theresa’s off days was fruit, fresh croissants delivered from a local bakery and coffee. He drank his third cup and switched the tablet’s screen over to his schedule. He would have to talk to Lucy about rearranging the next few days. The Tokyo meetings couldn’t be put off, but most of those were scheduled for three and four in the morning.

The squeak of tennis shoes sliding on tile floor announced the arrival of the prospective princess. “Remember to skip the hop down the stairs tomorrow morning.” He didn’t glance up in case she saw amusement in his face. Her first morning, she’d slid down the banister. Straddled it
and
slid down. He’d stood in the shadow of the living room, certain she’d seen him, but when she hesitated and looked around before throwing her leg over and riding the rail down, he’d realized she hadn’t.

For just a moment, her expression had turned radiant and open. He saw the laughter in her smile and pure joy in the sparkle of her eyes. It took his breath away. He should have chastised her, but he didn’t want to erase that whimsical moment.

Not for anything.

“I know.” She drew out the words dramatically and tiptoed over to the table. “I will be light as a feather. You won’t know I’m here.”

“I doubt that.” He always knew when she was in the room, whether she sat and drank her coffee quietly or flipped through the paper with the speed of a child searching for the comics. She filled every room with her sheer presence. Even if his P.I. hadn’t tracked down her birth certificate and traced her parents, he would have known she was something special.

“Don’t worry. I do actually know how to walk. I’m just tired and not particularly looking forward to having my every move watched.” She sat in the chair to his right, one bare leg crossing over the other. Despite two shopping trips, she still wore her own clothes.

“And don’t look at me like that. There’s no staff here and this Victor person knows what we are—I’m not on display.” She munched on a croissant and reached over to snatch the paper, pulling out the trade section.

He put a finger on the corner. “List first. Paper second.”

“Yes, sir. Right away, sir.” She wiped her fingers on a napkin and accepted the digital tablet. He scrolled it back to the list and waited as she read. She pulled one leg onto the chair, her sneakered foot resting on the fabric and her chin on her knee, toes tapping.

She never quite sat still. A multitude of expressions washed over her face as she read. They traveled like lightning, or Santa Ana wind propelled clouds. Curiosity, surprise, irritation, amusement—every new emotion chased away the first. “You’re worried about eating in public with me? Do I chew with my mouth open or something?”

“No.” He nodded to her leg. “But Victor wanted a very specific list of what might make us uncomfortable. You don’t seem to mind how you sit on furniture.”

Her foot hit the floor with a thump and she gave him a long, hard stare. “Would you like me to pretend that we have company now?”

“It wouldn’t hurt.” He found her quirks charming, but they wouldn’t win them points with the press. Not with a long line of royal darlings like the Princesses Grace, Caroline, Diana and Kate. If not for the charade they had to perform, he wouldn’t mind.

Alyx shifted in the seat, her posture straightened and she crossed one leg over the other. Her chin came up, coolness breezed over her eyes and her eyebrow lifted. Despite the tank top, shorts and ponytail, she radiated elegance. “Happy?”

“Incredibly.” He leaned back in the chair and steepled his fingertips together. She took his breath away, fresh scrubbed without any trace of cosmetics. He could stare at her all day just to see the next bluster of emotion blow through, but the clock ticked and they had work to do. The EU contract bids would begin accepting proposals within six months according to all his sources. Once he had a launching pad into that market, he could afford to indulge other whims.

He forced himself to focus and tapped the digital tablet. “What makes you uncomfortable?”

Chapter Six

Victor Russell was not what she expected.

He stood just over six feet in height, and his ice-blue eyes coupled with his stern expression showed little emotion. Steel-gray hair crowned his head and he wore an impeccable suit. He sat in the wing-back chair occupied by Martin during their last meeting. Daniel sat to his left while she, once again, sat alone on the sofa. She leaned forward, hands clasped and elbows on her knees.

For some reason, the flutters in her stomach increased every moment the man remained silent. She knew him by reputation only—star maker, mover and a shaker. He didn’t work on movies, scripts or television. He worked on the actors. He was the premiere acting coach on the West Coast, in high demand on the East, liked to pick and choose his clients, and that exclusive list was not for public consumption, either.

Closing a cover on his digital tablet, the man caught her staring. He lifted his chin and studied her. Sitting up straighter, she pushed her shoulders back. “Mr. Voldakov, what you’re asking for is going to take an inordinate amount of time and attention to detail.” Every clearly enunciated word pronounced judgment. Skepticism ran rampant in his tone. “Miss Dagmar, here, has potential, but this is not just a role she can put on and shed. Nor, for that matter, can you. You will have to inhabit it, live and breathe it, day in and day out.”

“We are aware of that.” Daniel met his steel-laced doubt with a calmness she envied. “We’re also one hundred percent on board. Aren’t we, Alyx?”

“Absolutely.” But her smile faltered as Mr. Russell turned those laser-beam eyes on her.

“Alyx? Not darling or sweetheart? Or some other drippy pet name?” He transferred the hard look back to Daniel. “
You’re
sitting over there.
She’s
on the sofa. She has her hands clasped so hard together her knuckles are white. Yours are gripping the chair and you’ve got a pinched look to your smile. A physical gulf between you is interpreted as emotional distance. If you want to sell this, you have to be comfortable touching and being close.”

Her stomach cramped and she sat straighter as Daniel rose and moved toward the sofa. He sat next to her, the soft fabric of his pants leg brushing against her bare thigh. Her skin crackled like the release of static electricity, but without the pain.

“Better, but Miss Dagmar shifted to the left a little. She didn’t turn to watch you nor did she smile.”

She wanted to embrace this activity—it was a learning experience—but impatience crawled through her at the judgment in his tone. “We’re just getting started on this—”

“No, you’ve been dating for months, secretly indulging in an affair that presumably has left you crazy for each other. You should crave his nearness, enjoy his touch and reciprocate. When he leans in, so should you. When he touches you, you should touch him. Romance is more that soft kisses and headlines. It’s body language. Neither of you have the right body language.” He tapped a finger against the folder.

“Are you interested in this challenge, Mr. Russell?” Daniel traced a finger down her thigh and she didn’t dare move, although just the brush of his knuckles left tingles in its wake. It took every ounce of willpower to not bolt. The “no sex” rule, however, couldn’t apply in public. They had to look like they’d had sex.

Lots of it.

How else would they appear comfortable together?

“I think I would enjoy it. I have the standard nondisclosure agreements for all of us, and your attorney has mine on file. It looks like we’ll be spending a lot of time together, you should clear your schedule, Mr. Voldakov. Miss Dagmar, why don’t you take his hand while we talk? You need to get used to being able to touch each other casually without reacting negatively to the contact.”

The weight of two stares bore down on her. One of her acting classes relied heavily on breathing technique. Controlled respiration allowed an actor to handle uncomfortable moments without looking uncomfortable. Her instructor’d reminded them frequently that roles demanded intimacy, the ability to kiss, touch and sell a relationship that didn’t necessarily exist anywhere but the screen.

I
can do this.
She forced her fingers to unlock from each other and dropped her right hand to cover his. His knuckles rubbed her leg as he turned his hand over, catching her palm to palm. Electricity sizzled through her.

Breathe in through the nose and out through the mouth.

Reciting that mantra over and over, she gave Russell a triumphant look. A smile barely curled his lips.

“Starting today, whenever the two of you are together, you need to be touching. Hand on a shoulder, arms around each other, hand in hand—whatever it takes. Constant contact will increase the natural flow of it.” He flipped the cover of the tablet open. “Let’s say we’ll meet each morning at ten? Review how the two of you are doing. Afternoons, I’ll spend with Miss Dagmar. I’ll bring in a personal shopper and we can expand her wardrobe. We’ll also need a consultation on cosmetics, a jeweler... Do you have a ring for her?”

Daniel released her hand and stood. He produced a slender platinum band with a teardrop-shaped diamond. He reached for her hand and her fingers trembled. He slid it slowly onto the third finger of her left hand. She watched the band glide over her knuckle. A shiver of apprehension zinged through her and she couldn’t help holding her hand up to look at the ring.

Despite everything she’d said about not being interested in the jewelry, possessiveness swarmed up at the solitaire twinkling in the morning light. “It’s beautiful.” The word rode out on a sigh.

“Perfect.” Russell applauded and jolted her back to the sitting room—the acting coach, and the billionaire paying her to be his fiancée.

Her hand dropped back to her leg and Daniel reclaimed the other one, but the warmth flooding through her veins cooled. The diamond was a beautiful prop. An exquisitely beautiful prop and she’d fallen for it. “What’s next?”

* * *

Less than an hour after Russell arrived, Daniel abandoned her to take some phone calls. She watched him leave with more than a little apprehension. Russell’d interrogated them, going over how they met, where their first date had been, correcting them whenever they fumbled or didn’t deliver the line with the right amount of emotion.

“Is he a good lover?” Russell asked, the bald bluntness of the question smashing her distraction.

“I’m sorry?” She glared at him—lesson or not, that was hardly an appropriate question.

“I like it.” He tipped his head critically. “A little too much outrage, because those questions will come up. But the imperious note fits the situation.”

“You really think that someone is going to ask me if Daniel is a good lover?”

Is he?

“Absolutely, someone from the press is bound to ask you inappropriate questions. It’s the nature of the game. Let’s take a break from this, however, and work on your walk.” He rose and she followed him, grateful for the reprieve. He tucked the folder into his briefcase. “I’ll wait while you change.”

“What’s wrong with this?” Granted, her clothing wasn’t elegant, but she needed some modicum of comfort.

“You look like a teenager heading to the Santa Monica pier to cruise for boys, not a princess receiving morning visitors.”

“Okay, I get the touching thing, the sitting up thing, the ring thing. But no one can see us, so why do I need to dress up?”

“Not an unfair question.” He rebuttoned his suit jacket and faced her. “A princess, however, has no off time. She is always to be presented at her absolute best. You must act as though you are always on display, because when word leaks that a very real princess lives here, you will be. The staff will watch you, the press will watch you and Daniel will watch you. That type of scrutiny is a burden and your manners, your appearance and your attitude must all become second nature or you risk slipping at the wrong moment.”

This was the type of method acting she’d craved and Russell made a fair point.

“Okay.” It would take some mental as well as physical adjustment. The agreement was that she live the part, but she’d naturally presumed behind closed doors she would have a break. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Russell continued to watch her, his expression far from unkind. “It’s a difficult role you’ve decided to tackle. One that you are going to have to let consume you...if you want to become the Princess Alyxandretta.”

“I can’t be Alyx anymore?” At all? Weren’t they dressing her up to be herself?

“Likely not. It would be too easy to forget, to get tired, and then you drop the charade.”

She didn’t imagine the sympathy in his voice. Her life didn’t belong to her anymore and wouldn’t for the next few months. She’d voluntarily signed it over to Daniel Voldakov’s crazy plan.
Eye on the prize.
Great acting experience
,
name recognition
,
career gold.

“Okay, I’ll change. Will you meet me in the garden?” She turned, searching the doorways beyond the main hall that connected the living room to the rest of the house. “I think it’s over there.”

“I have some phone calls to make, take your time. A morning suit would be appropriate. A blouse, a jacket, a skirt and low heels. It’s summer, choose something with color—green or peach, perhaps. Both would flatter you.”

She didn’t receive clothing advice from a man twice her age that often. “Okay. Thirty minutes?”

“It would be my honor, Your Imperial Highness.”

Oh, yeah.
That
would take some getting used to. Russell’s smile told her he knew it, which meant he’d likely call her that more often. “Okay, thank you.” Did she curtsy or was that something royalty received and didn’t deliver? Uncertain, she left it alone and escaped up the stairs.

I
wanted to take an immersion class
...

Two hours later, her eagerness faded like a worn out puppy in a play park. She wanted to strangle Russell. Her feet protested the uncomfortable pair of creamy white heels that she rarely wore because they were the only shoes that matched her cream-colored suit. She didn’t have a green one. The pale pink blouse beneath it added a touch of color, but Russell clucked at it when she arrived at the garden. This outfit was more suited to a wedding than a morning walk, which was why she’d purchased it in the first place.

They walked in a slow circuit. The too-casual slow pace made her crazy.

“Your Imperial Highness, fidgeting is a sign of boredom. At no point when you are meeting with others or presenting in public can you allow yourself to look bored. Calm, serene, engaged. These are the three words you want to remember.” He caught everything. If she rolled her eyes, twisted her fingers or, heaven help her, tapped her foot.

“We’ve been at this for hours, Mr. Russell. I need a break.” Her shoulders slumped. Just a few hours into the charade and she wanted out. What the heck did that say about her future career choices?

“Quitting, Your Imperial Highness?” The challenge tweaked her pride.

Her chin came up. “No. But I wish to sit, to eat and to have a respite from the lesson.”

“Very well.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s just now one. Let’s reconvene at two-thirty.”

“You’re not joining us for lunch?” Daniel chose that moment to appear. He caught her left hand and lifted it, brushing one kiss to the finger bearing his ring. The action kick-started her sluggish system.

“Very nicely done, Mr. Voldakov. Her Imperial Highness still needs some work. But I have a rule—I do not sit at a table with clients unless it is part of the lesson, and the princess has requested a break.”

Guilt stabbed at her. The man shouldn’t miss a meal because she’d whined.

“I ordered in the food. It arrived about twenty minutes ago. If you want to eat in the solarium, we’ll take the dining room.” Daniel didn’t appear to share her hesitation. He tucked her arm into his.

“Thank you.” Russell nodded to both of them, adding a bit of a bow to her. “I’ll see you at two-thirty, promptly, Princess. We’ll take the discussion inside. I think we can spend some time on language, history and etiquette this afternoon.”

“Yay,” she murmured, but he was already out of earshot.

Daniel ducked his head down to catch her gaze. “Tired?”

“Exhausted. The man can walk.” She wanted to peel off her shoes and walk barefoot across the cool tiles inside the house. So tired, she didn’t object to Daniel leading her to the dining room. The smell of fresh grilled fish and vegetables elicited a fierce growl from her stomach. Two cups of coffee and a croissant didn’t cut it against the stress.

He held her chair and caressed her nape as she sat. She pulled away, but his hand didn’t retreat. “We have to get used to this,” he reminded her.

“I need a break, okay? Just for this hour—we’re not on display. No one here to impress.” The disconcerting sensations his every touch elicited didn’t help either.

“A small one. It might be easier to pretend touch when you don’t have to worry about what people are seeing.” He uncovered her plate before sitting down to his own silver-topped dish. Her mouth watered at the food.

For a man used to servants and hired help, he did do an awful lot for himself.

It didn’t matter that some tasks only required picking up a phone to call in an order, he took care of them.

She flipped out the napkin and tossed it over her lap. He touched his calf to hers and another jolt sparked through her. He cut into his fish without looking up and she sighed, covering her discomfort with a swallow of cold water.

“I know you’re not having fun, but I think the learning curve will be the worst part.” His empathy sounded genuine. “Just remember, we’re a team in this.”

“Where are your heels, then?”

He laughed and brushed her leg with his in a soothing fashion. “Suits and ties are my heels, Al—sweetheart.” He caught himself. “But how about a foot rub when the torture is over tonight? It’s the least I can do.”

“I may hold you to that.” She speared a bite of salmon and sighed at the sweet melted butter and hint of peppers on the flaky fish.