His Royal Princess: A Billionaire Boys Club Novella (4 page)

At last, an excuse he could lean on. Everyone knew he was superstitious. They’d grumble but they’d fucking cope. And he’d . . . he’d somehow figure out how to handle his dream girl watching him simulate sex with another woman.

“Is he serious?” he heard Pam ask behind him.

“Luke, get out here!” Nick yelled at him.

“I have to light a candle for luck,” Luke said. “I gotta reset my chakras.” It was bullshit, of course, but it sounded good. He slammed the door to his trailer and breathed a sigh of relief when he was alone. Fuck. Why was he having such a hard time with this? He lit the luck candle (he always found one at a grocery store and brought one on set) and set it down, then grabbed a beer from his mini-fridge and collapsed on his couch.

This was not working.

He chugged the beer, but even that didn’t do much to relax him. He was too wound up, too tense. Did Alex think he was a jackass because he ran off the set due to a spider? Man, he fuckin’ hoped not.

There was a knock at the door of his trailer.

“Go away,” he called. It was probably Nick, coming up here to bitch at him about ruining the scene.

The door opened. Alex peeped in, her black wig puffy on her head. “May we talk, Luke?”

That hadn’t been the person he expected to come after him. But still, how could he refuse her? He waved her in.

She entered the trailer carefully and shut the door behind her, then stood next to the wall, watching him. “You seem troubled today.”

“You heard what I said out there—bad luck. A spider hanging upside down is a bad omen on set.” It wasn’t, but it sounded plenty ominous to him and suited his needs. He was all for starting a new superstition if it got him out of an awkward situation.

Alex cocked her head. “You were stressed prior to the spider. What’s going on? Is it my presence?”

Boy, she didn’t beat around the bush, did she? “Actually, now that you mention it,” he drawled, getting to his feet. He still had the sheet clutched around his waist and he kept it there as he approached her. “Exactly how long are you going to be watching the filming?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, why do you keep showing up? Every day, you’re here at daybreak. You leave at night when everyone else does. All week, you’ve been watching the filming and letting Nick yap in your ear nonstop. I know it’s not because he’s interesting. And I appreciate the help you gave me with the scenes, but I’m trying to figure out what the deal is. Why you keep coming back.” Damn it, the closer he got to her, the more perfect she looked. Her skin was like porcelain, her lips a flushed pink that made him think dirty things. A few wisps of blonde hair were peeking out from under her wig. He wanted to rip the ugly thing off her head.

Actually, he really wanted to kiss those parted lips, but that was probably a bad call. Guys like him didn’t kiss girls like her.

Her eyes widened, ever so slightly, as if she wasn’t used to showing surprise. “Why do I keep showing up?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought it was obvious. I was waiting for you to ask me out.”

Stunned, he stared at her. If she’d have said the world was flat, that would have been more plausible. “What?”

“I said, I was waiting—”

He waved a hand in the air. “I heard you. I just . . . didn’t believe you. Why would you want me to ask you out?”

That tiny, enigmatic smile that drove him so crazy curled her mouth. “I like you.”

“You said I was short.”

“It makes you human. And you’re not
that
short. Just shorter than I’d pictured. I’d still like for you to ask me out.”

“You’re royal. I’m just . . . nobody.” Hell, he hadn’t even finished college. She should be asked out by guys with degrees, at the very least. She was smart. She needed someone with at least a PhD.

“You’re Luke Houston, and you’re funny and intelligent and one of the best actors I’ve ever seen, and—”

He was convinced. She wanted to slum it with him? He’d gladly take her up on it. His hands went to her shoulders and he pulled her against him, his lips going to hers in a kiss. She was right—he was the perfect height for her. Just an inch or two taller, and just enough that their bodies fit perfectly together.

She stiffened for a moment, and then melted against him. All the air seemed to leave her lungs in a soft, breathy sigh, and her hands went to his chest. His naked chest, because he was wearing nothing but the cock sock. Fuck it. He didn’t care. His mouth slanted over hers, hot and devouring. Her reaction was curious, her kiss almost . . . timid. He wanted more of a reaction from her. She wasn’t pulling away, but she wasn’t into it yet. His hand went to her hair, knotting at the base of her skull, and he began to work her mouth with slow, sensual licks. With each lick, she eased against him a bit more, until she was clinging to him, and her tongue stroked to meet each one of his flicks. Soft, mewing little noises escaped her throat when he pulled away, and her lips were swollen and red from his kiss.

She was utterly beautiful. Her gaze was dazed as she stared at him.

“You wanna go out with me?” he asked, and nipped her pretty mouth before she could answer, just because he could.

Alex nodded, still looking dazed. Her hand curled on his chest, and she tensed again. “You . . . you have to be very direct with me,” she said, breathless. “I’m a princess. I don’t know how to ask for things I want. I’m used to being given things, but I don’t know how to ask—”

“Shh,” he whispered, and leaned in to give her another kiss. “So you like me? That what you’re telling me, sweetheart?”

She nodded and lifted her chin, just a little, so he could kiss her again.

He obliged, even though his cock felt as if it was going to bust through the damn sock. He wanted to press her back against the wall of the trailer and push against her hips, but he suspected he’d have to go slow with the princess. And really, that was fine with him.

Be direct with her. “I like you,” he said between deep, searing kisses. “I’ve liked you from the moment I met you. I have filthy daydreams about you.” That made her quiver. “But you’re kind of out of my reach, sweetheart.”

“Am not,” she breathed. “You’re the famous Luke Houston.”

“And you’re Her Royal Highness Princess Alex blah blah blah.”

She giggled at his mangling of her title, and he grinned back at her, liking that she relaxed in his arms again. His hand slid down her side, caressing her through the jacket. Her laughter was beautiful. He wondered how many people got to hear it? It felt fucking special to him. “Would you like to go out on a date, Princess?”

“Princess Blah Blah would very much like to go out on a date,” she said, staring at his mouth. “When? Where?”

“Tomorrow night. We should meet somewhere private. So you can get rid of this.” He flicked a finger at the wig. It was a little askew from their kissing. He didn’t care.

She bit her lip, which made him groan inwardly. “I’ll think of something and then send a driver to come get you. You should be incognito as well, just to be on the safe side.”

“Will do. But now I need a favor from you.”

The dazed, pleasure-flushed look faded from her face a little. “From me?”

He nodded and squeezed her hip. “I need you to leave the set today. It’s throwing me off.”

A knowing look crossed her face, and the playful dimple returned. “Because you want to kiss Pam and it’s awkward when I’m there watching?”

“Because kissing Pam is terrible. She smells like onions and slobbers.” At Alex’s horrified laugh, he felt a little better and continued. “I hate kissing her when I want to be kissing you. It’s not real. None of it is. And I don’t want you to even think that I’m thinking about her.”

“Why, Mr. Houston. Are you trying to tell me that the movies are pretend?” She batted her lashes at him, all fake innocence. “Do I look like a fool to you?”

“You look like a lovely, beautiful woman . . . who’s also not seen just how depraved Hollywood can sometimes get. And they’re probably going to be spraying my ass down with fake sweat in about an hour, and it takes a lot of the glamour out of a romance.”

She giggled again, and her hand smoothed down his arm. Was she feeling his muscles? Perhaps this attraction wasn’t all that one sided after all. “Very well. I shall develop a headache. A headache that is
not
caused by Mr. Stanton telling me the same story seven times this week, I would like for you to know. Not in the slightest.”

He groaned. “You put up with him all this time just so I’d ask you out?” At her nod, he leaned in and kissed her again. “You should get sainted for that.”

“I shall let you know when I decide upon my reward for good behavior,” she teased, and then impulsively leaned forward and nipped at his lower lip.

That was . . . one of the sexiest damn things he’d ever seen. “Do me a favor, Alex.”

“Hmm?” God, she was still staring at his mouth like it was the best thing she’d ever tasted.

“Don’t look down. I’m indecent.”

She looked anyway. Naughty princess.

“Do you think this is acceptable for a date?” Alex held a champagne-colored long-sleeved sweater up to her chest and examined her reflection in the mirror. “Or is it too provocative?”

“Darling. You know I love you, right?”

Alex turned to her mother, who was sitting on the edge of Alex’s sumptuous bed. “Of course.”

“A sweater is absolutely the worst thing you can wear on a date. You said you liked him, right? Do you think a sweater sends out
I like you
vibes to a man?”

Alex frowned at her reflection, trying to determine if any vibes were being sent out. “I don’t know.” It still felt strange asking her mother for dating advice. Alex’s companion, Lady Margaret, was out of the question. Margaret was a spinster and disapproved of everything and everyone. If she’d found out that Alex had been kissing Luke in his trailer, she’d have informed Grandmama in a heartbeat, and Alex would have been commanded to cease making a spectacle of herself. To Margaret, a date with a royal princess should be a chaperoned affair complete with background checks. Alex had thought about approaching one of the maids, but they couldn’t be trusted not to turn the information over to a tabloid.

So she’d gone to her mother, who, in the last few years, seemed to have blossomed into a far more worldly creature than Alex could have possibly imagined.

That worldly creature was flipping through a fashion magazine on the edge of Alex’s bed, shooting down every possible idea her daughter had for date wear. Even now, she was shaking her head. “You want sexy, darling. Sexy and fun but still casual. What about jeans?”

“Jeans?” Alex echoed the word.

“You know, denim.”

“Mother, I don’t own any jeans.” The palace thought they were improper attire for a princess. Far too casual!

Her mother’s eyes twinkled. “It’s a good thing that I have a few pairs and we’re the same size. Come on. Let’s go to my suite.”

“You have
jeans
?” What was next, handcuffs and weed? Good lord.

Her mother nodded and took Alex’s hand, and they dashed down one of the massive palace halls, like two teenage girls. Alexandra the elder’s room was always a mess. She didn’t let the maids in often like Alex did, and there was laundry everywhere, shoes covering the floor, and the bed wasn’t made. Alex blanched at all of the chaos, but her mother waded right in.

“Now, we’ll need some cute shoes for you as well, darling. None of those boring heels Grandmama keeps insisting you wear. You need something strappy and fun to go with your jeans and slutty blouse.”

“Slutty . . . blouse?” She didn’t know if she wanted to be slutty with him. Wasn’t she rather forward already, what with asking him out on a date? “Mother, I’m not sure—”

“Tut-tut, you let me handle this. If you want to impress an American man, your palace-approved wardrobe isn’t going to cut it.” She kicked aside a few shoes and headed for her enormous closet. “I’m thinking peacock green or maybe a dark blue. You do look so good in blue.” She stepped inside and considered her wardrobe, then emerged a few minutes later with a wrap blouse. “What about this?”

“That’s pretty,” Alex said, dubious. If she liked it, her mother would find something wrong with it. It was silky and loose, but it still seemed like something Alex herself would wear.

Her mother beamed and then returned to the closet. A moment later, she returned with a pair of skinny jeans, nude heels with peep toes (something forbidden in Alex’s wardrobe) and a slinky camisole.

Alex picked up one of the shoes. “Mother! Where did you get this?”

“They’re everywhere, darling. I like to shop.”

“But Grandmama—”

“I am fifty-four years old, Alexandra. No one’s going to tell me what to wear anymore. Your grandmother knows that. Now, come on. Try it on and let’s see what we’ve got.”

Alex went behind a dressing screen and put the clothes on. The jeans fit like a second skin, which felt wicked and a little wild all at once. Everyone in the modern world wore jeans, though, didn’t they? It shouldn’t be too strange for her to wear a pair. The top was a different situation, of course. The moment Alex put it on over the camisole, she knew why her mother had picked it. The modest cut was deceiving: The fabric was so flimsy that it clung to her breasts, and the neckline was low and loose, which hinted at a lot of cleavage. She tried giving the neckline a bit of a tug to make it more modest, but it slithered right back into place no matter how much she adjusted. “I’m not sure this top is appropriate.”

When she stepped out to show her mother, the elder Alexandra sighed and clasped her hands under her chin. “You’re so sexy, darling. This must be what American mothers feel like when they send their daughters to prom.”

Alex peeked at her reflection in the full-length mirror nearby. She had to admit, she didn’t look like herself. When she stepped into the heels, she looked like kilometers of legs set off by sensual, silky cleavage in a deep sapphire blue. It was rather attractive, she had to admit, and turned to admire her behind in the mirror. She looked so different.

“You know,” her mother said, and swiped at her eyes. “I worry about you, Alex, darling. Your father was a good man, but we didn’t love each other.”

“I know.” She fiddled with the blouse, because every time this came up in conversation, it was awkward. Alex had loved her father, but she’d always known the relationship between him and her mother was distant. He’d spent a lot of time in his home country when Alex was growing up, and while the elder princess was suitably grieved when he’d died, it was clear she wasn’t heartbroken.

“Your grandmother and I don’t see eye to eye on some things. Namely, I think the world is changing and I don’t know that a princess should have an arranged marriage anymore.”

Alex blinked at her mother. “Meaning?”

“Meaning I don’t care what your grandmother says. You go out and you nail this man, honey.”

Alex stared, aghast. “Mother! It’s just a date.”

Her mother only smiled. “Yes, I know. That’s how all relationships start out. One date.”

***

Alex locked the door to her room after putting the Do Not Disturb placard on the doorknob. Then she grabbed her purse, slipped on a pair of slides, and pushed a button under the mantelpiece in her room. Her mirror slid to the side, revealing a secret passage to get out of the palace from one of the back entrances. She ducked down the narrow corridor and came out near the old carriage house that had been converted into visitor quarters. There, her personal chauffeur was waiting for her. Instead of taking one of the royal family’s black sedans, she’d suggested they take Gregory’s car instead. The paparazzi permanently encamped at the gates of the royal palace wouldn’t follow that.

Which was how Alex found herself lying down in the backseat of a tiny Peugeot.

“Are you all right, Your Grace?” Gregory asked as they drove through the gates.

“Fine, thank you.”

“We’ll be at the hotel very shortly. I’ve contacted his room to let him know we’re on our way.”

“Lovely, thank you very much, Gregory.”

Alex felt safe enough to sit up a few kilometers away from the palace, though her heart still thudded in her chest and she worried she’d turn around and see a car trailing them. So far, though, it was quiet. All this subterfuge, just so she could go out on a date with Luke Houston. Was it worth it?

What a silly question. Of course it was.

She touched her lips, recalling their kiss and how he’d been almost naked. It was shameless of her but she’d wanted to run her hands all over his body in a very un-princesslike manner. She hoped she’d kissed all right. Other than a few family pecks on the cheek, it was her first real kiss, and she felt rather chagrined that she was so old to have her first. Most girls got their first kisses in their early teen years. Alex had been so sheltered she was twenty-eight years old and Luke was her first kiss. That seemed . . . wrong.

She adjusted her neckline, making it deliberately a little lower. Being proper was so damn tiring sometimes. Tonight, she was going to try and be normal. And she was going to enjoy herself.

***

Luke adjusted his baseball cap as the small, mustard-yellow car pulled up to the curb. Neither the driver nor the person in the back got out, and that pinged his radar. He leaned in to look in the window, and there Alex was, smiling nervously at him from under her big, round sunglasses and that hideous dark wig he’d sworn she’d gotten at a costume shop or something. The beaming smile was all her, though, and he couldn’t resist smiling back as he got into the backseat next to her.

“Hey, Princess.”

“Hi,” she said, a nervous, breathless note in her voice. “Were you recognized? Do we need to take a back route out of the city? Should—”

He shook his head. “We’re good. People only see celebrities when they expect to. Most of the time, we’re free to go about our day.” When she looked skeptical, he reached over and squeezed her hand. “I promise. Do you trust me?”

After a moment, she nodded.

“Then can we do without this?” He reached over and pulled off her sunglasses, revealing her pretty eyes. That was much better. He liked looking at her, especially when that dimple peeped out as it was now.

“Well, at least now I can see,” she teased. “Those things are dreadful in the dark.”

Luke grinned and fingered one of the locks of her wig. “Can we do without this, too?”

She considered for a moment. “Can I borrow your baseball cap if I start to feel conspicuous?”

“Absolutely.”

Alex reached up and pulled off the wig, revealing her tightly braided natural blonde hair underneath. She yanked at a few pins and then used her fingers to shake out her hair, revealing a tumbling mass of waves that bounced around her shoulders and made her look tousled and vibrant and so achingly beautiful that his entire body responded. “Better?”

“Perfection.”

The smile she gave him was shy. “I do hope it’s all right if we leave the country for dinner? There’s a lovely place just across the border in France. Or will that break your anonymity?”

“I’m fine with France. And my real name is most definitely not Houston, so I’m good. What about you?”

She shrugged. “I go back and forth regularly. We’ll simply ask for discretion.” Her small hand was on the seat between them, and that seemed wrong. So he took it in his hand and linked his fingers with hers. It felt right to touch her, even in this small way.

She bit her lip but smiled, and slid a little closer to him in the seat.

Since she’d mentioned driving to France for their dinner, he’d assumed they’d be in the car for a while, and he was perfectly content to stroke his thumb over Alex’s soft knuckles and listen to her murmur about the weather and interesting landmarks they passed in the dark. They paused briefly to speak to someone at the border, but the man was pleasant, took their ID without fanfare, and then let them proceed on. Luke was surprised when they pulled up at the restaurant in about fifteen minutes, and a little disappointed. “I thought it’d take longer to get here.”

Alex chuckled, pulling her hand from his. “Bellissime is very small, didn’t you know? We are the third-smallest country in the world. Just a little over forty square kilometers and three cities.”

“Damn. I think I know people who own more than forty square kilometers around their houses.”

“I don’t doubt that. America is very different, is it not?”

It was different, but not in a bad way, and he liked Bellissime’s old world charm. He told her as much as he opened her door for her and led her into the restaurant. She was stiff and nervous, her gaze darting around in a manner totally unlike her. He leaned in close to her, putting a hand at the small of her back. “I know you’re a good actress, Princess. Be casual and normal, and no one will look at you.”

“I feel very on-display, oddly enough,” she murmured to him, leaning in.

As she moved closer to him, he caught a whiff of her perfume—just a hint of citrus, sweet and clean like her. Damn. He happened to glance down and caught a hint of cleavage in the loose front of her shirt, and his cock began the hard press against his jeans. They needed a dark booth, and fast.

“Bon soir,”
the maître d’ said to them as they approached.
“Vous voulez un table pour deux?”

“Ask for a private booth,” Luke said, leaning in close so his lips could brush against Alex’s ear again, because he was a fucking horndog and couldn’t help himself.

She held up two fingers.
“Nous voulons une cabine privée dans le dos s’il vous plaît.”

“Mais bien sûr. Suis-moi s’il te plait
.
”

Alex took his hand and pulled him along behind her. To her credit, she sauntered through the restaurant like she owned the place, and he was pretty sure not a single head turned around. That was good. He snatched his baseball cap off his head and when they were led to their table, he was pleased to see it was a candlelit nook in the back of the restaurant that was cozy and extremely private, with high walls separating the diners. The only people who would be able to see them there would be the waitstaff as they rushed back and forth to the nearby kitchen.

He waited for Alex to sit, and then slid in next to her. The maître d’ rattled off some fancy-sounding shit in French, and Alex smiled and listened attentively, ending with
“Bon, merci
.
”

“What was that?” Luke asked when the man was gone.

“He said he’s always had a crush on you and wanted to show up at your hotel room later to give you a personal massage.” Her dimple peeped out.

Luke snorted and caught her hand in his. He rubbed her knuckles again. “Nice try. What did he
really
say?”

“You don’t speak French?”

He shook his head. “You are talking to a very uneducated man, Alex. I’m lucky I passed English.” Actually, he was pretty sure he hadn’t, which was why he’d gotten his GED. But he didn’t tell her that. She was already outclassing him by far. “Do you speak a lot of languages?”

“Not that many. French, Italian, Spanish, German, and some Portuguese, though that involves a little guesswork.” Her soft smile indicated that she was serious.