Authors: Sariah Wilson
Royal Chase
ALSO BY SARIAH WILSON
The Ugly Stepsister Strikes Back
The Royals of Monterra Series
Royal Date
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Text copyright © 2016 Sariah Wilson
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Montlake Romance, Seattle
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Montlake Romance are trademarks of
Amazon.com
, Inc., or its affiliates.
ISBN-13: 9781503952041
ISBN-10: 1503952045
Cover design by Kerrie Robertson
For Caroline Carr and the Kindle Scout team—I don’t know why you worked so hard to make my dreams come true, but I’ll be forever grateful that you did.
CONTENTS
Prologue
I’m in the middle of finals, so I decided to ask you this in a way more familiar to me.
Do you:
A. Miss me.
B. Really miss me.
C. Really, really miss me.
D. All of the above.
(P.S. My answer is D. Can’t wait to see you again.)
“Lemon, there’s something I want to ask you.”
I put down my fork, folding my hands on my lap. I ran my tongue across the top of my teeth, making sure there was no food stuck there. I squared my shoulders and tilted my head slightly to the right as if listening intently, hoping I wasn’t giving anything away with my expression. So that he would think I was surprised.
The restaurant was dark and romantic, the music soft, the food exquisite. It was the perfect setting for a proposal.
And I knew he was fixing to propose. He’d asked for my daddy’s blessing, and my father couldn’t keep a secret from me if his life depended on it. I was just a teeny bit shocked when Daddy called to give me a heads-up. I couldn’t remember even saying anything in response. I sat on the edge of my bed, phone cradled in my hand, stunned. It had been the last thing I expected.
I’d been there when my best friend, Kat, got engaged, and I’d never seen her happier. I should feel excited like that. Happy. Giddy. I didn’t. I decided the shock was blocking my ability to react appropriately.
“I know this seems fast . . .” he said. No kidding. It was fast. Maybe that would explain why I wasn’t quite as enthusiastic as I’d hoped to be. To be honest, we’d really only dated for a couple of weeks over spring break.
“But we’ve known each other for so long.” That was true. I’d known him for forever.
Maybe the reaction I expected would come when he actually proposed. He’d flash a diamond, ask me to marry him, and then it would happen. Then I would feel the way I was supposed to feel.
He hesitated, just looking at me.
“Yes?” I prompted. Still waiting. Still nothing.
“I think this is right. I think we’re right.”
He gestured to our waitress, who brought over two flutes of champagne on a tray. She set them down on the table, and my heart sank a little. This seemed so clichéd, so done-a-million-times. I’d wanted something special, and this was about as stereotypical as you could get.
But as I looked inside the glass, I didn’t see a ring.
Maybe I was wrong. Maybe Daddy had misunderstood. Maybe it was all just . . .
Then he was down on one knee, looking at me. The restaurant went quiet, and I heard the other patrons whispering. Everyone stared at us.
No excitement. No happiness. Just . . . nothing.
“Lemon Isabel Beauchamp, would you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”
I looked at this handsome man whom I had known my entire life. He had been my first love. The first boy I ever kissed. My parents adored him. He was ambitious and worked harder than any man I’d ever met. He would be a partner in his father’s law firm by the time he was thirty. He enjoyed all the things my grandmother despaired of me ever liking—opera, art museums, country clubs—and by marrying him I would finally be the woman my family had always wanted me to be.
He was stable. Safe. Comfortable. Familiar. And part of me had always loved him. We could have a good life together. Tomorrow I would graduate with my master’s degree in marketing and branding, I would find a job in Atlanta, and then we would settle down and everything would be just as I’d always pictured.
The only problem was that I had imagined I’d feel happier than a tick on a fat dog when I got engaged.
Instead I only felt empty.
To make things worse, thoughts of Dante crept in. The last time we were together, what had happened between us, and how embarrassed I’d been. I thought of how much I wanted to change, to not be the person I was. The woman who always made the wrong choice.
This man was the right choice. He would give me the future I wanted. I knew he would never hurt me.
“Yes, Sterling,” I said. “I will marry you.”
Chapter 1
I’ve wanted to tell you this for a long time, but I wasn’t sure how to say it. It will change everything between us. But I can’t keep this secret from you any longer. I’m . . . Batman.
Loud sobs erupted from the stall behind me. I dropped my Great Lash mascara and turned. “Hey, are you okay?”
Whoever was in there tried to stop crying and catch her breath. There was another blubbering whimper, and then the sound of a nose being blown. The toilet flushed and a girl walked out in an evening gown, eyes red, looking embarrassed.
“Sorry,” she said, her breath still ragged. “This is all stressing me out.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
She shook her head. “I’m fine. Just needed to blow off some steam before tonight. I’m sure you know how it is.”
She wasn’t the first girl to cry in a bathroom stall on this show, and I was sure she wouldn’t be the last. I fluffed my short, blonde bob with my fingers, and then finished putting on my mascara, keeping an eye on her while she smoothed out invisible wrinkles in her dress. I had only been here for a couple of days, but I was ready to lose my mind with all the drama from the sequestered contestants. I didn’t know how the producers put up with it. I didn’t know how Dante was going to deal with all the madness.
Not that I minded Dante suffering just a little. It was his fault I was here.
“I have to tell someone. I feel like I’m going to burst. I saw the guy. You know, the guy we’re all here for?”
The girl thought that I was one of her competitors. It was too complicated to explain who I was, and telling her might give away Dante’s secret. The secret the producers were trying very, very hard to keep under wraps from the contestants on the show.
“You saw him?” I asked, trying to assess the damage. The show was deliberately keeping Dante away from all the wannabe wives. How had she managed to catch a glimpse?
“Across the courtyard. He was being led into some room with this big entourage. Anyway, I think I recognized him.”
I had been putting on my favorite Tom Ford red lipstick, but her words settled into the pit of my stomach. She washed her hands in the sink next to me. Her reddened eyes looked at my reflection in the giant mirror. Some detached, unfrantic part of my brain noted that our eyes were the same shade of dark brown.
I finished applying my lipstick and tried to sound casual. “Really? From where?”
“I think I saw something online. I don’t remember. Anyway, I’m pretty sure he’s a prince.”
My mouth went dry, and my heart beat quickly. “What makes you say that?”
“I can’t be sure, but I think he’s the brother of that European prince who’s marrying that American girl.”
That American girl was my best friend and former roommate, Kat. And that European prince was Kat’s fiancé, and my current client, Nico. The brother was His Royal Highness, Prince Dante of Monterra.
But no one here was supposed to know that. I didn’t respond, which didn’t seem to matter as she just kept talking.
“I can’t wait to tell everyone else,” she said as she shook her hands and turned off the water. “They are going to
die
.”
They would die and this whole thing would be over before it ever even started. We were in Southern California filming
Marry Me
, a reality show where dozens of women vied for the true love of one eligible bachelor—a love that would last forever and ever, or until the show ended and the publicity tour was finished.
And sometimes the pseudo-couple wouldn’t even make it that long.
It was my marketing plan that had started this. I had decided that putting one of the royal brothers on the show would bring tons of attention to Monterra and boost their tourism numbers. Nico had backed out because he had fallen in love with Kat, and Dante had agreed with one very big condition—that I would be his liaison on the show for the entire six weeks of filming. I’d had to postpone all my other plans to focus solely on him. I’d given up a lot to be here, including seeing my fiancé and planning my wedding. I couldn’t let this woman ruin everything I had worked so hard for. Especially since the royal family of Monterra was my only client. I wouldn’t let it all fall apart. I needed to stop her.
“Have you told anyone besides me?”
“A couple of girls. The producers are doing a really good job of keeping us apart.”
My throat felt too tight. A couple of girls? This was worse than I thought. I had to act now. Fortunately, I’d always been quick on my feet. Lipstick in hand, I brushed past her as she dried her hands with a paper towel and managed to get a good streak on her light turquoise evening gown.
“Good heavens, I am so, so sorry,” I said. She stared at me, confused. I tried to look apologetic. “I got lipstick on your dress.”
“What? No, no, no.” She rushed back to the mirror to look at her hip. “Do you know how much this cost?”
“Here, give it to me. I get lipstick on my clothes all the time. I can get it off.”
“You want me to take off my dress?”
I took off my blazer and held it out. “You can put this on. I’ll go get this stain out and bring it right back. No one will ever know.” I turned her around and pulled down her zipper, hoping she wouldn’t stop me. I needed to keep her in this room and away from all the other hopefuls.
She stepped out of her dress and put on the blazer. She crossed her arms and glared at me. “You’d better bring that thing back to me in perfect condition. It’s worth more than your life.”
I nodded as I arranged the dress over my arm. I had the momentary urge to play the “my daddy owns an oil company” card but refrained. I tried to stay calm.
“Bless your heart,” I said. That got out some of my frustration, as people who weren’t from the South never quite understood the true implication of that phrase and took it at face value. “I will take care of everything. I’ll be back right quick. Stay here.”
She wasn’t going anywhere. She let out a loud sound of disgust and sat on the small couch, still glaring at me.
I pushed the bathroom door closed behind me, wondering if I could lock it. There were production assistants and grips and lighting guys all over the place, and I pushed my way through them to get to the production hub. I had to find Taylor. She would know what to do.
As I turned down an empty hallway, I felt him before I saw him. The air around me became charged, and every single one of my nerve endings snapped to attention. I knew he was behind me. Then he put his hand on the small of my back and walked around me when I stopped short. I cursed my wobbly knees. Someday, somehow, I would learn to control my attraction to him. Keep him from physically affecting me. It was beyond ridiculous that I still acted like a debutante at her first ball whenever he was near me.
It didn’t help that he happened to be ridiculously gorgeous. His Italian ancestry was obvious—black hair, olive skin, and light brown eyes that literally sparkled. I’d never seen anything like his eyes before, and they had a sort of mesmerizing effect whenever he looked at me. And he seemed to look at me a lot. He was tall and built and always had a clean, crisp scent from an obviously expensive cologne that I could never quite identify and refused to ask about.
Dante stood too close to me. I resisted the urge to shut my eyes as I ordered my nerve endings to behave.
“There you are,
Limone
.” His voice was silky and laced with humor and an undeniable charm. He only called me
limone
, Italian for lemon, when we were alone, which made it unbearably intimate and personal. So whenever he said “
Limone
,” it weakened all my defenses and gave me the shivers.
And I was pretty sure he knew exactly the effect it had on me.
“No kiss hello for your dear friend?” he teased.
“You wish,” I retorted.
“You’re right, I do wish,” he practically purred, like some giant predatory cat, and my heart thumped painfully in response. Goose bumps broke out on my arms, and I accidentally swayed toward him.
Desperate to retain control, I ran through my list of reasons I could never be with him. That usually helped to calm my racing pulse. He was unserious, lazy, unambitious, flaky, a womanizing flirt, and would, without a doubt, cheat on me if I was ever stupid enough to hook up with him.
Unfortunately, every time I reminded myself why Dante and I could never work out, another annoying voice popped up to point out everything I liked about him. His sense of humor. His intelligence and wit. His loyalty and affection for his family. How he would sacrifice for the people he loved—he was only on this show for Nico’s sake. Then my brain happily skipped to the things we had in common, like how we both loved to ski. How he had always been a good friend to me; how even after the incident at the New Year’s Eve costume ball in Monterra he continued to text me funny and sweet things on a daily basis.
I told the voice to shut up. None of that mattered. Kat had told me once that she wouldn’t research Nico online because she didn’t want someone else’s opinion to change how she saw him.
Not me. After Kat’s accident, as I sat next to her hospital bed, I looked up every single thing I could about the royals. Especially Nico and Dante. I devoured every story, every article, looked at hundreds of pictures. I wanted to be informed. And it was then and there that I knew nothing could ever happen between Dante and me, given his propensity to flit from one supermodel to the next.
I knew what life would be like with him. So many of my mother’s friends looked the other way while their husbands ran around with women half their age. Everyone felt sorry for the wives, but they wouldn’t leave—either because of the money or the children or the public embarrassment. If I was with Dante, my humiliation would be on an international scale. I’d be a worldwide laughingstock. I couldn’t deal.
He’d already proven himself to be a player the night after the accident. I saw him in the hallway flirting with one of Kat’s nurses. I was worried about my best friend staying alive, and he was trying to get some. I was wildly attracted to him, but I was always wildly attracted to men who seemed intent on ruining my life, and did. Every man I had ever dated had cheated on me. As part of my resolution to treat myself better, I decided to keep him at arm’s length.
And I had to remember that flirting was as natural to him as breathing. He couldn’t help himself. But he was so well practiced that he often seemed sincere, and I had to constantly remind myself that it was all an act.
An act that would be easier to ignore if he didn’t look like a movie star.
When I had showed my sorority sisters pictures from my Christmas vacation in Monterra, most of them had begged for the cell numbers of Dante and his identical twin, Rafe. One of my sisters had dubbed the twins “the faces that launched a thousand sighs.” I couldn’t argue with her over that one. They probably would have begged for Nico’s number too, but I told them all that he was with Kat and I was determined that nothing would change that.
Someone had asked how I could tell the twins apart, to which my friend Jenna had said, “Why would you need to? Who cares? Date both!” After I had glared at Jenna, I explained that beyond the obvious—Rafe wore glasses and Dante didn’t—their personalities were total opposites. Dante was fun and flirtatious, Rafe more serious and reserved. There was a deep sadness behind Rafe’s eyes, even when he laughed and teased. I asked Kat once if she’d ever noticed it and she’d said no—which was probably due to the fact that she spent all her time looking at Nico. Not that I could blame her.
My pulse raced and my heart throbbed from Dante’s nearness, so I reminded myself of the one thing that should make every inner voice go silent and my knees hold still.
I was engaged.
Engaged and getting married in only six short weeks. Sterling and I
had agreed to get married the weekend after the show had finished filming.
“
What is it? What’s wrong?” Dante asked. “And why are you carrying
a dress?”
I hated that he could tell right away that something was going on. I didn’t like feeling like he knew me. “There’s a girl in the bathroom who knows you’re a prince, and I had to do something to keep her there until I could tell someone on the production team.”
“So you disrobed her?” This amused him way too much.
“I couldn’t think of another way to keep her away from the other girls,” I said, walking away, determined to find Taylor and leave Dante with whoever was supposed to be babysitting him.
“Don’t be defensive. It was very clever of you.” He paused. Though I was practically running, he had no problem keeping stride with me. “Is this a new rule?”
“Is what a new rule?” I asked over my shoulder. It was easier to control my attraction when I didn’t look directly at him. It didn’t eliminate my symptoms entirely, but it did help.
“Does this mean that anytime you do something I don’t want you to do, I can take your clothes?” I stopped. He’d asked the question so innocently, but my skin immediately flushed in response and I couldn’t look him in the eye.