Royal Disaster: The Complete Series

by Casey, Ember

  We’re on the long flight back to America a short while later. My family has booked the entire first-class cabin for the three of us.

  Unlike Nicholas who has stayed behind to help my brothers and mother, Victoria leaves Pax and me well enough alone. She sits in the back on the opposite side of the aisle, leaving the two of us to have some time to ourselves. It should be nice finally not having to worry about being interrupted or scolded for touching the man beside me, but nothing about this situation feels remotely romantic.

  I know my father’s heart condition has nothing to do with me. He had his first heart attack quite some time ago, giving us all a scare. But part of me knows that I probably exacerbated the problem with the stress I’ve caused him in the past day.

  Pax pulls my hand into his. “Penny for your thoughts.”

  I turn to face him. I’ve probably been staring out the window for well over an hour. “Only a penny?”

  He smiles. “A dollar?”

  “I still can’t even buy a cup of coffee for that.” I squeeze his hand. “I’m sorry for ignoring you.”

  “Nothing to be sorry about.” He lifts my fingers to his lips, kissing each one. “If there’s anything I can do… For you, for anyone…”

  “I appreciate the offer. I do. But I’m not sure anyone can do anything at the moment.”

  “I can listen.” He shrugs. “If you want to talk.”

  “You want to listen?” I lift a brow. “You’re a man. If I’ve learned anything about men, it’s that the last thing they want to do is listen to a woman ramble on about her problems.”

  He grins. “I grew up with three sisters, remember? I’m probably an outlier as far as guys are concerned, but I think I’m a pretty good listener.”

  I give him a weak smile before I turn back to look out the window. Pax and I might be married, but we still barely know each other. I’m not about to cry on his shoulder over this family drama. Besides, he has enough to worry about himself. He’s going to have to explain this marriage not only to his bandmates, but to his fans. For someone who bills himself as a rock god—not to mention an impossible-to-catch bachelor—our dilemma is going to cause him his own set of problems.

  He slides an arm around me. “If you change your mind…” His other arm loops around me, and he pulls my back against him as he tips his head to my ear. “Or if you just want to join the mile-high club…”

  “Funny.” I turn slightly in his arms to peck him on the lips. “But thank you for the offer.”

  “It’s what I’m here for.” He kisses me back, pressing a longer kiss to my lips. “Anytime. Anyplace.”

  I laugh. “Are you already a member?”

  He pulls away just enough to look down into my eyes, his smile falling. “Aren’t you?”

  I roll my eyes, saying nothing as I turn back to the window. I shouldn’t be surprised that Pax has had so many women—in so many places. When I thought of what we had as just a fling, it didn’t seem to matter. But now, I can’t help but feel the pang of jealousy deep in my stomach.

  “It’s actually not as great as they say. I read somewhere that the higher the altitude, the more your senses are dulled. That’s mostly been my experience—”

  “You don’t…” My brow furrows as I frown, and I turn back to face him. “You don’t have to tell me about that. Your past…conquests.”

  “Well, you haven’t told me about yours.”

  “You actually want to know about the men I’ve slept with?” I shake my head. “And how do you know there have been any others?”

  A slow smile spreads across his lips. “Oh, I know.”

  Something about the way he says the words makes me feel both embarrassed and aroused. I’m still not sure how he seems to have this power over me. Or how his touch brings me to life.

  “How many, Sophia?” He nuzzles against my neck. “More or less than a hundred?”

  My body pulls away from him instinctively. “A hundred? Is that how many women you’ve been with?” Even as I say the words, I know I don’t really want the answer.

  He bites his lip, his gaze narrowing slightly. “That question is a trap.”

  “You’re the one who brought it up.” My frown deepens. “You’ve really been with a hundred women?”

  He winces a little, giving me a small shrug. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

  “It’s even more than that, isn’t it?” I shake my head. “How many?”

  “It’s not like I keep track or anything. I…I’m not sure. I know the ballpark…”

  “And that’s…more than a hundred?”

  The way his teeth come down on his bottom lip tells me the answer.

  “A lot more?”

  “We were talking about you. Not me.” He forces a smile. “So, your answer is less than a hundred?”

  “A lot less. How many more than a hundred is yours?”

  “More.” He gives me a weak grin. “We can change the subject.”

  “No, I think I need to know. Your ballpark, anyway.”

  “I asked you first.”

  “I asked you second.” I shake my head. “My answer is three, including you. Four if you count the boy I gave a hand job to my first year of university.”

  “Three?” His face turns a bright crimson. “Seriously? Three?”

  “Four. Like I said—”

  “Hand jobs don’t count. Or blow jobs for that matter.” He shakes his head. “Otherwise, we’d be talking about a lot more. A lot…” His voice trails off as he seems to realize what he’s saying. “God damn. I just thought…you know. The way you are in bed…”

  “You thought I was a slut?” Something about the words makes my chest ache. “You thought I was like one of your groupies?”

  “I thought…I thought you were more experienced. That’s all.” His face is still a bright red. “I shouldn’t have brought it up. I’m sorry.”

  I turn back for the window, and his arms loop around me again. I suppose I shouldn’t care that Pax has been with so many women. He didn’t marry any of them. He married me. That must mean something, even if we were drunk when we did it.

  The flight back to America is awkwardly silent after that. We probably should have talked about how we’re going to announce our marriage—when we might be able to do some sort of press conference to release the story ourselves. But we don’t say much else to each other.

  It isn’t until we clear customs in Phoenix very early the next morning and are walking away from the concourse to the area where our driver will be waiting for us that Pax says another word to me.

  He turns to me, his eyes wide. “Holy shit.”

  I look in the direction he had been, and my jaw drops open.

  There’s a sea of people—many of them are paparazzi, but some of them are fans with signs waiting for Pax. The flashbulbs begin to pop as we near the crowd, and the questions the people are screaming at us are muddled together, there are so many of them.

  But one thing is certain as the throng envelops us—our secret is out. Everyone knows we’re married.

  Pax

  Victoria is at our side instantly.

  “Don’t say anything,” she tells us. “Don’t even acknowledge the cameras. Just walk through. And keep your heads down—a clear shot of a smile or frown will give them ammunition. There’s a car outside.”

  She doesn’t have to tell me twice. I’m usually pretty open with the paparazzi—I’ve got the charming bad boy thing to sell, after all—but this is a completely different situation. And this time Sophia is involved.

  Victoria takes the lead, using her arm to hold back the sea of reporters. Cameras flash and shouts come from all directions.

  “How did you propose, Pax?”

  “Princess Sophia, what does your family think?”

  “Pax! What do you have to say to your fans?”

  I wrap my arm around Sophia’s waist and keep her close to my side. It takes a lot of effort to keep my head down—I couldn’t care les
s about the guys shouting at me, but I want to punch anyone who says anything to Sophia. She has enough to worry about without these assholes harassing her.

  Suddenly, there’s someone beside me, grabbing my arm. I turn violently, ready to push him away—and get his ass thrown in jail, if I have anything to say about it—but before I can throw a punch, I realize it’s only Mick.

  “Easy, there,” he says, taking my arm and continuing with us toward the airport doors. “You two know how to make an entrance, don’t you?”

  I can’t believe how relieved I am to see Mick. As much as I believe Victoria has our best interests—or at least Sophia’s best interests—at heart, Mick’s always been the one who’s been there for me. He’s exactly the guy I want by my side as we navigate this mess.

  “How bad is it?” I ask him under the shouts. “The PR, I mean?”

  “Bad? Not at all. Not if you’re thinking about your career. The European tour is definitely on now. Tickets go on sale next week.”

  “Are you serious?” I can’t believe it.

  “And album sales are still soaring.” Mick leans forward slightly, looking past me toward Sophia. “How are you two doing?”

  “About as well as you’d expect,” I reply. I’m not really sure how to answer that question. How the fuck are we doing? I’m married to the woman who’s been my obsession for the past month, which seems like a good thing. But our marriage landed her father in the hospital, which definitely is not. My career is going great, but at the same time it looks like Sophia and I have lost what little privacy we had.

  We finally manage to escape the airport, and as promised, there’s a car waiting for us. A dark limousine. Victoria ushers us—and Mick—inside, before climbing in last and pulling the door shut behind her. The reporters continue to shout at us, but their words are muffled now. The flashes of their cameras are dulled by the tinted windows.

  “Whew,” Mick says. “That was crazy.”

  Victoria doesn’t exactly look excited to have Mick here, but she ignores him for the moment. Instead, she leans forward in her seat, looking at Sophia and me.

  “We should have that press conference this afternoon,” she says. “Any longer than that and it’ll look like you have something to hide.”

  “As long as he’s done in time to get to his show at eight,” Mick says. “Pissing off his fans isn’t going to win us any favors in the press.”

  “We’ll be done by then,” Victoria says. “We just need to establish a united front—a standard message. It will help keep the rumors at bay. If anyone goes off script, you can bet your ass these sharks will pick apart every word. We want the whole world to see you as a united, happy couple.”

  “We are a united, happy couple,” I say.

  Victoria’s eyes are sharp, assessing. “The world doesn’t know that yet. All they know is that a womanizing rock star and a rebellious princess decided to hook up and then got drunkenly married in Vegas. Most of them are probably expecting you two to announce an annulment within the next couple of days.” She sits back. “I prepared a statement on the plane. We can go over it when we get to the hotel.”

  “I’ve got a couple of proposals for you, too,” Mick says. He looks at Sophia. “Can you sing? Even a little bit?”

  She frowns. “What?”

  “Can you carry a tune, more or less?” he asks. “Even if you can’t, we can work with you. You have a great speaking voice, and it’s amazing what technology can do.”

  “What the hell are you talking about, Mick?” I ask. “Why does Sophia need to sing?”

  “Because your label is losing their minds, they’re so excited about this,” he says. “They asked me if I thought the two of you might be willing to record a duet.”

  Sophia’s eyes nearly bug out of her head. “A what?”

  “A love duet,” he says, grinning. “Think about it. The public would eat it up.”

  He’s not wrong. But one look at Sophia’s face tells me that just the idea of it is freaking her out.

  “We’ll think about it,” I tell Mick. “Right now I think we just need to figure out how we’re getting through the next few days.”

  “Fair enough.” Mick smiles at me. “Just know that the interest is out there.” He looks back at Sophia. “If there’s anything you ever wanted to do with your life, Princess—singing, acting, competitive dancing, whatever—now is the time to do it. All the doors are open for you.” He sobers a little. “And not just the showy stuff. I know you have a few pet causes around the world, charities you like to donate your time and money to. You had a platform before, but it’s nothing compared to the one you have now. Want to bring some extra attention to one of your charities? Host a TV special highlighting your cause? A dozen networks would jump on that in a heartbeat after all this. Just say the word and I could make it happen for you.”

  “You’re not her manager,” Victoria jumps in.

  “Not yet. But I could be.” He’s still watching Sophia. “You don’t have to tell me anything now, Princess. Just know that the options are out there. Pax doesn’t have to be the only one who benefits from this publicity. When life hands you lemons, you can make lemonade, or you can take those lemons and build the lemonade business of your dreams.”

  I can tell this talk is making Sophia uncomfortable, so I pull her closer to my side. “That’s enough for now, Mick.”

  He knows when to stop, and he does. Still, his words have gotten me thinking, too. He’s right—why shouldn’t Sophia get some benefit out of all this? All this time I’ve been thinking about my career, but I’m sure Sophia has her own dreams about what she’d like to do with her life.

  And I have to admit, even though the thought never occurred to me before, the idea of recording a duet with her is starting to grow on me. She’s the woman I love, and performing is what I was born to do. Together, Sophia and performing are the two things that make me feel most alive.

  One day, I think, smiling to myself as Sophia relaxes into the crook of my arm. One day, we’ll have it all.

  First, though, we have to get through the next few days.

  Sophia

  We arrive at the hotel, and the limousine is immediately mobbed on all sides.

  My heart begins to race in my chest. Between the number of people crowding our car and the thought of actually having to sing—and not just sing, but sing in front of people—I think I might have a heart attack of my own.

  I turn to look at Victoria, and she gives me a slight shrug.

  “How did this happen? How could they have followed us here?” My gaze flicks between Victoria and Pax’s manager.

  “They didn’t.” Victoria gives Mick a pointed look. “Someone must have tipped them off about where you were staying.”

  Pax gives me a protective squeeze.

  Mick raises his hands in front of him, giving Pax and me an almost sheepish smile. “I do what I need to do for my clients.”

  “Client.” Victoria almost growls the word. “Believe me, if Sophia needs a manager, her family will make sure—”

  “She does need a manager.” Mick claps his hands together, turning his gaze to mine. “If you want to take advantage of this situation.”

  “She doesn’t need to take advantage of anything. She already has a platform—she had it long before this mess began.” Victoria turns to look at me. “You don’t need to worry about any of this today.” She turns her gaze to the window for a moment. “When you get out there, don’t say anything. I’ve been texting with my editor. No matter what anyone says—no matter what they might insinuate—say nothing.”

  “I hadn’t planned to.” My brow furrows. “What do you mean by ‘what they might insinuate’?”

  “People think you’re knocked up.” Mick grins. “Believe me, I didn’t start that one.”

  “No, but you told them what hotel they were staying at, which is bad enough.” Victoria shakes her head, looking between Mick and Pax. “Next time either of you wants to complain about t
he media, remember how you’re the ones who stir this up yourselves.”

  Pax pulls me closer to him, leaning down to whisper in my ear. “You ready for this?”

  I give my head a slight shake. “No, but I don’t suppose I ever will be.”

  “Remember, say nothing.” Victoria gives me a worried glance, biting at her bottom lip.

  My stomach turns over on itself. If Victoria is concerned about this, there’s probably more than enough reason for me to be terrified.

  Pax whispers in my ear again. “Count of three?”

  I nod as I try to gulp down my fear.

  “One, two…three.” Pax opens the door, and he climbs out, pulling me out after him in one swift motion.

  He holds me tightly against him, trying to guide me through the crowd of people, many of whom don’t seem to be media at all.

  “Are you pregnant?” One woman shouts in my face. “When is the baby due?”

  “Was this a media stunt?” Another man yells. “How long until you announce the annulment?”

  Another woman calls out, “Sophia, what do you really know about Pax?”

  Something about the way she speaks makes my stomach twist into a knot. What do I really know about him? I know he’s hiding something—something that hurt him terribly. Something he can’t talk about. But surely it isn’t anything so horrific that I would change my mind about marrying him.

  I don’t have long to ponder on the thought before someone—Victoria—is pushing me through the throng of people.

  The people closer to the door of the hotel seem to be fans of the band, and many of them are holding signs.

  None of this should surprise me, of course. It was only a few days ago that I was attacked inside the lobby of the last hotel we were at.

  The women here are all crying—even more so when Pax comes into their view. Their signs range from the sweet—Marry me, Pax—to the not so sweet at all. A few of them are downright disgusting, but most of them seem to be along the lines of telling me to fuck off.

  It seems to take forever, but we finally push through the crowd and into the lobby of the hotel.