“Chew,” she ordered. “It’d be too meta to serve Swedish meatballs to the Swedish guest of honor. What if the chef got it wrong?”
“Oh, no. What if the Swedish contingent sounds just like the Swedish chef on The Muppets?” Kelsey put her hand over her mouth as she giggled. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep a straight face.”
Damn it. Now she wouldn’t be able to, either. Thanks a bunch.
But at least Kelsey had swallowed the caviar without comment. “Um, maybe they’ll just assume the champagne went to your head? Try the shrimp next.”
This time Kelsey didn’t scowl at it. Just popped it in without comment. “I’m having a brainstorm. What if you and I throw a party? Where we serve our favorite appetizers? Not this big, obviously. I think our limit should be a handful of royalty.”
It was a great idea. Mallory pulled off her own green satin glove and sampled a stuffed calamari. Then it hit her. “I’m taking it up a level. What if we do it for Thanksgiving?”
“Moncriano doesn’t celebrate Thanksgiving. Sheesh. That five you pulled off on your AP American History exam doesn’t sound so good when you can’t remember that it’s a holiday started by the Puritans.”
They were definitely retreading familiar territory now. “You’re still bitter because I scored higher than you? Well, news flash: now you’re a freaking princess. I think you officially have come out on top in this sisterly rivalry.”
Kelsey swished her skirts back and forth, channeling Anna from Frozen. “Yep. I’d call that an ultimate princess perk.”
Great. The only two perks of being royal that she liked were sleeping with her sexy bodyguard and beating Mallory at, well, life.
Being the older sister—even once you found out you weren’t sisters—meant not getting riled at every little dig. So Mallory didn’t even blink at the taunt.
“Moncriano doesn’t celebrate it, but we do. I think your family would embrace sharing a meaningful holiday with us. I mean, at its core, it’s a day to give thanks. The House of Villani got their missing princess back this year. I’d say they’ve got a lot to be thankful for.”
Nodding, Kelsey said, “It’d be nice to be able to celebrate with family. Even if it isn’t the one we’re used to. You’ll be there, though. See? We’re starting our own traditions here. I’ll convince you to stay for good, just you wait.”
“I am staying.”
Whoops.
That had slipped out prematurely.
“Really?” Kelsey bounced up and down, and then squeezed her arm right above the emerald-and-diamond cuff. “Oh, Mal, that’s wonderful. Is it because of Christian? Because you’re in love with him?”
Mallory tried not to grit her teeth. Or turn around and bang her head into the rose-and-pink flecked marble column. Repeatedly.
Tonight was not the night to get into it. Not the time to reveal to her sister that the ticking clock on her relationship was about to go off. And that it would no doubt crush her beyond all knowing. “It is decidedly not because of Christian.”
“The ‘why’ doesn’t matter,” Kelsey said swiftly. “I’m just so happy.”
But it did matter. It had been rolling around in Mallory’s brain for two weeks, ever since they’d made up. At that moment, she’d still felt invisible. Like she didn’t fit here. As though she’d fit in better back home, in America. Get less stares, less attitude.
Then Mallory had remembered that it’s impossible to control other people’s actions. The only thing under your control is your own reaction. Changing her mindset, thanks to Duchess Mathilde’s wise words and Christian’s belief in her, was how she’d finally gotten through to so many for the orphan gala. How she’d finally found her groove here, career-wise.
Six months ago, she’d hopped on a plane with an hour’s notice to come to a foreign country for the adventure, but mostly to share the adventure with Kelsey.
That desire hadn’t changed.
The Wishner sisters might not share a last name anymore, but they still shared a love for each other. A belief that whatever they did was better if they did it together. So she’d be the best lady-in-waiting ever. She’d help Kelsey raise a record amount of money at the orphan gala, and then help her choose the next patronage and kick butt with that one, too.
And because she was a strong, twenty-first century, independent, kick-ass woman—she wouldn’t let her feelings for a man interfere.
It was precisely the life they’d planned to share together—just relocated four thousand miles to the east.
So Mallory smiled broadly at her sister-in-everything-but-name. “The ‘why’ is you. And me. What I want. Which is to share your life, just like we’d always planned. The two of us together make a great team. So what if we’re not in Manhattan? We can do great things together here.”
“I love that so much. You’re so right.”
“I’ve been telling you that for years. Glad to hear that it finally sank in,” Mallory teased.
“I’ve been a brat,” Kelsey confessed in a soft voice. “I’ve left you to carry all the weight of the orphan gala. I got distracted by Elias, and then by our fight, and the hundred other things that Sir Kai and the grand duchess keep piling on my plate. I’m sorry. I’ll do better.”
“I know. We both floundered in this transition. That’s over. Starting tonight. I mean, look at how fabulous we are.”
“Tiara twins. That’s us. Oops. Tiara trio. We’ve got to include Genny. Is that okay?”
“Yes. Of course. We’re both your sisters.”
And just as Mallory was about to well up, the door opened. Sir Kai bustled in wearing a frown.
“Your Highness, Lady Mallory, what are you doing? Nobody’s allowed in the banquet room yet.”
Kelsey passed him the almost empty plate. “Tasting the appetizers without making a scene. Which I certainly would have done, no matter how big the crowd, if that mousseline had touched my tongue. Blergh.”
He stroked his trim goatee. “Oh. That was a wise approach.” Then he gave a nod/quarter bow. “I do apologize. We should’ve had you in on the tasting with the chef, since you’re new to our traditional cuisine.”
Wow. Look at Kelsey rocking even more of her princess power. This was indeed the beginning of a new phase in their life here.
“Is there anything you should warn me about regarding the dinner? Knowing that I’m not a fan of fish mousse?”
“There…hmm…yes, I’ll swap out the second course with something less challenging. I’ll speak to the chef as soon as I get you both circulating. It is your first state banquet, Your Highness, and everyone wants to see you.”
“Glove back on,” Mallory murmured. “And your heels. I saw that you slipped ’em off.”
“Right.” She backed up a step to prop her elbow on the wall.
Sir Kai lunged forward, catching her arm. “No!”
“Seriously? You’re going to harp on my posture when it’s just the three of us?”
“No, you can’t lean against that tapestry. Or touch it at all. Or touch any of them.”
All the walls were draped in tapestries, in dark but fading colors with pops of gold thread. They all looked old. But then, so did most things in this palace. This particular one had a castle and a sword, a king and a cast of thousands. Typical. At least it wasn’t a virgin-unicorn combo.
“I wasn’t going to use it as a hankie, for crying out loud.”
“It is three hundred and forty-two years old. It depicts the ascension to the throne of the first king in the House of Villani. Your father represents the most recent in that unbroken line. It is a great treasure.”
“Oh. There ought to be a velvet rope or something.” Grimacing, she hustled out the door. Mallory took another good look at it before following.
An unbroken lineage for almost three hundred and fifty years. She’d re
ad that the House of Villani was the second-oldest monarchy in the world, but at the time it hadn’t mattered.
Now, it did.
If by some miracle she stayed with Christian, she’d be the end of it all. No heir. No unbroken line.
But there’d be no miracle. After seeing the rigidity of Parliament, she knew they’d put up a fight about her being a commoner, not to mention an American. And once they found out about her inability to have children, they’d force Christian to abdicate the same way they were trying to force King Julian.
Mallory could not do that to him.
She’d never had any business getting intimate with him. Complicating things. They’d been fooling themselves that it didn’t matter if they dated for a while. He’d asked her to be with him to make his life easier, to make him happy.
Yet their relationship made his life, his choices, harder. How had they both ignored that?
At an impatient huff from Sir Kai, she walked blindly out of the banquet room. And upon her arrival in the Grand Loggia, almost straight into the prime minister.
His eyes popped wide, even as he put out a hand to steady her. Then he kept staring. His eyebrows remained up practically at his hairline.
Mallory knew she looked more than good—she looked, yes, appropriate. Her green gown was sheer tulle over a satin slip. Pink and blue flowers were embroidered across the bodice, as well as a few on the sleeves. The low-cut neckline accentuated her borrowed jewelry. So she waited. Because she knew her protocol inside and out by now. He had the high-ranking job, but she had the title.
“Lady Mallory.” Finally he gave a perfunctory bow. “I did not expect to see you at this event.”
Huh. She wanted to make him squirm for that not-so-veiled snub. “Really? There are actors and sports stars in attendance. Why is a baroness such a stretch for you to imagine?”
A polite, contrite man would have noticed the razor-sharp edge to her voice and hastened to smooth things over.
The PM was neither of those things. Instead, he sneered down his nose at her. “Frankly, after sharing the…unfortunate and permanent, ah, complication from your gunshot wounds with the crown prince, I was certain you two would have split up. That your presence tonight would be an unnecessary distraction for him.”
Mallory’s diaphragm seized up as though he’d punched her. Breathing in was an impossibility.
He knew?
Nobody knew. Not her parents, not Kelsey, not Christian. Only the doctors…
Son of a bitch. They’d shared her confidential information with a politician? And then he’d freaking gone and tattled on her to her boyfriend?
Anger punched solidly through her shock and got her breathing again. But she’d be damned if she’d give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d rattled her.
Mallory channeled the haughtiness that Genevieve had thrown off when they’d first arrived. Threw back her shoulders so that her jewels would hopefully blind him with their sparkle. “I’m here by personal invitation of the grand duchess Agathe.”
His beady eyes sharpened. “So you’re not with the prince?”
Well.
There it was. The line in the sand that had been creeping up on her for weeks. It even came with a soundtrack, as the string octet on the steps sawed away at something melodic and light.
“No. No, I’m not.”
Then Mallory walked away, with her head held high.
While it was far from the right time or place, she supposed she had to tell Christian ASAP. It’d be worse if he learned about it from the PM—and the man clearly had loose lips and zero sense of honor. The news would spread through the room before they were seated for the first course.
Her prince was easy to spot. His burnished blond hair didn’t need a crown to be recognizable in the crowded hall. Christian was tall. And in the sea of black formal wear, his white tie and tails stood out because of the purple sash that diagonally bisected his chest. It was covered with an array of medals and Orders of Whatevers.
He looked scrumptious.
What’s more, he looked comfortable in his role as host. Not as a man filling in as a substitute. No, he looked every inch the commanding king. How far he’d come in the past few months to accepting that role.
She was so proud of him.
But just then, the whispers started. People had spotted her. Spotted her in a designer gown she couldn’t possibly afford, and jewels that were recognizable as belonging to royalty.
Mallory couldn’t make out the words, let alone understand the language. But the expressions on their faces told her that it was an almost equal split of shock and…resentment?
Yep, that felt like the best translation of the squinted eyes and downturned mouths. Heck, probably half the people in the room knew someone, or were related to someone, who’d taken a swing and a miss at catching Christian’s eye and the queen’s crown.
Their reactions bolstered her resolve. Mallory loved him. Truly believed that love was reciprocated. And she just as strongly believed that she was not the right woman to be the queen that he and his country needed.
His head turned, and she caught his eye. His whole face brightened. He exited the circle of important people and started the slow process of dodging greetings and crossing the room.
Oh, God. Everyone would see.
She shook her head and pointed to the massive staircase under the musicians. Mallory made her way there, sticking to the perimeter to avoid contact. It didn’t entirely work. People were friendly—or nosy—and did smile and try to engage. She used the excuse of going to look for Kelsey no less than six times before she ducked beneath the wide steps into an alcove of semi-peace.
The space was crowded with tables. Piled on them were trays covered in empty plates and champagne flutes.
Omigosh. She was going to dump Christian at the dumping station for the waitstaff. It was so…inelegant. But time was not on her side. It was either this shadowed alcove or in plain sight of the dazzling crowd. No doubt the prime minister had already started the chain reaction of tongues wagging.
“You look stunningly beautiful,” Christian murmured as he lifted her hand to his mouth. The fairy-tale kiss he gave her was almost enough to convince her to wait.
But that would only make it hurt more.
“Thank you. Christian, I’m so sorry to have this conversation with you now, but it can’t wait.” She took a deep breath, then slipped her hand from his. “Tonight is four weeks. I’m declaring the bet over. We’re over.”
One side of those kissable lips quirked up. “Is that a joke? Am I supposed to offer you double or nothing?”
“Oh, it’s no joke. You and I work, as a couple. But the crown prince cannot marry an average Michigan girl.”
The storm cloud in his eyes darkened them to the purple of a bruise. Like the one forming on her heart. “Where is this coming from?”
“Christian, you’ve been lying to yourself, pretending that we could make it work. I’ve always wanted to make a difference, to matter. But on your arm, I’m making the wrong kind of a difference. I matter to your subjects for all the wrong reasons. So I’m being pragmatic.”
He stepped in, bracketed her waist with his big hands. “Mallory, I love you.”
“And I love you.” She allowed herself to cup his cheek in one last, tender caress. To feel those chiseled cheekbones and brush the full lips with the edge of her thumb. “Don’t ever doubt the depth of my love for you. That love is why we have to split up. Because I’m doing what is best for you. And your kingdom.”
His fingers tightened, dug in. “You are what’s best for me. Everyone else can go to hell. I need you.”
Christian might. But the crown prince of Moncriano most assuredly did not. “What you need is a queen. Very soon. I can be your girlfriend, but I can’t ever be your queen.”
“You’re jumpi
ng too far ahead. We’ll work that out down the road.” His words came out rushed, desperate, hoarse.
“Really? How far? Because I know for a fact you’ve got actual potential brides here tonight. Which means the road ends.”
“Not yet,” he said. But the words were almost a whisper, a plea.
They could go in circles all night. But Christian had Swedish royalty waiting for him. It would be indulgent and selfish of her to drag it out just to be with him. So Mallory cut to the chase.
“Prime Minister Zupan spoke to me. Filled me in on the fact that he’s aware of my medical condition.” She paused, watching him. Then continued slowly. “As are you.”
There it was.
The knowledge showed in the way his face froze, and then dropped. And although the buzz of conversation and music was loud, Mallory felt the utter silence that descended between them.
“Mallory, it doesn’t—”
She cut him off by pressing a finger to his lips. “Arguing is pointless. We both know, just as we did from day one, that our relationship can go no further. Better to cut it off now before we get in any deeper. And, well, before Zupan makes the realities of my…ah…insufficiencies a matter of discussion for the whole of Moncriano.”
“He wouldn’t dare. I ordered him to keep his mouth shut.”
“You can’t take the risk. The country is unstable with the vote coming up and your father checking out. You need to be a rock for them. A rock with zero controversy. The country comes first.”
“But I love you,” he burst out.
“And that has meant everything to me. So accept that I’m doing this out of an equal measure of love for you.” On tiptoe, she kissed his forehead. “Thank you for letting me love you.”
Then Mallory walked out from beneath the stairs. She target-locked on one of the potential donors for the orphan gala and made a beeline for her. Because she would still make a difference to the subjects of Moncriano. She would do her damnedest to help those in need and her sister.
Tempting the Prince (Sexy Misadventures of Royals) Page 27
