Tempting the Prince (Sexy Misadventures of Royals)

by Christi Barth

  Yeah, today was not fun at all.

  He rounded the corner and almost bowled over Kelsey. Who let out a shriek and grabbed his arm to keep from tumbling over.

  “Christ. I’m sorry. I thought I was alone in here.”

  “Me, too.” Kelsey gasped out the last of her surprise in a laugh. “How did I miss Gregor?”

  “He’s at the back staff door. Lathan?”

  “The front door. Let’s hope they don’t accidentally suspect each of us has broken in.”

  Christian rolled his eyes. “That’d be a headline for my first official day as king. Apprehended by my sister’s bodyguard in the gift shop. Can’t wait to see what happens on day two!” But his humor was forced. And he knew the enormous effort of it came out in his strained tone.

  Sure enough, Kelsey pursed her lips, staring at him. “What’s going on? You seem off.”

  That was an understatement. He hadn’t slept in two days. Had barely eaten. And walked around feeling like he’d been kicked in the gut by his stallion. Losing the woman he loved felt a lot like the worst flu of his life. Except that Christian knew he had no chance of being over it in seven to ten days.

  “Maybe you’re just not used to the new and improved kingly version of me.”

  “New, yes. Improved?” Kelsey gave a very un-princess-like snort that would give their grandmother apoplexy. “Not at all, Your Majesty.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You look like crap. Suavely handsome, of course, but…drawn. Exhausted. Sad.”

  Where were the ass-kissing courtiers the one time he actually wanted them? “So glad you showed up after twenty-four years to hassle me, dearest sister.” He leaned on the sarcasm with the weight of a boulder.

  “Me, too,” she said with a disgusting amount of good cheer. “You need to be hassled. Now more than ever. I promise I’ll always be ready to call you out on your shit.”

  “I should probably thank you for that heartfelt offer.” And then Christian ran out of steam. He’d been faking it to everyone since the state dinner. Held himself together with grit—and coffee—but he couldn’t do it anymore. Didn’t want to.

  He wanted comfort. Sympathy.

  So instead of finishing his thought, he just put his arms around Kelsey and leaned into her.

  “Oh. Oh geez. Has no one been taking care of you since the breakup?” Kelsey hugged him back ferociously. Then she stroked his back in soothing circles. She was on tiptoe. He was crouched over. But it was the best moment he’d had in almost forty-eight hours. “I assumed Elias and Theo and Marko were…well, doing something to help you. What do guys do?”

  As if any of them had been in love before the past year? Women evidently had a rehearsed formula for getting over heartbreak. Yet one more way they were far emotionally savvier than men.

  “Nothing. I don’t know? I’ve never done this before. Never felt like this before. Plus, there’s the whole too busy to scratch my ass phase I’ve been in since Mallory dropped her bombshell.”

  “The timing couldn’t have been worse,” she agreed, switching to soothing pats.

  “Could have. If she did it right before the prime minister took my oath as king.”

  “Yeah, I don’t really see that as a helpful comment.” Kelsey pulled back. “I’m sympathetic as all get-out, Christian, but my first patronage gala is tonight. Can you put a cork in your wallowing until midnight? Then I promise I’ll spend all day with you tomorrow. I’ll list all of Mallory’s annoying quirks and faults and fill you with pizza and beer and brownies.”

  “I’m fairly certain I have to do king things tomorrow. And the next day. And the next.”

  She clasped her hands in front of her heart, as if about to impart the secret to the meaning of life. “I’m not going to sugarcoat it. The last guy with your job? He had a freaking mental breakdown. So if you pull rank and say you need to take a day? I don’t think anyone will object.”

  It felt heartless to…laugh. At his father’s illness.

  But that’s exactly what Christian did.

  And it felt almost as good as the hug she’d given him. “Please don’t ever lose that American bluntness. It is exactly what this family needs.”

  She plucked a frosted tumbler with the five royal palaces outlined in gold. “Here I thought this toothbrush holder was exactly what we needed.”

  “Thank you. I needed to laugh.”

  Kelsey picked up a tea towel emblazoned with a gold peacock. “Being dumped is the worst.”

  It was the fact of being apart from her that hurt, not how it happened. “I can’t blame Mallory. To be honest, I was on the brink of doing it myself, but was too scared to lose her. She was just brave enough to do it first.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe brave’s not anywhere close to the right word.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She threw up her hands. “You’re both miserable. Broken. I heard the litany of reasons about why you two don’t work as a couple, but…this doesn’t feel right.”

  “Agreed,” he said in a low, hollow voice.

  “But I could be biased, since I’m freaking out about her leaving.”

  It was another kick to the gut. Christian steadied himself on a rack of sweatshirts. “Leaving? Mallory?”

  “She’s going home tomorrow. That’s why I’m here. I’m getting her some souvenirs.” She tugged a sweatshirt off the hanger and draped it over her arm. “I’m going to hide them in her suitcase.”

  “For a visit?”

  “No. To stay. So she doesn’t have to watch you woo and wed a royal bride. Because she loves you and that would be torture.”

  No. Torture would be not seeing her every day. Not hearing her voice. “She can’t leave.”

  “She can’t stay. C’mon. Think about how…well, how shitty that would be. This isn’t a down-the-road thing once you’ve both started healing. I’ll bet the Privy Council has you on a series of dates within a week. They want to announce an engagement by the end of the year. I don’t even speak the language and I’ve picked up on that.”

  Those were all stellar points.

  He didn’t care. If Mallory left—he wouldn’t care about anything.

  Christian pressed his palms to his eyes. “You’ve been bucking against protocol and tradition since the day you arrived.”

  “Only the ones I see as useless,” she protested quickly. “Or classist. Or require me to wear stockings.”

  “From your viewpoint, is it really impossible for us to be together? Would it create an unrecoverable uproar in the kingdom? Would it be bad enough to destabilize it in the midst of the upcoming EU vote?”

  The violet eyes that matched his fluttered shut for a moment. Then she set down the rest of her souvenirs and took his hands. “Christian. I am not qualified to even have an opinion on the political situation in this country. I don’t know anywhere close to enough. But I can tell you what I believe, down to my toes.”

  “What?”

  “That love makes everything better. And that love is always the right choice.”

  At least now he knew what answer Elias would get to his proposal.

  Well, that made it official, didn’t it? His father, whose blood practically ran Moncriano purple, and Christian’s tradition-bucking sister both pointed him in the same direction. Clearly, his decision had to be about love.

  “Mallory’s still coming to the gala?”

  “Of course. She basically arranged the entire event by herself.”

  “Don’t let her sneak out early. Not until I find her.”

  “Please don’t make her cry. Can’t you say goodbye over breakfast? She’s worked too hard on this to have you poke at her broken heart.”

  “I’m pulling rank. As your king, I order you to make sure Mallory doesn’t leave tonight until I talk to her.”

  “You�
��re going to be insufferable about this whole crown thing, aren’t you?” She shook her finger at him. “Once a year. That’s how often I’ll allow you to pull rank on me. And never about choosing the tunes when we’re in a car together.”

  “I’ll make it up to you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Genevieve held up her hands, silently miming applause. “You got rid of the smell!”

  Mallory hoped that wasn’t a dig at the orphans who lived at the school. But she couldn’t imagine the princess being so crass about children. Vulnerable children, who’d been pulled out of homes while their parents were locked up for drug dealing. Or using. Or were suddenly, tragically dead.

  “Ah, what smell?”

  “Chalk and erasers and damp slickers. Every school has it. Private or public. You could blindfold me and take me to a school in Panama or Portugal, and I’d still be able to tell.” Genevieve turned in a slow circle, taking in the hallway festooned with flowers. They didn’t hide the walls that needed fresh paint, or the dings, or mask the institutional dreariness. But the garlands did give off their own fresh scent. “You’re a magician.”

  Whew. It wasn’t about the children.

  Mallory took a tiny bow at the compliment. “Eucalyptus leaves, cinnamon sticks, and clove-studded oranges. Seasonal and sniff-worthy.” It was what they’d always used back home in the middle of winter, to dispel the mustiness of the house being closed up so tightly against the Michigan winters.

  She’d texted a photo to her mom, who’d almost cried. Said it felt like a part of her was here tonight, for Kelsey. Which was exactly why Mallory had done it. Wherever she could foster the close connection between those two, she’d continue to do so. Even an ocean apart.

  Genevieve twitched at one of the burgundy swoops of chiffon that cascaded down the side of her gown. “You know, I heard rumblings of disquiet among some of the peerage when you and Kelsey chose to hold the gala in this facility, rather than at the usual museum or palace.”

  “Unconventional, I know. Especially for Kelsey’s first official event as patron.” Mallory worried her bottom lip with her teeth.

  They’d gone back and forth on the right venue a dozen times. But they’d always circled back around to the power of people seeing where their help was most needed.

  A slide deck wouldn’t cut it.

  Being here, in the repurposed manor house that had been housing children as they transitioned to foster care for more than a century, the depth of the need would be inescapably obvious. Once in foster care, the children still came back for bereavement work, trauma therapy, intervention and treatment for behavioral disorders, as well as for the outlets of arts and sports and horticulture.

  Genevieve put a hand on her arm. “It is unconventional. As is Kelsey. She will make her mark, and the children will benefit. This was a brilliant choice. The only murmurings tonight are good ones. Everyone is blown away by the details. Like having the dinner tables split up into the classrooms and group therapy rooms.”

  The impulse to fist-pump in the air was strong. But no doubt unbecoming. After it was over, tonight, she and Kelsey would fist-pump and jump and squeal to their heart’s content—behind closed doors.

  “Are you sure? Sir Evan thought they’d be put off at not being able to ‘see and be seen’ if the dinner wasn’t in a single room.”

  That had been another argument. Until Kelsey put her foot down and said that if she was going to be a patron, she’d do it her way. The way she thought would make the biggest impact. Not the way that would have the buzziest social scene.

  Genevieve nodded decisively. “Yes. With the flowers and candles and lighting, you’ve brought in enough of the glamour. But more importantly, you’ve left enough of the everyday in each room. The posters, the artwork, the scruffy furniture, the less-than-stellar supplies. It’s powerful.”

  “That was our goal.”

  “Well, whatever your goal was for donations, I predict you’ll surpass it tonight. Well done, Mallory.” Genevieve embraced her, the black lace of her elbow-length sleeves slightly scratching Mallory’s bare arms.

  “Thank you, but I can’t take the credit. Kelsey put this night together.” It was important to keep pointing the attention in the right place, all night. Kelsey needed to be the face of this gala.

  Genevieve looked over her shoulder at the normally stone-faced Clara, who remarkably played along, miming zipping her lips. “Everyone else is gathered in the gym for Theo’s speech. You don’t need to play the self-effacing lady-in-waiting with me. I’m aware this was an enormous amount of work to put together. And that Kelsey was…overwhelmed with her princess assimilation. You saved the day. You did the lion’s share. And you deserve the praise, Mallory, even if I’m the only one who gives it to you.”

  “Oh.” She should’ve known that Genevieve’s eagle eye wouldn’t have missed seeing how this had all really unfolded. Mallory didn’t need the credit—only the success of the event. But credit being offered, that was heartwarming. And it probably would’ve made her well up on any other week when she hadn’t already cried out her body weight in tears. “That’s very much appreciated.”

  This time, Mallory leaned in for a hug. A proper squish of a hug, that banged her nose against the dangling diamond-and-onyx earrings of the princess.

  Genevieve bit her lip as they separated. “I’m sorry, both personally and for Kelsey’s sake, that you’re going home. Can I be honest? Big sister to big sister? She needs you here. No matter how hard staying may be.”

  Wow. Genevieve was full of surprises tonight. “That’s a…ballsy thing to ask of me.”

  “I know.” And she didn’t appear apologetic in the least. “But I missed out on an entire lifetime of doing the big sister thing. Of protecting her. I’m trying to make up for it now, with one very bold ask.”

  Hearing it from the princess—as a sisterly request, no less—zinged right to her heart. Not the part of it still bleeding from the loss of Christian. But the family-focused side of her heart. The one that had been second-guessing her decision to leave since the moment she’d started packing.

  Because the Wishner sisters belonged together.

  Forever. That had always been the plan. And Mallory always followed the plan.

  Damn it.

  She wasn’t going anywhere.

  “What you don’t know is that my mother told me the same thing. When I called to tell her to expect me for dinner tomorrow night, she said that she’d raised me better than to abandon my sister.”

  Genevieve’s impeccably arched eyebrows zinged up. “Your mother does not hold back.”

  “She tells me what I need to hear, even when I don’t want to know it.” Mallory abruptly leaned in to sniff a eucalyptus branch in the nearest arrangement. Hopefully the sharp odor would break through the tears clogging the base of her throat. “I made the wrong decision. The selfish decision.”

  “So unmake it?” Genevieve suggested with an upward lilt in her voice.

  And here she’d had her heart set on eating her body weight in her mom’s macaroni and cheese tomorrow night. “Staying would mean that you’d have to put up with a lot of moping. Pouting. Nights of crying into wine and cheese fries while watching rom-coms to give me hope. I’d need you there, too.”

  The princess beamed at her. “It would be my privilege to help you through this.”

  “I may blame it on you on the worst days,” she cautioned. “Say that you forced me to stay by royal decree and call you many horrible, bitchy names.”

  “I’ll allow it.”

  “Big sister to big sister?” Mallory grasped Genny’s forearm, as if swearing a vow. “Know that I’ll always stick by her.”

  “By us, I hope.”

  “Well, ignoring my feelings for Christian won’t be easy. In fact, I’d very much like your help with that process. Any chance you and Theo
will have a wedding soon that I can help to plan?” Smiling, Mallory pointed at Genevieve’s ring finger.

  Which Genny promptly used to smack Mallory’s hand. “You’re in as much of a rush for that as the grand duchess! One step at a time. We’re happy. Let us get used to that for a while. You’ll be kept plenty busy planning all the extra events for the septecentenary.”

  She double blinked before deciding to reveal her ignorance. “The what?”

  “The seven-hundred-year celebration.”

  “I’ll start by telling you that name’s gotta go. It sounds like a snake species. Not at all celebratory.”

  “We’re working on it. And I’d love your help.”

  “That sounds right up my alley.” Then a thought hit her. She’d stay in Moncriano, but she wasn’t so self-sabotaging as to stay right down the hall from her ex. “I’ll be ready to jump on it as soon as I move out of the palace. To cut down on accidental run-ins with the man I love and the woman he eventually marries, whoever that ends up being.”

  “Ah.” Sympathy oozed off Genevieve as thickly as her Chanel perfume. “I think that is unfortunate, but wise. I’ll ask Sir Stefano to compile a list of suitable housing options for you.”

  That was hilarious. “I’m quite certain I can’t afford whatever your private secretary deems to be suitable for a baroness.”

  “Mallory.” Genevieve lightly touched the high collar of her golden dress. It’d been chosen specifically so that no necklace was needed and she wouldn’t have to go asking to borrow from anyone for the event. “You are a part of the House of Villani. We will take care of you as one of our own. Do not concern yourself with cost. Even my budget-crazed Theo would say so.”

  Mallory winced. “Theo. He’s probably waiting for you to start his speech. We’d better go.”

  Genevieve hurried down the cracked linoleum of the hallway. Mallory, ever conscious of protocol, did not bother to hurry, because the far shorter princess was in her usual sky-high heels. Mallory, in her floor-length gown, had stuck with flats, knowing she’d be on her feet all night anyway. It wouldn’t be right if she took long steps and got ahead of the woman.