But I don’t because she’s not.
American women don’t even like to have doors opened for them; going all caveman might cause this Monroe woman to look into who I am. Brice Hastings has been able to live at the Bachelor Tower and hammer out solid deals with tech industry moguls who underestimate his finances, but there is no such bargaining power for Prince Bricelion Octavias Hastina of Calvadria.
My phone rings and I attempt to shake off the memory of the woman who had grabbed my attention just as surely as she’d grabbed my arm.
She is not my problem.
She didn’t ask for my help.
Jana Monroe is probably a social worker who is setting up employment and lodging for her.
“Hello?” I sound as annoyed as I am.
“It’s time to come home, Brice.”
“Not yet, Mathias.” I sigh, wishing I could tell him why I’m in Boston.
My brother, first in line for the crown, is not used to being told no—but it’s not the first time I’ve defied him and it won’t be the last. He thinks the state of our country is his responsibility alone and that his happiness is a necessary sacrifice. I’m about to show him I’m more than an insurance plan. A backup prince. Not because I want the glory, but because Mathias has always looked out for me—it’s time for him to see I have his back as well.
“Should I be concerned?” His voice is low and troubled.
“Not at all. I told you I wanted to make some changes now that I’m twenty-five. You’d be impressed, I’m in a suit every day. Being at the Bachelor Tower inspires me. People think New York is the only place big business happens, but they’re wrong. You should see the people who live in the Tower. They’d make the top of any Forbes list.”
“Come home, Brice. Your duty is here. All you’re accomplishing there is putting undo worry on Mother and Father. They think you’ve joined a cult or something.”
“Is that what you think?”
“I’m concerned, but only because you’re being secretive and went without the Royal Guards. Are you hiding with a married lover? If you’re in some kind of trouble, you need only tell me.”
“And you’ll fix it for me. Yes, I know. I’m not in any trouble, but I’m also not ready to tell you what I’m doing. Have a little faith in me, Brother.”
Mathias’s silence says more than any response would have. I know I’ve put him in a difficult position, but it’s for his own good. He’ll catch the brunt of my parents’ worry, but I know he can handle them.
He was groomed to rule Calvadria, and that often required him to be the perfect son. He was the one who needed to be perceived as strong, honorable, faithful to our customs.
I’m not willing to bow that easily—not even before centuries of tradition. Not all sacrifice is necessary. Not all traditions should be maintained. I understand, though, how something needs to replace them, and that’s why I’m in Boston.
“I do have faith in you.” He corrected himself, “I’m trying.”
This would all be easier if I were willing to lie to my brother. Instead, he will need to accept that I am doing something without his permission and not even a royal decree to come home will change my course.
One day he’ll thank me.
“I’m not in any trouble.” That’s the best comfort I can offer him.
Trouble. The word instantly brings a certain woman vividly back into my thoughts. Shit.
“Perhaps I should come to Boston.”
“No. No one here knows who I am. I need to keep it that way. People don’t recognize me here. They may not recognize you either, but I don’t want to take the chance.”
“Should you be engaged in an activity you cannot perform as yourself?”
This time I let my silence speak for me.
“Bricelion, nothing would stop me from being there if you need me.”
He only uses my given name when he’s in full paternal mode. “I know, but I ask you for nothing more than time to figure this out on my own.”
He sighs. “Since you’re not answering his calls, what would you have me tell Father?”
I’d like him to relay the message that respect is earned rather than demanded. I keep that thought to myself. “Remind him that stubbornness runs in our family.”
“That is undeniable. Regardless of your personal endeavor, you do understand your presence is required at the announcement of my engagement.”
“That’s months away.”
“You’ve already been away that long. There are some duties that cannot be avoided. Not by me and not by you. Assure me this will not be an issue.”
“It will not.” I promise because if my plan works no announcement will happen and my brother will be free to marry a woman of his choice instead of one handpicked for him. “Could we talk of something else?”
“Are you enjoying the change of menu?” By the hint of humor in his voice I know he’s not asking about the local cuisine.
“That’s not why I’m here.”
“When has that ever stopped you?”
“Is it so hard to believe even I might grow up?”
“What’s her name?”
“There is no woman.”
“Names then. Women?”
“Let’s just say I have yet to be tempted. I don’t understand the women here. Some less than others.”
“Ah, so there is one who’s at least perplexing you.”
“It’s not at all the way you imagine. I was temporarily trapped in an elevator with the oddest woman.”
“Trapped?”
“The elevator got stuck between floors.”
“And?”
Considering my brother is currently struggling to understand me, it wouldn’t hurt to let him in on a matter of little consequence. “She’s a woman of limited means. New to the city. Her purse was stolen. No money. Possibly, no one watching out for her.”
“Where is she now?” The concerned tone in my brother’s voice brings me across all the miles that separate us. For as long as I can remember he’s taken the lead. He’s the hero charging in on the white horse. I’ve never taken that role because I’ve never had to.
Until now, he never needed me to.
No one did.
“She had an appointment elsewhere in the building.”
“So, she does know someone.”
“She said she did.”
I know what my brother would do. He would be downstairs already. Actually, he never would have left her side. Not even if she told him she was fine. It would have been his duty to deliver her to a safe situation. Or at least have someone escort her in his place.
Only in his absence, do I understand him better.
I don’t like the unanswered questions. Did Savannah meet up with someone? Was she still in the building?
I had dismissed her as not my problem, and I don’t like what that reveals about me. I have never been the one anyone turned to for help. My father is a strong leader. My brother, his very capable heir. I was kept out of the public eye, educated, prepared but not tested, my value nothing more than my ability to replace my brother in the event it is required.
Nothing I do matters as long as it doesn’t make the news.
Savannah is a woman in need.
And I’m sitting in my office—every bit the dick she accused me of being.
I surge to my feet and quickly hang up with my brother after assuring him once again that I’m fine.
I take the elevator with confidence. It would not dare disappoint me twice. I will meet this woman Jana Monroe, confirm that Savannah will be safe in her care, and only then will I return to my work.
If Savannah is in need of more, I will arrange transportation for her back to her family. Surely she has some.
As soon as the elevator doors open on the fifteenth floor I feel a rush of adrenaline. The offices are all dark. The glass door leading to them is locked. Is this what Savannah found when she came? I check my watch. Not that much time has passed. I have resour
ces that could galvanize at my command. I take out my phone to call Charles, the Royal Guard who has watched over me since childhood. He thinks I don’t know he has been shadowing me since day one in Boston, but although his loyalty to me is beyond reproach, blending in has never been his strong suit.
I trust him, though. He bore witness to every cookie I stole as a child, every woman I snuck into the royal palace, every hangover I tried to pass off as the flu.
In some ways, he knows me better than my family—and never betrays that confidence. Ever present, ever watchful. He would have seen Savannah leave. Might even know where she went.
As I step into the elevator my phone loses signal. The call is better made from my office anyway, where I’ll be free to command the entire Royal Guard if need be. Their allegiance is technically to my father, but I’m the one they share a drink with, invite into their homes, the one who has covered for them when they’ve needed to sneak their own guests out of the palace. There is a certain brotherhood among those who are deemed less essential to the survival of the royal family—the less elite Royal Guards, the second in line for the crown. We’re all dispensable and we know it.
But we watch out for each other.
I groan as I imagine Savannah on the street. Cold. No money. No phone. Lost.
To me, Boston is a tiger I will tame. But to an innocent like Savannah, the city holds dangers she wouldn’t know to protect herself from.
The elevator dings at my floor and I find myself moving quicker than normal.
I shouldn’t have let her walk away alone. I should have made sure someone was there to meet her. It’s a mistake I intend to right.
I come to a skidding halt at the sight of Savannah sitting behind my desk. Her woolen jacket is slung over the back of my chair.
The word beautiful comes to mind despite how rough she is around the edges. Her dark blonde hair is in wild disarray. She’s smaller than she appeared in her oversized coat, a fact accentuated by the high back of my desk chair. Her thin shoulders are slumped forward, and she’s tapping her forehead nervously with one hand.
I want to tell her everything will be okay, but I’m held silent by a confusing mix of relief and attraction. How is this possible?
Unaware I’m there, she sits back and swipes her hands angrily across her cheeks. Tears.
Our eyes meet, and my heart thuds in my chest.
Crazy.
I step closer and am assailed by a smell that should instantly kill the sizzle in the air, but my cock is convinced there’s nothing wrong with her a little soap wouldn’t cure. Especially once she loses that damn coat.
My leather chair will never be the same, and I have the uncomfortable feeling my life might not be either.
CHAPTER THREE
Savannah
I can’t catch a break, can I?
I should have known Jana Monroe wouldn’t wait two hours for me. Not today. I could have committed her phone number to memory, but who does that anymore?
I’m beginning to question my role in my stretch of bad luck. If I hadn’t decided to come as the real me, I could have headed to the lobby and asked security for her number—but considering how I look and the way my day is going they probably would have called the police.
Coming back to the thirtieth floor was hard enough after my grand exit, but discovering even Mr. I don’t care what happens to you was gone took some of the wind out of my sails. Maybe he isn’t coming back. Maybe I really am alone.
The least he could have done was forget to password protect his computer. If he had, I could have gotten Jana’s contact info from my emails, called her from the landline phone on his desk, and been gone.
Then here he is as if summoned up to humiliate me more. “All I want is for one thing to go right today. Is that too much to ask?” I demand as if I have every right to be in his chair.
He doesn’t say anything. It’s borderline infuriating. He has this strange look on his face that I can’t decipher. I hope it doesn’t mean he’s about to call security. I should probably explain I’m not trying to steal any oh-so-important information off his computer. “I don’t have any of the contact information I need committed to memory. If you let me check my email, I’ll get out of your hair.”
He steps closer, not taking his eyes off me. If I didn’t know better, I’d think there was a spark between us. My body is certainly revving, but I’m realistic enough to keep a clear head. I’m alone in an office with a man who doesn’t look happy to see me.
It might be time to be nicer to him.
“I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t be in here, but I didn’t know what else to do. I hoped I could simply ask you if I could borrow your computer for a minute, but you weren’t here.”
Okay, the last part comes out like an accusation he doesn’t deserve, but I’m barely holding it together. I’m tired, hungry, and if I’m honest—a little scared.
“I went downstairs to check on you.”
My breath catches in my throat. I must have heard him wrong. “That’s where you were?”
He folds his arms over his chest and looks down at me like I’m the one acting out of character. Dude, you just said something that sounded like you cared—why do you still look annoyed? Unless you went to check on me because you thought I didn’t belong in the building and now I’m in your office.
I don’t want to go to jail.
I stand up and grab my coat. “Listen, I get that you don’t know me, but I’m the type who would return a wallet I found—with the money still in it. All I need is Jana’s phone number.”
“Sit down.”
I sit and instantly curse myself for it. He speaks with authority—like someone who expects people to jump when he commands it. I’m not into that. Standing now would be ridiculous, but I shoot him a glare anyway that attempts to say, I’m sitting but not because you told me to.
I shrug my coat back on because I really have no idea what is going on behind those intense black eyes. I’m not intimidated by him, but when he looks at me like that, I get all fluttery on the inside. Sex scenes from my favorite novels fly through my head, and he replaces every book boyfriend I’ve ever mentally given myself to. I wish he spoke more, so I’d have less time to picture us naked rolling around on the couch on the other side of his office.
Someday soon, I will find out if couch sex lives up to the hype, but not today and not with this man.
I smile in an attempt to reassure him I’m not as crazy as I seem. Harmless.
He doesn’t smile back, but he does come to stand beside me. I let myself indulge in an X-rated version of how this plays out. In my fantasy, he leans in, sweeps my hair back from my ear, and growls something suggestive.
Desk sex. That has also always sounded incredible to me. I imagine him commanding me to stand, strip and . . .
He types in his password, closes out his email, then steps back.
I let out a shaky breath. Yeah, that’s the other way this could go . . . “Thank you,” I say and inwardly give myself a smack. Part of why I came to Boston was to have sex, but not with an unvetted stranger. I don’t want what I could have found on Tinder, Grinder, Hookup Tonight or any similar app. Stand down, overeager vagina—you’ve waited this long. I didn’t fill out a ten-page questionnaire with Jana to throw my first time away on just any man.
I glance at Brice. He has put an appropriate distance between us. Part of me is tempted to ask him for advice on which search engine to use—just to draw him back to my side.
No.
Sorry, Mr. Boston, I don’t have time for this. I need to focus on contacting Jana.
Oh, my God, I have imaginarily dated, fucked, and now broken up with a man who is probably still trying to figure out how to get me out of his office.
I turn quickly back to the computer screen. Jana. I open my mail, scan our messages for—bingo—her number. Normally, I would text her, but since I don’t have my phone and I can’t imagine asking to use Brice’s . . . I write the number on a
piece of paper and reach for his landline.
Then pause.
I should ask first. “Do you mind if I . . .?”
“Of course.”
Jana didn’t answer because that would have been too easy. I apologize about missing our meeting, say I’ve gotten myself into a bit of a tough spot by being mugged straight off the bus, and ask her to call me at this number . . . hoping it shows up on her ID.
I hang up and sit there frozen for a moment. Brice heard me. Is he okay with me waiting for her call?
He takes a seat in the chair in front of the desk. “You should also call your credit card company. Cancel the cards and order new ones.”
“Yeah, I’ll do that.” I start using his computer again without asking this time. The formality is melting away as my situation gets more complicated.
I sign in to my credit card company and put a halt on my cards. I can’t order new ones until I have an address. Shit. When I close out of the site, up pops an article about what to do if your things are stolen while you are traveling. The Internet is handy, but downright scary some times in its ability to know what you need.
I scan it quickly. “I need to take the police report to the bank tomorrow. Possibly get some cash out. Maybe even some temporary checks so I can pay for the apartment I’m leasing for the month.” I nod to keep myself focused. This will work. I can make this work.
“And tonight?”
His question makes the lump in my throat double in size. Nothing on here tells you what to do if you’re stranded until the bank opens.
“I’ll call a friend back home.”
“Allow me to lend you enough to carry you through until you can access your own money.”
I scoff. “I can’t take your money. You’re right, though. I could borrow some. My boss back home could wire me some. This will work out.” If I say it enough times, I wonder if maybe it’ll become true.
“You sound certain, but you were also sure the woman downstairs was going to wait for you.”
It’s a pinprick to my already rattled nerves. A jab that he’s not wrong about. “The bar is open, and I’ve known Jimmy my whole life. He’ll send some money, and I’ll get it right back to him.”
Undeniable Bachelor (Bachelor Tower Series Book 3) Page 3
