Suddenly Enthroned

by C R Riley

  “I need clothes Antonio. I have to get to work. Timothy and Natalie are coming in later today; scratch that they will be here at one. Since I missed my conference call with her last night, I need to make sure I am prepared to discuss it all when she gets here.”

  I start opening drawers frantically; searching for anything I can slip on. “Do you people not believe in keeping extra clothes in the house?”

  That has Antonio chuckling and I can’t help whirl around so I can glare at him. Which you may have figured out was a huge mistake, because dang it, now his shirt is even higher than before and he has risen to his elbows. Those abs that I was studying before are scrunched up and have my mouth watering, and I may or may not lick my lips and swallow hard.

  “We don’t typically invite women to sleepover, so no, we don’t keep extra clothing suitable for your type around. Which I would think would make you happy about?” He sits all the way up making my obsession disappear.

  “This isn’t your home so why would I care.” I mean that sincerely.

  If I were at his place and he had women’s clothing stashed away I’d probably not like it. This is his youngest brother’s home, and while I do find that refreshing, right now it would sure be handy if he were a planner and all. Kept an extra pair of woman’s stretchy pants and a t-shirt around just in case some chick passed out on him while they were on a date.

  Hey it can happen.

  “Well could you tell him that he needs to rectify that? I mean because you just never really know when an extra pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt might come in handy. Just saying.” I drop into the chair and pout. “So now what?”

  Antonio leaps to his feet. I don’t miss the pep in his step as he passes me and heads for the closet. When he returns, he has a black bag in his hand and hands it to me.

  I take one look at it and immediately know where it is from. I’ve shopped at Sax a few times in Chicago. Mostly hit the clearance section to save a few bucks. Although I don’t suppose whatever is inside was on clearance or sale.

  Inside is a set of tan underwear and a white camisole. Both look expensive, but not nearly as expensive as the pantsuit he returns with that is dark gray with faint pinstripes. Or the shoes dangling from his fingers that I know are Armani, because I can read the name scribbled in gold across the inside heel.

  “You bought this? When?” I stare at the extremely well-made suit. “Why?”

  He laughs as he lays it across the bed. “Well most importantly because I didn’t think letting you leave my brother’s house in only that would be acceptable. And the other reason is because I wanted to. I had Helena pick it out for me and bring it by. She was about to let me have it by the way, when she thought I’d done something that was out of character for me. That is until she walked in here and realized I was actually just doing my gentlemanly duty and rescuing sleepy beauty.”

  I want to scold him for letting someone witness me like this. I’m not sure I like anyone knowing that we spent the night together. I mean I know nothing happened. He knows, as does his brother, that it was all a very innocent affair. But if someone else were to hear that I spent the night at Prince Lorenzo’s place with his brother the King, we know what others will be thinking. If I heard that story, I’d think it too. So, the less people that know, the better right.

  “I’ll let you get ready. She also picked up some toiletries for you and put them in the bathroom. I had no idea what to even ask her to bring so I just left that up to her. I’ll meet you downstairs when you are done.” He starts to head for the door. “Oh, and I’ll keep in mind next time to tell her you like lacy knickers.”

  If I had anything in my hand to throw at him I would, but I don’t. “You should not know what my knickers look like for a very long time. Now get out of here before I throw something at that royal head of yours.”

  “At least we are in agreement that there will be a day that I should.” He shouts over his shoulder. “Not sure we agree on the timeline, but we will discuss that another time.”

  The door closes and I drop to the bed. What just happened?

  First thing I do while I am trying to figure that out is go and retrieve my phone. Sure enough, it is dead to the world, so I grab my charger and plug it in. While it is charging, I decide to take a quick shower. Lucky for me I have all kinds of hair trinkets in my leather sash. I have a tendency to mess with my hair a lot during the day depending on what I am doing. So, I secure it high on my head, and opt for not wash it this morning.

  After my shower, that was absolutely perfect, I didn’t even have to wait for the water to heat up. I find the makeup bag Helen left me and surprised to find exactly what I need, all the way down to my signature red lipstick. Once my face as been covered like I like, I try really hard not to think about how Antonio saw it bare. I wear more on the days I dress for the office than I do when I head out to the field. It’s not like I care really about being completely put together all the time. But only a few people have seen me barefaced. My completion is very pale, so I like adding some color. Without any makeup on I look way different. I have no color to my cheeks, lips or eyelashes. So even on the days when I am not going anywhere, I add mascara, a light dusting of blush to my cheeks, along with some color to my lips. I’m no Gwyneth Paltrow, who is just naturally beautiful, but I also don’t think I’d scare little children and make them go screaming because they saw a ghost. It sure didn’t seem to frighten Antonio off, so I guess that means something right.

  Once my hair has been brushed, braided at the base and tied off, I decide I don’t look like I just spent the night with some hot guy. I’ve never done the walk of shame and I didn’t expect the first time I’d be doing it would be with a man who put the title King before his actually name.

  That all hits me, as I am descending the stairs he led me up last night, and I spot him standing in the kitchen. He is buttering a piece of toast, whistling of all things. As soon as he notices me the reality of everything seems to slam to the forefront of my mind. I have to grab the railing so I don’t tumble down the last few stairs.

  Suddenly it’s like I realize two things at once.

  First would be the man looking so normal right now, is not normal at all. He is a very powerful man and will continue to be a powerful man for several years to come. He runs a freaking country, and the good of that country rests on his shoulders. Unlike other leaders around the world, his reign only ends when he says it ends, and he passes the torch down to his successor, preferably his first-born. Until that time comes, he is a leader first and foremost, a King. He is King Antonio of Hermosa Islas and it is one of the most sacred and ordained jobs one can behold.

  Which is when the other reality of this situation has me wanting to throw up. Not because I am sick to my stomach about it, like it is the most awful thing anyone could bestow on me. That isn’t it at all. It’s that he wants me, the girl from America who only speaks one language and freaks out at the thought of being put on display, suffers from anxiety, rambles when the stress of it all gets to her, making her say all kinds of crazy things, the girl who prefers the background rather that the spotlight.

  Yeah reality sometimes sucks. I know deep down inside of me that this is by far the dumbest thing I have ever done before. That I am going to end up in the nuthouse before it’s all said and done. But one look at him standing there, and while I am scared completely out of my mind, I know there is no way I could walk away now. I’m going to have to suck it up and pray that God knows what he is doing. Because if all goes as well as we both hope it will go, then that means I could actually become Queen.

  Mind about to explode in five, four, three, two, one.

  Chapter 17

  Antonio

  When I glance up, I find Larkin frozen on the stairs staring at me. I know something is going on with her because she has that deer in the headlight expression on her face. So, I put down my knife and start heading her way.

  To say I am surprised at what happens next would be a
n understatement. When I approach her, she drops her leather saddlebag and leaps at me. I have to be quick so I can catch her before she ends up knocking us both on our butts. Her arms wrap around my neck as her mouth attacks mine. It’s the first time since this thing between us started, that she has made the first move. Can’t say I hate it, because I don’t. I like it very much in fact. Therefore, I hold her dangling body against mine and kiss her however she decides she wants me to kiss her.

  When she pulls back, she laughs. “Oh. I guess I should have thought about that before I attacked you.”

  I lean in and rub my nose against hers. “No thinking required whenever you want to do that. Are you hungry? I made toast.”

  “Toast?” She squints her eyes. “Tell me something Antonio. Is toast the only food you can make?”

  “No!” I protest as I set her back down on her feet and lead her to the kitchen. “I can also make peanut butter and jelly, any type of meat sandwich you may be craving, box macaroni and cheese with hotdogs, and frozen pizza. There are probably a few more items in there. Like frozen waffles. I make a very mean frozen waffle; just ask Isabel if you don’t believe me. We’ve had frozen waffles for dinner before with a side of some of that precooked sausage you just throw in the microwave.”

  She mounts one of my brother’s stools and grabs the fresh mug of coffee I made for her. “So, what you are saying is that if I want a real meal then I am the one who is going to have to cook. Otherwise it will be frozen dinners or prepackaged meals.”

  I slide the plate of toast and jam in front of her. “Not at all. If you require a real meal there are plenty of chefs at the Palace who would be more than happy to cook one for you.”

  She takes a bite of her toast and makes this crazy face. “Best toast I have ever tasted. Thank you.”

  I roll my eyes and try to ignore her. “So, you know how to cook?”

  Larkin waits for me to take the spot next to her and then picks up one of the napkins to wipe off my lips. “Red lipstick doesn’t look as good on you. Yes, I can cook. How good I can cook I guess you will just have to wait and see. I’ve never poisoned anyone yet.”

  “That’s good to know. Poisoning a King is no joking matter. It’s a crime that comes with a very severe sentence.” I know she is teasing, but after what happened to my father, that one isn’t as funny to me. “Isabel’s mother poisoned my father, and had she not taken her own life it would have been taken for her.”

  She chokes on her coffee and coughs several times. “I was kidding by the way. That being said, I realize that after something like that actually happens, then the joke gets lost in the reality of the situation. I promise to not poison you ever, so maybe to be safe we should let your trained staff cook.”

  A smile creeps across my face as I shake my head nonchalantly. “Oh no. You are not getting out of that so easily. You’ll just have to make sure to be careful and taste all the food first. Plus, I’ve never had a woman cook for me before, I think I might enjoy watching you.”

  She shoves the last of her toast in her mouth. “There will be no watching. If you are in my kitchen then you are required to help, otherwise you are not allowed in it.”

  I can’t help but be a smart aleck about her suggestion. “But it will most likely be my kitchen you cook in. Therefore, I can watch.”

  “We shall see.” She finishes her coffee and looks at the clock on the stove. “I need to get going. I don’t even want to think about the all comments I am going to receive when I show up this late.”

  “I guess it’s a good thing I called this morning then and told them we had a meeting. That I wanted to discuss your ideas for Maximiliano Chateau.” I offer her more coffee but she declines.

  “But we don’t have a meeting. And Cameron, Bradley and Chandler all know you were there last night when you came to collect me. You don’t think they are going to be suspicious and assume a few things.” Larkin rests her head on her hand propped against the counter. “I thought that was the whole reason we came here instead of going to your place.”

  I reach behind me and grab my laptop. Since I am playing hooky this morning, I thought I’d look over a few matters while she rested up. I pop it open and click on a new document then begin typing.

  “So, Miss Cross, tell me what are some ideas you have for my personal property in Homero. It has always been a favorite of mine. I always envisioned it as a nice place to raise a family. Lots of land for little ones to roam and run off all that extra energy they seem to possess.”

  “A family home? I thought the King’s home was here in Aragon.” She stands and retrieves her bag. “I assumed it was strictly a restoration.”

  “I’m open to suggestions. Lately I’ve had this wild thought probing my brain that it might make a nice wedding present.” I see her pause and swallow hard. “Do you agree?”

  “I don’t have an opinion on the subject.” She pulls a folder out and opens it.

  “Is it something maybe you’d like?” I stop typing and turn to look at her.

  Larkin has started frenziedly flipping through all her detailed drawings. I’m not sure she is actually searching for something particular she wants to show me, I get the impression she’s not comfortable where this conversation is heading.

  “Larkin.” I reach over to stop her. “Talk to me.”

  “I can’t talk about this. I’m not even close to being ready to discuss something that huge.” Her eyes slowly lift to meet mine and I can perceive how unnerved she is right now. “I need time to wrap my mind around all this. I already had one epiphany today about how my life was about to change. I don’t think I could handle another one at the moment. I need my wits to get me through later today. If you start bringing up,” she blinks, “wedding gifts … I’m going to lose my handle on my sanity.”

  “And what epiphany did you have earlier?” I scoot my stool closer to hers.

  “I thought we were going to discuss Maximiliano Chateau.” Her eyes don’t leave mine and I don’t dare shift mine off hers.

  “Sure. If you don’t want to tell me we can definitely do that.” I hook my foot around one of the legs of her stool and tug it towards me. “My home is wherever I decide it will be. Each property is prepared to accommodate the needs the monarch on the throne requires.

  “Aragon Palace is the capital because my father named it the capital. Before then it was Juliana Castile, the property my grandfather, King Esteban, believed was the most beautiful of the three. Fort Serna was where Queen Victoria decided to rule from. Her husband was a Commander in the Royal Navy, so she wanted him to be able to be close to his post. King Francisco decided to build his own, De la Pena Citadel. He loved the Prieto countryside, hence the reason he constructed a home there, where he remained long past his reign as King.

  “I have only remained in Aragon Palace for a few reasons. One being that it was where my father ruled and I had no desire to pack it all up and move at the time. I also had Isabel to consider. It was hard enough for the two of us those first few years; I didn’t want to just move her out of the only home she had ever known. She loves Maximiliano Chateau as much as I do. Talks about acquiring some horses that she can train and ride. We talked about it a lot that week she spent with me in Chicago.”

  “I believe the chateau has a lot potential. The property has been neglected for way too long, so we will definitely need to get an engineer out there first thing to determine if the foundation is stable. Once we have that taken care of, then we can discuss exactly what you want. Isabel even if you are all right with that. Knowing her, she has quite a few ideas that I am sure we can incorporate in my designs. Any questions?” Larkin’s professional response does not go unnoted.

  “I have several actually.” I glance down at the drawings she hasn’t shown me yet. “Are those yours? Your vision?”

  She peeks down at the first one visible to me. It’s the front view of the chateau.

  What I have always admired about the structure of the chateau and its artf
ul design. An English noble after all built it, so it definitely has the appearance of a castle, yet it doesn’t scream that it is a castle. The entry is tall and rectangular with two-cylinder shaped towers. The rest of the structure looks more like a traditional manor, with its rectangular shape and steep roof. On the west end is a tower that stands taller than all the rest, with windows circling it all the way up. She has sketched a very accurate three-dimensional prospective of it and I can’t wait to see all the others.

  “They’re nothing.” Larkin starts to pack them. “I was just doodling out some ideas.”

  I snatch the folder from her hand and open it before she can prevent me. Each one has been freehanded and with very specific details. There is one of each side and the back. One that opens the home up so you can picture the inside, each floor, including the cellar.

  My favorite though is the last one. It’s only of the tower and her obvious proposal on what should be done with this large open space. She has turned it into a three-story library, with a spiral staircase erected in the center so a person can access each floor easily. A large desk is positioned on the bottom floor, a desk fit for a king I imagine by the design of the room. It is an office area much like the one I have at the Palace, except way better. The second floor is lined with bookshelves that go from floor to ceiling, with two large window seats that are very inviting. The third floor is what catches my attention though. There is an architect’s desk placed against one wall between two windows where the light is good—two to be exact on opposite ends. Amid the two is a sitting area that has a couch and chaise, smaller bookshelves and a child size desk. Across the way is an easel that allows the artist to look out over the property for inspiration. A feasibly office for my senorita, an area all her own, where she can work on her designs or art whenever she desires. I don’t miss how it is as detailed as all the rest, leaving nothing out, not even the children’s area.