Royal Attraction

by Truitt, Tiffany

  “You called your father a daft cow?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

  “I did,” he says with a self-satisfied, smug grin. With his free hand, Ollie cups my face. “Third, I explained to him how I feel about you. I told him that I love you. That I’ve always loved you, and he said—”

  “You love me?” I whisper. The words shoot from my mouth like a slingshot. Because hearing these words, confirming them, means everything. More than how the king feels about me. More than what the press can find out. In that moment, those words are my anchor.

  “Of course I do,” he laughs, as if his declaration is common knowledge. Like it’s written in the stars. “Don’t you love me?” I don’t miss the vulnerability that’s slipped out between the words of his question.

  “I do,” I gasp, tears filling my eyes. I pull my hand from his and scoot back on my bed until I’m leaning against my headboard.

  “Then why are you crying?” he asks, his eyes filled with concern.

  I run a shaky hand down my hair. “I love you, Ollie. I think I’ve loved you forever, and the thought of going back to my life in the States without you seems unbearable, but I couldn’t possibly go with you on your trip.”

  “Why not?” he asks, alarmed.

  “The press. Aiden was right. They’ll be all over me. They’ll dig and dig, and they’ll find out about my failing out of school and the affair,” I reply quietly, unable to look up at Ollie.

  Back on that bus, Wyatt said the clock was ticking.

  For Whom the Freaking Bell Tolls.

  Ollie sighs and climbs across my bed until he’s sitting next to me. His shoulder presses against mine. “I’ve already thought about that. We get in front of the story. I have some contacts in the press who would be fair. We do a sit-down interview together. Talk about our mistakes. Own up to them. Explain how, together, we healed. How the only time either of us worked was when we were together. Then, we go out into the world and show them what we’re made of.”

  My eyes go wide. “You want me to talk about all of that with the press?”

  Wasn’t that exactly what Wyatt suggested?

  “If we want to be together, it’s the only way,” he replies softly. “You have to decide if we’re worth it.”

  “But I’m not like you,” I argue. “I can’t walk around with smiles the morning after a story has broken out about me. I can’t just brush it off, or pretend that I’m okay with the world dissecting every moment of my life over dinner.”

  “The only reason I’m smiling is because, for once, I have hope that we can be together,” he counters. “They don’t get to own our happiness.”

  “But Ollie—”

  “No, Ryans. There are no buts. We’re humans, and we make mistakes. I’m not saying it’s going to be easy. It won’t be. It’s going to be painful and uncomfortable, but we’ll go through it together. You, Aiden, and I have been doing this all wrong. We’re not defined by our mistakes, and that’s what we’ll keep making if we pretend to be anything other than ourselves.”

  “But the Crown is bigger than us,” I counter.

  “It is and it isn’t. We are the Crown, and it’s time we realize that we have more say about our lives than we think.”

  “What if they hate me when they find out?” I ask quietly.

  Ollie pulls me toward him for a long, lingering kiss. “Then it’s off with their heads.”

  “I’m being serious.”

  “What about me makes you think I’m not being serious?” he asks.

  “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe that silly grin plastered on your face,” I point out, unable to not smile a little at the sight of it.

  “Why wouldn’t I be happy? I’m about to get the girl of my dreams,” he muses. “I’ll go call my reporter friends right now…”

  “No! Not yet. Not till after the wedding. I don’t want to steal Sophie and Freddie’s spotlight. We’ve done that enough already.” I want to believe Ollie that it’s as simple as he’s attempting to make it out to be. That we can just come clean to the press, and they’ll forgive all our sins. Let us globetrot around the world, happy and together. It just doesn’t feel like it can possibly be that easy.

  “You really mean it, Ryans? You’re in?” he asks eagerly.

  “If you really think it’s going to work…”

  “I believe your happiness is worth fighting for. I just need you to believe the same,” he says. He wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me close. I lay my head against his chest. “It will work,” he whispers before kissing the top of my head.

  I wish I could believe him.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  17 Years, 7 Months, and 5 Days

  Suddenly, his lips are on mine, and I stumble back from the force of them and him and the overwhelming emotion of the moment.

  Never had the possibility of this, of us, entered my mind.

  I break away because I have to ask before this goes forward. “What if you regret it? After? What happens after, Ollie?”

  He reaches down and takes my hand into his, placing it over his heart. “You’re not the kind of girl any man could regret, Ryans.”

  My heart skips a beat at his words, and then I remind myself that this is Oliver Dudley. He has always been good with words. “You’re ridiculous,” I laugh, pulling my hand away.

  “What?” he asks, scratching at the back of his head, unable to look me in the eye.

  “You don’t have to use those lines on me. I already agreed to do this,” I explain.

  “Oh. Right. Yeah,” he mumbles. He takes a deep breath. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “So…I guess we should start by taking our clothes off?”

  “I think that’s how it’s usually done,” he replies.

  “Don’t be an ass,” I chide. “I’m a little nervous. Aren’t you? Of course, you aren’t.”

  “Yes, I’m nervous.”

  “You are?” I ask and take a step toward him. “Why? Are you worried it won’t be good? I don’t think it’s supposed to be. Not the first couple of times, anyway. So you don’t have to fret about my expectations.”

  Ollie shakes his head, rolling his eyes. “Stop. You’re really turning me on.”

  I grit my teeth. “I’m sorry! I just feel…”

  “Scared?” Ollie asks. His hands move to the hem of my shirt. He slowly starts to lift it up. “I think it’s good we’re scared,” he continues, pulling it over my head. My mouth goes dry as Ollie takes me in. I had worried about this moment. But even though I currently stand before my best friend in a worn cotton bra, I’ve never felt more beautiful.

  The way he looks at me.

  “It’s…it’s good we’re scared?” I ask, my voice all breathy.

  He nods. “Yes, it means we both realize how important this is. How special,” he replies. His hands move down to my pants and he unbuttons them.

  “Special,” I repeat. He tugs on my pants. As I stand there before him unclothed, his eyes slowly travel up my body.

  “God, Ryans, you might just be the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

  I laugh nervously and roll my eyes. “You’ve seen me almost every day for seventeen years, and this is the first I’m hearing anything of it.”

  He leans in. Close. His breath tickling the side of my neck. “Because you were never mine to look at before.”

  We both stand there staring at each other. The room filled with no other noise but the sound of our heavy breathing. My bra strap slips off my shoulder, and Ollie licks his lips. The small movement lights me up inside, warmth spreading through me like I’ve stood too close to a bonfire for hours on end.

  “Get undressed,” I demand, surprised by how low and rough my voice sounds. I don’t have to ask him twice. I pull off my bra and panties as he gets undressed. There’s a power that courses through me. It’s a new sensation.

  Now, it’s my turn to take Ollie in. My eyes move slowly across the length of him. I always knew he was good looking. Yo
u’d have to be blind not to notice that. But sometime when I wasn’t looking, he became a man. Had his hair always been the color of a perfect candy bar? The shade of chocolate goodness that makes me want to lick things. His eyes the green of the rolling hills of Scotland? How had I never noticed how much he reminded me of my favorite place? I run a hand down my hair. “Do you have protection?”

  “Yeah…yeah, of course I do,” he stammers. He reaches down, blindly searching for his pants, his eyes unable to stop exploring my body. Once he’s able to locate his clothes, he pulls a condom from the back pocket of his jeans.

  “Always be prepared, right?” I laugh, nervous.

  “I don’t think I could have ever prepared for this, Ryans.”

  I’m not sure who makes the first move, or how it all begins, but we tangle ourselves together and stumble back toward my bed. Ollie is gentle, hesitant. Each caress and kiss, silently begging me to tell him this is okay.

  It’s more than okay. I’m overwhelmed by the power of his touch. Frightened by how much more of it I want. The clumsiness of it doesn’t bother us. We breathe each other’s names like our lives depend on it.

  “Aly.”

  “Ollie.”

  Each of us assuring the other that we’re in this together. When he finally pushes against me, our hands intertwine. His eyes stare deeply into mine, and I know, in that instant, I will never trust anyone more than him. This moment is supposed to be us. I don’t feel shame or embarrassment anymore; I feel safe. Ready for whatever comes next.

  Even though I cry out, even though I’m momentarily overwhelmed with pain, I want more. This feeling of connectedness; I’ve never experienced anything like it.

  “You still with me, Ryans?” he whispers.

  He freezes as if the whole world, its creation or destruction, waits on my answer. I can barely catch my breath. I reach up and touch his ruddy cheek.

  “What is it? Am I hurting you?” he asks, his breath labored.

  I shake my head, my own breath too uneven to speak right away. I reach up and run my fingers down the side of his face. Ollie laughs, slightly nervous but mostly amused. “What is it?”

  “It’s just I never noticed. I never really looked,” I admit.

  “Noticed what?”

  How beautiful you are. But I don’t say it. Instead, I bring his lips down to mine, and we fall right back over the abyss again. Together.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  22 Years, 10 Months, and 10 Days

  “It warms my heart to see them all so happy,” Sophie says, appearing by my side.

  “Mine, too,” I say, matching her sweet smile as we stand watching the Dudley men chat in front of the alter where she and Freddie will get married in the morning.

  Sophie links her arm through mine. “I haven’t seen them this content before. I think it’s good, your being back here. You’re the glue that holds them together.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that,” I reply sheepishly.

  “I do. Promise you’re going to stick around and help me keep them in check. I’ll need your help,” she replies. I open my mouth to protest, but she cuts me off. “Whenever I think about the fact that I’m going to be royalty, it feels like the rug has been pulled right out from underneath me. I would feel so much better about it knowing you were here to help.”

  Sophie looks up at me with large, hopeful eyes that make it impossible to say no. “You really think I have the power to keep those hooligans in check?” I ask with a small laugh as Ollie jumps on Freddie’s back, tackling him to the ground.

  Sophie giggles. “I think we don’t stand a chance unless we work together. Our men are a handful. Someone has to make sure they don’t shame the country.”

  Our men.

  As if sensing we’re talking about him, Ollie searches the room until he spots me. He winks, and Sophie lets out a small sigh. She leans closer to me. “It would be wonderful to be your sister one day, but I’ll settle for being your friend.”

  My cheeks blush at her insinuation, but I’m touched by her sweetness. I kiss her on the cheek. “That, my dear, I can promise.”

  As I sit and watch Sophie and the boys rehearse for tomorrow’s ceremony, I can’t help but reflect on how we all got to this moment. Freddie is about to get married. Aiden informed me earlier in the day that he’s signed up for a few art classes. Ollie is off to travel the world as an ambassador for the Royal Family. They’ve found themselves and their happiness.

  What does happiness look like for me?

  “If you keep staring at me like that, people will start to think you’ve loved me forever,” Ollie teases as he saunters over to where I stand watching the rehearsal wind down.

  “We wouldn’t want them thinking something like that.”

  “I hardly care what they think,” he warns before taking me into his arms and kissing me square on the mouth.

  “Ollie,” I protest. “Not yet!”

  “Why not?” he groans. “I don’t want to keep us a secret anymore.”

  “I thought we agreed to wait to talk to the press until after the wedding.”

  Ollie makes a big show of spinning around and scanning the room for members of the media. “Funny, I don’t actually see any members of the press here.”

  I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Yes, but your father is here, and my father is here and—”

  “My father already knows about us,” Ollie reminds me.

  “My father doesn’t,” I reply.

  “And that’s because?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

  Because I’m afraid he won’t approve. Because telling my father about Ollie means telling him about the part I played all those years ago, failing out of school, and the affair. Somehow, the thought of sitting down with the press revealing my deepest, darkest secrets seems slightly less terrifying than revealing all to my father.

  I cross my arms and slouch my shoulders, feeling the burden of Ollie’s disappointment weighing me down. “The longer you keep these secrets, the worse it will be,” he says gently. “I know you’re scared, but you’re Alexandra Ryans. Your father will still love you no matter what choices you’ve made in your life.”

  Ollie’s words and my own fears do battle inside my head. “I need some air. I’m going to take a walk, and we can talk about this later.” I stumble away from him. I barely hear him as he calls out my name and pleads with me to wait. As I stalk past my father, he calls out as well. I don’t slow down. I just need a few moments to myself, time to think. I shut them all out as I exit the church, heading into the courtyard.

  And that’s how I walk right into the horde of reporters. I had forgotten that Mrs. Wright and her team had scheduled a press conference to prep them for tomorrow’s festivities.

  Everything happens in slow motion. Mrs. Wright slowly turns to me, her eyes wide and her face beet red. She gives a small shake of her head. I search for Freddie and Sophie, who were scheduled to give the press a few final words before their big day. They stand, pale faced and openmouthed, staring at me.

  Something is wrong.

  The door I just exited from swings open, and I spin around to find Ollie. The fear on his face undoes me. He looks down at his phone and the worry lines etched in his face deepen. My father runs out behind him.

  When I’m finally brave enough to turn my attention back to the press, every camera, every single one of them, is focused not on the happy couple but on me. My stomach drops.

  “Alexandra, tell us about the professor!”

  My hands start to shake.

  “Alexandra, does his wife know? How does it feel to be a home-wrecker?”

  Tears spring to my eyes.

  “Ambassador Ryans, how does your daughter’s actions, the failing out of school and the sexual affair with a married man, tarnish what has been a long and successful political career?”

  I’m seconds from getting sick.

  Ollie grabs onto my arm and pulls me back inside the building. That’s when th
e yelling starts. My father demands that I tell him if any of it’s true. Ollie yells for everyone to just leave me alone. Sophie enters, crying. Her words are those of pity, and, somehow, that’s worse than all of the other ones, which ricochet around the room like bullets.

  “Fucking hell!” Ollie’s voice booms. He snatches at my hands, yanking me into an empty room. Maybe it’s a coat room or bathroom. I can’t tell. All I can see are the flashes of the cameras. His hands frame my face. “Breathe, Ryans. I need you to breathe,” he begs.

  Am I not?

  A ragged exhale of breath climbs up my throat.

  “How? How do they know?” I cry out.

  Ollie starts to pace the room, clutching at the ends of his hair. “I don’t know!”

  “You’re the only one who knew. You and Mrs. Wright.”

  Ollie freezes. “Wait. What? What the hell does that mean, Ryans? You aren’t suggesting I told the press, are you?” he asks, his voice rising.

  “No,” my voice breaks. “But how?”

  “Henry,” he growls. “It had to have been him. It makes sense. He knew about the French girl, too.”

  I stagger back. “You told Henry? How the hell could you do that?”

  “He’s my best mate. Really, the only mate I have outside of this family,” he explains. “When you walked back in here, I needed someone to talk to, Ryans. You being here gutted me in all kinds of ways. I needed a friend. I never thought he would…” He gulps as his words trail off.

  “You did this,” I accuse, my chin trembling.

  Ollie charges across the room, pulling me into his arms. I struggle to break free but he only holds me tighter. “We can fix this, Ryans. Promise me that you believe that,” he begs.

  “I don’t, Ollie. You’re always messing things up. Just like with the door. I asked you to lock the door.”

  “It was broken. The lock was broken! God, are you always going to make excuses for this? For us? Does the thought of being with me scare you that much?”

  Yes. Yes, it does.