The Blue Collar Bachelors Box Set: The Complete Blue Collar Bachelors Series

by Miller, Cassie-Ann L.

  Sadie’s energy has shifted completely as she stands beside me on the pavement. It’s apprehensive, tightly-wound. Without thinking, I reach for her hand and I don’t know if I’m trying to give her assurance that everything will be all right or if I’m trying to steal it for myself. All I know is that I need her right now as my frantic mind tries to decipher what this turn of events means.

  I can feel it—something major is about to go down.

  As we cross the street, the men’s right arms fly up in unison, bending stiffly at the elbow. Palms down, two fingers almost touching the temple but not quite.

  Sadie jolts at the sudden, synchronized movement and she squeezes my fingers harder.

  My stride falters when my eyes catch on a familiar face among the line-up of soldiers. Sadie sees him too and she’s just as shocked as I am. “Are you fucking serious?” she whispers, leaning close to me. “That guy?”

  Yes, the sketchy todger from the Laundromat, the one who just happened to be there every time we did a load of laundry or went for a walk or set foot outside of the apartment building. He’s been spying on me for my family this whole fucking time. Why the hell am I surprised? Even from her deathbed, Grandmum has to control every, fucking, little thing. Of course she’d track me down and find a way to keep tabs on me. Of course, the fact that she let me run loose for a few weeks didn’t mean that I was actually free.

  You’re never really free when the Crown has your name on it.

  I was a fool to expect to be left alone for a couple of weeks, to be given a tiny bit of privacy. As royalty, you enjoy many perks—luxury accommodations, an endless supply of money, tax exemptions—privacy is not one of them.

  I pass by the men. I march up the stairs, fingers still locked around Sadie’s. She trails behind me, struggling to keep up with my pace. With an angry stomp, I arrive on the second floor not knowing what to expect but ready for a fight all the same.

  It’s Thomas standing there with Harold, my head security man, and Lord Kent, the palace barrister. For a heartbeat, we stand there, staring at each other. It’s a showdown. Harold steps forward. He’s always been too brave for his own good. He bows but he doesn’t flinch in the face of my anger. Instead, he stares at me defiantly. The man has faced terrorists and assassins and hoards of preteen girls determined to get a piece of me on the red carpet for the Brown Bottom Geese mating ceremony. I don’t scare him.

  When my hard gaze turns to Thomas, he crumbles like a sand castle being hit by a tsunami. He bows exaggeratedly.

  Instant mourning grips my soul when I observe his grave expression. “Your Highness, I deeply regret having to come here and interrupt your holiday. But we must talk face to face. It’s about your grandmother.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Sadie

  The last twenty minutes have been agonizing.

  As soon as we’d climbed to the top of the stairs, the men standing in the hallway had asked to speak with Xavier privately. It was something to do with the Queen. Xavier’s knee-jerk reaction was to tighten his grip on my hand and say that the conversation could be had with me present. The men weren’t having it. They politely insisted that the information they’re here to disclose is highly confidential, a matter of national security.

  I was asked to leave the room. “It’s protocol,” the head security guard said.

  I know better than anyone—protocol is code for bullshit.

  Despite Xavier’s insistence, I chose to come back to my apartment to give them privacy. I need some time to get myself together anyway. To brace myself for whatever it is that’s about to happen. Because I know without a doubt that this is the moment everything changes. Things won’t be the same past this point.

  I changed into sweats, made myself a cup of tea, curled up on the couch and waited.

  I’m worried about Xavier. I’m so anxious for him. I know exactly what it’s like when someone you love is hanging between life and death and there’s nothing you can do about it. I say a silent prayer for the Queen. If she has passed away before Xavier got to say goodbye, I know he’ll never forgive himself.

  I’m on my feet the second I hear the knock at the door. With my heart beating in my throat, I rush the short distance from the living room to the front door and yank it open. My breath catches.

  Xavier is standing there and despite the severity of the moment, my lungs spasm with wanting. Oh my god, he’s handsome. Seeing him in that navy blue suit, I know immediately that it was measured and custom-cut to fit the lines of his powerful body. The way the rich fabric spreads across his strong shoulders and hugs loosely at the waist, the way his pants drape perfectly over his black, wingtip oxford shoes. The tailoring is clean and polished, tapered in all the right places. His hair isn’t wild and messy like it normally is. He’s brushed it back, though one dark, wayward tuft slopes down across his forehead.

  But the biggest change is his demeanor. Instead of his usual playful and charming smirk, his face is drawn into a somber expression. His forehead is pleated and his lips are flat. The intensity of his stare leaves faint prickles along my skin.

  He doesn’t react at all to my blatantly lustful perusal. His face remains stoic, solemn. Almost as serious as the footmen traveling down the stairs behind him with bags and suitcases in hand.

  He’s leaving…

  My chest does this crazy tight squeeze that nearly pushes my heart right out through my mouth.

  “I’ve come to say goodbye.”

  My whole world stops spinning at his words.

  My hands clasp over my heart. “Xavier—what happened?” I whisper. I reach for his hands but stop myself when I see the way they stay stiffly by his side, not searching for mine.

  He opens his mouth to respond but the short, balding man behind him clears his throat, signaling to Xavier that he can’t share this sensitive information with a mere peasant like me.

  Xavier looks over his shoulder and growls. “Thomas, I need a minute alone with Ms. Nichols.”

  “Your Highness, we really must go—”

  Big, broad shoulders vibrating with restrained rage, he spins around to face the little man. “I am the Crown Prince of the nation of Ridgeland. Your Crown Prince. And I need a minute—one fucking minute—so you’ll give it to me.”

  “Y—yes, Your Highness. Of course.” Red and anxious, the man scurries away.

  Xavier casts a threatening glance at the burly guards right over his shoulder. They’re each a few inches taller than he is but that steely glare is all it takes to have them hurrying down the stairs as well.

  I've never seen him like this. I know him as the funny, charming guy next door. A little cheeky with his pervy taunting and his devilish smile.

  But this version of Xavier is different. This man is a world leader, a holder of power. And although that had never been a particular turn-on for me, right now, the aura of authority around him has my stomach fluttering.

  Then, my mind registers what he just said. He just referred to himself as the Crown Prince. That means he’s taken a step closer to the Throne. He’s now next in line. Which only means one thing…

  “Oh, Xavier—I’m so sorry…” My heart throbs for him. My eyes prickle. I ache at his loss. Though he and the Queen have been arguing recently, I know it must be killing him to come to terms with the fact that she’s really gone.

  His steely expression doesn’t waver, though. He speaks in a formal distant tone. “It’s been wonderful spending time with you, Sadie. The past few weeks have been…wonderful.” His words are completely devoid of emotion, almost as if he’s saying goodbye to someone he only met at a backyard barbeque or sat next to on a plane. As if the connection we shared was something that lived exclusively within my imagination.

  I wet my lips and swallow to relieve the ache in my throat. I hold my shoulders straight. “It’s been wonderful spending time with you, too.”

  This hurts so, so much. I don’t want him to leave me. This isn’t how you say goodbye to the pe
rson you’re in love with. You don’t say goodbye to the person you’re in love with. When you meet that person, you make it work…right?

  We stand there for a second, staring at each other. The past few weeks flash before my eyes—the smirk on his face the night I burst through his door covered in hair dye and depilatory cream, the first time we did laundry together, our date at the Italian restaurant, the first time we made love. There’s a momentary crack in his armor and I see clearly that he’s reliving those moments, too. Beneath his hard exterior, I see a glimpse of the man I’ve come to know. He’s absolutely shattered but he’s maintaining a brave face. It’s his duty.

  He takes me in, his eyes slowly skimming every curve and dip of my body as if he’s committing my form to memory. And I'm memorizing him too. My heart wrenches. He's leaving...

  His hand reaches out and slowly, his fingers curl around my wrist. He lifts my left hand to his mouth and presses his warm lips against my skin. He lingers there. I don’t want him to go. His eyes meet mine, smoldering with desire and regret and so much more.

  He tenderly flips my palm over and presses a soft kiss to the place where my pulse beats wildly beneath my skin. “Sadie…” So much regret in his voice.

  He releases my hand and when he pivots toward the stairs, I can’t help but call after him. “Hey Prince Charming.” When he turns back, I approach him. I walk all the way up to him, so close that I have to tilt my head back so our eyes can meet. “We didn’t finish our dance…” I whisper.

  He smiles. “We didn’t…”

  And he gathers me in his arms—right there in the doorway—he holds me against his body. My fingers clench on the front of his shirt, I lean my head on his big, roaring heart and I sway in his arms. He hums a soft melody into my hair. And this is where I want to be forever.

  Beams of silvery moonlight strike through the spaces in the blinds and quiet sounds pour from my chest. I hate that I’m crying over this. I hate that I’m not strong enough to just let him walk away without falling apart. We promised ourselves that this was just a fling. I have no right to break down now that he’s leaving.

  His lips brush the spot right beneath my eye, swiping through the wetness there. His kisses trace a path across my cheekbone, down to my mouth. When I graze his plump bottom lip with the tip of my tongue, I taste my tears, his regret. There’s so much tenderness in his eyes. It’s breaking my heart. Although he won’t let himself say the words, I know he feels things, too.

  But at this point, he has no choice. He has to go home.

  “I’m going to miss y—” Before I can get the words out, he presses his finger to my lips, silencing me. His eyes tell me not to make this any harder by making poignant declarations. He’s right. What good would that do either of us?

  He runs a knuckle along my cheek. "Oh Sadie,” he whispers on a sigh. “I wasn’t ready for you, sweet girl. You caught me off guard."

  His voice is raspy and wistful as he speaks and just for a moment, I think he'll change his mind, he'll stay, he'll pick me over the entire kingdom that's halfway across the world waiting for him. It's an incredibly selfish thought and completely unrealistic but for a tiny slice in time, it's all I want.

  Instead, he presses one last kiss to the tip of my nose as he reaches into his pocket and slips a small scrap of metal into my hand…My apartment key. He turns and walks away.

  I watch the back of his head as he disappears down the stairs and my heart breaks a little more with each step.

  He didn’t promise to call me once he lands. He didn’t suggest that we keep in touch. It really is over.

  A well of tears breaks free, pouring from my eyes as I race to my living window. I watch the stone-faced security guard open the back door of the armored limousine for him. He sinks onto the bench before the guard closes the door and rounds the vehicle to assume his place in the driver’s seat. A few minutes later, the motorcade has begun its procession, each car peeling away from the curb in an orderly fashion.

  I stand at the window until the very last car disappears into the night. My heart shatters completely when my eyes lose sight of Xavier for good.

  And I’ve never been afraid to dance alone. But tonight, I just wish that Xavier was here to hold me in his arms as I sway.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Xavier

  I fucking hate this place.

  Portraits of my ancestors line the cold, stone walls of the tall corridor. I can almost feel the condemning stare of each and every one of them beaming down on me as I stomp down this wide, echoey hallway in the palace’s east wing. Fuck ‘em all. I keep my head high and my hand buried deep in the pocket of my trousers as I stride toward the meeting I’ve been summoned to.

  A uniformed guard flanks each side of the soaring wood and iron double doors. Each soldier positions his right hand at his temple in salute before I can even say a word. The door is opened for me and I march right through. My stride is arrogant. Powerful. Pissed off. But the sight awaiting me on the other side of the wall weakens me instantly. It nearly brings me to my knees.

  “Grandmum…”

  And now, I’m not so angry anymore. I’m horrified.

  I hesitate, stopping short of the bed to properly observe her. Lying completely still in the mammoth-sized four-poster bed, she looks tiny enough to fit in my pocket. She’s a mass of weathered skin and sharp bones and not much else. Even with a light blanket covering her lower body, I can see her knobby knees protruding from beneath the sheets. Her eyes and cheeks are sunken in.

  I’ve never imagined my grandmother in this frail state. She’s always been the strongest woman I know. Seeing her like this feels wrong. So wrong.

  The hawkish eyes of a dozen or so guards follow me as I venture closer, padding lightly on the balls of my feet. “Grandmum…” I sit my hand on top of hers.

  She stirs. Weak brown eyes blink up at me. It takes a few seconds for her to orient herself and then I see a flicker of her usual self flash behind her eyes.

  When she opens her mouth, nothing but a croak comes out. She motions for the cup of water at her bedside and a servant rushes forward, holding a straw to the old woman’s lips.

  She makes another attempt to speak. “You came back…” she says hoarsely.

  I sink onto the stool beside her bed. “Did you leave me any choice?”

  It’s selfish of me to be resentful. Because ultimately, this is bigger than me and my disappointment and my aching heart. The future of an entire nation depends on me being here, having this conversation right now. I know that. It it doesn’t mean I’m not angry as hell.

  Angry that I just walked away from Sadie. That I didn’t get to claim her the way I wanted to. That I silenced her when she tried to tell me how she feels.

  People look at the royal family and all they see is privilege. But the sacrifice I just made—leaving that girl behind—tears through my spirit.

  Grandmum rolls her weak eyes. “Don’t come in here with that self-pitying rubbish. Grab a handkerchief, soak up your tears and man up!”

  We glare at each other for a long beat. It doesn’t look like I’ll be getting any sympathy here.

  Eventually, she cracks and thrusts her bottom lip forward in a petulant pout. “And I’m your grandmother, dammit. What kind of crud doesn’t visit his sick grandmother?”

  Her words are a blunt reminder. It’s so easy to forget; this isn’t just about power and succession. There are family dynamics at play. She’s right, first and foremost and above all else, she’s my grandmother.

  My shoulders slump and my head drops in shame when I sigh. “Sorry, Grandmum…” I grumble unenthusiastically. “What I don’t understand is why you’re busy railing against me when your son is about to be carted off to prison.”

  Her wrinkly hand swipes through the air dismissively. “Oh, hush. No one’s about to be carted off to prison.” I slide my fingers up over my forehead.

  I freeze, my fingers tangled in my messy hair. I can’t be hearing correct
ly. “Wait—you’re just going to let him get away with this?”

  “He’s my son.” She sounds weak and I’m not just talking about the feeble tenor of her voice.

  Her family is her soft spot and I guess we all go to different lengths in exploiting it. But what my father has done is beyond merely deplorable. It’s criminal. Treasonous, even.

  “He tried to kill you!” I roar and the windows shake.

  The foul words still shock me as they roll off my tongue.

  He tried to kill her. My father tried to kill my grandmother.

  Because in his estimation, the old battle axe was taking too damn long to keel over and vacate the throne. He and his booty-popping wife were so damn eager to twerk their way into power that they didn’t care if they had to trample my grandmother to get there.

  When the specialists brought in by the palace doctors began running focused tests, they discovered that the Queen wasn’t merely deteriorating because of old age. She was being poisoned. They kept this information quiet while the Royal Protection and Security Unit of the Ridgeland police force tracked down the source of the venomous agent and persons involved in the conspiracy to administer it to the monarch.

  All shit hit the fan when they realized that her own damn son was at the middle of the entire scheme.

  Grandmum should want his fucking head on a platter. The laws on the matter date back to the dawn of our nation. Conspiracy to murder the monarch is a crime punishable by beheading. Instead, she’s letting him walk?

  “He was stripped of his right to inherit the Throne. That’s sufficient.”

  I scoff indignantly. “That’s a slap on the wrist given what he did.”

  “He’s been punished appropriately…Execution is not the proper punishment. Not for my son.” Her voice is firm. The decision has been made. And even in this poor state of health, she’s still the Queen and her word is final. If I don’t like it, too bad.