The Reckless Prince (Royal Billionaires of Mondragón Book 4)

by Jewel Allen

  A curious glint filled Gemma’s eyes. “Do you do your mother’s bidding?”

  “Not if I can help it. A guy’s got to have his self-respect, you know.”

  “We met your mother,” Cherise said. “She’s quite…ahem, forceful. Right, Gemma?”

  I could tell Gemma was weighing her words carefully. “She came on a bit strong, yes.”

  I grimaced. “Sorry.”

  “Do your girlfriends have to pass your mother’s test to date you seriously?” Cherise asked.

  I flicked a glance at Gemma, who averted her eyes.

  “Yes,” I admitted. “She has to give her blessing to all our marriages. It’s a law. If she doesn’t give her permission, we have to go to Parliament for an exception. It’s a convoluted process.”

  Mike popped a fry in his mouth and balled his napkin before throwing it down on the table. “Pretty sad law, if you ask me. Good thing real American men don’t need their mama’s permission to fall in love.”

  I wiped my mouth with my napkin and turned slowly to Mike. “We pride ourselves on having strong family relationships. Besides, if the Princess Mother doesn’t get along with a potential in-law, it makes for a difficult dynamic.”

  Cherise jumped in. “Oh, look at the time. Nine o’clock already. What do you say we head over to Jem’s?” She blinked at us with an overly-bright smile.

  Mike pushed on the table and moved the bench we were sharing by a half a foot. “You know what, I think I’ll turn in for the night. I feel like a cold’s coming on.”

  “What?” Cherise cried. “Who will I partner with on the dance floor?”

  “Him, I guess?” Mike pointed at me with his thumb.

  Cherise tapped her fingers impatiently on the table. “And how will we get home?”

  “Brigid is shadowing us,” I reminded them.

  Mike dug in his pocket and tossed the keys on the table. “Here, take my truck. Have fun, ladies. I’ll walk home.”

  “Is he usually this dour?” I asked once he was out of the building.

  “Not really.” Cherise dabbed at her mouth. “You bring out the best in him, apparently.”

  Gemma glanced in the direction Mike took. “He actually can be—I was just thinking of that. He holds grudges for a long time. But with the kids, he’s more patient. That’s the only reason I’m keeping him on, to be honest. I think you threaten him.”

  “I’ve tried to be pleasant,” I protested.

  “Maybe your being royalty gets his goat. You might even be the ruler of your country someday.”

  “It shouldn’t. There’s only a slim chance I’ll take over the head role someday. Very slim.”

  Cherise gaped at me. “Why?”

  “Well, I’m further down the sibling line. I don’t mind. I think as succession is less of an issue, so is Mother’s interference in my love life.”

  “So you have no girlfriend back home?” Cherise continued to prod.

  I could feel Gemma’s gaze sliding toward me then away.

  “Not in that sense. But there is a certain princess who I think my family hopes I will connect with someday.”

  I could sense Gemma withdrawing. Don’t, I implored silently. “It’s not like we’re dating or anything,” I announced.

  It didn’t seem to make a difference. Gemma wouldn’t look my direction.

  Cherise sighed. “Yeah, if it’s like most royal marriages, then it’s all money, no love.”

  I wanted to tell her that it wasn’t true. My other brothers had found love, and they didn’t have to give up the perks that went with royalty.

  But there was no chance to say all that.

  Gemma stood, signaling it was time to go.

  Chapter Ten

  Gemma

  Things had been fairly tolerable. At least without Mike, I had one less guy to worry about. Why did Diego have to bring up the princess? I beat Diego to the front passenger seat so I didn’t have to sit in the back with him.

  Cherise offered for him to drive, but he begged off. “I’m still kind of jet-lagged, and I don’t have a driver’s license. You sure you don’t want Brigid to drive?”

  “That’s a nice fancy Benz SUV,” Cherise said, “but I’m good with the truck. Gemma?”

  “Yes, that’s fine.”

  I sat there quiet, mulling the turn of tonight’s events in my mind. I had kind of decided that I’d at least be polite to him. Seeing him alongside Mike just confirmed to me why I didn’t want to date the petty Mike in the first place.

  But this prince was already taken. He said so himself. I wasn’t royalty and never would be. Might as well fight off this attraction while no feelings were involved.

  He and Cherise were talking easily, like friends. Cherise could have him for all I cared.

  I leaned back into my seat and closed my eyes.

  “Not feeling good?” Cherise asked.

  I could have lied and claimed I had a headache, but I simply said, “No. I’m good.”

  “Because if you want, we could drop you off at home.”

  Now she was irritating me. “I’m fine.”

  Cherise had a strange smile on her face. “Oh, good.”

  When we parked, Diego came around to open my door. I told him thanks and walked so Cherise was between us. Cherise and I went in and waited by the door.

  Diego tried to follow us in but was stopped by the bouncer. “Ladies get in free, but you pay five bucks.”

  He glanced at me with a panicked look in his eyes. The billionaire had no money? Well, this was embarrassing.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said.

  Chapter Eleven

  Diego

  I jogged out to the parking lot where Brigid and company were already making their way across. “Brigid, can you please loan me some dollars?”

  “Really, Your Highness?” she teased. She was already whipping out her wallet.

  I looked closely at the unfamiliar currency. “Five will do. Thanks, Brigid. You’re a gem.”

  “Just doing my job! Don’t do anything that would embarrass your mother.”

  “As long as you don’t tell,” I winked, “we’re good.”

  When I returned to the bouncer, the ladies were nowhere in sight. I weaved my way past through groups of people and found them on the dance floor. Glancing around and seeing the cash bar, I winced. I should have grabbed more money. Some impression I was making on my new American friends. On Gemma. I sat at an empty table and waited.

  After the song, Cherise joined me. Gemma stayed on the dance floor, leaning close to hear what a cowboy with a huge hat was whispering in her ear.

  “You found us.” Cherise took her seat.

  “Listen, Cherise. You’ve been so nice so far. I was wondering if you could do me a favor.”

  “Anything.”

  “I don’t have cash on me, but I wanted to buy you ladies drinks. Do you mind floating them and I’ll give you money when we get—”

  “Sure thing.” Cherise grinned. “I’m pretty sure you’re loaded, so I’m not worried.”

  I laughed. “You’re not shy, are you?”

  Gemma was walking over to join us, with several pairs of eyes watching her. As I did.

  “Would you like a drink?” I offered when she sat down across from me.

  She loosened her collar and fanned herself. A sheen of perspiration on her cheeks made her glow. “Yes, please.”

  I motioned for the server to come. He took her order for a virgin piña colada, and we watched the dancing on the floor until he returned. So many people twirling and moving in a circle in a synchronized fashion. Like a promenade.

  I took a guzzle of my Coke. “So this is swing dancing.”

  “Yes,” Cherise said.

  “It looks intricate. Are there rules?”

  “Don’t get in the way of others, and don’t step on your partner’s foot.”

  “Great rules.”I set down my drink.

  Cherise glanced from me to Gemma and back. ”You shou
ld take Gemma around for a spin.”

  The thought had already crossed my mind. A few guys, including the first one Gemma danced with, were eyeing her. But frankly, I was scared of being rejected, as I knew she would.

  Gemma watched me over the rim of her nearly empty glass.

  “I’ll dance with you next,” I promised Cherise.

  “You’re sweet.” She smiled. “But I’m sure I won’t be lacking for partners.”

  I stood and cleared my throat. “May I have this dance?”

  The women exchanged amused glances. Gemma set down her drink and traced her finger on the condensation. Her eyes flicked to mine. “Okay.” She strode to the dance floor, leaving me to catch up to her.

  Sure enough, as soon as Gemma and I hit the dance floor, a man strolled up to Cherise.

  “I’m not as good as Cherise,” Gemma warned me.

  “Oh?” I teased. “Let’s see it.”

  Problem was, I wasn’t as good as their partners either. I couldn’t make head nor tail of what to do with her. “I’m afraid I’m not very good at this.”

  We chuckled. We weren’t too hot out on the dance floor, but that little mutual admission seemed to break the ice.

  Gemma gave me a sympathetic look then held my hands. The effect on me was electric. Who cared about dancing? All I wanted to do was hold her hands and sway to this music.

  “Just put your hand around my waist, like so,” she said, demonstrating, “and hold my hand in yours like this.”

  “Am I doing this correctly?” I murmured in her ear.

  She gave me a startled glance and visibly swallowed. “Yes, that’s it.”

  “And then what?” We weren’t moving. We were just standing together, touching, while the world went on around us.

  “And then we could dance,” she whispered.

  I didn’t even try to hit the same fast beat as the music. I listened to my own tune, just holding her and moving around in slow patterns.

  “Usually, we go pretty fast,” she said.

  “I thought maybe you’d like to go slow.” My glance fell to her lips.

  “I…I don’t know…”

  “You don’t know?” I smiled.

  “We shouldn’t block people like this,” she said, breathless. “We should probably just sit down.”

  “Whatever you’d like.”

  “Yes, that’s what we should do.” She nodded as though figuring out a solution to her problem.

  Even though I was disappointed, I didn’t want to rush her. I was making some headway after that faux pas about Princess Adele. I needed to go slow to...

  To what?

  To romance her while I was here and then return to my royal life? I was a prince, first and foremost, and a soccer player second. Those responsibilities called me far and away from Colorado. I couldn’t toy with her feelings. I could totally understand her hesitation in getting involved with me.

  At the same time, she was right here. A beautiful woman of flesh and blood. If we couldn’t have a romance, at least we could be friends.

  Really, Diego? You numbskull. You’re ready to give up on her?

  Not if I can help it. We’re not talking marriage here anyway.

  At least not right now.

  I walked her back to our table, and she sat down, gazing into my eyes. I could see a sort of dazed wonder in hers. I knew the feeling—like we were taking a free fall somewhere unknown.

  I didn’t have a chance to explore these feelings with her; a cowboy asked her to dance. He looked at me then at Gemma. “Your boyfriend mind?”

  “He’s not my boyfriend,” she yelled into the loud din. “He’s visiting from Europe.”

  The guy bore her away happily, his conscience clear.

  I ordered another Coke, nursing the fact that I didn’t even make the “friend” category. To Gemma, I was just a “visitor.”

  For the next few songs, I watched Gemma and this fellow. I didn’t even attempt to hide the fact that I was envious of how well he led her in a graceful swing dance. I looked around for Cherise, and there she was, dancing with someone else too. There were a couple of tables nearby, full of women without partners, eyeing me.

  My eyes veered back to Gemma, and then I got up and asked another lady to dance. She was fun, and we talked a little, but my heart wasn’t in it. By the time I had asked almost all of the ladies at the two tables to dance, I was getting a headache.

  “Last song,” a band member announced. “We’re saving the best for last.”

  Of course, Gemma was still dancing with the cowboy. I hitched up my jeans and walked over, tapping her partner on the shoulder.

  “May I?” I asked.

  He glared at me, but I didn’t look away. With a grunt, he let Gemma go and stepped aside.

  Gemma and I stared at each other, unsmiling, as the music began, all the couples circling together in synchronized rhythm. I took her in my arms, and I was sure we were following the wrong beat.

  But it didn’t matter.

  As soon as I held her in my arms, none of my frustrations mattered. Not the pining for her while she danced with another man, not the waiting, not the emptiness of twirling strange women on the dance floor. I held her close and savored her sweet scent, swaying to our own music.

  I held her close and set aside thoughts of the future. Of going back to the soccer league. Of me having to leave this place eventually. Of how Mike would probably make my life miserable the next few weeks.

  I just focused on Gemma and the way her body swayed to the rhythm, how her hair smelled sweetly of flowers, how soft her palm was. How she looked up at me with an amused expression.

  “What so funny?” I asked.

  “You’re a better slow dancer,” she observed.

  “You make me look good.” She also made me feel good, but I bit my tongue. I didn’t want to scare her off.

  From out of nowhere, exhaustion hit me. I tried to suppress a yawn but didn’t succeed. “Sorry,” I said. “Jet lag. I’m kind of upside down with my days and nights.”

  She yawned. “About time for my beauty sleep too.”

  I let my eyes travel over her jaw and cheek, her glowing eyes, her lips. “Whatever you’re doing, it’s working.”

  “Oh, stop.”

  “But I’m serious.”

  She raised her eyes to mine. “Are all men from Mondragón like this?”

  “I have no idea. Do you think I’m just feeding you a line?”

  “We just met.”

  “I say in all sincerity, you’re beautiful. Especially your eyes.”

  She blinked her long, lovely lashes and then ducked her head.

  “Listen.” She stopped dancing and pushed away from me. “You’re very charming, but I’m not interested. You’re here for five weeks. Then you’re going back to your princely life. I don’t want to be the Royal Hothead’s service romance.”

  ”But you’re not.”

  “Why should I believe you?”

  I sighed. “It’s not like I planned this, any of this. Meeting you.”

  She didn’t answer for a long moment, before wincing. “People come and go in our lives.”

  Her words made me sad. I’d hoped for more, but maybe I was expecting too much too soon. And then, just like that, the music was over.

  She glanced at me pointedly, and I let her go, following her to our table where Cherise was talking to a guy in a cowboy hat, which was about ninety percent of all the males in the room. Suddenly, I wished I could be a cowboy too, living in this place called Sunnyridge so Gemma would give me a chance. But she was right. I was only here for a few weeks. And if she couldn’t see past my reputation, then why bother?

  I wished I could be like all of my now-married brothers. Most of them had met their wives away from Mondragón and, in just a short period of time, fell in love and somehow surmounted the challenge of that impending departure.

  But, frankly, the effort seemed too much. Maybe I would feel better in the morning, but for no
w, I felt like a punching bag.

  We left soon after, and I opened the front passenger door for Gemma and went to the back, exhausted in spirit and body. I didn’t exactly know what I was expecting in this new place, but maybe a bit of warmth from my hosts would have been nice. Less judgment. Thank goodness for Cherise. Maybe I should flirt with her instead.

  When we got to the training camp, I thought for sure Gemma would storm inside, but she waited for me to open her door.

  Cherise got out her side and held up the truck keys. “I’ll go give the keys to Mike. Thanks for the fun night, guys! I hope you had fun, Diego.”

  “I sure did,” I said, trying to keep my tone light. “Thanks!”

  Cherise disappeared around a corner of one of the dorms, leaving me alone with Gemma. She got out of the truck, and I closed the door.

  “May I walk you to your door?” I asked.

  She nodded, and we walked slowly until we were there. Cocking her head, she smiled. “You’re so formal and polite. Asking my permission to walk me to my door.” She shook her head.

  “Do American men not do that?”

  “Not usually. They just…” Her words trailed.

  “What?”

  She looked away then back. “They just seize the bull by the horns, figuratively speaking of course.”

  “And what would that mean, in terms of actions?”

  “Oh,” she shrugged, “you just walk a girl to the door. Maybe reach for her hand. And then at her door…” her eyes fell to my mouth, “…you kiss her.”

  What was she telling me? Did it mean I should…? I swallowed, fascinated with her lips. “Without permission?”

  “Yes.” Her eyes widened as I narrowed the distance between us. “Not that you should.”

  I blinked. “What?”

  “I mean, you asked what American men did, and you’re not American.”

  I thought of all those swing-dancing American men in that dance club. “I’m well aware of that,” I growled.

  “So you should ask me for permission.”

  “Very well,” I whispered. “May I kiss you?”

  She didn’t answer for one long, arduous moment, before biting her lip and shaking her head.