Royally Unexpected 2: An Accidental Pregnancy Collection (Surprise Baby Stories)

by Lilian Monroe

  She answers with a sigh.

  In a way, I’m happy for her. I think Cara deserves to make a new life for herself. She stopped singing around the time she was promised to my brother Luca. It was arranged by our parents, but it still felt natural. They loved each other.

  Then, Luca jumped off a cliff and broke his back. He moved to Singapore to get treated, and he pushed us all away. Refused to have us visit. Stopped taking Cara’s calls.

  I saw her break. We suffered alongside each other, until we drifted apart.

  Maybe leaving is a way for her to heal. To find her voice again.

  She deserves a fresh start. Cara’s always been independent, and I doubt even Luca could have kept her in Argyle for long. They would have had a happy, adventure-filled life together while I stayed at home and ran the Kingdom. I was always a little jealous of Luca—and of Cara, too—but my duty to the Kingdom was more important than any spontaneity.

  Now, more than ever, my responsibilities have to take precedence. My father is sick, and I know I’ll have to step up soon. In a way, this solstice sailing trip is a goodbye to my youth. I didn’t think it would be a goodbye to Cara, too.

  “Do you miss him?” she asks in the silence.

  I turn to look at her, the moonlight glowing over her smooth skin. Cara doesn’t meet my eye. She keeps her gaze on the stars as I stare at her profile.

  Has she always been this beautiful? Maybe it’s the light of the moon and the gentle rocking of the boat. Maybe it’s the two glasses of wine I had with dinner, but Cara seems to have a glow about her that I haven’t noticed before. I stare at the curve of her neck and the delicate fullness of her lips, almost forgetting that she asked me a question.

  “So… do you miss him?” she repeats softly, staring up at the stars.

  “Who, Luca?” I finally answer, the words almost torn from my throat. My brother’s name tastes bitter when I say it.

  Cara nods without looking at me.

  I grunt. “Of course. He’s been gone three years. I wish none of this had happened. I wish he hadn’t jumped off that cliff. I wish you hadn’t been there to see it. I wish everything was back the way it used to be.”

  Is that true, though? Do I want things back the way they were before? When I’m lying here alone with Cara, I wonder if maybe I don’t want things to go back at all.

  Silence hangs heavy between us. “How about you? Do you miss him?” I finally ask.

  Cara inhales and turns her head to look at me. A soft, warm breeze flows over us, carrying the scent of salty air and seaweed. Her almond-shaped eyes drill into mine as she tucks an arm under her head.

  “I missed him desperately for a long time,” Cara finally answers. “If he had told me that he wanted to break up with me, I think it would have been easier. But he just pushed me away and forced me to just…give up.” She winces, shaking her head. “I shouldn’t say that. He broke his back and it was incredibly difficult for him. I wanted to be there for him.”

  “But he wouldn’t let you.”

  Her eyes meet mine, and the depth of her sadness almost knocks me back. When my brother had his accident, my whole family was in shock. Hell, the whole Kingdom was in shock. Luca was airlifted to the hospital in Argyle, and then transferred to Singapore for a series of risky operations to try to stitch his spine back together again.

  We tried flying to be with him. We tried calling. We tried talking to him.

  He retreated from all of us. He was medicated, in pain, and facing a lifetime without the use of his legs. I tried to understand his reaction, but it was tough to be shut out.

  Being here, on the boat with Cara, I realize that she probably suffered more than all of us. They were a couple. She was supposed to marry Luca, and then all of a sudden, she was alone.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you,” I blurt out.

  Cara’s eyes widen, as if she’s surprised that someone would even think about her feelings. She shakes her head. “Don’t be sorry. I’m not yours to worry about.”

  Isn’t she, though? It feels like she should be mine to worry about. I stretch my arm out toward her. “Come here.”

  She hesitates for a moment, and finally shimmies closer to me. When Cara’s head rests on my shoulder, a wave of calm washes over me. The weight of her head on my chest, and the warmth of her body next to mine feels…right.

  It feels like she’s supposed to be there. She fits against me in a way that I didn’t even know was possible, like our bodies were made for each other. Two puzzle pieces carved from the same block. An extension of each other.

  My body starts to heat up. Warmth starts in the pit of my stomach and slowly snakes its way through my veins. It’s an unfamiliar sensation, full of lust and desire. It spreads like a slow burn through my abdomen, making my cock harden and my fingers twitch to explore Cara’s body.

  But I resist.

  It’s wrong.

  I can’t.

  We’ve been friends for years. Since we were kids! She dated my brother from the time she was fifteen until only a couple of years ago. She was going to be my sister-in-law.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to ignore the thumping of my heart. Cara’s head rests on my shoulder, and she drapes her arm across my chest. Her skin is warm against mine, and all I want to do is trail my hand along her arm, feeling her velvet skin beneath my fingertips.

  As she settles into me, the soft noise that slips through her mouth makes my body burn hotter.

  Stop it, I tell myself.

  I inhale slowly through my nose, trying to ignore the creeping heat spreading through my body. Can she hear my heart racing?

  “Come on,” I say, shimmying away from her. “Let’s play cards.”

  Mostly, I just need to get Cara away from me. I shouldn’t be feeling these things about my brother’s ex-girlfriend. We’re just friends.

  Right?

  Cara’s lips stretch into a smile. We stand up. The boat rocks gently, throwing her toward me. Cara giggles, catching herself against my chest.

  I look down into her eyes, feeling that same stirring of my heart once again.

  Clearing my throat, I pull away and nod toward the main cabin. The chef has cleared the table, so it’s free for us to play cards.

  It’s part of our tradition. We don’t actually play cards. We build card castles.

  Simple, really. The more the boat rocks, the more the cards fall. The more the cards fall, the more you drink. The more you drink, the harder it is to build card castles. And on, and on, and on.

  Tradition.

  Cara slips into the booth seat at the table and pulls out a deck of cards from her bag. They’re the same worn cards that we’ve used for the past ten years. All three of my brothers, Cara, and I would play card castle games for hours when we were younger. She always had the same deck, ready to pull out of her bag whenever it was needed.

  That’s one thing I like about Cara. She collects things that mean something to her. They’re never expensive things, even though her family is wealthy. The things she collects are usually small, like a worn pack of cards or a couple of nice shells that she finds on the beach. She doesn’t value the things that most people in my life hold dear—expensive cars and clothes, jewelry, and money. She values things that have meaning.

  Real meaning—like a pack of worn playing cards, frayed edges and all.

  Maybe that’s why she needs to leave. The things that hold her in Argyle—stability, safety, a big house that her parents built—don’t mean anything to her. She wants to find her own treasures along the way.

  I head for the bar and pull out a bottle of whiskey, flashing a grin at her.

  “You ready?”

  “Ready to win.”

  The rules are simple. The person that builds the tallest card castle in an allotted amount of time wins. The other person drinks.

  We start the first round, and my card castle crumbles as soon as the boat rocks. Cara laughs, nodding to the bottle of alcohol.


  “Drink.” Her eyes flash.

  The alcohol burns on the way down. Cara giggles, and sets the timer on her phone again.

  It’s a silly game, but we’ve been playing it for years. Cara’s tongue pokes out of her mouth as she tries to steady her hands, starting on the second level of her card castle.

  My cards are slipping already. I haven’t even been able to get the first two to stand up against each other.

  My pathetic structure collapses. “I think you rigged these cards.”

  “I think you’ve sucked at this game for years.” Cara quips. The buzzer sounds, and her smile widens. “Drink.”

  I take a swig of whiskey, shaking my head as I wipe my lips on the back of my hand. “You’ve definitely rigged this.”

  “In all the years we’ve been doing this, how many times have you won?” She arches an eyebrow.

  We both know the answer to that question: zero. My hands aren’t steady, and I just can’t get the cards to stack up. Add the rocking of the boat and a few drinks, and I’m completely hopeless.

  At least I enjoy whiskey.

  I just shake my head and pour some alcohol into her glass. “You should drink for speaking to your Crown Prince in that tone.”

  “Oh, pulling out the royal card again. I see how it is. You’ve changed, Theo.”

  “I’m not above using my title to get what I want.”

  “And what do you want?” Her eyes darken, and heat flames in my gut.

  Instead of answering, I just drink.

  Cara laughs, and I realize just how much I’ve missed that sound. She used to be a fixture at the palace. We grew up together, and I called her one of my closest childhood friends. Things changed when she was promised to Luca, obviously, but we’ve always been close.

  The past three years I’ve seen less of her than ever before, and I’ve missed her more than I realized.

  She shows me her phone screen, her finger hovering over the timer button. “Are you giving up, or should we go another round?”

  “I never give up.”

  Cara grins. My heart feels easy. I watch her stack her cards higher and higher, and I resign myself to getting very, very drunk with one of my closest friends.

  How could I not? It’s tradition.

  4

  Cara

  I wake up with a pounding headache. Even though I won every single round of the card castle game, I still drank my fair share of whiskey with Theo.

  I couldn’t help it. It’s been months—years—since I’ve been able to let loose. It felt like old times, or maybe like the start of my new life. One where I’m free to get drunk if I feel like it, or leave on an international adventure when I want to. One where I chase my own dreams, instead of living the life that’s been prescribed for me.

  But as my head thumps, I’m almost regretting it.

  Almost.

  The yacht rocks, and I groan into my pillow. I can hear Prince Theo moving around in the cabin next to mine, and I wonder if he’s feeling as groggy as I am. I don’t know if it’s the hangover or the weather, but the waves feel choppier than they did yesterday.

  Shuffling out of my cabin, I emerge at the same time as Theo appears in his doorway. His hair is mussed and his eyes are hazy, but a tiny kernel of warmth flames to life in the pit of my stomach. Has he always been this handsome?

  I clear my throat, trying to shake the feeling away.

  Maybe I’m still a little drunk.

  “How’d you sleep?” the Prince asks, rubbing his palm over his jaw.

  “Fine, I guess. I think it was more passing out than sleeping. How much did we drink last night?”

  The boat heaves, and Theo stumbles toward me. He catches himself against my doorway, but not before his chest brushes against mine. The heat in my gut expands as I inhale his scent, not even bothered by the hangover that still pounds in my head.

  My thighs clench. My heart stutters.

  This is bad.

  I’m not supposed to feel this way about Theo. It’s wrong on so many levels.

  I must be lonelier than I thought. Three years without Luca has taken its toll. It’s just hormones. That’s all.

  Right?

  “Coffee?” Theo grunts, nodding toward the galley kitchen at the back of the yacht. I nod, following him down the narrow passageway. My eyes drop to his butt, mesmerized by the motion of it as he walks. Glancing away, I curse myself.

  I’m definitely still drunk. There’s no other explanation. My thoughts aren’t my own.

  We make it to the kitchen, where Chef Alfred has prepared a full spread for breakfast. The chef, dressed in his crisp white uniform, bows to the Prince and me before offering us a selection of food.

  My stomach gurgles violently. I shake my head.

  “Just coffee, please.”

  “As you wish,” Alfred says, pouring coffee halfway up the mug. The boat rocks, sending the hot liquid sloshing up the sides of its container.

  “Maybe a mug with a lid.” He smiles.

  I nod gratefully, accepting the travel mug. Theo’s already collapsed on one of the banquettes, his hand over his face as he groans.

  “Remind me again why we invented that game? This happens every year.”

  I chuckle, joining him on the long, cushioned bench. “What did you think was going to happen?”

  “I was hoping I’d whoop your ass, for once.”

  “Dreamer.”

  Prince Theo groans, and I smile into my coffee.

  “Maybe we’re getting too old to play it,” I say with a shrug. “I don’t remember being this hungover last time.”

  Prince Theo’s long limbs are stretched over the seat. When he shifts his body on the bench, the edge of his shirt rides up his stomach, exposing a strip of bronzed flesh. My heart thumps and I have to look away.

  The coffee is bitter and hot, and it burns on the way down. I focus on the sensation, because at least then I’m not thinking about Prince Theo’s body.

  Has he always been this attractive?

  I’ve never thought of him as anything other than a childhood friend. When I was dating Luca, Prince Theo was going to be my future brother-in-law. Theo had always been a little more distant than the other Princes. He’s the King-in-training, after all. I’ve always thought of him as a person who puts duty above everything and takes his responsibilities very seriously.

  He was never someone I looked at as anything more than my friend and future King. Plus, I was dating his brother. I was in love, or so I thought.

  Now, everything’s changed. Luca and I aren’t together anymore. It’s been years since a man has looked at me, let alone spent any time with me. I’ve been lonely. Alone. Isolated.

  My parents have raged and ranted about the dissolution of my engagement to Prince Luca, my mother always cursing me for letting it fall apart. I was supposed to be their ticket into the royal family. I was supposed to be the one to make their fortune more respectable by marrying royalty. Now, that’s all over.

  My parents don’t know it yet, but I’m leaving. It’s done.

  Except, when my eyes drift over Prince Theo’s body, I can’t help but enjoy the embers that burn in my veins. Heat feels good after three years of cold isolation. Being next to him makes something spark inside me. Something that’s lain dormant for a long time.

  Theo feels me staring at his body and opens his eyes. We look at each other for a moment. His gaze is unreadable.

  The chef places some bacon on a hot pan, then, and both our heads turn toward the sizzle.

  Then, the smell hits.

  Closely followed by nausea.

  Theo groans, scrambling to his feet as the boat rocks violently to the side. He catches himself against the dining table, and I’m grateful that everything on this yacht is secured to the floor. Theo’s body lands inches from mine, splayed across the table. Even after a night of drinking, he still smells like a fresh ocean breeze mixed with manly musk.

  How did I never notice that scent before? Or
the way it makes my blood burn hotter?

  Groaning, the Prince pulls himself off the table and mumbles something about fresh air.

  I watch him leave the small room, closing my eyes as I wrap my fingers around my mug of coffee.

  I must be drunk. It’s the only explanation for what’s happening in my body right now. I’ve never, ever thought of Theo this way. I’ve never been attracted to him. I’ve been able to acknowledge his attractiveness, sure, but in an objective kind of way. The way you can acknowledge a celebrity is attractive without actually being turned on by them. He’s never made my pulse quicken like he does now.

  I need to get a grip.

  I sip my coffee, waiting for my heartbeat to slow down.

  Theo is off-limits. I used to be promised to his brother. We grew up together.

  He’s my friend.

  Nothing more.

  And I’m leaving, for crying out loud. In a week, I’ll be gone. Now is not the time to muddy the waters.

  Even if I were attracted to him—which I’m not, because I’m sure this’ll pass once the alcohol is out of my system—it would be completely inappropriate. Completely out of the question. Completely wrong.

  Still, my eyes drift up to the hallway where he disappeared. Something tugs at the pit of my stomach, and I know I need to follow him.

  Heaving myself off the booth seat, I catch myself against the wall when the boat rocks again.

  “Captain says a storm’s coming,” Chef Alfred explains, securing all his things under straps and in drawers. He gives me a tight smile. “We might have to spend the day below deck.”

  “I’ll let the Prince know.”

  The chef bows his head and continues his work. I hand him my empty coffee mug and head down the narrow hallway. As soon as I emerge into the fresh air outside, my headache eases a little. The heat that burned inside me dampens, and relief floods through my body.

  I’m not attracted to Theo. My moment of weakness was only the result of three lonely years and a night of heavy drinking.

  I should be grateful that I didn’t act on any of these feelings last night. It’ll pass.

  Scanning the yacht’s deck, I see Theo near the railing. The captain is beside the mast of the sailboat with one of the crew members, furiously trying to drop the sail down. The sky is dark. The sea is choppy.