Feisty Princess

by Michelle A. Valentine

  Hearing the name ‘Mrs. King’ throws me for a bit of a loop. It actually does take a second for it to register that I am, in fact, Mrs. Alexander King, and the whole purpose of me living here is to make people believe that we are indeed a married couple.

  I clear my throat before I square my shoulders, reminding myself that I’m doing this to secure my rightful future and that I need to play my part in this whole happily-ever-after illusion. God knows I don’t need to give Alexander any reason to argue with me. It seems that when we do that, we end up tearing at each other’s clothes. “That’s right. I believe my husband is expecting me.”

  This seems to satisfy the old man. He gives me a curt nod and then opens the door for me. “Right this way, Madame.”

  “Thank you . . .” I trail my words as I pass by him, unsure of his name.

  “Darby,” he announces while still wearing his smile.

  I smile in return, completely at ease with this man who seems to be extremely friendly. I don’t know how in the world the man keeps such a pleasant outlook considering he has one of the biggest pricks in Manhattan living in his place of employment. It’s bad enough I have to fetch Alexander’s coffee and whatever else he needs while being treated like crap. I can only imagine how unpleasant he must be toward Darby when he passes by him every day.

  I make my way through the elegant lobby and listen to the heels of my shoes click on the marble tile as I head toward the elevator. When I press the up button, it occurs to me that I have no clue what floor Alexander’s apartment is on.

  I turn toward the front door where Darby busies himself collecting my bags from the driver and placing them on a gold plated trolley. I bite my lip, unease suddenly rocking through me at the realization of how unprepared I am for this situation.

  The panic I feel must be evident on my face because the moment the doorman pushes his cart up next to me, he asks, “Are you all right, Madame?”

  I tuck a loose strand of my dark hair back behind my ear. “Oh, yes. I’m perfectly fine.”

  Darby’s quiet for a few moments. “You know, I was a wee bit nervous the first night my bonny lass and I settled into our cottage together. I believe that’s normal for everyone when they get married.”

  “Oh, I’m not—” The elevator dings cutting me off before I babble on how I’m not going out of my mind right now when, in fact, I am.

  I step inside and move to the side so Darby can squeeze inside with my things.

  Darby punches the ‘P’ button on the elevator, so I make a mental note to remember that for next time. “I don’t think you’ll have anything to worry about. Alex is a good lad.”

  I bunch my brow together. Since I’ve met Alexander King, I’ve never heard anyone address him so informally, so this takes me aback and makes me a bit curious. “Have you worked for Alexander long?”

  Darby nods. “Aye. The missus and me have worked for Alex’s family for the better part of thirty years now—since Alex was a wee babe. I think that’s about the time we moved to the States from Ottawa Valley. Aggie practically raised Alex and Diem, you know.”

  That’s a lot of information to take in, but one thing definitely stood out to me about that story. “So when you say that you’ve worked for his family . . . do you mean that the Kings own this building?”

  “Aye,” he answers. “It’s been in the King family for generations. When Alexander’s father inherited it, he decided to turn the penthouse into his family home.”

  From the research I had done on Alexander, I discovered that his father was a very family-oriented man with a reputation of integrity. It was clear by all the photos I found of the two of them before Mr. King had passed away that Alexander and his father were close. So it doesn’t exactly surprise me that this building, much like his company, was passed on to his son too.

  When the elevator’s doors open into the hall, only one door comes into view. It’s painted a soft cream color and trimmed in gold accents, making it very reminiscent of a much more regal era when paired with the red carpet that also contain gold trim. Just to the right of the door is a small box that appears to be an intercom. I stand back as Darby presses the call button to alert a bell on the other side of the door.

  “Yes?” an older lady’s voice calls over the box.

  “Aggie, I’ve got the new Mrs. King for ye. Care to open the door and let the lass inside?”

  Within moments, the locks on the other side of the door jingle, and the door is opened, revealing a foyer fit for a palace. My eyes widen at the sight of all the marble with gold accents. A staircase stands proudly in the middle of the space, leading up to another level of the apartment. This entry takes me back to a time when I was a little girl and dreamed of being a princess living in a castle; only it’s more amazing than my dreams.

  “Don’t be shy. Come on in.” The lady who I’m banking is Aggie, Darby’s wife, holds the door open for me.

  She smiles as I pass her, and much like her husband, there’s a very friendly energy surrounding Aggie. The blue of her maid’s uniform enriches the color of her ocean-blue eyes while her gray hair sits in a low bun, showing off her round face.

  Darby follows me inside, and Aggie quickly turns her attention from me to her husband. “He’s done well, hasn’t he, Darby? This one is a pretty one.”

  A blush creeps over my cheeks as I listen to the woman dote on me.

  Aggie closes the door, causing the bottom hem of her uniform to swish about a bit. “Now that we’re alone, we want you to know that Darby and myself know the truth about the situation at hand, so there’ll be no need in puttin’ on a show fur the likes of us.”

  I raise my eyebrows, still not sure if I should break my cover just in case they really don’t know that Alexander and I didn’t really mean to get married.

  “Don’t look so surprised, dear. There’s not much that Alex keeps from us. He gave us all the details. I still can’t believe that Henry put that silly clause in his will. I tried to explain that just because he was wild until he was thirty-two didn’t mean that our Alex would be the same. I wish Henry were here to see just how well his son has done with running the empire he built. He would’ve been so proud and that little clause would never have existed.” Aggie sighs. “It’s just a shame Alex still has to deal with all this.” She quickly backpedals. “Not that it’s anything to do with you personally, dear. I’m sure you’re a lovely young lady and we’ll be happy to have ye here until this mess is settled. I just wish he didn’t have to go through proving that he’s capable of running a business even though he makes a few mistakes.”

  “The lad is only human,” Darby chimes in. “Can’t expect him to be perfect all the time.”

  “He’s far from perfect.” My eyes widen the moment I realize that I’ve actually said what was running through my mind. Not wanting to offend two people who clearly care for Alexander, I try to correct my mistake. “Er—I mean . . .”

  Darby laughs. “No wonder he likes her. She’s a feisty one.”

  Aggie nods in agreement. “Aye. Maybe he’s found his match.”

  I stand there, completely unsure of what to say.

  “Come on, lass. Let me show yew to where you’ll be staying,” Aggie instructs and then turns toward the staircase. “Darby will bring your bags up to your room. I’m sure you’ll need to freshen up for dinner.”

  Once at the top of the stairs, Aggie leads me down a wide hallway lined with paintings. Some of the paintings are abstract pieces, while a few focus on people. Each one is more beautiful than the last. One, in particular, catches my attention.

  It’s Alexander.

  He sits in a high-back leather chair, and the dark background causes the red tie he’s wearing to pop out against his gray suit. It’s uncanny how lifelike the piece looks. There’s a hint of mischief in his gray eyes paired with that signature cocky grin. Even in a painting Alexander King appears to be up to no good. It’s amazing how even a picture of him causes my body to do crazy things, like ye
arn his touch.

  “These are beautiful,” I tell Aggie, who’s waiting patiently for me to study the pictures that I’m sure she’s passed by a million times. “Are they all the same artist?”

  “They are.” Alexander’s voice causes me to jump.

  Clearly, I wasn’t expecting him to be the one to answer me.

  My back goes ramrod straight with the arrival of the unwelcome asshole who owns the place. The relaxed mood that Aggie and Darby had created the moment I stepped foot inside this building is suddenly gone.

  Alexander comes strutting down the hall, wearing a white oxford rolled up to his elbows and the same dark slacks he had on earlier in the office. He’s clearly made himself more comfortable since the last time I’d seen him today.

  He stops about a foot away and then turns to stare at the portrait of himself. “It’s a great likeness, don’t you think? I look pretty damn fantastic, if you ask me.”

  I have to fight the urge to roll my eyes at his outward show of cockiness. “It’s very nice work. It’s too bad the artist didn’t have a better subject. If they’d had someone different, then perhaps this would be in a museum somewhere.”

  A hint of a smile crosses his lips. “Margo, you have an uncanny ability to insult me and yet throw out a compliment. In this case, I’ll allow your snide jab at me to slide, considering you’ve just praised my little sister’s work.”

  “Diem did this?” I raise my eyebrows, and it hits me instantly that I remember his sister from high school. Even back then, she was an artist, which made her stand out from all the other kids, and that’s how I remember her. Most kids I went to school with were obsessed with getting into top-notch colleges in order to be able to work for their family businesses, but not Diem. She was all about art and expressing herself.

  He motions to the other paintings hanging on both sides of the hall. “She did all of these. She very passionate about her work, and she actually just sold her first piece shortly before we left for Las Vegas.”

  “That’s fantastic,” I answer honestly. “She’s clearly very talented.”

  This time when he smiles, it’s more reminiscent of a proud parent. It’s nice to know he’s not a heartless jackass in all facets of his life.

  “Come,” Alexander instructs. “I’ll show you to your room.”

  He turns to go back the way he came down the hall, and I follow, suddenly aware that Aggie is no longer with us.

  We pass a couple of doors. Alexander explains that one is a bathroom and that there are seven in total in the apartment. The second door belongs to his little sister who still stays with him from time to time.

  “I take it that the two of you get along well,” I state as we pass by Diem’s room.

  He shrugs. “For the most part, we do. There are times when she tries my patience, but I guess that’s what little sisters do.”

  “Does your mother still have to break up fights between the two of you like she did when you were children?”

  This question causes Alexander’s body to stiffen. “My mother hasn’t been in our lives for quite some time.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” I tell him as the feeling of pity for the loss of a mother wafts over me. Nowhere in my research about Alexander King did it talk about a strained relationship with his mother. It then falls upon me to lighten the mood since I seemed to have brought up a touchy subject. “Well, seems to be her loss, and Diem seems to be able to create in spite of her not being around.”

  He nods but doesn’t say another word about the topic.

  Clearly talking about his mother isn’t something that he likes to do. I make a mental note about that so I tread lightly on the subject stay on his good side. I want this little arrangement to go off without a hitch. In order for the board to believe that we’re a happy couple, we have to maintain what I like to refer to as a pleasant working relationship.

  When we come to the third door on the left, Alexander stops. “This is your room. You may decorate it however you wish while you’re here. If you need anything at all, please feel free to ask Aggie or Darby. They will see to your needs. Unless your needs are of the sexual variety. In that case, I expect you to report directly to me so that I can assist you with that. I like for all my guests to be satisfied.”

  “And there’s the asshole I know,” I say. “I wondered where you’d been hiding for the last few minutes.”

  Alexander pulls a key from his pants pocket and then dangles it in front of me. “You know very well that I can be nice when I want to be, Margo. I thought I was very accommodating in Vegas.”

  There’s no mistaking the teasing tone of his voice, and it pisses me off. I don’t like the fact that I gave in to this man, and I don’t like him throwing the fact that I’ve fucked him in my face. And I for damn sure want to make sure that he knows that he’s never getting inside these panties ever again.

  I narrow my eyes. “Well, don’t worry about being nice to me while I’m here. I made sure to pack my own battery-powered happiness maker, so I’m afraid I won’t need you to accommodate anything relating to me ever again.”

  That trademark grin returns in full force. “I seem to remember you making these same threats before, and we still ended up married.”

  “For now,” I reply and then snatch the key from his hand. “That’s one problem I intend to remedy as soon as possible.”

  He leans against the wall and folds his arms over his chest. “Well, Princess, I hate to be the one to burst whatever perfectly planned little bubble you’ve got going on in that beautiful brain of yours, but we’re not separating until I’m sure the board buys that we were at least madly in love when we said I do and we have to pay Yamada a visit on his island this coming Thurday.”

  I twist my lips. I wish I could go back and punch myself square in the face during that part of our nuptials and scream ‘I don’t!’ because now King has me by the proverbial balls, and he knows it. I just have to keep cool and not lose my head, even though the man is frustratingly gorgeous and has a body that I wouldn’t mind seeing naked again. Being so attracted to him complicates the hell out of things.

  I will not be lured into temptation. I still have a job to do. Winning back Buchanan Industries and securing my future must be my main focus. It’s time to keep my eyes on the prize and not on Alexander’s stunning physique or his promises of naughty pleasure.

  “Don’t worry, King. This marriage is nothing more than a business relationship for me. I’ll uphold my end of the deal. By the time I’m through putting on a show, this whole damn town will believe that we’re the most in love couple on the planet.” I square my shoulders after my little mental pep talk and shove the key into the door. I pass Alexander and step into the room without saying another word.

  Alexander

  MARGO DIDN’T COME OUT OF her room at all last night. Aggie got worried after a while and checked on her, but she still couldn’t convince her to come down to the main floor of the apartment for dinner. Instead, Aggie fixed a tray and took it up to her. She told me that I needed to give the girl time to adjust to the situation and reminded me that I’m not always the easiest man to live with.

  This morning, I got the same coldness from Margo when I offered her a ride to work. I explained that it would be best to be seen coming to the office together since we’re a happily married couple.

  I could tell that she was reluctant, but she agreed.

  I steal a quick glance in her direction in the elevator. Her dark hair is down today, flowing freely in big waves over her shoulders. It’s such a stark contrast from the bright red dress she’s wearing that I can’t help but notice every curve on her body.

  As if she can feel my eyes studying the contours of her body, she turns her head and points her gaze right at me. I don’t make any apologies when she catches me either. I never say sorry unless I mean it, and in this case, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with staring at the work of art that’s Margo’s body. So I might as well compliment he
r on it.

  “Your tits look amazing in that dress. You should wear it more often,” I tell her.

  She narrows her eyes. “Do you always have to be so crass?”

  “Yes,” I muse with a smile. “It’s part of my charm.”

  “Who said you were charming?” she jabs back at me.

  I raise one eyebrow. “I seem to recall being able to charm you out of your panties on more than two occasions.”

  “Well,” she scoffs. “Everyone loses their mind from time to time. If anyone ever questions me about it, I’ll plead temporary insanity.”

  “Insane with lust, you mean.” I chuckle.

  “Hardly,” she says as the elevator doors open.

  When we step out into the lobby, Darby stands near the front exit. He smiles the moment his eyes land on us. I know what he’s thinking. God knows he and Aggie have voiced how beautiful Margo is enough times since they met her yesterday. Although they aren’t entirely pleased with the way I ended up married, they somehow believe Margo might be a suitable match for me since she doesn’t seem to take my shit. While their opinions mean a great deal to me because I consider them to be my family, I don’t think they know what in the hell they’re talking about. They obviously don’t know the bitchy side of Margo like I do. Once they see that come out, I’m sure they’ll be celebrating the day I get Margo to sign the divorce papers.

  Without permission, I wrap my arm around Margo’s waist and pull her tightly against me.

  She begins to pull away nearly instantly. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “Acting married and madly in love, of course,” I reply as smoothly as I can.

  She shakes her head. “There’s no one here to put on a show for.”