by Emma Lea
I gasped as our eyes met and I reflexively clung tighter to him, his free arm going around my waist to hold me in place.
“Do you want this, Frankie?” he asked, his voice a low growl that gave me goosebumps.
I didn’t know if he was talking about the box of truffles or…
Nope. Not going there.
“Hand over the chocolates, Andino, and no one gets hurt,” I said, forcing laughter into my voice.
Our eyes held for a moment more before he slowly let me slide down to the floor.
“Who wants cheesecake?” Mom asked, and the moment was broken.
Maybe this was a terrible idea after all.
I tossed and turned in my bed. Sleep would not come and all I could think about was the way Lucas looked at me when I’d climbed him like a tree. I hadn’t even thought about what I was doing, I just did it and then realization set in. When our eyes met…phew…was it hot in here?
I kicked the blankets off and reached for my iPad. If I couldn’t sleep, then maybe I could read…or not. After trying unsuccessfully to read, I gave up. There are only so many times I can read a page and not understand it before I’m waving the white flag of surrender.
I tossed the iPad aside and slumped back on my pillow. I was being an idiot. Lucas and I had been friends for a really long time. Why was I suddenly looking at him with hearts in my eyes? I knew in my heart of hearts that nothing would ever come of it, and torturing myself with images of the two of us growing old together was not helpful in the slightest.
I rolled out of bed and crossed my room to the dresser. I took the ring out of my jewelry box and slid it on my finger, holding my hand out to admire the way it sparkled. It was a beautiful ring and also absolutely not the kind of ring I would choose for my own engagement ring. It didn’t stop me from admiring it, though.
Nothing had changed between Lucas and me, but it felt like everything had. I was just doing him a favor and in return I got to interview the king of a small country. No biggie.
Except it was big. Huge, in fact. And it would absolutely change our relationship. Lucas would move to a new country. I know he said it would only be a for a few months, but I knew in my bones that once he got a taste of life outside of his parents' influence, he would bloom and he would never want to come back.
I would come back. This engagement was fake and somewhere along the line my head and my heart had disconnected. My head knew the truth while my heart was making heart eyes and mooning after my best friend.
Mom had been right after all.
I slowly slid the ring off my finger and put it back in my jewelry box, feeling bereft as I did so. The ring was ridiculous, really. Way too big for it to be practical and there was no way I could wear it to work at the bar. I’d probably even get carpal tunnel syndrome or whatever from hefting the massive diamond around everywhere.
Still…
I liked the way it looked on my finger.
I liked the way it felt on my finger.
I did not grow up dreaming about the big white wedding with a million guests and a multi-story wedding cake that could feed an entire city block. I didn’t make scrapbooks about my ideal wedding or cut out pictures of wedding gowns and bridesmaids' dresses and flower arrangements. I didn’t even think about the whole getting married part. I thought that maybe one day I would meet someone and eventually have a family, but I was more focused on working hard and playing hard. I was in no rush to settle down; there was far too much to see and do and experience to get tied down.
Not that I didn’t respect other people who got married, especially those like my parents who made it work and made it look, if not easy, then at least achievable. I wanted a life partner; I just thought I’d be further along in my career before it happened.
Not that it was happening now, no matter how much my heart tried to convince me it was.
This entire thing with Lucas was fake, and I had to keep reminding myself of that. It was too easy to get swept away by the romance of it all, to let my little crush bloom into a full-blown fantasy. Lucas was a great guy, but he and I both knew that we were too different to make something romantic between us work, even if my body had lit up like a Christmas tree when I jumped into his arms earlier tonight.
I slapped myself on the forehead. What had I been thinking?
I hadn’t been, was the simple answer. I would have done the same thing even if there was no fake engagement between us.
So why did it feel so different tonight?
That was the conundrum. This new awareness of Lucas would be a problem, and maybe it would be better if we called the entire thing off.
My gut clenched at the thought. I’d be letting Lucas down if I chickened out. He needed this, probably more than even he realized. If I pulled out, he would lose his chance to discover a life without the expectations of his parents hanging around his neck like a millstone. And despite this weird emotional attachment I was currently experiencing, I did love him. He was my best friend and I would literally do anything for him…okay, maybe not literally, but he was my ride or die and I wanted this for him. I could keep my feelings to myself for a couple of weeks—okay, maybe months, but that’s still weeks…just a few more weeks—so he could have a chance at breathing new air and maybe discovering something new about himself.
I flopped back on my bed and rolled onto my side, staring at the picture of Lucas and me that sat in a frame on my bedside. I would make this great for him because he deserved a chance to live his life without the anxiety that came with the expectations of his parents. I had no doubt in my mind that Lucas would thrive in Kalopsia and I wanted to give him that. More than anything, I wanted him to be happy and I would do whatever was in my power to give him that.
Chapter 7
Francesca
With my head down and my headphones in, I pushed through the crowd waiting in front of Drinks. I had no clue why there were so many people waiting to go in. We were a popular spot for after work drinks, but not so popular that people waited down the street to get in.
Someone blocked my way, and someone bumped into me from behind. I looked up and tugged my headphones out only to hear a chorus of voices calling my name.
“Francesca! Over here, Francesca!”
I looked toward the voice and was blinded by a flash for my trouble.
“What the hell?” I yelled as I held my arm up over my eyes. “You need to get out of the way and let me through.”
“Tell us how it feels to be engaged to a prince!” Someone else yelled.
“He’s not a prince,” I growled, trying to push through the crowd which seemed to have thickened considerably. “You need to get your facts right. What kind of journalist are you if you can’t even get that detail correct?”
“When’s the wedding, Francesca?” Another voice called.
“Move out of the way! Why would I tell you vultures when my wedding is? And my name’s Frankie,” I yelled as I forced my way to the front door of the bar.
“Frankie! Frankie!”
Thankfully, the door opened, and I was grabbed by the elbow and dragged into the bar. The door closed behind me, shutting out the shouted questions and cries of my name.
“What’s going on?” I asked Sean, one of the security guys and the person who’d saved me from the mob outside.
“I thought you’d know more about it than me,” he said with a shrug. “They showed up about an hour ago asking for you and have been waiting for you ever since.”
“Damn,” I muttered.
I’d turned off all the social media notifications on my phone because Maya’s constant posting about Lucas and me had been getting on my nerves. It had been a week since that first stupid video and now it looked like Lucas’ mother’s efforts to get it noticed by the media had paid off.
“The boss isn’t too happy,” Sean said.
“Yeah, I bet,” I said with a sigh. “Is he in his office?”
Sean gave me a nod, and I headed out the back to
put my stuff away. I needed to speak to Chris, my manager, about the idiots out front and I really hoped he didn’t decide to fire me. There had been an uptick in patrons since the first video, but this mass of media would scare the regulars away. Chris liked me, but he didn’t like me so much that he would jeopardize his business for me.
I shoved my coat and bag in my locker and then knocked on Chris’ door.
“Frankie,” he said, looking up from his paperwork.
I stepped into the office and sat down across from him. “I’m really sorry about all that out the front,” I said.
“They’re disrupting business, Frankie,” he said.
“I know. If I’d known this would happen, I’d—”
“You’d what? Turn the guy down?”
“No, but I would have tried to stop his mother from alerting the media.”
“Is he really a prince?”
“No,” I said with a grimace and shook my head.
“But he’s royal?”
I sighed again. “Yeah, sort of. It’s an extended family kind of thing…I think. He’s a markissios.”
Chris raised his eyebrows in question.
“Like a marquess.”
“Nope, doesn’t help,” Chris said with a shake of his head.
“He’s a minor royal, and they have asked him to join the royal court.”
“Some Greek island, right?”
“Not Greek, no, but close to Greece. It’s in the Mediterranean, which is another thing I need to talk to you about. I need some time off.”
“I think that would be good,” Chris said. “At least until this all dies down.”
“Yeah, but that’s not what I meant. I’m going to Kalopsia with Lucas. I’ll be gone a month or so.”
“I can’t hold your job for that long, Frankie.”
I groaned. “Yeah, I figured that.”
“Besides, if you’re marrying this guy then you won’t be working in a bar.”
Yet another complication. How did I explain to my boss I wasn’t really getting married without ruining everything for Lucas? Short answer? I couldn’t.
“Yeah, you’re right,” I replied.
“I have your check,” Chris said sliding it across the desk.
“You’re firing me?”
“No, well, yeah. I can’t have those vultures on my sidewalk stopping people coming into the bar and if you’re moving overseas anyway, it’s probably better for both of us if we call it quits now.”
I didn’t need the money, but that wasn’t the point. I loved my job. I got to talk to everyone and people watch. I found people infinitely fascinating and what better time to observe them than after a couple of drinks when they’d loosened up and relaxed. Dates were my favorite thing to watch. First dates especially. I had a pretty high success rate of guessing whether the drinks would extend to dinner. I’d even gotten to witness a few second and third dates. And then there was the endless fodder of Tinder dates that paraded through the bar. Some of those were hilarious to watch.
“Fine,” I said, getting up. “Do you want me to do this shift or…?”
“Nah, I covered your shift already.”
“Great,” I replied, walking out of the office and heading for my locker.
It wasn’t great, and I had to grit my teeth against spilling the entire tale to Chris just so I could keep my job. But Lucas meant more to me than my job. I could always get another one when I got back from Kalopsia. I was a great bartender and once the publicity around Lucas and me died down, any bar would be glad to have me.
Lucas
“We need to talk about Francesca.”
I looked up from the work on my screen to squint at my mother. My assistant, Annabel, was behind her mouthing, “I’m sorry.”
“What?” I said, addressing my mother as Annabel left the room and closed the door behind you.
“Have you seen these photographs? They’re appalling. And what was she doing going into a bar? This does not look good for a future member of the royal court. It will not impress the king if she keeps this up.”
I sighed and leaned back in my office chair, pinching the bridge of my nose and massaging away the headache that was just beginning…or at least I tried to.
“Frankie works at that bar,” I said, trying to keep my tone reasonable as I adjusted my glasses.
“Francesca works in a bar?” Mother gasped.
“You know she does. That’s where I proposed to her. That’s why your press minions were waiting for her there.” It was the most confrontational I’d ever been with my mother, but she didn’t even notice.
“Well, you need to tell her to quit. A future member of the royal court’s fiancée cannot be seen working in a bar.”
“I won’t be telling Frankie any such thing,” I said. “Besides, thanks to you, she lost her job last night.”
“Me? What did I do?”
“The mob of photographers and reporters waiting for her outside the bar did not impress her boss.”
Mother harrumphed. “They should be delighted that I brought them so much publicity.”
“I think the management took issue with the reporters scaring all their patrons away,” I mumbled.
“What? Don’t mumble, Lucas. You’re a markissios and a markissios does not mumble.”
“So father is giving me the title?” I asked, holding my breath.
My father had yet to say anything about the title to me since that first night. As far as I knew, I still had to prove my worthiness before he would actually let me go to Kalopsia. Pretending to get engaged to Frankie had been a bit of a gamble. There had been no guarantee my parents would A. believe it; and, B. be willing to let me go. Even now, until I officially held the title, I wasn’t taking it as a given. My father could change his mind at any given moment.
“Of course he is,” Mother said, finally sitting in the chair across from my desk. “This is an excellent thing for the Andinos. Having my son as part of the royal court is more than we ever thought we would get out of Kalopsia. I just hope the king doesn’t rescind his offer when he discovers what a disaster Francesca is.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. “I thought you liked Frankie?”
“Oh, we like her well enough, but is she the right sort of woman to hold a title? She works in a bar, for goodness’ sake. And have you seen how she dresses? I thought for sure her mother would have taught her better than that.”
“There is nothing wrong with the way Frankie dresses,” I said with a sigh.
“No, not if she was just an ordinary young woman working in a bar, but she will be a markissia. Ripped jeans and scuffed boots should never again be seen on her person.”
Yeah, I wouldn’t be the one telling Frankie that. Besides, I liked the way she dressed.
“And that hair,” Mother said with a sniff. “She needs to pick a color and stick to it. If she insists on being blonde, then she needs to keep up with the regrowth maintenance.”
“I think that’s the look,” I said carefully. “I’ve seen a lot of women with it.”
“Francesca is not like other women, or at least she won’t be when she marries into the family. You need to speak to her about it. It looks bad for us and reflects badly on the king.” Mother got a faraway look in her eye before she spoke again. “I wonder if I can get her in to see Antonio. He could give her some extensions and do something about that awful color. And her eyebrows…I know thick eyebrows are all the rage at the moment, but there is a line between fashionably thick and unibrow.” Mother stood and smoothed her skirt. “Right,” she said decisively. “Don’t worry, I will handle this.”
Before I could say anything, Mother was stalking from the office leaving me staring after her. I did not know what she intended to do, but I did know I needed to warn Frankie. If anyone had any chance of stopping my mother in her tracks, it was Frankie. She was the only other person, apart from Effie, who would stand up to her and not be bulldozed.
I grabbed my phone and o
pened the text message app.
L: Warning! My mother is on the warpath, and she has you in her sights.
F: What? Why? What have I done?
L: No clue, although she said something about your hair.
F: My hair? What’s wrong with my hair?
Okay, maybe I should have thought through what I would say because I felt very much like I was walking through a minefield right now and one wrong step could leave me in pieces.
L: Maybe it wasn’t your hair…
F: Lucas Estevan Andino you tell me right now what your mother said about my hair!
L: Estevan is not my middle name, as you very well know.
F: Stop avoiding the question! What did she say?
L: Shzz grzz mrrh...you’re breaking up. I’m going through a tunnel…bszxa
F: LUCAS!
I put my phone on silent and tossed it in a drawer in my desk. I was not prepared for the can of worms I just opened up. I was being a coward, I knew, but at least I warned her about my mother’s agenda. We would only have to put up with it for a couple more weeks and then we would be halfway across the world and out of my mother’s reach. Besides, Frankie was quite capable of saying no and nothing my mother could say would change that.
Francesca
Thanks to Lucas’ infuriating text, I knew Maya Andino was coming for me, but that didn’t stop me from being surprised when she turned up on my doorstep. I didn’t even think she knew where I lived, although it would have been easy enough to find out.
“Mrs. Andino,” I said as I opened the door.
She looked me over and her mouth formed a moue of distaste. “Francesca,” she said, stepping past me into the foyer.
She looked around, taking everything in. The brownstone was immaculately decorated, and the cleaner had only just been so there was not a speck of dust to be seen.
“You have a…lovely home,” she said before looking at me and narrowing her eyes.
What as that saying about damning with faint praise?
