by Emma Lea
And when she kissed me…I felt so many things. She’d been kissing me with more regularity and I liked it. I did. A lot. I’d never been one for public displays of affection, those were for the privacy of the home, but when Frankie held my hand or snuggled into my side and kissed me in public, I didn’t hate it.
It was all for show. I knew that intellectually, but I couldn’t actually get my body to understand that. It was part of our ruse. It was all part of the lying game we were playing. I’d started to believe the lie. I’d started to not only believe the lie, but I’d also begun to wonder if Frankie and I could actually be something real. I spent a lot of time—too much time—convincing myself it would never work…and then she went and looked at me like that.
No one had ever looked at me like that. Not even Clarissa, and if I’d believed anyone loved me romantically, it would have been her. I knew Frankie loved me, but only ever in a sisterly way. I’d never seen her like a sister and my feelings for her were a complicated mess and getting more so the longer we pretended to be engaged. The lines were blurring, and I was tempted to take a giant step across that line and make Frankie mine for real.
The thought should have made me curl into a ball with anxiety, but it didn’t. Again, it could be the raïda giving me an inflated sense of self-confidence, but I knew in my very bones that something had changed between Frankie and me. Something good. I just had to be brave enough to take that step.
I watched Frankie as she was enveloped in the circle of women. The mothers and grandmothers loved her like one of their own. I’d not expected the warm welcome we’d received, and I definitely hadn’t expected to be remembered. I was the forgettable person. I was the guy people sort of remembered as being part of the graduating class, but no one could remember my name. I was nothing special and didn’t stand out in any way. If I had the nerve, I probably would have made a great spy, that’s how totally forgettable I was.
But not to these people. These people remembered me and I remembered them. I might not remember them individually, not at first, but I remembered the feeling of being with them. The warmth of their hugs and the feeling of belonging that had sadly lacked through most of my life. Here, among these people, I was part of them and I liked the feeling it gave me.
Not only had they embraced me completely, but they had also embraced Frankie. She was accepted into the fold simply because of who she was to me. And Frankie accepted them in return. She was so open and accepting and I loved that about her. Frankie had never met a stranger. To her they were all just friends she hadn’t gotten to know yet. I envied her ability to befriend anyone and everyone, but what I felt now watching her was not envy, not even in the slightest. I felt pride. I felt overwhelming affection and love, not just for Frankie, but for the people who had gathered around us and accepted us. They’d lost everything when my family left and yet they treated me like a prodigal son, welcoming me back with open arms.
“So what do you think,” George asked me, pulling my attention away from Frankie.
“I think it needs to come with a warning label,” I replied with a grin, my fingers playing with the shot glass. “What happened to the distillery?” I asked hesitantly.
In the two weeks we’d been coming here, I’d never asked. I hadn’t wanted to know. Seeing the house had been hard enough, and I hadn’t been sure I could stand seeing the distillery in such a state.
George and the other men shared a glance and shifted uncomfortably on their stools.
“What?” I asked, my eyebrows raised in curiosity.
They shared another look before George sighed. “We’ve been sneaking in there,” he admitted, his ruddy cheeks turning a deeper shade of red. “That’s how we’ve been producing the raïda. We’ve been using the old still.”
I grinned. “That’s amazing,” I said.
George frowned at me. “You’re not angry?”
“Why would I be angry?” I asked.
“The equipment, the factory, it all belongs to your family.”
“My family abandoned it,” I said. I had what could only be explained as a light bulb moment. “I might have a proposition for you,” I said, my brain turning over all the pros and cons and possible outcomes of what I wanted to suggest. “Can you give me a few days to nail down the details?”
George looked at his friends before nodding. “You’re not going to kick us out?”
I laughed, the sound bursting from inside me with a joyous abandon that I’d never before experienced. “No, I’m not kicking you out, but,” I lifted my shot glass. “You really need work on this. I’ve had some bad raïda in my time, but this one, phew, it just about blew my head off.”
The men laughed and then poured me another shot. I knew I shouldn’t drink it, but I was feeling invincible so I shot the entire thing in one go and slammed my glass back down on the rough wooden bar. The men cheered and Frankie looked over toward me and smiled. She looked like an angel and I knew then, without a doubt, I’d well and truly tripped over the line. I’d fallen in love with my best friend.
Chapter 14
Francesca
Lucas’ arm was a heavy weight on my shoulder as I helped him from the car and into the palace. He was drunk, or at least well on the way to getting drunk. I didn’t mind, I actually found it hilarious. Despite Lucas’ quiet nature, he could hold his liquor…normally. He’d drunk me under the table on multiple occasions and I was not shy on the whole drinking front. Apart from the night he fake proposed to me, this was the most inebriated I’d seen him. Whatever the men had given him shots of earlier today, it must have been strong.
“Do you know how much I love you, Frankie?” he asked as we tripped up the stairs toward our suites.
I wanted to groan, but instead I just smiled sweetly at him. If only he was saying he was in love with me, but I knew the truth. It was easy to forget that we were just friends, especially with how close we’d been over the last few weeks. And the touching. And the kissing. Oh god, the kissing. The man could kiss. It surprised me just how well he could kiss, which probably explained why I insisted on kissing him whenever I could without it being weird. That very first kiss we shared when he fake proposed? That was the worst, but the kiss at our fake engagement party? Pretty sure he melted part of my brain with that kiss.
“I know,” I said, finally answering his question when we reached his suite door. “And I love you.”
Lucas turned to me and for a moment he looked as sober as a judge. He cupped my face, his eyes searched mine and then he lowered his head to rest against mine, our noses rubbing and our lips only millimeters apart.
“No, Frankie, I don’t think you do know,” he whispered, his alcohol laden breath wafting over me and then he was kissing me.
I should have pushed him away. I should have said no. He was drunk, and he was a long way from home and he was way out of his comfort zone. He wasn’t declaring his undying love for me, or even his undying lust. No, I was just a comfortable place, the only normal, safe place in this crazy new world.
And yet…the way he kissed me…the way he held me…I was quickly being seduced by the fantasy. I wanted to believe it. I wanted to lose myself in him and in this fake world that was so pretty and warm and magical, and I wasn’t talking about the palace or the island—although they were pretty great too and I could definitely see myself living in Kalopsia.
I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to daydreaming about what it would be like if Lucas and I were actually getting married and this was actually going to be my home. It was far too easy to slip into the fairy tale where Lucas and I worked together to repair and renovate his family’s home, where we both had positions within the royal court, where we got married on the beach under the Mediterranean sun, where we raised a family.
I was not the girl who’d been planning her wedding since she was five years old. I was not the girl who had a Pinterest board full of wedding dresses and wedding aesthetics and honeymoon destinations. I wanted to get married, but I als
o wanted my career and I knew I could have both—my mother was living proof of that—but I’d also never met the man who inspired dreams of white dresses and seating charts.
Okay, that was a lie, because I had met the man, I just knew I could never have all that with him. Lucas was that man and with the way he was kissing me, I could almost…almost…lose myself in the fantasy.
The door behind us opened, and I broke the kiss to look over Lucas’ shoulder. Maddox stood there, eyebrows raised.
“Sorry to interrupt,” he said. “You will be late for dinner if you don’t come in and get changed immediately.”
“Of course,” Lucas said, his shoulders slumping. He lifted his head to look at me. “We need to talk,” he whispered. “After dinner. Let’s go down to the beach and…continue this.”
My heart lifted, and I looked up at him, looking for the lie, looking for the deceit, but his face was clear and he no longer looked drunk…. although his glasses were a little steamed up. Could he really be suggesting what I thought he was? Did Lucas feel about me the way I felt about him?
“Okay,” I whispered before Maddox dragged him into the suite and closed the door.
I couldn’t help the smile that broke over my face as I entered my own suite. Selena, my lady’s maid, was waiting for me and returned my smile.
“You had a good day,” she said.
“I did,” I replied and even I knew my voice sounded like a lovesick teenager.
“Lord Lucas is such a wonderful man,” Selena said as she led me to the bathroom where a bath was already full and waiting for me. “You two make the cutest couple. It’s almost as adorable as the king and queen when they’re together.”
I let Selena help me undress, not something I usually did, but I was too stuck in that kiss and the promise Lucas implied with his words to fight her. I slipped into the hot bath and sighed. Selena had spiked the bath with her usual mix of essential oils and I breathed the fragrant air into my lungs and let myself believe that maybe things with Lucas were about to change.
Did he really love me the way I loved him? Could we actually turn our friendship into something more? My mom thought we could, and she should know. My dad was her best friend, and they’d built their entire relationship on their friendship.
Yes, I thought to myself as I grinned like a maniac. Lucas and I could have all that and a bag of chips too.
I wore a striped, strapless maxi dress that skirted the line between too casual for dinner and just right. I didn’t care. If Lucas and I were heading down to the beach after dinner, I wanted to be in something comfortable but also something that would make my shoulders look amazing in the moonlight. Besides, I knew my choice wouldn’t faze Meredith. The king and queen did not insist on absolute formality all the time and I knew dinner would be out on the terrace and it was a warm night and I had a hundred and one reasons why it was perfectly fine for me to wear this dress. I’d had to list them all to Selena before she would consent to helping me get dressed and doing my hair.
My makeup was soft and Selena had worked some sort of magic on my hair to get it into an updo that looked stylish and soft at the same time. I looked…pretty. I wasn’t insecure about my looks, but when I looked in the mirror, there was something different about me, something soft and romantic—two words I would never have used to describe me.
“You look like a woman in love,” Selena said with a satisfied smile as if she could read my mind.
“Yeah,” I murmured in response.
A knock on the door pulled me out of the weird place I’d gotten lost in and I plastered a smile on my face as I left the bedroom to meet Lucas. He stood in the sitting room and turned when he heard me coming. His eyes raked over me and I swear my body heated under his gaze.
“You look beautiful,” he breathed, coming closer and pressing a soft kiss to my cheek.
“Thank you,” I replied.
It felt like a first date, even though we’d been doing this same thing every night since we’d come to Kalopsia. I was nervous and excited and almost giddy with anticipation. It was an altogether weird feeling. I’d never felt this way before and I doubt I’d feel this way about anyone else ever again.
Lucas tucked my hand through his elbow and escorted me out of the suite and down to the terrace where the others were gathering.
“Can I get you a drink?” he asked.
“White wine,” I replied, surprising both of us.
“Okay,” he said, pressing another kiss to my cheek before heading over to the bar to get us drinks.
“You two are looking rather cozy,” Dorian said coming to stand beside me with a glass of scotch in his hand.
“We are engaged to be married,” I replied.
Dorian grunted, and I turned to look at him. “What’s up with you? Your usual sunny disposition is decidedly gloomy tonight.”
“I never have a sunny disposition and how dare you accuse me of it,” he replied, and I grinned. He was right. Dorian was not a happy, smiley person. He was more of a Wednesday Addams…no, he was one of those alpha-hole CEO billionaire types that romance books loved to cast as heroes. Tall, dark, brooding and with a trust fund big enough to finance several small countries, that was Dorian and he was a bit of a snob to top it all off. Arrogance wafted off him like a bad smell and caused most of the others to give him a wide berth, but I liked him. He had a wicked, dry sense of humor and once you got past his self-entitlement, he was a decent guy. Bad boy billionaire with a heart of gold? No, not exactly, but I believed half of the arrogant rich playboy persona was an act.
“Dorian,” Lucas said in acknowledgement when he returned with my wine and a glass of something clear for himself.
“Lucas,” Dorian replied, lifting his glass for a drink.
Lucas handed me my wine and then placed his free hand on the small of my back in a possessive gesture that I couldn’t say I didn’t enjoy…just a tiny bit. There was nothing between Dorian and me apart from friendship, but I liked that Lucas felt the need to stake his claim. The big honking diamond on my finger should have been enough, but I liked the personal touch.
This was what I loved about people watching and why I studied sociology with a little psychology and anthropology on the side. The way people interacted fascinated me. Sometimes I felt like I was in my very own David Attenborough documentary following the curious life of the human species. The bar was a gold mine for watching all sorts of different human behavior and I loved it.
Right now I could see Dorian and Lucas sizing one another up with me in the middle. I knew Dorian had no interest in me in that way, but he couldn’t help but stir Lucas up. They were like a couple of junk yard dogs circling one another, even if they were both richer than Midas and wearing suits.
I nodded to Lucas’ glass. “You didn’t have enough this afternoon?” I asked, raising my glass to my lips. The wine was cold and crisp and perfect.
“Water,” he said, with a rueful grin. “I may never touch another glass of raïda ever again as long as I live.”
I laughed. “What about you, Dorian? Are you a raïda fan?”
“You cannot be born on Kalopsia and not be,” he replied. “Even if it is a commoner’s drink.”
I rolled my eyes even as Lucas stiffened beside me.
“That commoner’s drink may just be what saves Kalopsia, so maybe you shouldn’t write it off so easily,” Lucas growled and I turned in surprise.
Lucas did not talk like that. Lucas did not stand up to defend anything, ever. His eyes were flashing and his jaw was hard and while I found it ridiculously attractive, it also made me take a mental step back. When did Lucas change?
Dorian looked at Lucas and raised his eyebrows. “You have a plan,” he said, stating a fact rather than asking a question.
Lucas nodded, his body relaxing fractionally. “I do,” he replied.
Lucas
I did have a plan. I didn’t, however, want to get into it over dinner. Dorian didn’t care. Before dinner was even
served, he’d dragged me over to the king and made me explain what I was thinking. This wasn’t how I liked to do things. I wanted to run numbers first, take a look around the facilities, see what was left of the vineyards. I wanted to have all my ducks in a row before I approached Jamie about my idea.
“No business talk,” Meredith said, coming over to us and hooking her arm through Jamie’s. “Not over the dinner table, or I will separate you all.”
I escaped the third degree and found my seat beside Frankie.
“Is everything all right?” she asked.
“It’s fine. I’m just not really prepared to share my idea yet, but Dorian won’t listen. Now Jamie wants the details and I don’t have the numbers to back up what I’m saying.”
“Is this about the raïda?” she asked.
I nodded. “If the distillery is operational and the vineyards are salvageable—which they must be to some degree because George and the others are producing the raïda somehow, then I don’t see why we couldn’t resurrect the entire operation.”
“Andino Raïda back from the dead, huh?”
“What? No.”
“Oh, I know they’re not dead, not in America anyway, but it would be a resurrection of sorts for your company here on Kalopsia. I’m sure your parents would be proud.”
She sounded disappointed in me, almost angry, and I ran her words over in my head again to find the point where I was suddenly the bad guy.
“Hang on a minute,” I said, reaching under the table to take her hand. “It’s my family’s distillery—”
“No business talk,” Meredith said, casting her eye around the table.
I flushed guiltily and reached for a bowl of couscous. I wanted to tell Frankie my idea, the idea I had when we were visiting the village that afternoon. I wanted to talk to her about it before I spoke about it with Jamie or anyone else, but I’d seen the way Dorian was looking at her and the condescending way he spoke of raïda and I did something I’d never done before in my life. I spoke up. Even now, thinking about it, my hands were still a little unsteady and my heart picked up its pace.
