by T. K. Leigh
My heart rate increases as I open the small manilla envelope and dump its contents into my palm.
For weeks after losing Kendall, I’d fallen asleep with this silver chain and simple diamond engagement ring clutched tightly in my hand. It was a talisman of sorts, offering me comfort when my world felt like it had turned upside down. I’d come back to Los Angeles after her death, to this penthouse where I first saw her on the sand across the street playing volleyball. A part of me held out hope she’d still be here.
But she wasn’t.
So I held onto the one memory I had of our last day together. This necklace.
At one point, I vowed to return the chain and ring to its rightful owner.
I never could have expected she’d find me instead.
I wrap my fingers around it, drawing in a deep breath as I summon the magic this jewelry once held for me all those years ago.
I just pray, once she learns the truth, it can offer Nora that same comfort.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Nora
“Wow,” I murmur as I peer at my reflection in the mirror, barely recognizing myself.
Earlier today, Anderson had arranged for me to go out with a personal shopper to find a dress for dinner, after which I was treated to an afternoon at the spa, complete with massage, manicure, and a pedicure before having my hair styled and makeup done. Now that I’m back home, or at Anderson’s place, and have slipped into the dress I procured, I can’t help but feel like a princess.
My hair is pinned back on the right side with pristine waves reminiscent of the way Hollywood starlets wore their hair in the forties. My makeup is clean and not overdone, apart from the bright red hue covering my lips, which contrasts with my fair skin. The sleek black dress, with its off-the-shoulder sleeves and sweetheart neckline, a string of pearls falling just above it, makes me look like a modern-day Grace Kelly.
Another woman who’d fallen for a prince.
Electricity buzzes through my veins as my mind wanders to how Anderson will react to this version of me. I haven’t seen him since the personal shopper whisked me away from the penthouse earlier. It’s the longest we’ve been away from each other since we met, and I hated every minute, despite all the pampering.
I don’t know how I’ll survive once we part ways. I’d wanted to raise the subject on more than one occasion as we made our way to California, but it wasn’t fair to have that discussion with Anderson while Hunter was with me. Now I’ve let him go. Let my past go. Yet I still can’t seem to bring up our future. Maybe because, somewhere in the recesses of my brain, I know there is no future with us. That he was brought into my life to serve a purpose — to help me finally accept Hunter’s death. His job is done.
But I don’t want it to be.
Checking the time, I grab my clutch that almost caused me to have a heart attack when I saw the price tag. However, my personal shopper assured me it didn’t matter. Anderson had instructed her to get me whatever I wanted, regardless of the cost. He said he planned to spoil me today. He most certainly did.
On Jimmy Choo-clad feet, I carefully make my way from the master bedroom, holding onto the iron railing as I descend the stairs into the open living area. My heels click against the hardwood flooring, announcing my arrival, and Anderson whirls around from the kitchen island, the champagne cork flying out of his hands and zooming past my head, making me flinch.
“Shit.” He rushes to place the bottle on the island, hurrying toward me and pulling me into his arms. “Are you okay?”
I burst into a fit of giggles. “Having trouble controlling your…cork?” I joke flirtatiously.
“Only when you’re around, gorgeous.” He nuzzles my neck, inhaling. “Always when you’re around.” He remains in my embrace for a moment before pulling back. “Now, let me get a look at you.” He takes my hand in his and spins me around.
I smile demurely, allowing him to take in the full package. I’ve never felt so beautiful, but it’s not because of the dress, or the makeup, or the jewelry, or even the sexy lingerie I’d purchased to surprise him with later. It’s because of the way Anderson’s eyes flame with a mixture of desire and adoration.
He yanks my body to his. “You’re stunning, Nora. You look so much like Grace Kelly.”
I giggle nervously, his words mirroring my own thoughts. “I feel a little like Grace Kelly. Like I’m living a fairy tale.”
Except ours won’t end with a happily ever after.
His lips curve as he admires me, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, isn’t as carefree as it has been.
“Anderson, I—”
“No,” he cuts me off, his voice pained. “Not right now. Let’s pretend we’re two people going out on our first date.”
“A first date?” I waggle my brows. “Is that what this is?”
He shrugs. “I guess so. I never had a chance to take you out while we were driving Route 66.”
“We went out for drinks and dinner. Most nights, actually.”
“And while I enjoyed every second, you deserve better. So that’s what I’m giving you tonight. Better.”
I place my hands on the lapels of his dark suit that he kept casual with just a black t-shirt. It’s simple, yet oozes sex appeal and sophistication.
“You could cook me Ramen noodles and open a cheap bottle of wine, and it would still be…better.”
“And that’s what I lo—” He stops short, catching himself before finishing, “admire about you. But I have the means to treat you like a princess. And a princess, you shall be.”
“Be careful. A girl could get used to this.”
“Good.” He winks, then steps back, steering me toward the island.
I watch as he expertly pours the champagne into two flutes, then hands one to me, raising his. “To broken-down rental cars, abandoned drive-in theaters, and Cadillacs turned into art.”
I lift my glass to his. “To Truth or Drink, cheap motels, and dancing beneath the stars,” I squeak past the lump in my throat.
“All wonderful moments. But may I confess something?”
I swallow hard, my heart hammering in my chest at what he’s about to reveal.
“My favorite moment is you.”
Tears well behind my lids. This might be the sweetest and most honest thing he’s ever said to me. That anyone’s ever said to me.
“My favorite moment is you, too,” I admit as he tips his glass toward mine.
“Although sneaking a peek of your knickers as you scaled that fence comes in a very close second,” he adds, his eyes alight with mischief.
I playfully punch him. “And watching you nearly hit a burro when we drove through Oatman is a close second for me.”
“That thing came out of nowhere!” he huffs. “And why were donkeys wandering around without a single care for the vehicles on the road?”
“Simple.” I bring my glass to my lips. “They were there first.”
“I suppose.”
Just as he takes another sip of his champagne, the elevator doors slide open, surprising me. I thought we were the only ones who had access to his penthouse.
A tall man with an even more impressive physique than Anderson’s steps into the foyer. I squint, the dark-haired man seeming familiar, but I can’t quite place how I know him.
“Good evening, Your Highness. Are you ready?”
“Hey, Creed,” Anderson answers casually. “Yes. We’re ready. And for the thousandth time, stop with the Your Highness bullshit already.”
“And for the thousandth time, as long as I serve as your CPO, I will only refer to you as Your Highness or sir.”
“You had no problem calling me some choice words the other day. What was it? A daft prick who you were grateful finally pulled his head out of his arse?”
“You did fire me. I called you a daft prick and an arse before you officially rehired me. I took the opportunity while I could.” He winks at me, and I sense a strong bond between the two men, one that transcends that of em
ployer and employee. “Creed Lawson.” He extends his hand toward me.
“Nora Tremblay,” I respond, placing mine in his.
He chuckles. “I know.”
“Creed and I have known each other our entire lives,” Anderson explains when Creed releases my hand. “We grew up together. His dad is my father’s CPO.”
I furrow my brow. “CPO?”
“Chief protection officer. So his mum and mine became close. They were both pregnant at the same time. So we’ve always been good mates. He knows everything about me.”
“Is that right?” My expression lights up.
“Yes, ma’am,” Creed answers.
“Then I’m coming to you to get the inside scoop on what a pain in the — what did you call it — arse he was as a kid.”
Creed laughs, wrinkles forming around his eyes. “I certainly have some stories.”
I turn to Anderson. “So he’s your friend, but now works for you?”
“He’s assigned to me. Technically, he works for the Nation of Belmont as a member of the Royal Guard.”
“Really?” I scrunch my nose. “But you’re dressed, well…normally.”
Creed’s deep chuckle echoes in the room as he looks down at his clothes. “How did you expect me to dress?”
“Shouldn’t members of the Royal Guard be dressed in ornate red jackets, white tights, and fuzzy black hats?”
His and Anderson’s laughter increases, echoing against the high ceilings.
“We’re not the British Royal Family,” Creed explains. “Although if you were to come tour the Royal Palace, the members of the Guard there will be in costume. Not as over-the-top as the British Royal Guard, but in costume, nonetheless.”
“Right. So where’s your costume now?” I press.
“As you know, I often travel under an alias,” Anderson explains. “But even when I do, my CPO is still nearby, and he can’t draw attention to himself.”
I inhale sharply. “You mean…”
Anderson nods. “Yes. He followed closely throughout our journey.”
“That night!” I gasp, realizing why he looks familiar. “In the bar in Tucumcari when we were dancing and about to…”
“Yeah.” Anderson scrapes a hand through his hair. “Creed often acts as my conscience, too. He’s like my own bloody Jiminy Cricket.”
I look at Creed, intrigued. “You didn’t want us to kiss?”
My question catching him off guard, he opens his mouth, but no words come.
“He didn’t realize I’d already told you who I was,” Anderson answers for him. “He didn’t want me to lead you on, that’s all.”
The two men exchange a look, and I can’t shake the feeling that’s not the entire story. After I laid it all out on the line in Santa Fe, I thought we were past keeping secrets. I told him everything about me. About Hunter. About Ember. Is he still keeping something from me?
“We should get going,” Creed says, clearing his throat before I can question Anderson. “Traffic is light, but it will still take about fifteen minutes.”
“Right.” Anderson grabs my glass from me and sets both on the island, then places his hand on my lower back, leading me away from the kitchen.
“Where are we going?”
“Dinner. Then I have a bit of a…surprise up my sleeve.”
“Surprise? What kind of surprise?”
He stops, turning toward me. Creed walks ahead of us, allowing us some semblance of privacy.
Anderson tugs me against him, his lips poised over mine. “Be a good girl and you’ll find out.”
A touch. A kiss. Words laced with desire. That’s all it takes for any unease to disappear.
“Didn’t you learn this morning?” I counter.
“Learn what?”
I nibble on his earlobe. “Sometimes I like being bad.”
His breath hitches as I step out of his grasp, swaying my hips a little more than usual as I walk toward the elevator waiting to whisk me away to a night of romance I have a feeling will be unlike any I’ve experienced before.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Anderson
“Tell me about your sister,” Nora says later that evening as Creed drives us away from one of the premier restaurants in LA.
While I was initially hesitant to take her out for dinner, not wanting tonight to be like every other night, I had to remind myself it wouldn’t be. Not to her.
This has been my life for so long, I forget that being catered to by a team of waitstaff at a five-star restaurant isn’t an everyday experience for most people. Hell, most people don’t even get to do this once in their lives, let alone as often as I do. Nora deserves to be spoiled, deserves one day of absolute happiness, of feeling how much I care about her before I turn her world upside down. It’s not what I want, but like Esme observed… I’m torn between having a clear conscience or a broken heart. I need to break my heart to keep my conscience clear.
“She’s my best friend. Next to Creed, of course.” I meet his eyes in the rearview mirror, and he nods.
Thankfully, he wasn’t too upset with me when I finally apologized to him. After all, I’ve only carried the guilt of that night for a few days. He’s carried it for years, knowing two lives may have been saved had he done as he threatened and tackled me to the ground, preventing me from driving. He apologized for keeping the truth from me. And I told him about my MS diagnosis. He reacted worse than I did when I first received the news. Then he did what Creed’s always done throughout our friendship. Offered his unyielding support.
“Of course,” Nora states with a smile as she leans back against the leather seat of the SUV, her fingers interlocking with mine. The only time I haven’t had my hand on some part of her body all night was while we ate. Even then, I’d stolen a brush here, a squeeze there, needing to feel her to know she’s still with me. That it’s not over yet.
“Esme’s only a year younger, so we’ve always been inseparable. I tell her everything.”
“Everything?”
I nod. “She was the first person I told about you.” A smile teases on my lips. “Well, actually, I guess that would be Creed, but I didn’t exactly tell him about you. He just kind of...found out, considering he was following me.”
“Do you ever get tired of it?” Nora asks softly. “Of constantly being on display? Never being alone?”
“Why do you think I took this trip? I’d been in the Hamptons, after which I’d planned to fly out to LA and spend a while here to decompress. This time of year is always difficult, what with Kendall’s death and all. It’s why I always tend to disappear for a bit.”
She squeezes my hand, offering me a reassuring look.
“Instead, I decided to take the opportunity and drive across the country. No rules. Only me and the road. Oh, and Creed. But I refused to let him chauffeur me this time.” I glance at him. “No offense, Creed.”
“None taken, sir. I’m used to you being a giant pain in the arse, with all due respect.” He finds Nora’s gaze through the mirror and winks. Despite all his warnings, I sense he likes her, that he thinks she’s good for me. I wish I could be good for her, too.
“So… What? You went and bought a car to drive across the country?” She laughs under her breath. “You can probably do that, can’t you?”
I nod subtly.
“So, Esme?”
“Right.” I straighten. “Esme’s brilliant. I’ve told her repeatedly that I think she should have been born first.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because she’d be Crown Princess, heir to the throne.”
“You don’t want to be king?”
“It’s not that I don’t want to. I simply believe Esme would do a better job.” I force a smile.
“How so?”
“She’s very passionate,” I answer without a moment’s hesitation. “The Royal Family is notoriously non-political.”
“Even though you’re the head of your executive branch,” she states.
&
nbsp; “You’ve done your research, I see.”
She shrugs. “I was curious how it all worked.”
“Then you know that, while the king is the head of the executive branch, there’s also the Executive Council that’s elected by the people that must approve of each of the executive’s decisions. It was written into the Constitution in the 1800s. A check against executive powers, so to speak. Like your government’s checks and balances. We have them, as well.”
“So you don’t have free rein to do whatever you want.”
“No.” I chuckle. “We don’t, and it’s always been believed to be in the Royal Family’s best interests to remain neutral.”
“But your sister doesn’t.”
I roll my eyes. “That may be the understatement of the year. She’s a huge champion for racial and gender equality, worker’s rights, immigration.”
“I don’t see anything wrong with that.”
“There isn’t, but like I said, we were brought up to remain neutral and simply execute the laws as we believe will best benefit our constituents, not those that will benefit individual politicians or large corporations.”
“That’s not a bad thing. Look at our messed-up political system.”
“I’d rather not.” I grimace, then straighten my expression. “But despite Esme’s tendency to be quite vocal, people would love her as queen. She has the tenacity and drive to propel our country into this century, when so many other countries seem to be reverting.”
“No kidding,” Nora quips. “Can’t you just abdicate your throne or something?”
I pause, on the brink of telling her I may soon not have a choice. That once I return home and inform my father about my MS diagnosis, he’ll most likely request the executive council to approve a new line of succession. That’s the hardest thing about this. Not only will I possibly lose the ability to walk, but the one thing I’ve spent my life preparing for could also be taken away. Yes, I truly believe Esme will make an incredible queen, that our people will admire and respect her. But that doesn’t make it any easier to give up my position. To be relegated to the sidelines and hidden away when I can no longer walk without assistance.
