Stranded

by Chance Carter

  “Out with Tristan.” I shoved a sweater over my head and put on a pair of jeans.

  “Good thing I didn’t bring Hank, then.” He chuckled.

  I returned and held my arms out for his inspection. “Warm enough?”

  Alex nodded. “Let’s go.”

  Alex’s SUV was outside, and the further into the city center he drove, the more nervous I got. The city meant people, and people meant the possibility of being seen. The fact that he ditched such an important event was reckless enough as it was—did he really need to push his luck?

  Thankfully, Alex didn’t stop the car in front of a packed night club or a fancy restaurant. He parked by a river dock with a canal boat moored alongside it, decorated with strings of twinkling fairy lights. I got out of the car and the breeze lifted the melodic crooning of a Frank Sinatra song to my ears.

  “Are you taking me on a romantic canal cruise?” I asked, suppressing a laugh.

  Alex walked around to my side and grabbed my hand. “Would it be a problem if I was?”

  “No, it’s just...” I bit my lip and smiled up at him. “Incredibly cheesy.”

  Alex narrowed his eyes. “Call me cheesy one more time, Kitty Kat.”

  Oh, easy.

  “You’re cheesy,” I said. “Like a big ‘ol ball of mozzarella.”

  Before I knew what was happening, Alex had hoisted me over his shoulder and was walking toward the boat. I shrieked in surprise and smacked his back, but he simply smacked my butt in return.

  “Let’s just hope I don’t drop you while we board,” he said. “The river can be awfully chilly.”

  “No!” I protested. “I will kill you!”

  “I do believe you’ve just uttered a threat against a member of the royal family, my darling.” He patted my rump again before setting me on my feet on the deck. “I should warn you the penalty for such a crime can be quite severe.”

  “Oh yeah?” I spat out a chunk of hair that had made it into my mouth while he carried me. “Do your worst.”

  Alex’s lips curled and ignited an inferno in my belly. I gulped.

  “My worst?” He took a step closer, pressing his body against mine. “Kitty Kat, you tease me.”

  “I think you’re the one doing the teasing,” I managed to whisper.

  “In that case...” He leaned down and pressed his lips to the shell of my ear. “Your punishment, Miss Callahan, is this: a romantic, starlit canal cruise.”

  He pulled back and his grin had softened from seductive to goofy. I nearly keeled over.

  “Hardly seems like much of a punishment,” I replied.

  “Talk back again and you’ll earn yourself a spanking.”

  “Is that a promise?”

  Alex laughed. “What am I going to do with you?”

  He took me by the hand and led me up to the front of the boat, where a love seat covered with blankets waited for us.

  “Before you get too many filthy thoughts, I should mention I won’t be driving this rig,” he said. “There are a couple of crew members on board so I’d caution you to resist throwing yourself at me.”

  “As if I would,” I said, sliding down onto the love seat and pulling a blanket over my knees.

  Alex sat next to me and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. Sounds of movement behind us indicated we were casting off.

  “Oh, come on,” he drawled. “You can’t help yourself. I’m your James Bond dream man in this tux.”

  Was he ever. Not that I’d admit it.

  “James Bond? More like James Bland.”

  Alex rolled his eyes and cuffed me on the shoulder. “Very clever.”

  The boat started drifting down the river, a light breeze picking at my curls as we gained speed. The bank slid by, and the sounds of the city seemed distant even though we felt too close for comfort.

  “Any news on your charity project?” I asked.

  “Actually, yes. There’s a royal midsummer garden party in a couple of weeks and Edward has given me the green light to announce it then.”

  “That’s incredible!” I said. “You must be excited.”

  “Thrilled.”

  A note of sadness dipped into his voice and I looked up out of curiosity. “You don’t sound too thrilled.”

  “No, I am. It’s just...” He sighed. “I’m worried. What if I make a mistake and screw it all up? What if everything doesn’t go perfectly? This project means a lot to me.”

  The sincerity in his eyes tugged at my heart strings. I clasped his hand in mine and squeezed. “The great thing about charity is that you’re winning just by showing up.”

  He smiled weakly. “I want it to be a success though. I know that it would be if she were still here.”

  I should have figured earlier that the memory of his mom would add extra pressure to his plan. It wasn’t enough just to launch the charities in her name—he needed them to succeed. Failing wasn’t an option for him, because in Alexander’s mind if he did anything less than stellar work he would be sullying the memory of his mom.

  “I know you’re going to succeed, but she would be proud no matter what,” I said. “I didn’t know her, obviously, but I’ve known people like her. My grandmother on my mom’s side, she died when I was still a kid, but that woman was a powerhouse.”

  Alex blinked and some of the lines in his face relaxed. “Tell me about her.”

  I smiled at the few memories I had of her, eating fresh strawberries and blueberries by the carton in the summer heat, gardening together even though I had no idea what I was doing, winter nights when she visited us up north and complained about the cold leeching into her bones.

  “Her name was Rhetta,” I said. “She grew up a poor black woman in the South, but even though she had every reason to grow bitter at the world she never did. During the Civil Rights Movement, she went head to head with some of the nastiest people ever to dig their way up from the mud but she never let it dampen her innate kindness.”

  “She sounds truly inspirational.”

  I snuggled in closer, pulling Alex’s arm around my shoulders and resting my head on his chest. “She was. I try to channel her as much as I can, but I’m afraid I don’t have the same kind of patience.”

  “You’ve put up with me, haven’t you?”

  I grinned and tilted my head to look up at him. “Not that you gave me a choice.”

  Alex bent his head to kiss me, a sweet, soft press of his lips that made my toes tingle.

  “What was your mom like?” I asked. “In private, I mean.”

  A faint smile ticked his lips. “Not all that different from how she was in public,” he replied. “Poised, kind, always smiling. She had time for every person, no matter how insignificant the rest of the world thought they might be. She never put herself first. Even when she got sick, she would fret endlessly about the people she cared about, whether they were her family or the people she built those charities to help.”

  “I can’t imagine how hard it must’ve been to lose her.”

  He nodded thoughtfully. “It’s still hard sometimes.”

  “She would have been proud of you, you know,” I said. “Even without everything you’re doing for her charities. You’re a good man.”

  Alex’s arm tightened, tugging me closer to his chest. His lips pressed into the top of my head but he didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to.

  “You really didn’t need to walk me all the way up to my apartment,” I said, chuckling.

  “I’m a gentleman.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him and inserted my key into the lock. “Sometimes.”

  The fire in Alex’s eyes promised that maybe I was about to see his not-so-gentlemanly side and that thought tickled between my thighs. We’d had such a good, deep evening and a little fun would do us both some good.

  I opened the door and flicked the lights on. From the direction of the couch came a dull thud.

  “Ow!”

  I paused in the doorway and peered toward the source of the n
oise. Jo’s head popped up above the back of the couch. “Tristan! Are you okay?”

  Alex and I entered the flat and closed the door behind us, rounding the couch to find Tristan sprawled on the floor, rubbing the back of his head. Both he and Jo’s clothing were disheveled, and she started madly buttoning her shirt.

  Tristan’s eyes locked on Alex and he froze. “Your Royal Highness!” He scrambled to his feet, knocking the empty wine bottle on the coffee table to the floor, and lurched down into an awkward bow.

  Alex laughed. “Tristan Noble, right?”

  Tristan rose and nodded. His face was flushed from more than just the wine, but I suppose he didn’t expect to run into the crown prince at his girlfriend’s sister’s apartment. I’d asked Jo not to mention anything to him.

  “I’ll be out of your way,” Tristan said, fumbling around on the table for his wallet.

  “No, stay,” Alex said. “I should actually be heading home.” He turned to me, smiling. “Much as I wish I didn’t have to leave, it’s probably for the best. They’ve probably noticed I’m missing by now.”

  He kissed me lightly on the lips and waved at Jo and Tristan, then strolled out the door.

  I turned back to the young lovers. “It’s nice to meet you, Tristan,” I said. “I’ve heard a lot of nice things about you and for now you’re in my good books, but if you tell a single soul what you saw today I will personally strangle you with your own necktie. Capuche?”

  Chapter 18

  Alexander

  I woke to slobbery kisses and groaned. “Hank! Get off me.”

  He whined.

  Cracking open my eyes I saw him hovering inches above my face, tail wagging. He needed to go out. Fair enough.

  I took him outside and grabbed breakfast from the kitchen on the way back to my apartment. The weather outside was clear and warm, not a breath of wind in the air. It was going to be a calm day, the perfect kind of morning that heralded good things on the horizon.

  No sooner had I taken my first bite of croissant than my father stormed into my apartment without knocking. I couldn’t remember the last time he’d even been in here, never mind the last time he thundered in.

  My father’s weathered face and bristling mustache swam into view as he marched up to my table, brandishing a folded newspaper. Before I could ask what he was doing, he slapped the paper down on the table and pointed an accusing finger to the image that took up half the front page. Tamara and I were at the front of the boat, my arm around her shoulder and her head on my chest. There was a caption underneath.

  REBELLIOUS PRINCE SNEAKS OUT OF PALACE TO TAKE ROMANTIC CANAL CRUISE WITH SECRET ACTRESS GIRLFRIEND, it read. INSIDE SOURCE CONFIRMS RELATIONSHIP. DETAILS ON PAGE 10.

  Inside source? Who had they talked to?

  “Who the hell writes these things?” I muttered, trying not to show how affected I was. I knew something like this was bound to happen eventually, but last night was a decidedly inconvenient time for that to be the case.

  “I cannot believe you!” Father growled. “You snuck out? Are you a child?”

  I gestured to the seat opposite but he remained standing, glaring at me with a fury I hadn’t seen in him for many years.

  Irritation bubbled in my chest for the child comment.

  “What does it matter?” I asked. “Nobody noticed I was gone.”

  His eyes narrowed on me. “It was a family event, Alexander. You’ve exhibited a blatant lack of respect for me and for everyone who cares about you.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I rose to my feet, palms facing my father. “Let’s not get confused here. There were very few actual members of our family there. It was a press event, and you know that.”

  “We are royalty, Alexander.” He stood a little taller. This man couldn’t have been born into a more suitable vocation than king. “The country is our family and we have a duty to uphold. Letting them into our lives through ‘press events’ is part of the deal, and you know that.”

  I didn’t much fancy having my words slung back at me, but my father had made one critical error.

  I pointed to the picture of Tamara. “Here you go. They’ve wheedled their way into a critical part of my life. We’re even.”

  His frown dipped even further, if that was possible. “We are not even. You owe an apology to Edward and Clarissa.”

  “Fine,” I said.

  Honestly, that seemed fair. I would’ve come to that conclusion with or without my father’s interference.

  He took a closer look at the image, and I could see him running her face through his internal database to find a match.

  “Tamara Callahan,” I filled in. “You obviously haven’t flipped to page ten.”

  His eyes returned to mine. “I don’t make it a habit to read this filth.” A second later, his brow furrowed. “Is this why you’ve been behaving so rudely to Svetlana?”

  Did everything in this place revolve around that Swedish princess? I already had Edward jumping down my throat about her, the last thing I needed was for my father to join in.

  “I wish you would all leave that alone,” I said through gritted teeth. “I don’t know how many times I’ve told Edward that I’m not marrying that girl.”

  “Because she’s a princess,” Dad said, indicating that he and Edward had spoken about it. Of course they had. They probably had a binder full of ideas on how to fix me.

  “Princess or no, I’m not interested.”

  He shook his head, and for a second his anger flickered into something a lot less easy to swallow. Disappointment.

  “You’re a fool, Alexander,” he said. “Whether you were going to marry the girl or not, it was cruel of you to behave as you did. You were unkind to her strictly to give your family the middle finger.” He stared at me hard. “Your mother may have been a princess of the people, but she was still a princess. And she would be ashamed of you right now.”

  That blow hit me harder than a brick to the chest. I didn’t even think—I just stalked around my father and to the door, calling out for Hank before slamming the door behind me.

  How could he say such a thing? No wonder our relationship had suffered in recent years.

  I tried not to let my bitterness toward my father consume me, and instead focused my energies on trying to decipher who the inside source was. I should’ve taken the newspaper out with me to scan it for clues but I was so angry that I’d forgotten everything except how to walk away.

  The only people who had seen us together were her sister, Tristan Noble, and the maid at Springfield Manor. Unless there was somebody I was forgetting about.

  My thoughts circled back to my father and I kicked a clump of grass, sending it flying over Hank’s head. The sky had faded to a dull ash color since I was outside last, typical of the weather around this time of year.

  He had no right to say what he did or be as angry as he was. I skipped out on one fucking party. Hell, I’d been caught doing much worse in the past than taking a beautiful actress for a romantic cruise.

  Which reminded me... My father probably wasn’t the only one angry.

  I dialed Teddy’s number.

  “I cannot believe you,” he answered. “You lied to me.”

  I winced. “I’m sorry, Teddy. It was a spur of the moment sort of thing.”

  “How much trouble are you in?” he asked, humor lacing his tone. Teddy could never be mad at anyone for long—except his family.

  “More than I expected.”

  He chuckled. “Foiled again, eh old boy?”

  “So it would seem.”

  He cleared his throat. “I won’t pretend I’m not offended that you didn’t tell me you were going out with Tamara Callahan,” he said, “though I do approve of your choice.”

  “I’ll sleep easy now.”

  Teddy tutted. “Hanging out with an American has made you sassy.”

  “Please never call me sassy again.”

  “Someone’s getting sassy.”

  “Teddy!”
/>
  He laughed. “Fine. Sorry. What are you going to do now?”

  I scrubbed a hand through my hair and wrinkled my nose. Good question. Tamara was probably crushed, and I needed to see her to make sure she was okay. After that I could fix whatever else of the fallout needed fixing.

  “I’ve got to go find Tamara,” I said. “She was the one who insisted we keep everything quiet. She’s had bad brushes with the press in the past.”

  “You could call it that,” he replied.

  In all the times Tamara mentioned the debacle with her ex-boyfriend, I never thought to ask about or seek out the what he’d said about her. With Teddy’s hanging words, I grew curious.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “The last time I read about Ms. Callahan on the glossy pages of the gossip rag, her ex-boyfriend was painting quite the pretty picture,” he explained. “Self-absorbed but terminally self-conscious, a higher-than-thou attitude that alienated her from the rest of the cast, and the inability to function when she didn’t get her own way.”

  “That doesn’t sound like my Tamara at all.”

  Teddy hummed. “Well, you know her better than I.”

  He left it at that. Teddy had a penchant for drama, so I didn’t put much stock in what he said.

  “I’ll talk to you later,” I said.

  Teddy laughed. “Don’t let the press bugs bite, star boy!”

  I rolled my eyes and ended the call.

  Chapter 19

  Tamara

  My heart galloped in my chest like a wild mustang. It had been all day.

  Nothing I did—no calming teas, soothing music, mediation—helped shovel aside some of my anxiety, and the longer the day went on the worse it seemed to get.

  It all started when I woke up at five in the morning to a call from my agent, badgering me with questions about my relationship with the prince and berating me for not telling her sooner so we could ride the publicity. After I figured out that it wasn’t just her that knew—it was everybody—I ended the call and stormed into Jo’s bedroom.

  Jo was sleeping like a log, mouth wide open and not a care in the world. A pillow to the head did the trick. After about fifteen minutes of fighting, wherein she insisted that Tristan hadn’t told a soul and I insisted the facts didn’t lie, Jo stormed out of the apartment in her pajamas and I got ready as quickly as possible and left for work.