Royally Wild (Crazy Royal Love Romantic Comedy Book 2)

by Melanie Summers

  “Doubtful on both counts,” Arthur mutters.

  “I think I already do fancy him as much as you,” Princess Florence says, giving me the side-eye.

  Oh, God, she’s like Rosy on steroids.

  “Splendid speech, Arabella,” Tessa pants. “Really lovely.”

  King Winston merely nods and offers the smallest hint of a smile.

  Everyone settles themselves in the living room, King Winston choosing the armchair, Arthur and Gran on the couch, and Arabella and me on the love seat with Tessa directly behind me spinning away and breathing hard at my back. I suddenly don’t know how to sit. I start out with one hand on each knee, back perfectly straight, but then realize I need to look relaxed, except I don’t remember how to do that at the moment. Arabella tucks her hand under mine on my knee, but I flinch and move over slightly, making a space between us. I lift both our hands and place them very chastely on the seat cushion. There. That’s better.

  Video footage begins of Arabella set to classical music, showing her in various dresses, getting out of limos, waving from a carriage, and standing next to her brother and Tessa on the steps of a church at their wedding. Just when I’m starting to think I’m not going to actually be on the program at all, they finally show a picture of me (hmm, no shirt on) while African drums take over the classical music. The words “One Princess, One Bad Boy, Ten Days Alone in the Jungle…” flash across the screen, followed by “What ever will these two get up to out there?

  There’s a thin line between lust and hate…

  And we’re going to find out exactly what it takes to cross that line on…

  PRINCESS IN THE WILD”

  King Winston clears his throat and stands, then strolls over to the bar and pours himself a scotch that is at least three fingers deep.

  Oh, bugger. This is going to be just awful, isn’t it?

  Yes, yes, it is. In fact, it is so much worse than I could have imagined. We’ve just come to the bit when Dylan blindsides me by announcing Arabella as my co-host, and we all sat here watching in silence as I take Dylan aside and say this little gem, “She’s going to be utterly useless out there. No, that’s inaccurate. She’ll be worse than useless because I’m going to have to literally carry her through the jungle,” to which Dylan says, “It’ll give you a chance to test yourself in new ways—not just surviving but also keeping someone else alive.” I glare at her and say, “To what end? So she can go on using up oxygen that real people need?”

  Arabella’s hand slid away at that point, and I can feel four sets of eyes on me. I laugh nervously. “I don’t even remember saying that. That is… I’m so sorry… not my finest…”

  Fuck.

  We’re now thirty-two minutes into the special ninety-minute premiere, and I have never wanted to jump out of a window so badly in my entire life. It’s only three storeys up, so a broken leg at best, a snapped neck at worst? Either would be preferable to sitting through another hour of this hell. So far, the show has Arabella painted as the sympathetic heroine, with me cast as the total dickhead who wants the poor thing out of his jungle. They seem to have cut any moments of kindness that I showed on day one of our time in the jungle and I know there were at least a few.

  Weren’t there?

  The only bit that anyone in this room found the slightest bit funny was when Arabella rappelled out of the helicopter swearing the entire way down, and only her gran found it amusing. Her father was clearly very irked, Tessa was horrified on her behalf, and Arthur seemed to be filled with disdain when he shook his head and said, “Can’t wait to deal with that one tomorrow.”

  “Sorry,” Arabella squeaked.

  “Why?” Princess Florence asked. “You showed some spine for once. Good on you.”

  “Yes, because that’s what the people want,” Arthur said. “A foul-mouthed princess who shows some spine.”

  10

  So This is Why Most of the Couples from The Bachelor Break Up…

  Arabella

  Why the hell did I think watching this with my family was a good way to introduce them to Will? Like seriously? WHY? Why?

  This is the most awkward, awful first impression ever made in the history of first impressions. Will definitely lost any potential allies in the room with his ‘oxygen’ comment. And even though I really don’t remember what I said on our first day, I have a sick feeling it was really nasty. Now that I’m watching us out there, all of the hate I had for him on day one has come rushing back to me. To be honest—and I’m loathe to admit this about the love of my life—he is kind of, sort of, definitely coming off as arrogant.

  “Now, Princess Arabella and I are lucky because we have a machete. With this handy device, not only can I cut a path through the dense vegetation, I can also turn stalks of bamboo into a torch, a fishing spear, a fresh water source, as well as an effective weapon.”

  I roll my eyes in a most unladylike fashion. “I had no idea I was out in the wild with MacGyver. By any chance, can you teach me how to make a bomb out of some seeds and a chewing gum wrapper?”

  “If the seeds contain palm oil, sure,” he says, getting the best of me. “Now that it’s starting to get dark, we both need to keep our wits about us and watch for anything that could be a threat. This jungle is home to a variety of snakes, the black button spider, not to mention some large wildcats that might be feeling hungry right about now. Most of the animals out here feed at dusk and dawn, which makes this the most dangerous time of day.”

  I make a squeaking noise and Will turns to me. “What was that?”

  “I didn’t say anything,” I say, raising my eyebrows at him as though he’s losing his mind. “For someone who says he’s in such a hurry, you certainly stop a lot to make videos.”

  “It’s part of the job,” he answers, narrowing his eyes at me. “Oh, right. Sorry. A job is something people do to make money. You see, they have to perform certain tasks as laid out by their employer. If they complete the tasks, they get paid so they can afford things like food and rent.”

  “Are you still standing there talking?” I say, then start walking again.

  Will rushes to get in front of me and says, “I know it’s not royal protocol but out here, you walk a few steps behind me.”

  “Right. I’m happy to let you go first,” I say.

  Oh, shit. Please cut the scene here.

  “If that’s what it takes to make you feel like a big man…”

  Nope. Of course not.

  He turns to me again. “Oh, I’m sorry. Earlier I forgot to explain what rent was. You probably don’t know.”

  “I suddenly understand why you love it so much in the wilderness,” I say in a facetious tone. “It’s the only place big enough for your giant ego.”

  “I do not have a giant ego.”

  “You most certainly do,” I say. “You’re by far the most arrogant, smug man I’ve ever met. And I know Kanye West.”

  “Really? Of the two of us, you think I’m the one with an attitude?” Will lets out a frustrated chuckle. “That’s rich coming from someone who’s probably never even seen a washing machine.”

  “You know what?” I ask, clearly looking flustered. “Shut up!”

  “Great comeback, Arabella,” Arthur says, oozing sarcasm. “You really showed him.”

  On screen, I continue yelling. “…I can’t bear another word of your self-satisfied, know-it-all commentary about the jungle and survival and… and… me! You don’t know the first thing about my life, so just shut up already.”

  “Let’s get one thing straight. This is my show.” He stabs himself in the chest with his thumb. “Mine. And in case you hadn’t noticed, you need me, and not the other way around, so don’t tell me to shut up or to do anything else for that matter. Because if you do, I’ll happily leave you here to get eaten by leopards.”

  My father turns from the screen and just glares in Will’s direction. Fuck me, this is the worst idea I’ve ever had.

  “Oh really?!”

&n
bsp; “Really!”

  “You think that’s going to scare me?” I scoff. “I’d actually rather be torn apart by a pack of hungry leopards than have to suffer through another minute of listening to you drone on and on with that smug smile on your stupid face.”

  “For your information,” Will says, “Leopards rarely travel in groups, and if they do, it’s either called a leap or a prowl. Not a pack!”

  “She’s not wrong about the know-it-all thing, is she?” Father asks Arthur.

  “Not a bit.”

  Will turns and storms off with me stomping along behind him, imitating his voice. “I’m sorry. You probably don’t know what rent is. Oh, that’s rich coming from someone who’s never seen a washing machine.” Now, I’m holding up both middle fingers and scowling at his back. “I’ve seen washing machines, thank you very much. I own a television.”

  I sink down into the couch while Gran hoots with laughter. “This is the greatest thing I’ve ever seen! You made a complete arse of yourself, child.”

  Onscreen, Will is telling me we have to rappel down a cliff to get to the place we’re going to camp for the night.

  “I’ll go first so I can help you if you run into any trouble. Unless you want to go first? I don’t want to be sexist about it.”

  “Just go.”

  “Gladly. If you could just lean over the edge and film me while I make my descent, that would be very helpful.”

  Shaky footage by me shows him confidently rappelling down the cliff while I mutter, “Show off.”

  “Okay, your turn. I’ll film you and you go,” he calls.

  “Perfect,” I murmur. “Make sure you get lots of footage of my sweaty arse in these baggy pants while I slam into the side of the cliff repeatedly. Or better yet, when my arms give out and I fall, killing us both. At this point, I’d welcome death so long as I take you out with me.” More footage of the ground while I grope around for a vine and say, “You don’t want to be sexist. Sure you do, BLEEP-BLEEP. Everything out here can kill you. Don’t touch anything and don’t drink anything and don’t eat anything except these putrid larvae. Oh, and don’t be here because I don’t want you here.”

  I turn to Will with a sheepish grin, and he winks at me. “Don’t worry about it. I had it coming.”

  My father decides now is a good time to chime in with, “I should say you did.”

  Lovely. Thanks, Dad.

  The footage switches to Will’s camera and he can be heard muttering, “Don’t fall and break your neck, Your Highness. It would be such a tragedy to rid myself of your royal uselessness.”

  Brilliant.

  Finally, the show is over. Dylan Sinclair appears on the screen and smiles into the camera. “Keep it here to join everyone’s favourite feisty fashion critic, Nigel Woods, and me as we do a post-show wrap-up.”

  Arthur turns to us. “Perhaps we don’t watch that bit?”

  “I think that would be for the best,” I say, my voice barely coming out as a squeak.

  He shuts off the telly as soon as the end credits start to roll, putting us out of our misery.

  The room is deadly silent for an uncomfortably long time, until finally Tessa says, “Well, I hate to be rude, but I should shower.” She slides off her Peloton and grunts out, “Lovely to meet you, Will.”

  “Yes, I should go too,” my father says, standing and making a beeline for the door.

  Gran gets up too. “Poker night. I better run.”

  “Right,” I say, unable to move or think or do anything of any value whatsoever.

  Arthur glances over his shoulder to make sure Tessa’s gone, then he walks over to Walter to feed him. “Well, I imagine you two… need to talk.”

  He turns to us, finding us both still shell-shocked on the love seat. “Thanks for stopping by, Will. It’s been… interesting. Arabella, you’ll need to be in the large conference room at about half past seven for whatever emergency meeting the advisors call. I doubt I need to lecture you on the shitshow you’ve begun.”

  “No, I’m pretty sure I get it,” I say with a nod, feeling tears prick the backs of my eyes.

  As soon as the elevator doors close, we both let out a long sigh. We’re careful to avoid eye contact as we stand against the back wall. Bellford stands at the front of the elevator, and I love him for the fact that he’s trying to make himself as small as possible (which is not very small for someone of his stature).

  “Listen, Belle, I’m so…”

  “Oh, you don’t have to,” I say, shaking my head. “I feel every bit as bad as you must. Even worse, really. I was horribly unkind.”

  “No. You were just scared and out of your element, but honestly, I’m not taking any of that personally.”

  “Oh, thank goodness. And believe me, I’m absolutely not taking anything you said personally either. Not even the bit about me being a waste of oxygen. All in good fun, really.”

  “Good, good,” Will says, nodding. “Oh, and when you were imitating me—hilarious. You were spot-on, really. Well done, you.”

  We both glance at each other and nod, then turn back to the doors as they open. Bellford gets off and steps aside, turns, and keeps his eyes trained down the hall.

  “I probably shouldn’t stay over, though,” Will says, glancing at Bellford as he gets off. “Not because I’m upset or anything. Because I’m definitely not upset. But you have to get up really early and… and it’s probably best for us each to have a little bit of time to shake this off.”

  “Absolutely,” I answer, nodding as I step off the elevator and head toward the Grande Hall. “If anything, I need some time to get over what I said because I feel so guilty.”

  “Same here,” Will says. “I really didn’t mean a word of that.”

  “Oh, I know you didn’t.”

  “Brilliant. Well, that’s settled. Maybe we could have dinner tomorrow night?”

  “Yes, absolutely,” I say. “Let’s set something up for tomorrow evening.”

  We walk in silence until we reach the front door, and a page, who must have been watching the show on his phone based on his inability to make eye contact with either of us, opens the door with a small bow.

  “Thanks, mate,” Will says, his voice completely devoid of any of his usual charisma.

  I step outside with him, only to have two more pages and several guards glance up at us, then stare at their shoes. Will leans in and gives me the lightest peck on the lips possible. “Sleep well.”

  “You, too.”

  He turns and jogs down the steps as though his feet can’t carry him away from here fast enough, but to be honest, I can’t blame him after what has just happened. We’ve both been caught behaving very badly, and they’ve exposed it to the world which I must say is absolutely shitty. And he’s definitely dug himself a giant hole when it comes to my father and Arthur, and truth be told, once those two decide to hate someone, it takes an act of God to get them to change their minds.

  I stand for a moment and watch him back out from his spot and make a sharp turn, spitting up gravel with his back tires as he goes.

  Oh, Arabella, you idiot, what have you done?

  11

  Princesses Under Pressure, Scuba Masks, and Ill-Timed Ships Coming In…

  Will

  I lie in bed, trying to ignore the strange brushing sounds and the scent of bleach wafting in from under the door. It’s a little after seven and I could use another couple of hours of sleep, having tossed and turned until well after two in the morning. Plucking my phone off the nightstand, I check to see if Arabella has tried to reach me. Huh, she hasn’t, but there are several unread messages from my family on our group text.

  Emma: Umm, are you still saving up for that ring? Because if so, after that show, I’m thinking you need to go two-carat minimum. Ouch!

  Libby: It wasn’t THAT bad. How are you and Arabella doing? Everything all right? Did you unwind with a glass of wine after? Maybe managed to laugh it off?

  Harrison: Oh, it was bad, al
l right. I’m guessing awkward goodbye as soon as the show ended and you haven’t heard from her since.

  Pierce: Sorry, Libby, I’m with Harrison and Emma on this one. Yikes. Waste of oxygen? I don’t even know if it’s possible to erase that little gem from their minds. BTW, how’d the cognac go over? And the gin?

  Libby: Don’t listen to them, Will. You two will be just fine. Every couple has their challenges.

  Rosy: Cuddle Bear, come home where you’ve got lots of people who love you. (Assuming you broke up already. You did, didn’t you?)

  Ugh, I hope we didn’t. Sighing, I send Arabella a quick text: Are you up yet?

  Arabella: Yup. Already finished ballet, showered, ate, and am now heading into an emergency meeting with the advisors.

  Me: Wow. Productive princess. I’m still in bed. Do you have a minute to talk?

  My phone rings, and I swipe to answer it when I see Arabella’s face light up the screen. “Good morning,” she says. “I just want to say how bad I feel about the show. I’m sick about it.”

  “Me too. I barely slept last night,” I say, feeling utterly deflated. “I didn’t mean any of those things I said.”

  “Oh, I know that,” she says with a forced chuckle. “I mean, really, you don’t think I meant any of the things I said, do you? It would hardly be fair of me to hold you to what you said that day either. It was a horribly stressful and unusual situation for both of us.”

  “Glad we agree. The last thing I want is for some silly TV show to come between us.”

  “It won’t. You and I are going to be fine,” Arabella says.

  “Definitely.” I turn over in bed and prop myself up on one elbow. “I wish you were here with me right now.”

  “Me too.”

  “This whole thing is hard enough without us having to spend our nights apart,” I say. “I miss you so much.”

  I hear a voice in the background, then Arabella covers the mouthpiece of her phone and I hear her murmur something. When she comes back on the line, she says, “Darling, I really must run. The meeting’s about to begin.”