Once Upon a Royal Wedding

by Laurie LeClair

  “And me Stephan. Fate. Destiny.”

  “Family. Love.”

  “All right, already. I’m going to cry buckets as it is.” She pulled away, and swiped at what was surely lipstick on Sophia’s cheek. “Girl power, remember.”

  “As if I could forget.”

  A loud whisper came from around the half-open door.

  Belle rolled her eyes. “Our babysitter, Rico.” Then she smiled. “Aren’t we lucky?”

  She hurried and left, her soft rose-blush maid of honor gown with golden threads woven in the light fabric swishing behind her. “I’m here, okay?”

  He murmured something Sophia didn’t catch, but made Belle chuckle.

  Sophia strolled out of the room, careful of the long train. Her gorgeous ivory gown made of silk with an over lace fit like a glove, scooped and off the shoulders and nipped in at the waist to softly skim her hips and flow in a luscious pool of fabric.

  “You’re beautiful, daughter.”

  She jerked her head up to see her father standing there in his regal navy-blue uniform with gold trim, waiting to escort her down the aisle. “Papa.” He looked happier than she’d ever seen him.

  “I am so proud of you.” He choked up. “I will try not to cry. Imagine me doing that. How imperfect.” He poked fun at himself.

  Sophia took his offered arm and kissed him on the cheek. “Let’s plan out new rules, shall we? One glorious imperfect family. How’s that?”

  “It has a wonderful ring to it.”

  “Ah, there’s something I forgot to mention.” She gingerly touched her mother’s pink diamond tiara one last time, feeling the connection, and then pulled her veil down over her face. “We’re changing things up, just a little, for the ceremony.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, you know Rico and Peg…” She hated to wipe the smile from his face just yet. Her friends would be a part of the hour-long ceremony—unorthodox and silly, she was certain. Peg had gone all out in decorating her infamous clipboard in a crystal-like sheath just for the nuptials. “You’ll see for yourself, Papa.”

  Five minutes later, the music swelled and they marched down the long aisle, greeted with the famous, royals, and dignitaries in stunning attire and graced with the brightest smile.

  Up ahead, Belle stood in position opposite of Stephan—the best man—across a small intimate space, with secretive smiles for each other only a couple in love understood.

  Sophia sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of Sebastian stepping forward. In his dark navy uniform with gold trim of his country, he looked more dashing than normal.

  As if she ever imagined that was possible.

  Peg’s husband, famous rock star Austin Rhoades, played a solo on his acoustic guitar. His soft, loving words seeped in and spread, touching Sophia’s heart as he sang about a young beautiful woman marrying a struggling man, their story of haunting love and everlasting romance.

  With sure steps, Sophia strolled to where Sebastian stood, allowing her father to lift her veil, kiss her on the cheek, and then hand her to her groom. Unexpectedly, Sebastian broke rank and came to her, cupping her face in his hands. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. You stole my heart.”

  “So I’m a thief now?” She grinned, liking the way his gaze held hers with such love and caring. Her heart tripped over itself.

  “No, sweet Sophia, you have always been and always will be my beloved princess.”

  * * *

  ***

  Turn the page to read Belle and Stephan’s story in Her Forever Prince…

  Once Upon A Royal Wedding

  Laurie LeClair

  Her Forever Prince

  Once Upon A Royal Wedding, Book 2

  by

  Laurie LeClair

  * * *

  Copyright 2020

  * * *

  All rights reserved. This work is not transferrable. Any reproduction of this work is prohibited without the permission of the author due to the infringement on the copyright. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the creation of the author or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or people, living or dead, is coincidental.

  * * *

  Don’t forget your free book, If The Shoe Fits!

  Sign up for my newsletter! Details are in the back of the book.

  Created with Vellum

  To Rosemary Dawn Fletcher. Thank you for your dear friendship. This book would never have been written if not for you.

  * * *

  And to my husband, Jim LeClair, thank you for believing in us and being my forever guy.

  Chapter 1

  “Shut the front door!” Isabelle Morales’s jaw dropped and her eyes widened at the older, distinguished man in an expensive black suit, matching tie, and crisp white shirt standing in front of her in what she currently called home. His highly shined, custom black shoes probably cost more than she made in six months at King’s Department Store—with commissions.

  She blinked.

  Nope. He’s still there. This isn’t a horrible dream!

  “I believe the guard did that.”

  “Huh?” She shook her head, her brain attempting to process what her twenty-twenty vision revealed.

  “The door.” He nodded his regal head—minus the jeweled crown—to the four burly men behind her at the penthouse entrance. He narrowed his dark gaze and studied her intently.

  The inspection. Ugh! Microscope, anyone?

  If possible, his frown grew darker.

  Looks speak volumes! He doesn’t approve of me.

  Belle restrained herself from smoothing her dark hair back in its high ponytail and wiping her damp palms down the thighs of her straight leg jeans. A nerve in the corner of her lip tugged.

  Not that. Please not that!

  “So…” Her heavy red tote—filled with her drawing journals and design school books—dug into her shoulder. She pasted on a smile, hoping he’d pick up the conversation starter.

  No luck.

  Why are you here? What do you want?

  She twisted around, doing a sweep of the enormous elegant suite, stretched her neck to peek around the pristine white corners, and then, when all else failed, she returned to find his hardened, unnerving gaze on her. “Ah, where’s Stephan?”

  “Delayed.” The short, sharp word cut through the air and her.

  Her middle quivered. “And yet you’re here.” The hotel staff allowed him in to the penthouse, most likely. And why wouldn’t they bow down to his request?

  “He’ll be here shortly.”

  Dread dropped in her belly. “He knows you arrived?” And he didn’t tell me? Warn me, at least?

  “It’s a surprise.”

  A well of relief washed over her. Stephan would never have allowed her to walk into an ambush. She sighed.

  However, in the next breath, Belle realized this man’s intention. He wanted to catch her unaware, to judge her, to deem her not worthy for his son.

  If the man had already seen her lacking, why not give him what he wanted?

  “Your Royalness.” She grinned at his grimace. Behind her, she picked up the muffled gasp and a chuckle from two of the guards. “Oops! Did I say that?”

  He scowled.

  With courage she didn’t feel, Belle shot him a tight smile, walked around his tall frame, and then dropped her heavy, bone-breaking red tote in a nearby white chair. It hit with a dull thud. “Take a load off… Uh, what would you like me to call you? Sir? Highness? King?”

  The longer this took, the more heat wrung low and deep, balling up in her center. The nerve of the man!

  Holding onto the back of the armchair with a white-knuckled grip, Belle turned to him. “Or should we skip all that nonsense and I can just call you Dad?” She shuddered inwardly.

  He coughed, his face turning red.

  “Your Majesty, are you all right
?” A guard, thick-framed and bald-headed, rushed forward.

  The king waved him off. “W-water.”

  Belle, recalling her manners her sweet mother drummed into her, hurried to get a glass from the bar area and a cool bottle of fancy water from the mini fridge. Quickly, she poured it and brought it to him.

  When he hesitated, she shriveled up inside. “Don’t worry. I don’t have germs or cooties.”

  The guard’s sympathetic look soothed her frayed nerves. “Miss, I’ll be happy to help in the matter. Thank you.”

  After handing over the glass, Belle slipped back and then plopped down on the long, white sofa.

  She should be used to it by now; her own deadbeat father treated her with disdain and her mother and she had endured years of richy-rich employers looking down on the maid and her daughter.

  If it were just about her, she’d have told the king off by now. However, she held back, nearly swallowing her tongue, because this was important to Stephan, the man she loved and the man she intended to marry in a fantabulous wedding ceremony in less than three months.

  There had to be at least a half-dozen strikes against her already.

  She dropped her head in her hands, praying for some type—any smidgen—of redemption.

  Yep, you’ve gone and done it this time.

  His Majesty—her future father-in-law—hated her.

  Could this get any worse?

  “Trouble, sir.”

  The hair on Prince Stephan’s neck stood on end the moment he’d glimpsed the family royal crest on the sleek black limo less than ten minutes ago. It wasn’t his.

  It had to be only one other royal coming to call. Father.

  Stephan’s chest clutched.

  His guard, Oscar, nailed it precisely. Trouble.

  “Where’s Bella?” He stormed out of the stifling elevator and into the penthouse.

  Immediately, his father’s guards stood to attention. He acknowledged them with a nod and focused on the brooding older man’s rigid back standing at the large open French doors to the balcony.

  “Stephan.” Still he did not turn around.

  “Father. What a surprise.” Stephan shoved back his open suit jacket and clenched his fists on his hips. “You couldn’t have called first?” He spotted Bella’s favorite red tote—custom-made especially for her—on the nearby immaculate white chair. He swallowed hard. “What have you done to her?”

  “The woman-child?” Only now did his father turn and face him with a raised eyebrow.

  “My fiancée.” He grit his teeth.

  “She is unacceptable—”

  “Why don’t you tell me how you really feel?” Bella charged out of her room.

  Relief at seeing her washed over Stephan. However, his heart twisted at the ripple of pain chasing over her delicate features. “Bella.”

  He reached out a hand and she came to him. Stephan held her to his side and dropped a kiss on her forehead, breathing in the sweet scent of her and grateful for her presence. “Do not listen to his nonsense.” He kept his voice low yet strong.

  “I’m so glad you’re here.” She lifted her face and kissed him on the jaw. “He’s awful, by the way, but I won’t hold it against you.” Her green eyes sparkled with mischief.

  Stephan laughed and then shifted so he hugged her fully to him. Holding her close, he nuzzled her neck, savoring her warmth. “Gorgeous.” He meant it. He’d gotten a glimpse of her form-hugging, lavender sleeveless dress outlining her delicate curves. She wore matching heels. “Oh, my Bella, how you make everything all right again.”

  The sound of her giggle eased his growing anxiety.

  “And you for me, too.” She sighed, sinking into him. “What can I do to help you?” She tilted her head to the older man near the balcony.

  “You, my love, go on to King’s. You mentioned you have two style consultant appointments this evening and then on to dreaming up your magnificent dress for our wedding.”

  Stephan allowed her to pull back, but he lightly touched her cold arms—feeling the quivers—and did not want to let go of her. She meant everything to him…

  “Will there still be one?” She whispered, “He doesn’t like me. I can tell these things.”

  “Good thing he doesn’t have a say about us.” He stared at her, watching the bubbling anxiety in her gorgeous green eyes and tension cross her beautiful face.

  “Doesn’t he? That royal stuff and everything.” She forced a tight smile.

  He grinned at her. “I will handle the royal ‘stuff’ and him.”

  There were rules and protocols in place for a reason. Legacies were meant to carry on. Age-old traditions were to be followed to a T. Yet, he, the only born child—and more importantly, son—of the king, would push and stretch every invisible line to its limit to take Bella as his wife.

  Stephan glanced at his father now keenly observing them. The set jaw gave Stephan an indication of what he was up against. Stubborn. Arrogant. Determined.

  There were plenty of times Stephan had to face that attitude and many he’d won. He dug in now. Taking a bride—more so, Bella as his wife—proved different, though. This was fracturing centuries of tried and true proclamations, governed by the descendants of kings and queens.

  Could he handle his father this time?

  Chapter 2

  Belle pulled elegant pieces with sparkling crystals on a shimmering gold gown and the black top of a fabulous pant suit from the rack where she had gathered the select treasures for her client, knowing Patience Crumbly—who had become a friend these last few months—needed to see herself in this instead of dismissing it as too richy-richy fussy for her.

  The woman had won millions and still didn’t consider herself one of them.

  Shaking her head, Belle grinned, realizing she felt the same with Stephan.

  He was incredibly wealthy, sophisticated, and dashing. Okay, he was hot! And with just one look, he made her melt. Every time.

  But she wasn’t anything like that at all. She was the maid’s daughter—well, retired maid, thanks to Stephan convincing her mother to move to Texas to be with her daughter.

  It didn’t hurt that her mom and Belle’s chauffeur friend, Lewis, were sweet on each other—as they both liked to say.

  “So everyone’s happy. Not. The blasted king isn’t with me.” Not good enough for his son.

  “Yoo-hoo! Belle, ready when you are.” Patience poked her head out of the dressing room.

  “Coming right up. Wait until you get a load of these!” She smiled at the woman who she had a soft spot for. They were so much alike—dropped into extraordinary circumstances and still not believing it.

  “How much?”

  “Really? You are looking for bargains at King’s Department Store?” But she giggled. “That’s my girl!” She winked. “Don’t you worry. I’ve got a discount code or two up my sleeve.”

  “I can always count on you, Belle. I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t have found you.”

  That poked at her tender heart. “Ah, geez. You’re so sweet. I feel like we’re family.”

  “Does that mean I get an invitation to the royal wedding?”

  “If I have anything to say about it, yes.” It would feel so good to have her friends there considering all she had was her mama and Lewis now for her side of the aisle. Thank goodness her boss, Charlie, and family would be there, too. After all, Stephan had appointed the owner of King’s to the board of his charity and the store played an integral part in building the private school for the underprivileged children in his country.

  “Don’t let them order you around, understand? Just like you told me—own it.”

  If only.

  At the end of her appointments and after ringing up the impressive sales, Belle finally got a chance to text her friend, Rico.

  SOS. Need advice. Meet me in women’s in the next thirty minutes or in the design room after.

  Thankfully, he didn’t disappoint, arriving in twenty-nine min
utes, just as she gathered her tote. “You rang, love?” He popped in.

  She gasped. “It’s like my wish came true.”

  Even at this hour of the day—after eight—he looked crisp and fresh and elegant in his dark-gray suit with the monochrome look for his shirt and tie. He did have a silky scarf draped around his neck.

  “I likee.” She used his own catch phrase, swinging the tote on her shoulder.

  “Of course you do.” But he grinned, smoothing a hand over his perfectly styled hair. “What’s up? Need a drinking buddy? Please, please.”

  “As if. I still have tons of work to do in the design room. That’s where I’m headed now. I have this new project I’m working on for my class and more ideas for my dress…” Her voice faded as stark reality hit hard.

  “Why the sad face all of a sudden?” He grabbed her hands and shivered. “Ice cold, Belle.” He dropped them in a flash and rubbed his together. “Follow along with Uncle Rico now.”

  Belle did, only to have something to do with them instead of feeling numb.

  He sighed, snagged her arm, and then hooked his hand through her elbow. “I’ll walk you. You talkee.”

  She stood frozen.

  “Right foot. Left foot,” he directed. “You remember how to walk, don’t you? Oh my, it’s that serious?”

  Forcing herself, she began to move out of the now quiet women’s department and into the large, wide second floor of King’s. Her heels clicked along the marble. Rico’s steps were muffled yet in perfect rhythm.

  “Spill it!”

  “He’s here.”

  Rico lurched to a stop, halting her, too. He looked around and over his shoulder. “Who? Is he stalking us now?”

  She chuckled through the fierce block of dread. “No, silly. It’s him…the king. The real deal.”