“Mine.”
“I’ll be there and I won’t broadcast it on social media, either.”
Briggs claps me on the shoulder. “Knew I could count on you.”
“Always.” I look him right in the eyes. “You can always count on me, brother.”
“Damn glad to hear it.”
—
It’s early evening and I’m waiting on Charlotte to join me at Creative Falls Park for an early dinner. She doesn’t know it yet, but I arranged for a private picnic on the grounds. Since it’s privately owned and public hours stop at five, we have the entire park to ourselves. Even better, the park is walled off and her security team can leave us alone, for the most part, anyway.
“Brooks,” Charlotte calls out as she carefully steps on the flagstone path that will lead her to me. She’s wearing a light green dress and strappy sandals. I think my sister-in-law Saylor calls them wedges.
“Over here,” I say, and her face lights up as soon as she spots me, taking my breath away.
Not good. I shouldn’t react this way to her. Yeah, and I shouldn’t have rented an entire damn park for her, either.
“Sorry I’m late. I didn’t realize that the park was so hidden. You can barely hear the traffic.” She walks up to me and kisses my cheek. “Hullo, love.”
“Love, huh?”
She shrugs, her cheeks pink. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
“I know.” A surprising twinge of disappointment hits me, but I ignore it and splay my arms wide. “What do you think?”
“It’s beautiful and—oh my word.” Her eyes widen. “Is that a picnic set up for us?”
“Just for you and me.”
Her small hands grab mine, a beautiful smile curving her lips. “I don’t know what to say…except thank you.” She shakes her head slowly, a look of amazement on her face. “You are an incredibly good listener and so thoughtful.”
“Hope you brought your appetite,” I say, suddenly uncomfortable with her compliments. I don’t deserve them. Yes, I’m a good listener, but I only brought her here to talk without sex or any other heated moments getting in the way.
Briggs’s visit grounded me, made me remember why I came to New York in the first place. I have to focus on that and keep Charlotte firmly in the hookup area of my life—a place that doesn’t allow for emotions or thoughtfulness.
“I did and I brought some of my favorite books, like you instructed.” She pats the tote hanging off her shoulder. “Since I didn’t have any print versions, I had to pop down to the closest bookstore. I managed to spend nearly the entire afternoon reading. Before that, Gen and I attended a charity breakfast at the— I’m sure you don’t want to hear about that.”
“I want to hear about whatever you want to share,” I say, earning another one of her beautiful smiles.
“Are we allowed to take off our shoes?” she asks, stopping at the edge of the picnic spread.
“Pretty sure a princess can do what she wants.” Deliberately, I take off my shoes and socks, letting my feet sink into the soft, cool grass.
She wastes no time in slipping off her wedges and wriggling her toes in the grass. “This feels amazing, nearly as good as home. We have quite a large garden—lawn there. With an ornamental pond full of fish.”
“Do you like to fish?” I ask.
“I like to…catch and release,” she says slowly. “It’s a horrible conflict I harbor. I’m a lover of seafood yet can’t bear to separate them from their families.”
“I think it means you respect where your food comes from,” I say and sit down.
Charlotte does the same and I grab the plates before she can, serving her first.
“Oh dear,” she says, letting me know she’s uncomfortable. “I’m perfectly capable of fixing my own dinner.”
“I know you are, but I’m a man and it makes me feel capable to provide dinner for you.”
With a little crooked grin, she tilts her head to one side. “Far be it from me to prevent a man such as yourself from feeling capable.”
The wind stirs the loose tendrils of hair around her face and I tuck a strand behind her ear. She shivers at my touch. “Stop worrying so much about what I think and be yourself, sweetheart.”
“Is that why you asked me to bring the books?”
“I know you love to read, especially romance novels, so yeah, I wanted to make you comfortable,” I admit.
“Careful, Mr. Walker, or I’ll start thinking that this is more than just an affair.” Her voice is teasing, but those pretty eyes of hers are luminous.
“It is more—it’s a royal affair.” The glow fades, making me feel like a complete asshole. I clear my throat. “Anyway, tell me about your day before the bookstore. Sounds like you were busy with your sister.”
She nods. “Very much so. It’s getting worse, I think—the attention and the scrutiny. The challenge is to be grateful and thankful without letting your annoyance and frustration show.”
“That’s not hard for you.”
“You’re very kind, but I’m not that nice.”
I cant my head from side to side. “On that I’ll have to agree.”
She makes a face, lightly punching me in the arm. “Stop it.”
“Says the woman who skewered me the first time we met.”
“I only skewered you because you were being a pompous windbag.”
“We really need to work on your insults.”
“Because pompous windbag is actually a compliment?”
I suck in air through my teeth. “Harsh, Princess.”
She looks at me out of the corner of her eye. “You can take it.”
My gaze drops to her lips. “So can you.”
“Not fair.” Her cheeks turn fiery red. “Don’t fight me with sexual innuendos.”
“But that’s the best kind.” I lean over and kiss her lightly. “We’re not fighting. I’m only teasing you.” I kiss her again, lingering over her mouth and wanting to press her down into the blankets so I can make love to her.
Sex, dumbass. It’s just sex.
“I’m not used to this sort of flirting. Most men I know are in awe of my title or they want to convince me to marry them to gain a title.”
That tidbit of information is more than enough to get my attention and not because jealousy is creeping into my brain. “How many proposals have you had?”
“Quite a few.” She spears some asparagus with her fork. “But I haven’t met anyone I’d want to spend the rest of my life with, or be the father of my children.”
“What about your former lover?” I can’t help but ask.
My soft as cotton princess turns rigid. “He’s not suitable where it counts.”
“He doesn’t have a title?”
“Oh no. He has a title, all right. He doesn’t have a heart or a conscience, is all.” She smashes her lips together and her grip on the fork tightens. “I’ve never told anyone, but he, uh…he wasn’t very kind to me after things became intimate. It’s my own fault. I should have known—there’s no such thing as a Prince Charming, you know?”
“Define ‘wasn’t very kind,’ ” I say, seeing red for the first time in my life over a woman.
She hesitates. “I don’t think I should say. You could decide to publish this conversation and I would be humiliated—all over again.”
“I give my word that what you say stays between us.”
“You know the saying hit it and quit it?”
I nod, my gut churning. “Yeah, I’ve heard it.” In college there were a lot of guys I knew that were guilty of it, but not me. Being up front with a woman was more important than making promises I had no intention of keeping just to get laid.
“Well, that happened along with a lot of bragging. Apparently, persuading a princess to let you pop her cherry is very rare.”
I can only imagine the persuasion that was done to her.
“Except he didn’t exactly stop at that one time…so perhaps I’m not using the best phrase.
He used me for his own gain, or rather he attempted to, but my brothers put a stop to it. That wasn’t embarrassing at all.”
She has to stop. Stop telling me things that make me want to be more than just a guy after the truth. “When was this?”
“A couple of years ago. I thought I was being smart by dating someone who had the same pressures as I…and I thought that we had something special. I thought I was falling in love,” she says softly. “That his outward appearance matched his insides. He had such beautiful manners, such charm, and always said the right thing.”
“Is he someone I would know?” I want the asshole’s name, yet I don’t. God help me, I’ll ruin him; I will bury him, and I won’t regret it.
“Probably.” Her lips quiver. “Do you know I thought it was a good idea to keep our relationship a secret? He convinced me that secrecy was our only option because we could be ourselves and not worry about anyone following us. So we only met whenever there were parties given at the royal palace. That’s why it was never reported about in the press. Not even you knew and you know nearly everything about my family.”
“Is that your biggest secret?” I can’t help but ask.
She shakes her head, her shoulder slumping. “No, but I can’t tell you what it is. There are some things that will go with me to my grave.”
My heart punches into my chest. I want to know her secret so bad that I can taste it. Damn it all to hell and back, it’s bitter. “Not even if I promised to keep your secret, too?”
Her gaze fixes on my face. “Not even then. This is only an affair, Brooks. Perhaps if this was something more, something real and true…something that had a future, I might share it, but since it’s not…I’m sorry, but I can’t.”
“Don’t apologize,” I hear myself say. “I don’t expect you to give me more than you can.” Some fucking journalist I am, to cave to sad eyes and quivering lips.
And heartfelt, humbling confessions that make me want to find the man that hurt her so I can make him pay. Go all country on his ass. My brothers would be down with that.
As they say in the South, there are some men who are in need of a good killing.
“This is very good, by the way. All of my favorite dishes,” she says, pulling me out of my violent fantasies.
“Thank your Instagram account for that.”
“My foodie one. Yes, that was when I dabbled in the idea of becoming a food blogger.”
“What stopped you?”
“Can’t cook and I’m a picky eater.”
I throw my head back and laugh. Charlotte tosses a spoon at me, but that only makes me laugh harder.
“Couldn’t give up the food, could you?”
“No way. This is delicious.”
“You’re adorable, you know that?” I frame her face with my hands and kiss her again. “So fucking adorable that I want you with me all the time.”
“You do?” she asks breathlessly, and I let go of her.
Fuck. Where had that come from? “Yeah, easier to fuck you when I want.”
“Ah. I see.” She bends her head, studying her plate. “Please give my regards to your chef.”
I want to take the callous comment back, but I can’t bring myself to do it.
Fucking coward.
After eating, we make ourselves comfortable on the large blankets, which means I lie down and tuck my hands under my head so I can stare up at the sky. Charlotte lies down beside me, the side of her body almost touching mine.
The scent of her perfume steals over me, invading my senses. I move my hand, finding hers and lacing our fingers together. So what if that’s not what a man who’s only intent on fucking a woman would do. So what if that’s invalidating my early comment or sending her mixed signals.
“Brooks,” Charlotte says softly.
“Yes, Princess?”
“This is very nice.”
“Anything for you, sweetheart,” I say, further fucking up my chance for keeping things clear between us.
I won’t worry about that tonight. Tonight, I’ll enjoy her company and tomorrow…tomorrow, I’ll take her to my apartment and screw her seven ways from Sunday so she’ll know exactly where I stand.
Which is exactly why the next stupid words out of my mouth are…
“My family is hosting a charity polo match next weekend at their house in Wilmington. Would you like to be my guest?”
“I’d love to.” She squeezes my hand. “I’ve never been to the coast before.”
I’m so fucked.
Chapter 7
Charlotte
While I love my family dearly, there are times when I wish I were an only child. Like thirty minutes ago, when my sister and I boarded our private jet to fly home for no reason at all, other than Gen was ready to leave.
I sigh, my stomach churning at texting Brooks. We had plans today but I’m going to break them and without much notice. I don’t think he’ll like it very much, either.
But if I can take on a prime minister, I can put on my big girl panties and inform Brooks of my change in plans…right after I thank him for my present.
Me: Thank you so much for the book! I adore Sawyer Bennett’s work.
It was unexpected and thoughtful…and thoroughly confusing. Yes, we’re lovers, but this…this is gift a friend would give. From Brooks, I expected, if anything, for him to attempt to dazzle me with jewels or lingerie. Something meant to show off his taste, his desires, not mine.
Brooks: You’re welcome. What’s the earliest I can pick you up? A friend of mine has a grand opening that he’d like for us to attend. Small crowd, I swear.
My heart flips at his continued thoughtfulness and then sinks as I tap out my response and hit send.
Me: Actually, I’m at the airport now. Sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, but Gen needed to go home at the last minute and I had to pack.
Brooks: What about what you need?
Me: Brooks…please don’t. I’m not happy about leaving you, but I have responsibilities that I can’t ignore. Your business needs you at the helm, so I hope you understand.
Brooks: I’m not happy about you leaving, either. I was looking forward to introducing you to more of my friends.
I read his text twice to be sure that he wrote what I thought he did. He’s not happy about me leaving. He wants to spend time with me, wants me to meet his friends…like…a friend would. Perhaps that’s what we are, with the benefit of sleeping together.
“Are you still chatting with him?” Gen complains. “Tell him we have to take off.”
Grudgingly, I end my conversation just when it was getting more than a little interesting.
Me: Can we talk later? I have to put my phone in airplane mode.
Brooks: Text me when you land.
Me: I will.
“What was so pressing that we had to leave straightaway?” I ask Gen, glaring at her.
“Someone had to stop you from making a complete fool of yourself over a man,” she replies. “While I approve of an affair, I don’t approve of him parading you around like his royal arm-candy. “
“He wasn’t and he didn’t.”
Her brows rise. “Then why did he take you to The Booth Club and Creative Falls Park? While those venues might be private, they certainly aren’t low-profile. He wanted to be seen with you.”
“As opposed to being ashamed of me? Perhaps he should have kept me holed up in his apartment or some hotel for the weekend, then kicked me out when he was finished.”
Her mouth twists, but I know it’s not at me, not in this. “Not all men should be painted with the same brush, I’ll give you that, but let’s face the truth—you are a benefit to him, not the other way around. Keep in mind what he does for a living.”
Like I can forget. “You were the one to say that Brooks needed to come after me. He asked me to be his date, not the other way around, and I thought you would approve.”
Gen rolls her eyes. “Yes, but you should control the where and when.”
My lip curls. “He’s not my subject.”
“Doesn’t mean you can’t treat him like one.”
“I’ll treat him like a human being, thank you very much,” I snap, wondering what in the world has gotten into my sister. Yes, she can be a pain, but this snobbery from her…it only comes out when she feels trapped. Forced to do the bidding of—
“They’ve put pressure on you to start dating.”
Gen doesn’t answer at first, but I can see the helplessness in her eyes. “Yes. My time is up.”
Putting my book down, I unbuckle my seatbelt and slide over to her on the sofa to lay my head on her shoulder. “I’m sorry. If there was anything I could do, I would.”
She shrugs me off. “No you wouldn’t because you know exactly what you can do to stop it, yet you don’t say a damn thing.”
“Neither do you,” I point out. “I can only assume it’s because you want to be queen more than you want to have my life.”
“I want both.”
Devereaux walks in, his eyes sharp and his mouth set in a thin line. I’m not sure how much of our conversation he’s overheard. “Your Majesty, I’ve arranged for you to have a few hours after landing before we have to take off again en route to London.”
“How kind of you,” she says, her tone less than kind. “I get to sit on the tarmac for a few hours. Lovely.”
I would say something to her, but Devereaux can take care of himself. It’s why I like him so much. Imogen ran circles around the last two bodyguards she had and they ended up quitting. Her goal all along, I suspect.
“You’re welcome,” he replies, as if my sister wasn’t being an utter brat. Honestly, if he weren’t so serious all the time, I’d find him very attractive. “I’ll be sure to get the leash out when you’re ready to be taken for a walk.”
I bite back a laugh while Gen gasps in outrage.
“I should fire you,” she threatens.
“You can’t.” His smile becomes wry, sexy even, as his words become clipped. “The British Crown sent me, with the training and blessing of MI6 to protect you, and it would be a political nightmare for your country should you give me back.”
“I didn’t ask for the gift of you,” she snaps.
Royal Affair Page 7
