Sighing, I set my phone down. Part of me wanted to just wash my make up off and stay in. I had a bottle of Chardonnay in the fridge. Plenty of episodes of The Mindy Project to binge. I was tired.
Another part of me wanted to belly up to a bar and treat myself to an ice cold martini and something good to eat. I’d moved to London not knowing a soul other than Emily; bellying up to bars alone was something I’d gotten pretty great at. Sometimes it was lonely. Other times, it was nice to sit with my thoughts over a drink.
And I had a lot of thoughts tonight.
So I finished putting on my eyeliner. Before I could change my mind—damn did my couch look especially welcoming right then—I grabbed my purse and my coat and hustled out the door.
Ten minutes later I was at the bar at one of my favorite neighborhood spots. It was quiet. The bar stools were cozy. Best of all, the martinis were served extra cold.
I was halfway through my martini when my bag began to vibrate against the back of my stool. Thinking it was Philip with an update on his poor tummy, I dug it out of my bag.
My stomach flipped when I saw that it actually was a text from Rob.
Has Philip picked up his jaw from the floor yet? Please tell me you DID NOT WEAR THE PURPLE
I bit my lip. He was being charming again. Pulling a total one-eighty from the guy who had to be forced to walk me to my door.
I did wear the purple, I typed back to Rob. But I wouldn’t know if Philip liked it. He cancelled last minute. Stomach bug.
I’d barely just sent the text when a call came through. Rob again. For a second I just stared at it. My hand began to shake. I began to shake. What did he want now?
“Rob?” I answered.
“Where are you?”
“Do you ever say hello?”
“Hello. Where are you?”
“I’m at Oak Social,” I replied, glancing around like I expected to see Rob staring at me from a corner. “Why?”
“Don’t move. I’ll be there to pick you up in”—a pause—“twenty minutes.”
My stomach was flipping again. This time the flip was harder.
“No. Wait. Rob…” I grabbed my martini. “I’m almost done with my drink. I’m, uh, going home.”
“No you’re not. You’re going somewhere with me. I’m not about to let a beautiful girl who got all dressed up go home on a Saturday night.”
My fingers were trembling, spilling my drink. I set it down. “Rob, I’m not going on a date with you.”
“It’s not a date. It’s just two friends getting together to make plans for the ghastly joint stag/hen party their friends want to have. We never got to talk about it at lunch that day. I still have some ideas.”
I drew a breath. Rob and I were friends now? I couldn’t tell if that disappointed or delighted me.
“Really?”
“Really. I know how much you’re into this wedding stuff. So meet me. We’ll plan the most brilliant stag night ever.”
I felt my lips moving into a smile. A smile I wanted to fight but couldn’t.
I probably should’ve said no. Even if this wasn’t technically a date, seeing Rob again after all the things I’d felt talking to him today…
It wasn’t the best idea.
But we did need to talk about the bachelorette weekend. We’d nailed down a date with Kit and Em earlier this week. And Rob and I were adults. He knew I was dating Philip. I knew Rob was Rob. We could control ourselves.
“Okay. A get together. That’s it.”
“That’s it. Stay right where you are, yeah?”
After we hung up, I ran my hand down my thigh. Had I really been tired earlier? Because right then I felt more alert and more awake than I had all week. I slid my fingers around the stem of my martini and looked at it, too wound up—too excited—to finish it.
Honestly, what was wrong with me? I was relieved to be blown off by the guy I should want. And I was excited to see the guy I shouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole.
It was too easy to blame it on my vagina. But God damn it, Rob won there, hands down.
Not that he’d ever be putting his hands on me or my vagina again. That era of our relationship—of my life—was over.
I checked the time on my phone again. Exactly twenty minutes since Rob called.
Sipping my drink, I glanced toward the door.
And there he was. Prince Robert, the clean shaven version. Looking fucking handsome as he searched the restaurant. He was casual but polished in jeans, suede boots, a sweater, and jacket. His hair was rakishly, boyishly mussed. He was all broad shoulders. Arms that bulged against the sleeves of his jacket. So tall and striking and gorgeous that people would’ve stopped to stare regardless of his royal status.
I swallowed him in one long, slow glance, my heart swelling to fill the entirety of my ribcage. He was hot, yeah. But it was the way he carried himself that made my whole being light up with longing. The total ease with which he owned his body. The confidence.
Belligerent. That was his word. He was belligerently handsome. And he made no apologies for it.
In that moment, I wanted him to own me with that belligerence. Use me up until there was nothing left.
Stop. I had to stop thinking like that about him. This was a get together. A meeting. Nothing more.
His blue eyes found mine across the room. The way he looked at me right then—the contradictions that flicked across his face—it was like a bullet to the chest. His eyes softened and his jaw hardened and his mouth moved into that smirk of his. He was sweet. Angry. Cocky. All at once.
I couldn’t breathe.
I somehow managed to stand up at the same moment he started walking toward me. I felt his eyes on me. Shamelessly I leaned forward to set my glass down, making the dress ride up my thighs. It was stupid.
I did it anyway, because I wanted to rile him up. Return the favor.
A muscle in his jaw ticked, even as he kept smirking.
“He’s an idiot,” Rob said.
I looked away, tucking my hair behind my ear. “Who?”
“Philip. He’s an idiot for missing this.” I looked to see his eyes flicking over the dress.
“Well. It’s not his fault that he’s missing it. The guy is puking his brains out right now.”
Rob shrugged. “He’s still missing it, regardless of the reason. You look gorgeous. Although one too many lads are looking at you. I don’t blame them, but I don’t like it, either. Let’s go.”
Spearing him with a glare, I said, “What if I like it?”
“You’ll like where we’re going more.” He met my gaze head on, his eyes steady on mine.
I reached for my coat, but Rob got there first. Of course.
I turned around and let him help me into it. People had begun to stare, but Rob either didn’t notice or was pretending not to.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
He put a hand on the small of my back and led me out the door. “You’ll see.”
He kept saying that. Just like he kept delivering on those promises of his.
Chapter Thirteen
Aly
A Bentley was waiting outside, a driver in the front seat.
“Bringing out the big guns tonight.” I threw Rob a teasing smile.
He turned his head, bringing our faces close. Too close. In the light from the restaurant, I could make out the smattering of freckles that dotted his nose and cheeks. See how thick his dirty blond lashes were.
Rob shrugged again. “Borrowed it from Kit. Lad’s got expensive taste.”
And his lips—how had I never noticed how full they were? How kissable? The top one puffed up just the tiniest bit on the sides.
Those lips had been on me. My body. But they’d never touched my lips. From the look of his, he’d be a good kisser. A good, juicy, deliciously yummy kisser.
Philip was passable, but nothing to write home about. Maybe that explained why I was fixating on Rob’s lips like this. I felt like I hadn’t been prope
rly kissed in ages.
I blinked, looking away. I had to stop. Seriously.
“This is not a date,” I repeated.
“Darling, I don’t do dates.” Rob held open the door. “This is just a meeting. A get together, if you will. Doesn’t mean I can’t make it fun.”
I watched out the window as we rolled through London. I had no clue where we were headed. When the car finally pulled up to a dock beside the River Thames, I was more mystified than ever. We were pretty far from any bars or restaurants.
“Rob,” I said slowly, climbing out of the car. “Is this the part of the meeting where you murder me and throw my body in the river?”
He put his hand on the small of my back. I shivered. Let him lead me onto a wide plank ramp that led down to a dock on the river. The water clapped and rushed beneath us, filling the air with the earthy scents of mud and musk.
“This is the part of the meeting where you and I explore London.”
I slowed my steps, the heels of my booties catching on the planks. My heart did a neat little backflip inside my chest. I looked at him.
He looked right back, his eyes glittering in the darkness. “You said you wished you had more time to explore the city. So that’s what I thought we’d do. All while discussing the logistics of the best fucking joint stag-hen party ever thrown, of course.”
I had to stop. But so did Rob.
He had to stop being so excellent. So cute and funny and into wedding stuff the way I was into wedding stuff.
“I only have you for tonight,” he said, continuing to guide me down toward the water. “Which doesn’t give us a lot of time. London is massive, but I still want you to see everything you possibly can. I thought a tour by boat might be just the thing, especially at night.”
We hit the dock. When I looked up, the breath left my lungs. A gorgeous boat—no, this was more like a small yacht—bobbed in a nearby slip. It was all lit up, a jewel floating on the water. The design was classic; it looked almost vintage, with shiny wooden accents and railings. Something the Kennedys would’ve sailed on, save for the Union Jack that fluttered from the stern. Or was it the bow? I was too beside myself to care.
Staff in crisp white uniforms were lowering a ramp onto the dock. One of them waved to Rob; he waved back, greeting the guy by name (Laurence) and asking how his daughter was doing at the university in Leeds.
For several beats, I was too overwhelmed to formulate a coherent thought, much less a sentence.
Finally, I managed this: “How?”
Rob’s lips twitched. “I called in a favor. I may not be the Queen’s favorite grandson, but I’m the only one who served in her navy.”
“Is this…is it the royal yacht or something?”
“The royal yacht was retired twenty years ago,” Rob said, shaking his head. “Too expensive to maintain. But the Queen keeps this little number for private use—she likes to be out on the water. Its crew are navy men and women.”
“Your grandfather was in the navy, too, wasn’t he?”
Rob went still. Like I’d just caught on a wound—on something that hurt—and he was too stunned by the sudden blare of pain to move.
“He was,” Rob replied after a beat. “It’s why I joined up.”
I searched his face. I’d hit a nerve. But before I could decide whether or not I should ask him about it, he was moving again, whisking me on board.
My heart hammered. I was going to explore London. On a yacht. With a prince. In a dress I never thought I’d touch, much less wear.
It was surreal.
I’d never really thought about who Rob was. His public persona, I mean—the guy who was third in line to a thousand-year-old kingdom. Not until we’d been greeted by a hoard of paparazzi and he’d handled it like a pro. But that royal moment was small beans compared to this one. This was ridiculous. Show-offy.
Amazing. And I wasn’t going to ruin it by thinking too much. About why I liked being around Rob more than Philip. About what that meant and how it would come back to hurt me.
I was going to focus on the now—on what I had right here, in this moment. Just like Rob did. What’s the worst that could happen? The lines between us were drawn. I trusted him not to cross them.
I just hoped I could trust myself, too.
Rob
I watched Aly’s expression melt into a disbelieving smile as I led her out onto the rounded deck at the stern. The October night was mild, not too windy or cold. Even better, the sky was clear. The moon was a neon thumbnail. And the stars—they were out in full force.
Aly and I couldn’t not eat outside. So I’d had Laurence set up a table, complete with white tablecloth and a pair of chairs, on the deck. A champagne bucket stood directly beside it. I’d only had half an hour to arrange this, so I’d told the staff to pull out all the stops they could.
I hesitated, even as Aly kept smiling. This looked date-y. Really date-y.
Fuck. Was I giving her the wrong idea?
That hadn’t been my intention. I honestly hadn’t known what I’d been thinking when I’d called her earlier. All I knew was that I couldn’t let Aly just go home after being stood up on a Saturday night. I felt like we were friends now. And friends did not let friends drink alone at bars after their dates stood them up.
We really did have more wedding business to take care of, too. I figured why not take care of it while we had the time? We both had crazy schedules. And yeah, maybe I did want to show up Philip. He may have taken Aly on real dates. He may have been “real deal” material. But he didn’t pay attention to her like I did.
He didn’t put London in the palm of her hand like I would.
Aly knew this was just a meeting. She’d said so twice now. Nothing more than two friends getting together to talk shop. And that was the important part—that it was crystal fucking clear to her what I was trying to do here.
But how I felt? That was secondary. I could figure it out later. Deal with it. As long as she knew where we stood, this was okay.
My eyes trailed up the lithe lines of her legs. Eh…maybe not so okay. She was sexy as hell. I wanted to put my hands up that dress. See if Aly was wearing panties or not. Did she wear something just for Philip? Something lacy that she knew he liked?
My hand curled into a fist on the small of her back. She looked down, brow puckering, before looking back up at me.
“You all right?” she asked.
Not in the slightest. I did not like being jealous. I did not like fantasizing about my friend’s pussy. I couldn’t control it, though.
Couldn’t stop wanting her the way I did. Thinking about her all the time. About the things I’d say to her in my next email. The things I wished I could still do to her body..
I bit the inside of my lip. Nodded at the table. “Shall we?”
The boat was pulling out of the dock. I kept my hand on Aly’s back, steadying her as we began to move. I grabbed the blanket I’d had put out on her chair. Pulled out the chair. She sat, tucking her hair self-consciously behind her ear.
I held up the blanket. “Thought you might be a bit cold in the dress.”
Aly looked at me for a beat. Like she couldn’t decide how to feel about this small kindness.
“Thanks,” she said at last, taking the blanket from me and draping it over her bare knees.
Laurence appeared, pouring each of us a glass of bubbly as he told us what we’d be having for dinner. He set the bottle back in the bucket and disappeared into the galley.
“Four courses.” Aly tipped back her glass, her eyes flashing to meet mine. “Quite the meeting we’re having.”
“It’s my brother’s stag party. Very important business we’ve got to discuss.”
She set her glass down. Pulled her phone from her clutch and opened her notes app. “Great. I’m glad you brought that up. What are you thinking?”
“The Caribbean.” The engine throbbed as we picked up speed. Aly’s hair fluttered in the breeze. She was so bloody beautiful. I
leaned back to keep from reaching for her, settling my ankle on the opposite knee. “Kit loves the Bahamas. He’s mentioned how he’d love to bring Emily.”
Aly looked up from her phone. She smiled, biting her bottom lip. “That would seriously be awesome. Extravagant. But awesome. Em is going to love it.”
I smiled back. “That’s the plan.”
She looked at me for another beat. Then she blinked and looked back down at her phone. “I’ve never been, but I can do some research. You think we should do Nassau?”
I nodded. “We can do Nassau. Paradise Island. End up in Miami if you’d like.”
“End there?” Aly looked up from her phone. “How? Are we going to fly to all these places over the weekend?”
“We’ll sail.”
Her brow was puckered again. “Oh. So we’re doing a cruise?”
“Not exactly.” I sipped my champagne. “I’ve got a friend whose boat we can use.”
I didn’t want to tell Aly that my “friend” was an Australian billionaire, and his “boat” was a two-hundred-and-seventy-five foot super yacht. Because that would be bragging. And I did not brag.
It was another favor I was calling in. But I wanted my brother’s stag party to be perfect, and we’d need a lot of privacy for that to happen—privacy only a yacht would afford us. Plus, I knew it would live up to Aly’s high standards for everything related to this wedding. The girl had practically put on a small wedding already for the engagement party. I had big shoes to fill. And I wanted to help out in a way I hadn’t been able to before. I’d be the one putting in the work this time. Aly deserved a break.
Aly let out a scoff of surprised laughter. “Wow. Okay. I’m down for that. What can I do to help?”
“Nothing,” I replied, glancing at the north bank. We’d started out just south of Westminster, and now we were heading west toward Parliament and Big Ben. It was the best route for hitting all the highlights. Highlights I didn’t want Aly to miss because we were talking shop. “I’ve already handled it.”
Royal Rebel: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance (Flings With Kings) Page 9
