by Riley Pine
Our meeting. It’s only when I take a seat at the opposite end of the table that I realize the king is nowhere to be seen.
“Will His Highness, King Nikolai, be joining us soon?”
She laughs softly. “The king is away on matters of state business,” she says. “It’s just the two of us, I’m afraid.” She places her palms flat atop the mahogany table. “Don’t worry, Miss Winter. I shall be brief.”
I nod as the breath catches in my throat. Something about the queen—being in her presence alone—has all my senses on high alert.
“I know how important this job is to you,” she drawls, her tone like an animal toying with its prey.
“Yes, Your Highness. It is,” I say.
She steeples her fingers before her and grins, the smile not quite reaching her deep green eyes.
“And that you and your sister stand to gain a great deal of fortune if all goes according to plan.”
Double my fee is a generous offer. “Yes, Your Highness.”
She leans forward, and though the length of the table separates us, I flinch at the movement.
“And if you do not succeed, your business will be in ruins.”
I gasp. To lose the fee promised me would be a devastating blow, but Madeline and I would still be able to come back from it. We’d still—
“Stop trying to rationalize whatever it is you think you’re going to say to me, Miss Winter. I’m not in the habit of ruining others—as long as we are on the same side. And I think we both want the same thing, don’t we? To see my stepson walk down that aisle and the throne stay in the...immediate family?”
“Yes, of course,” I say. I hold her gaze, determined not to flinch again.
Her posture relaxes, but only slightly. “Good. Then all you have to do is keep up business as usual. Seek out all the lovely, appropriate, deserving women. Build up Nikolai’s image like his father hopes you will.”
My teeth grind together in my mouth. Something is off here, but so far she’s not asking anything other than what I’m already doing.
“May I ask you a question, Your Highness?”
Her brows rise. She is considering my boldness, no doubt, but then she nods her head.
“Forgive me if I’m being untoward. But are you trying to see to it that I fail or succeed? Because I can’t for the life of me figure out why you called this meeting.”
This time her eyes light up as her lips curl. “You will succeed, Miss Winter.”
“How do you know?” I add, deciding to go for broke in my impropriety of speaking my uncensored thoughts in front of my leader.
“Because,” she says, standing from her chair. I stand as well. “I’m going to find the woman most deserving of a life with my stepson, and we will present her to him when the time is right.”
“But my list—”
She shakes her head, closing her eyes as she does. When she looks at me again, I see something so cold in that stare that I shudder. “My match won’t be on any such list, but when I’ve found the one, you’ll know. All you have to do is convince Nikolai she’s the one, as well.” She narrows her eyes at me. “That boy trusts you already. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. All you have to do is maintain that trust—keep him occupied while I set everything in place. You’ll get your doubled fee and maybe even an additional bonus. I get what’s rightfully mine and Nikolai gets what he deserves.”
“Rightfully yours?” I ask, unable to stop the question even though I know I should not speak out of turn with her.
But the queen doesn’t bother to respond.
She plucks a cucumber finger sandwich from the top of a tiered plate and pops it in her mouth, smirking as she devours it. Then she saunters out of the room, not waiting for me to say another word.
Double my fee. A bonus. Or a ruined business if we’re not playing for the same side.
Maybe Nikolai does play his games, but he no longer makes the rules.
I wonder now if he ever did.
CHAPTER TEN
Nikolai
I WAKE TO harsh late-morning light striking my sleep-dry eyes. Crimson silk sheets tangle at the base of my four-poster ebony wood bed.
I’m buck naked.
No big surprise there. I never sleep with clothes. This rock-hard morning wood isn’t unusual, either. The only strange part to this scenario is that I’m not reaching for my phone. No mad urge within me craves a speed dial to any of my usual female liaisons. There is no shortage of nubile women eager to serve as my royal lover for the morning. But I have made a great effort to ensure that my personal speed dial is discreet and only includes women interested in keeping things horizontal. Commitment types get deleted.
But today is different.
I close my fist around my shaft, circling the tip with my thumb. It’s already slick with a bead of precum. Must have been having one hell of a dream. A flash of it glimmers in the back of my mind, Kate’s auburn waves spilling over her shoulders, her milk-white breasts rising and falling with her gasps as I bury myself inside her.
I bite on the inside of my cheek. Even the fleeting memory of the tantalizing dream is enough to make me moan out loud.
As if sensing my need, my phone buzzes. But it’s no perfectly timed offer from a casual lover. I stare at the name on the screen as all the extra blood in my brain rushes off to pool in my cock.
Kate Winter: Morning, Sunshine. Ready when you are!
I give myself a few more hard pumps, remember how Kate’s tangy sweet pussy tastes, and my hips buck off the mattress. “Oh, I’m ready, Pet.”
The phone buzzes again. I’m with X.
X. The mention of my personal guard almost throws me off my game. He is like another brother. We even shared women in depraved threesomes, once upon a time when I was younger and even wilder than I am now. But that doesn’t mean I want to share Kate. A muffled growl rises in my throat. I don’t want to share her with anyone else in the world.
Strange. Normally I’m a love-the-one-you’re-with kind of guy. After I’m with a woman, it’s out of sight and out of mind. But with Kate it’s different. There is an unfamiliar pull inside me to know more than her body, but I have no idea what to do with this—feeling.
The notion leaves me unsettled. I remove my hand from my dick and text her back.
Nikolai: Still in bed.
Kate: What!?!?!?!? Are you coming?
Nikolai: Not without you...
Kate: Excuse me?
Nikolai: A real man never comes first, Pet.
Kate: OMG
Nikolai: ;)
Kate: You did not just winky face me.
Nikolai: What are you going to do about it? ;)
Kate: I’ve just eaten my weight in Beatrice’s white chocolate scones waiting for you or I’d march up there and drag you down myself.
Nikolai: I have a king-size bed. Perfect place to sleep off a food coma.
Kate: I have an heiress to a screw company waiting at the airfield.
Nikolai: ?
Kate: Your next date is Regina Bjorn. Her father is Vlad Bjorn, owner of Big Bjorn Screws, one of Edenvale’s largest exports. We are meeting her at the royal hangar at noon. You’re flying her in your personal helicopter.
Nikolai: I’m so screwed.
Kate: ;)
I swing my bare feet to the cold floorboards, my grin from our banter quickly morphing into a sneer. I know Vlad Bjorn. He is titled with a minor barony and is a large man with blotchy skin. He calls himself the Big Screw, but in my opinion he resembles a stick of bologna. I know he has twelve daughters but can’t picture any of their faces at the moment. That fact alone leaves me numb. I don’t want to fly this Regina anywhere, not when I could be flirting with my feisty matchmaker, who can’t learn that my brother Benedict is looking for a loophole to break the Royal Marriage Decree.
Until then I must play my hand well by making nice with the dates Kate sets up for me. Not to raise so much as an eyebrow of suspicion.
Lucky for me, I am a most excellent actor.
Kate
My eyes widen as I stare out the window toward the airfield. I knew the palace grounds were substantial, but each time I see something new, it still catches me off guard. My world is so small compared to his.
“Impressed?” Nikolai whispers in my ear, his warm breath sending tingles all the way to my toes.
I nod. “This car would barely fit in my apartment. The concept of an airfield is a lot to take in.”
“You never listed your terms,” he says softly, his voice like velvet, and I know exactly what he means.
I turn to face him, and he barely backs away. My heart races as my eyes meet his.
“Well,” I say, keeping my voice steady. “I know money—or anything of material value—is of no consequence to you, which I guess bodes well for me since I have nothing of material value to offer.”
“Kate—” he starts, but I shake my head. I don’t want him to apologize for his wealth, nor will I apologize for my lack thereof.
“Nikolai. We come from different worlds, and that’s okay.” His eyes darken at this, and I wish I had the time to ask him what he’s thinking, but the car slows, and I know we’re approaching the hangar. “And because I’m going to win,” I tease, trying to lighten whatever heaviness has taken over his features, “I’ll keep it simple.”
“Simple?” he asks, raising a brow, painting on that prince of a smile, one I know he is readying for the heiress.
“A favor,” I say simply. “If I win—which I plan to do—you do me one favor. If you win—which is highly unlikely—then you get to ask a favor of me.”
“Are there limits?” he asks. “To what we can ask?”
I shake my head. “No limits on my end. If you are not wed by your birthday, you can ask me for anything you want. Do you have any limits?”
“None,” he says quickly, his voice suddenly rough. “Ask me anything right now, Kate. Tell me what you’d want from me.”
But the car halts, effectively ending our conversation.
“Time for you to fly to Zurich,” I say, forcing a smile.
“It’s just lunch,” he says. “You and X should—”
“I am not tagging along on any more dates. If you want to bring X, fine. I’m only here to make sure you aren’t late and to remind you to be a gentleman.”
He winks at me. “Darling, have you forgotten who I am? I’ll do nothing of the sort.”
“Nikolai...”
He kisses me on the cheek, effectively shutting me up.
“No worries, Pet. I’ll be on my best behavior.”
I groan. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Nikolai’s door opens, and X stands ready to usher him out of the vehicle and to the hangar.
“I’ll be back by dusk,” he says on his way out. “And I’d like you here when I arrive.”
He doesn’t wait for me to protest but assumes I’ll obey his every whim.
What if I had plans tonight? I want to ask—even though I don’t. As much as it warms me from within that he wants to see me this evening, I can’t help but feel like the afterthought that I am and can only ever be.
X joins me in the car, and I watch as Nikolai strides toward Regina Bjorn, a regal, platinum-haired beauty who stands in front of a BMW with windows tinted so black I’m not even sure you can see through them at all.
Zurich was my idea, to have him take her to her mother’s homeland, a place I learned she hadn’t visited since childhood but had always missed. He’d score points in the thoughtfulness department before they’d even left the helipad, which I glance at in front of the hangar. Nikolai holds her hand as she climbs into the helicopter. Her azure scarf billows in the breeze, floating against Nikolai’s crisp white oxford—a picture-perfect couple.
My breath hitches.
I knock on the window in front of me, and X lowers the glass.
“Shall I take you home, Miss?”
The confines of the apartment that doubles as the home office for Happy Endings do not comfort me, especially if it means the third degree from Maddie. If I don’t want to think about Nikolai on his date, I certainly don’t want to talk about Nikolai on his date. So I decide to do something I rarely do—something for me.
“X,” I say, my mood brightening. “We’re going to the cinema.”
“Miss, there is a private theater in the palace—”
“Absolutely not. No palace. No royal treatment. Just you and me and that car-chase-with-tons-of-explosions action film that premiered last weekend.”
“But, Miss—the palace theater has that film or any other—”
I lean through the open partition. “No. Royal. Treatment.”
He clears his throat and starts the engine. “As you wish, Miss Kate.”
He backs away from the hangar as the propeller blades begin to spin. And when the helicopter lifts off the ground, I allow myself a few seconds to marvel that the strong hands controlling that beast of a machine have touched me in ways no other man has.
Then I sink into my seat.
“Thank you, X.” I hand him my phone. “And maybe my Fall Out Boy playlist while we drive. Crank up the volume so I can’t hear myself think.” Drowning out my thoughts seems preferable to drowning in them. I reach for a bottle and glass from the minibar across from my seat. “And—and I’m going to have some of the prince’s cognac even though it’s before noon.”
“As you wish, Miss.”
Seconds later the music blares.
X’s eyes remain on the road as we approach the palace gates, but I swear I see a devilish grin take over his stoic countenance. Yet as quickly as it appears, it is gone.
I pour myself a drink and then take a long sip. After a few seconds I tip my head back and laugh.
“No royal treatment,” I say with a snort. “I’m in a Rolls-Royce with a private driver and a bottle of cognac. And I have to return at dusk to meet up with the prince.” I snort again, but damn it, the laughter feels good.
No royal treatment indeed.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Nikolai
THE MOUNTAINS EN ROUTE to Zurich are as sculpted as Regina Bjorn’s high cheekbones, and yet the experience feels empty. Emotionally at least. Regina has done a damn good job of filling the airspace, making it clear that she knows a thing or two about screwing.
“It is, after all, the family business,” she chatters into the microphone with a giggle. We both wear helmets with headsets.
“Nothing about that innuendo is remotely appealing,” I mutter and grip the cyclical stick that gives me control of the aircraft.
My surly comment flies straight over her head. As does anything else I say for the rest of our time together—unless it’s an attempt to feign interest in her father’s company.
Screws.
By the time we return to the Royal Airfield, landing with the setting sun, I’m convinced that I’ve endured paper cuts more enjoyable than Regina Bjorn.
Kate paired me with this woman through her matchmaking service? What does this say about me and the persona that I have cultivated with such care? Has the shallow, arrogant, vain Prince Nikolai finally become Mr. Hyde, overriding the respectable Dr. Jekyll? Is the facade I’ve so long shown the world really the man I want to be? I’ve nearly convinced myself the mask is real. But when Kate looks at me, it’s as if she can see someone else. The person that I might have been if life hadn’t kicked me in the teeth with a stiletto then had my youngest brother drive it off a cliff.
The thought unsettles me, and I push it from my mind as we exit the helicopter. I escort Regina back to her driver. She still talks of—what else?—screws. In the last hours I’ve endured
lectures about cap screws, machine screws, tag screws, setscrews and—I shit you not—self-tapping screws.
A few weeks ago I would have been able to turn the day’s conversation into an activity that required no words at all—unless it was Regina purring my bloody name. Now I hope those self-tapping wonders are Regina’s favorite because I don’t know anyone who could stay awake through one of her conversations long enough to get it up.
When I wish her good-night, I am not entirely convinced she notices.
The Rolls is parked in my usual spot. As I stride closer, eager to put distance between myself and the Heiress of Screws, I am surprised to hear music playing. It’s an American classic, “Sweet Caroline.” More to the point, the two people in the car are belting out the words—and X can apparently more than hold a tune. This man... I shake my head. He’s full of surprises. Not only is he an expert tattoo artist responsible for all the tribal ink on my body, he’s also a ninth-degree Grand Master black belt in Tae Kwon Do, and my on-again, off-again threesome wingman. Now he can harmonize better than Neil Diamond?
Sneaky fuck.
Who the hell is X? So often I’ve asked myself this, but it is to no avail. X has been my bodyguard since I reached maturity. I barely remember life without him. And yet I know nothing of him when he’s not in my immediate presence, while he knows all there is of me.
I guess he can add charismatic crooner to his résumé.
I open the door, and he and Kate both clam up, staring at me.
“I didn’t know you were back yet,” she says, clutching what appears to be a giant bucket of popcorn.
“You didn’t hear the chopper blades?” I inquire, lifting an eyebrow. I fly a Eurocopter Mercedes-Benz, the most pimped-out helicopter in the world, able to get high and fly fast. For one not to notice such an aircraft, well—what the hell could pry her interest from awaiting my arrival?
I scowl to myself. Perhaps I am the pompous persona I’ve cultivated.
