Sexy Bachelor

by Maggie Monroe

  She grinned slyly. It was the first glimpse of the girl in my bed this morning. “Maybe. If you think it would be ok.”

  “I expect it.”

  I closed the door behind me.

  12

  Molly

  I got lost in the books. Hours passed. It could have been days. I didn’t stop to find anything to eat or drink. I was mesmerized by Damon’s family collection. I had questions. Who put it together? Were there records on where each book was acquired? How did they catalog it? Was there a palace librarian?

  I thumbed through a tattered copy of Le Petit Prince. I guessed it was worth more than my apartment. My neck and shoulders were sore. I had my own research to complete. And I hadn’t checked in on Brooklyn.

  There was no way to know when Damon would finish with the prime minister. I had no idea which prime minister was here. It was surreal to think I was in the same building as world leaders. I returned the book to the shelf and ventured out of the library. The halls were quiet. I remembered which direction we had walked this morning.

  The elevator was at the end of this corridor.

  I arrived, smiling at the guards.

  “Hi.”

  The one on the right broke his staring contest with the wall and cut a glance at me.

  “I’d like to go upstairs.” I knew my voice wasn’t confident. I didn’t know the protocol or what to say. If he would scoot, I could hop on the elevator.

  “His Royal Highness has not given instructions, mademoiselle.”

  “Well, I—I’m visiting.” I tried to think of how to put our arrangement in suitable terms. I had already been warned once about my word choice. “His Royal Highness asked me to stay.” It sounded funny referring to him that way. I knew he was the king, but I don’t think the weight of his position had hit me yet. After last night I felt things were as personal as they could be between us.

  The men didn’t budge. “There are no instructions,” he repeated.

  I crossed my arms. What in the hell was I going to do? I couldn’t wander aimlessly around the palace. They weren’t going to let me upstairs. I was starving. And I needed to get home to check on my best friend.

  I was going to make one more attempt to plead for their compassion when an older gentleman appeared from a side room. He was thin with a silvery mustache.

  “What is this? Are you lost, madam?”

  “Oh no.” I shook my head. “I’m visiting the king and wanted to return to the royal residence,” I explained.

  “Master Sutcliffe, we don’t have her on the royal roster and there are no instructions from the king,” the guard informed him.

  “I see.” He glanced at me. I could tell from the way he looked at me, he wasn’t going to take pity on me. “You’re sure you didn’t get separated from a tour group?”

  “I’m not on a tour of the palace. I’ve been with Damon.”

  His eyes widened at the use of the king’s first name.

  “I was in the royal library, studying texts. And now I’d like to go upstairs.”

  He folded his hands behind his back. “I’m afraid that is impossible. Do you have some form of identification?”

  I had nothing on me. It was against all the rules of The Titan.

  “No.”

  “Then, I’m going to ask you to leave.” He turned to the security officer. “If this becomes a problem, please call me.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He stormed off down the corridor toward the library.

  I sighed. “Is Georgan here?” I asked. “The driver?”

  “Yes.”

  “Would he be able to take me home?”

  The officers looked at each other.

  “He brought me here last night. I’m not a tourist.” I was getting irritated with the royal treatment.

  They finally seemed to be convinced by some part of my story. “Outside, mademoiselle. His car is parked in the tunnel.”

  “All right. If you see D—” I corrected myself. “His Royal Highness, will you please tell him for me that I went home?”

  “Certainly.”

  “Thank you.” I felt this innate need to curtsy, but stopped before I reached the hem of my skirt. I turned for the door and walked outside. I recognized the car from last night. Georgan polished the eagle on the hood.

  “Bonjour.” I smiled. Maybe talking to the driver wouldn’t be as awkward. “Hola.” I didn’t know what to say.

  He looked up from the hood ornament.

  “Oui?”

  It was hard constantly bouncing between French and Spanish. “I was wondering if you would be able to drive me home?”

  “Of course.” He rounded the engine and met me at the rear door.

  I looked at the palace over my shoulder. Something told me I should stay. Camp out next to the king’s security, no matter how they glared at me. But the fantasy had to end at some point. It couldn’t last forever. I knew how this worked.

  “Merci.” I nodded as Georgan closed the door behind me.

  It was strange to be in the same car from last night. It didn’t feel the same without Damon. He had consumed the air around us. Now, it just felt like an empty back seat.

  Georgan called through the speaker, “Do you have the address, mademoiselle?”

  “Oh yes. It’s 1408 Rue de Santa Lucia.”

  I settled into the seat as he pulled from the curb and drove us through the tunnel. We exited on the other side of the entrance. The palace grounds were immaculate. The flowers whizzed past me. We turned outside the gate and I wondered if I would ever be back here.

  Would I see the king again? Or had I just made the stupidest decision of my life?

  ***

  My notecards were exactly where I had left them fanned out across the living room floor.

  “Brooklyn?”

  “In here.”

  I walked to her bedroom. We shared a comfortable two-bedroom apartment. It was one of the perks of the city. Freychon wasn’t as expensive as other European hubs.

  “Hey.”

  “I’m so glad you’re here. I was getting worried.”

  “I’m sorry.” I sat on the edge of her bed. “No phone, remember? I couldn’t call you.”

  “But I was back by nine. Where have you been? I thought something happened.”

  Shit. I didn’t mean to scare her. And I didn’t know what I could or should say without revealing more than I was allowed. It was strange how yesterday, I felt like Brooklyn and I were the ones who shared the secret—we shared the bond of going through the Titan experience, but that had shifted overnight. I had some sort of weird allegiance to Damon. He was the one I felt I shared the experience with. I didn’t want to share it with her. I didn’t know if that was selfish or naïve, but it seemed like something I needed to keep private.

  “I-I was looking at a special collection.”

  “You worked? After last night?” Her eyes bulged.

  Lying didn’t feel like the right thing. My stomach twisted, but I continued to protect the truth.

  “It was a rare collection,” I explained. “I thought this might be my only chance to see it.”

  She sighed. “Only you would do something like that.” She eyed me suspiciously. “What outfit is that?”

  I bit my lip. “Oh, it’s something D—I mean, he gave it to me.”

  “Really? You look so elegant. Sexy and proper at the same time.” She winked.

  I wondered if that’s what Damon had thought. I blushed, remembering our walk to the royal library. I wondered if he had discovered by now I had left. Or maybe he hadn’t noticed. He had world leaders to entertain. The house manager had made that clear.

  “How was your night?” I asked.

  She sighed, throwing herself back on her pillows. “Amazing.”

  “That good?”

  She nodded. “It was more than amazing. I wish I could relive it. Or that I had a picture. Something to remember it. Anything.”

  I saw the way she looked at my c
lothes. I hadn’t thought of them as a souvenir, but in her eyes, they were. Proof that I had spent the night at the palace.

  “I’m sorry. But you had a good time? That’s what counts, right? You checked it off your Galona bucket list.”

  I wished I had something to give her. A coin from The Titan. A cocktail napkin. Something that said we had been there.

  “I did. More than once.” She giggled. The curiosity was killing me. I wanted to know who it was, but unless she volunteered I couldn’t ask. I also realized that would open me up to more sharing, and I didn’t want to trade stories. “Now that you’re home safely, I think I’m going to take a nap. I’m kind of exhausted.” She smiled sweetly.

  I paused in her doorway. “Brooklyn?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Thanks for talking me into it.” I closed the door behind me and left her to her nap.

  13

  Damon

  It was dark. My tie draped around my neck. We had been at it for hours.

  I motioned for the server to walk over.

  “Your majesty?”

  “Please bring dinner. Whatever the chef recommends,” I instructed.

  “Yes, sir.” He bowed and disappeared through one of the service doors that led to a tunnel system. It wound throughout the palace, connecting rooms where no one would have imagined a link.

  “Paul.” I exhaled. “We are down to three points. Let’s have a drink while we wait for dinner to arrive. We can cut one of these things during that time.”

  My patience had run out. I was fucking tired of his stalling. I removed my cufflinks, shoved them in my pocket, and rolled my sleeves to my forearms. My muscles strained against the starched shirt.

  I rose and walked to the standing bar, waving off one of the servants.

  “Bourbon?” I offered, holding up my favorite decanter.

  Paul leaned in his chair. “I remember you were a bourbon man. I seemed to remember it’s American bourbons you prefer?”

  “Yes.” I lifted the crystal lid. “I consider them steeped in something a little darker than our Scottish friends can provide.”

  Maybe a few drinks would loosen his hold on the trade negotiations. He refused wine at lunch. Ignored cocktail hour. Now we were into dinner. Something had to give.

  I placed it in front of the prime minister.

  His mustache lifted when he smiled. “This is a good bourbon.”

  I held the growl in. Of course it was. I didn’t serve cheap piss, and I never drank it. These were the moments when it was hard to be diplomatic. The bastard wanted to be courted and seduced. His chain of islands was dependent on my ports. The problem was, Galona was just as dependent on the revenue from the island cargo.

  We were at a fucking impasse.

  “Paul, our taxes are lower than anything the French or Spanish will give you. You know that.”

  He nodded, drinking my bourbon. “Portugal has made an offer,” he stated.

  “What? Since when have they been a player in this?” I felt the anger breaking through my calm exterior. I was ready to crush the glass in my hand. He had been fucking with me all day.

  “I can’t ignore an opportunity.”

  “We have had a long-standing agreement. And our trade goes well beyond financial gains. We are allies in many ways.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “We are. We have history.”

  “I also expect that to mean we have a future. You don’t have that with Portugal.”

  “They are extending pearl activity.”

  I scoffed. “Pearls? That’s what this is about? You want access to our oyster reefs.”

  He nodded. “You know the situation in the islands. They’ve been over-harvested. It’s going to take decades to reclaim the oyster beds. We have dedicated funds going to science, but I don’t know that we have that kind of time. We’re known for our pearls.”

  I scratched the back of my head. It was a slippery slope. Allowing the Bostiques into our waters would require heavy regulation. I’d need to speak to our own environmental team. Consult our conservationists. I wouldn’t destroy Galona just to keep a shipping contract.

  Just then the service entry opened and a waiter appeared with a cart of food. He rolled toward us, presenting the trays.

  Our discussion paused while the food was laid out in front of us, along with a bottle of Spanish wine. I knew the chef had paired it with the meal.

  Paul grinned. “Please, let’s eat.”

  Fuck. I was never getting out of here.

  ***

  The lights in the first floor rooms were dim by the time the prime minister left for his hotel. The ballroom doors were locked. The library was dark. I walked to the residence elevator.

  There was a quick salute from security before I entered the carriage.

  I turned on the light as soon as I arrived in the residence. I didn’t expect it to be quiet. I didn’t expect it to be empty.

  I expected to see Molly.

  I checked the balcony before combing my suite. I reached for the royal line.

  “Sutcliffe,” I snapped.

  “Yes, your majesty.”

  “Where is Miss Washington?”

  “I’m sorry, sir. Miss Washington?”

  I exhaled. “My guest, Sutcliffe. Where is she?”

  “Oh. The young woman wandering around the palace.”

  I clenched my fist. “Where is she?”

  “Sir, we had no instructions. Security followed royal protocol.”

  I gritted my teeth. “What does that mean exactly?”

  “She left, your majesty.”

  The irritation made the vein in my temple throb. “Why didn’t you ask my input?”

  “Sir, it seemed as if the meeting with the prime minister was in a delicate state. And again, we had no instructions. I couldn’t be certain she was your guest. She was not on the royal roster. How did I know she wasn’t a lost tourist?”

  Fuck the royal roster. I sat on the edge of my desk. I hadn’t left instructions. I had expected the security to let her back into the residence. I expected common sense. They saw her leave with me this morning. But they were like statues. They rarely looked around them. I wondered just how safe I was with guards who were so clearly fucking oblivious.

  I closed my eyes. Where in the hell was she?

  “How did she leave?” I quizzed the palace manager.

  “I don’t know, sir.”

  “I need to know when she left. How she left. And where she is now.”

  “Sir, it’s after midnight,” he complained.

  I looked at my watch. I didn’t give a shit what time it was. It was his fault she was gone.

  “I expect the information to be included in the lodestar. On my desk before I reach my office tomorrow morning.”

  “Yes— ”

  Damn it. I needed another drink if I was going to make it through this night. Molly was supposed to be mine now. I didn’t even know I wanted her before last night. How the fuck had I lost her so quickly?

  I ran my fingers through my hair, pulling on the ends in frustration. “Early,” I pressed. “I want the lodestar early.”

  “Certainly.”

  I hung up, not satisfied with the information I had. Not satisfied about a fucking thing that had happened since the morning.

  This morning I had Molly.

  14

  Molly

  The alarm chirped. I pulled the covers close to my shoulders. I was warm in my little cocoon. I had been dreaming. I tried to pull the dream back to focus, but it was fuzzy. The edges came and left my consciousness. And then I saw them. The dark eyes. The lust of Damon’s piercing stare.

  My breath caught. I squeezed my eyes together tightly. My core fluttered remembering that look. I’d never forget it. Along with his voice in my ear. It rattled me. Unlocked something in me that wanted to break free.

  I sighed when the snooze ended and the alarm chirped again.

  “Fine,” I groaned. I tapped my phone, and sl
id my feet to the floor. I had a lot of work to make up after I disappeared yesterday.

  The back of my throat tightened. I didn’t want to admit I was disappointed. How foolish could I be to think the king was going to track down my phone number or show up on my doorstep overnight? I had to stop thinking that way and accept I had an incredible memory to relive anytime I wanted. Nothing more.

  I walked to the shower. I brushed my teeth before stepping into the tub. The curtain was chained to the ceiling and only covered one side of the tub. It didn’t matter. There was a small radius where the water splashed. I had to stand in just the right spot to wash my hair or else I’d never get all the shampoo and conditioner out.

  I performed my morning ritual, although I didn’t feel as routine as I did before The Titan. Something was different.

  I tipped my head back, letting the water pour through my long hair. The angle reminded me how Damon yanked the nape of my neck, pushing me into submission. There was something entirely erotic about giving my control over to him. But it was a give and take. I’d never experienced anything where my body craved giving as much as needing to be pleasured. I felt my body heat from the inside out remembering how I begged him to give me more. I’d never done that.

  I finished rinsing off and stepped from the shower, wrapping a towel around my chest. I pulled on a pair of yoga pants and a tank top. I twisted my hair in a bun and poked a pencil through. It could dry later.

  The apartment was quiet. Brooklyn was still sleeping.

  I started the coffee and turned on the TV. I froze when I saw the same pair of eyes that were in my dream.

  “The king has been in closed door meetings with the prime minister of the Bostique Islands for the second straight day,” the reporter stated. “We expect a full briefing from the palace this afternoon.”

  I sat on the loveseat, careful not to disturb my rows of notecards. I hadn’t touched them since arriving home.

  A picture of Damon flashed on the screen along with the prime minister.

  “A palace spokesperson has confirmed the prime minister’s trip has been extended.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek. Part of me felt a sweeping sense of relief. Maybe he hadn’t forgotten me. Maybe the country’s work had prevented him from returning. But that was naïve hope creeping in. Trying to convince me that my one night with the king had been more than fantasy.