The Prince and the Pop Star: Rich and Royal Romance (True Royalty Book 3)

by Miranda King

  “You brought up Star Wars. I was just following your lead.”

  “Do you ever follow anyone’s lead? Because you could make even the devil spin in circles for you.”

  “But I wouldn’t scratch his back,” Logan says. “However, I would do it for you to put this situation behind me.”

  “Answer me this, did you defy my orders just for the thrill of it?”

  “You think I did it for kicks?” He’s irked by the insinuation.

  “You tell me,” the General says. “You have a certain reputation for disobeying authority that’s gotten all the way to your grandfather.”

  Logan levels his gaze at the General. “No matter what you or my grandfather thinks, I do not defy orders for the thrill of it. But I do stand up for what is right, no matter what. And what I did was the right thing, and you know it, even if you didn’t have the backbone to do something about it.”

  “Is that what you think of me?” the General asks. “That I have no backbone?”

  “Doesn’t matter what I think. It only matters what you do, and in this case, you did nothing.”

  “Are you deliberately trying to provoke me?” The General crosses his arms. “Because one of the first rules of talking to your superior is respect.”

  “Respect has no rank. It can only be earned.” Dante crosses his arms.

  The General stares at him, but something in that stare softens. “That’s almost the exact same thing I told your father once.”

  “You knew my father?” His lungs squeeze tight like someone had just thrown him out of plane without a parachute.

  The General nods. “We were in school together, and he thought the world had to bow down to him because he was the Crown Prince.” The General unfolds his arms and gives a brief laugh. “He eventually grew out of it. I’d like to say I helped him with that. I figured I’d have to do the same with you. But I can see you’ve inherited the best parts of what I came to see in him.”

  “And how am I the same?” Despite Logan priding himself on not caring what others thought of him, he wanted to know how this man—one who had known his father—saw him in comparison to his father. Logan had few memories of his dad and never knew the man beyond the title.

  “You’re loyal to your core and not afraid to get your hands dirty in order to do the right thing, even when it’s hard. You have a surprising sense of humor and a unique ability to negotiate, even when you have little to negotiate with. I’ve never seen anyone use crowd surfing as a negotiation point.” The General chuckles. “All in all, you’re a credit to your father’s name. He would be proud of the lives you protect.”

  My father proud of me?

  Logan draws in an easy breath. The first one he can remember in a long time.

  Dante steps forward toward the General. “Sir, permission to speak freely?”

  The General nods.

  Dante stands in the at-ease position. “It’s great and all about what you said, but is anyone going to get into trouble here?”

  “No,” the General assures them.

  Tension drains from Logan’s body faster than an F-14 doing a flyby.

  Dante bursts into energy. “Oh, thank you!” He nearly hugs the General, but stops. Instead, he does a fist pump in the air. “Hallelujah! It’s going to be okay. No one’s getting in trouble.” He holds his hands together in prayer and points them towards the sky. He then takes his hand and shakes Logan’s shoulders. “Did you hear that? You’re going to be okay!”

  Not that Logan doesn’t have his own thank-you-God chant playing in his head on repeat, but something’s off here. “This is too easy.”

  “Not for me. I got compared to Chewbacca.” Dante’s voice is like a fully charged battery. “Chewbacca. Really?! You know I’ve had a picture of Han Solo in our dorm all through the Academy. Why does everyone think I’m like Chewbacca and not Han Solo?”

  That is Dante’s concern after all of this?

  “Chewbacca aside”—Logan rolls his eyes at Dante—“why am I not getting in trouble?”

  “I think I can explain.” Ollie rubs his bloodshot eyes and steps to the General’s right side. “The General and I have been working nonstop for a way to stand up to High Command. Too many lives were at stake. But if the General rebelled, they’d just replace him with someone who wouldn’t.”

  “But then Ollie came up with you two as the solution,” the General adds. “And don’t think I didn’t realize your full participation on this, Dante. But no one’s in trouble. Despite High Command having the heads up their asses, this was mission critical.”

  Logan looks at the General and his friend Ollie with fresh eyes. “So you wanted us to defy orders?”

  Both Ollie and the General nod.

  That revelation comes equipped with no shock absorbers and it rattles Logan’s core. In a good way. Too much dust has settled inside the hollows of his conscience.

  “How did you know we’d do it?” Logan’s tone is dipped in renewed faith.

  “Like I told the General, you’re like Han Solo. You live and die by a moral code. But you play by your own rules,” Ollie says to Logan and then inclines his head towards Dante. “And he’s your sidekick, just like Chewbacca.”

  Everyone laughs, except Dante. “Hey, I’m not the Chewbacca in all of this.”

  “Have you looked at the hair on your back lately?” Logan lifts up his hands in mock defense. “Just saying.”

  “Why can’t I be the Han Solo?” Dante blusters.

  “Fine, you’re the Han Solo.” Logan holds up his hand. “But spoiler alert: You do know Hans Solo dies, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, but it was a noble death.” Dante mocks a quick lightsaber stab and clasps his hands to his torso. “That’s the way I want to go.”

  Logan rolls his eyes once again because whether it’s mimicking a Sunday morning TV evangelist or reenacting events out of the movie, Dante definitely has a flair for the dramatic.

  But the possibility of losing Dante, that isn’t dramatics. That’s all too real, and it stabs Logan harder in the gut than any saber could. “I ain’t letting your Han Solo ass die. Got that?”

  “Don’t make promises during a war. It’s bad luck.” The General swaggers to his desk and sits down. He leans back, and the chair creaks. “Logan, you’re not going to like this, but I called your grandfather last night when you boys went AWOL.”

  “You know we didn’t go AWOL,” Logan says. “We were on a mission, just like you wanted.”

  “Technically still an unauthorized one,” the General reminds them. “You knew there’d be consequences. Logan, you’re second line to the throne, whether you like it or not. I’m honor bound to report you missing directly to your grandfather, my king. He had a right to know. You might not have come back.”

  “It wouldn’t matter.” Logan shakes his head. “He has my older brother Adam.”

  “You’re still his grandson. When you’re ready,” the General says, “he’s expecting your call.”

  Call Grandfather? After what Grandfather said in our last conversation?

  Logan’s heart implodes, and the rubble crashes in concrete chunks straight into his stomach. The General might as well have thrown a grenade to Logan’s chest. That would’ve been preferable to talking with Grandfather.

  “I wouldn’t count on that call.”

  “No?” The General lets the word linger and he fusses with the golden scale now back on his desk. “You know, before this thing fell, these scales never moved, no matter how much candy I piled on one side. I thought this thing was broken.” He pushes the scale lever up and down like a miniature seesaw. “Seems it works now. Perhaps when something is broken, there’s always hope it can get fixed. You understand my meaning?”

  The General is talking about more than just a broken candy tray. It’s no secret about Logan’s troubled relationship with his grandfather. The General wouldn’t be the first one to offer him unsolicited advice.

  “I’m a soldier.” Logan straps
on a smile and settles back in his chair. “Not a philosopher.”

  “But you’re a smart man. Surely you’ve figured out that there’s something bigger going on besides a discussion about back scratching and Star Wars.”

  “It’s crossed my mind that you unnecessarily prolonged this interrogation when you knew I wasn’t getting in trouble. Why?”

  The General grins. “I was vetting you. Your grandfather asked for my opinion. I’m giving it to him by having you make the call.”

  “Vetting me? Why?”

  “No more questions,” the General interrupts with a quirk of his lips. “There may come a time soon when I have to answer to you, but for now, let me have the illusion that I’m still in control of things here.” His voice is cryptic. “Remember what I did for you today as one of those back scratches you talked about. Someday I may need a favor from you.”

  “I don’t like owing people. So whatever deal you have going on with my grandfather about me, I want no part of it.”

  “That’s for you to decide. Make the call.” The General stands and gives a curt nod. “We’ll give you privacy.”

  Everyone except Logan shuffles to leave.

  Ollie hands Logan a cell phone with a number preprogrammed into it.

  “Et tu, Brutus?” Logan quotes the famous Julius Caesar betrayal line to Ollie and then watches him and the General exit.

  Only Dante remains. “You need me to stay? Because Han Solo never abandons his Chewbacca.”

  “No,” Logan grins at him. “I’m glad everything worked out okay. But it’s occurred to me, isn’t it Chewbacca always saving Han Solo’s ass? Yet Han Solo gets to be the hero. Go figure.”

  “Thanks for having my back, Brother. But I still can’t believe it—we’re not in trouble.” He stretches his arms up to the air in victory. “Whew-we, we’re not in trouble! We’re not in trouble!” He shakes his butt and hops around. “Drinks on me tonight.” He slaps Logan on the back. “I owe you.”

  “I need more than a drink,” Logan says. “I need Eden.”

  “Not a chance in hell,” Dante smirks. “You made a promise, and you’d better die keeping it.” He thumps his chest twice. “Death before dishonor.”

  Logan does the same to his chest and repeats those last words like they are his death sentence. Because a life without Eden, the way he planned with her as his wife, would be exactly that.

  “Do me a favor, will you?” Logan asks. “Consider changing your mind about Eden.”

  “No-can-do, Brother. Forget her. Best to get her out of your mind.” Dante shakes his head.

  Forget Eden? That’s not going to happen. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Not ever.

  “Not even a prince can have every girl he wants.” Dante talks with the rhythm of someone dancing on cloud nine. “But we’re alive and about to party tonight. There’ll be plenty of angels out there tonight, even for a Chewbacca like you.” Dante jokes and continues his impromptu dances moves. “But Han Solo always gets the girl.” He slaps a hand on his chest. “Yep, Han Solo always gets the girl. Remember that and don’t try to cock-block me tonight, just because you’re mad at me,” Dante teases, “if I’m with some beautiful angel and you’re left all by yourself.”

  Logan gives him the middle finger.

  “I know I deserved that.” Dante stills his body and focuses on Logan. “But you’ll find someone else besides Eden. She’ll find someone else. It was one weekend. You’ve both had flings before. It’s not that serious.”

  “Did you miss the part where I said I want to marry her?”

  “Logan, do you remember that bride from last night? One minute she’s happy. The next minute she’s a widow. Is that what you want for Eden, for her to end up a grieving widow? Because I don’t know if she can handle it after what I saw her go through when our parents died and then Milton.”

  Dante stares towards the window, off into the distance, and the lines of his face deepen, as if heavy with memories. “Do you understand where I’m coming from, Logan? I’m not trying to be an asshole here. I’m just trying to protect my sister.”

  “I know.” Logan is reluctant to admit it.

  Dante cocks his head to the side. “It can’t be….” He walks closer to the window.

  “Something wrong?” Logan asks.

  The look on Dante’s face causes a shiver to run down Logan’s body.

  Dante searches through the window for something outside. He shakes his head slowly. “I thought I saw a ghost. She’s gone now, but it was just a woman in some sort of white dress.”

  “Like a costume for the concert tonight?”

  “Maybe.” Dante scratches his head. “But I swear it looked like a wedding dress.”

  “A wedding dress?” Logan’s conscience pulls at him, like a church boy riding the rope of a chiming bell atop a church steeple.

  He sets the cell phone on the coffee table and walks over to the window. “Do you think she looked like the bride we saw during our mission?”

  “Naw, it couldn’t be. Not a chance in hell. That was over a hundred miles away. Our faces were camouflaged, and no one tracked us here.” Dante shakes his head. “She had to be with the concert. Probably a backup singer or something.”

  They stare into the artificially yellow-lit night. No white dresses. Nothing beyond the lights but darkness and lingering paranoia.

  “With all the extra people on base tonight for the concert, security is tight.” Dante whooshes the blinds to the top of the windowsill and flings the cord against the window. “Instead of being paranoid, we need to party tonight.”

  “Just in case,” Logan says, “let’s be hands-on tonight with Eden.”

  Dante raises an eyebrow.

  “You know what I mean. Too many people are here tonight. Things can go wrong.” Perhaps Logan is being too overprotective because Eden is here. This base has had multiple shows for the troops before and absolutely nothing’s happened.

  “Don’t worry.” Dante heads for the door. “Tonight’s going to be a blast. Just wait and see.”

  “Not for me,” Logan says. “I’ve got to deal with my grandfather.” And somehow avoid seeing Eden because there’s no way he’d keep his hands off her if she came anywhere near him.

  Dante thumps his chest twice. “Do what you have to do. I’ll be with you in spirit.”

  And then he’s gone.

  Logan retrieves the cell phone from the coffee table, and he focuses on his gun and the picture of Eden lying there.

  He holsters his gun where it should be, next to him. And his picture of Eden? After the promise he made to Dante, that’s best left alone.

  There’s only one thing left to do. He stares at Grandfather’s number on the phone, and it taunts him like a drill sergeant to push that button.

  Bri-ing... bri-ing… Maybe Grandfather won’t pick up.

  “I figured the General changed his mind about you.” That was definitely Grandfather on the phone.

  Well, hello to you too, Grandfather.

  “Took you long enough to call.” Grandfather’s voice sounds like a hungry man at the back of a long line for chow. But Grandfather’s never had to wait for anything. Why would he bother to wait for Logan to call, especially after the last conversation?

  “Just got back from a wedding.” Technically that’s true. Besides, it’s not Logan’s job to brief him on the particulars of any mission.

  “Did it… go well?” Grandfather asks.

  “I wasn’t exactly an invited guest.”

  “But I understand you made it back okay. You weren’t hurt?” Was that genuine concern in his grandfather’s voice? But Grandfather doesn’t wait for a response. “How’s the weather there?”

  “Fine,” Logan says as coolly as an obligatory peck on the cheek. “How’s Poppy?”

  This is the tango they know how to dance. Poppy and the weather. Their only two safe conversational topics.

  “She’s right here,” Grandfather says. “I’ll put her on speaker.”
>
  “Logan!” His sister’s voice is pure sunshine. “You’ll never guess what Granddaddy’s going to do.” She waits a dramatic pause. “He’s giving you Thorton Hall! Can you believe it? Your own house. Now you can come home for good.”

  A house? Thorton Hall is more than house. It’s a mansion within the grounds of the Thorton Palace complex. A place worthy of all that Eden deserves. A place she could turn into a real home. A place to raise lots and lots of children.

  “You and Eden can live there!” Poppy echoes his thoughts.

  But he can’t live there with Eden—she can never be his.

  “Oh, I can’t wait to have a sister. Did you propose to her yet?” Poppy asks.

  Her voice clings to his conscience like sticky sweet grape juice. There’s bound to be a stain.

  “No.” He sounds as flat as stale beer.

  “What’s wrong, Logan? Tell me,” Poppy’s voice squeezes at his heart.

  If only he could. But he has no plans to burst the bubble of a naive sixteen-year-old tonight over the phone. “It’s just been a long workday, Poppy.”

  Grandfather sighs. “It’s time you came home.”

  This conversation is uncharted territory between Logan and Grandfather. Grandfather shipped Logan out before he was a teenager and, until now, has never once asked for him to come back home.

  Sure, he pushed himself home on short holidays, mostly to see Poppy. To avoid arguments, he and Grandfather learned to navigate around each other, for the most part.

  But on Logan’s last trip home, Grandfather cornered him and told him to stay away. It was too hard for him to see Logan, the spitting image of the son he lost.

  Lost because of Logan. On a family ski trip when he was just a boy, Logan dared his brother Adam to ski with him down the advanced hill, knowing their father forbade it.

  Logan egged Adam on anyway, and the boys skied down a run well above their skill range. Their father saw them out of the corner of his eye and skied straight toward Adam, the oldest and heir to the throne. Their father died when he crashed into the tree first, buffering Adam from the blow.

  Grandfather never lets Logan forget that Logan caused it all to happen. As if Logan could ever forget it himself.