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

by Miranda King

  “I just wanted to give you a heads up about Bo and me before you saw us together tomorrow.” Eden shrugs. “No biggie.”

  No biggie? Yeah, right. Like losing his best friend Dante is no biggie. Like keeping a promise and not being able to marry Eden is no biggie. Like her standing here with Bo, breaking Logan’s heart is no biggie.

  “So what’s this about tomorrow?” His tone belies the Defcon Two status of his heartbreak.

  “We’re all shooting the music video together,” answers Bo, as if the three of them would get along so well, that by the end of the day, they’d be holding hands and singing Kumbaya.

  Ummm, no.

  “Isn’t that just… special.” Logan plasters a smile on his face.

  “Good to hear. I was hoping we wouldn’t have a problem. Eden told me you had a thing once. But now you’re just friends.” Bo slides his hand from Eden’s hip over to her belly. He spreads his fingers possessively. “It was no big deal between you.”

  No big deal? What he and Eden had was no big deal to her? Eden was everything to Logan. She still is. And he’s a one-time thing. He’s just a friend. He’s… no big deal?

  But isn’t this what he wanted? Hasn’t he kept telling her over and over they are just friends? What did he expect her to do? She isn’t a nun. She deserves to have any man she wants. And who would turn her down? Apparently, not Bo. Why would he? She is the Sexiest Woman on Earth.

  And Logan is…?

  Just what the hell is he without her?

  Nothing.

  Bo’s got her. And he has?

  Nothing.

  “Anything else you want to say before we leave, Babe?” Bo asks Eden.

  “Nothing,” she says.

  “So we’re cool?” Bo asks Logan.

  “Like the Arctic.”

  Bo repositions his hands on Eden, leading her towards the door. “We’ll see you tomorrow then.” He playfully taps her butt on the way out. “Babe, my place or yours?”

  He doesn’t hear Eden’s answer. She’s slipped from his view.

  But Bo stops before he crosses the threshold. From over the shoulder, he flashes his picture-perfect Hollywood smile—the kind that would be better with at least a tooth knocked out.

  Logan would even volunteer to do it.

  “I’m glad you don’t see any of this as awkward,” Bo tells him.

  Awkward doesn’t even begin to describe what Logan will feel like tonight thinking about the two of them. And what about tomorrow, when he has to see them again together?

  “Awkward?” Logan shakes his head. “That’s not at all how I would describe it.”

  Defcon One. Full-scale meltdown of his heart. That about describes it.

  “Is Eden Knight Dating Hollywood Hunk Bo Hunter?”

  – headline from The Summerland Tattler

  “Filming for My ‘Just Friends’ Music Video Begins Today”

  – Pop Star Eden Knight’s picture caption on Facebook

  “From a little spark may burst a flame.”

  – Dante Alighieri, Medieval Poet

  “Oh, Bo… Logan didn’t seem the least bit bothered seeing me with you last night.” Eden paces the Neo-Palladium ballroom of Thorton Hall, currently serving as the makeshift staging area for the music video shoot.

  This ballroom may not be as large as the palace ballroom from last night, but it’s similar in its gold-gilded ceiling, crystal chandeliers, and intricately laid hardwood floor. But the walls are a beautiful shade of pastel pink, and varying shades of pink flowers flow from vases ensconced between opulent arch windows with petal pink valances.

  Pink is her favorite color, and even the light streaming in the windows from the new sun rising casts a pink hue over all the beauty and grandeur around her. It’s as if this room has been custom-made for her. Decorated exactly the way she would’ve done it. In fact, every room she’s seen so far in Thorton Hall seems ready-made to her tastes.

  I could be at home here… with Logan.

  But for whatever reason, he’s pushing her away.

  “Babe, you’re so wrong. Were we even in the same room together last night? Because I saw a jealous man who wants you back. I totally picked up on all his man-cues.” Bo hoovers over a nearby worktable. No one else has arrived on set yet, so they have free rein of the place.

  There are drop cloths on the floor and metal tables covered with supplies for the shoot. The one by Bo displays dolls in miniature replicas of the outfits Eden will wear during the video shoot, and he picks up individual ones examining them.

  “Man-cues?” Eden laughs. Guys must have some secret testosterone code women will never understand. “You know you’re saying that as you hold up a doll.”

  He nods, chuckling. “You’re the reason I even know about these dolls. I remember how you had shelves and shelves of them in our living room.”

  The reference of them living together creates only a tiny pang in her heart, as if the passing time wrapped layers of bubblewrap around their breakup and it buffers her from the pain.

  They will always be connected by that pain, however unintentionally inflicted. But also by their love—and now their friendship.

  And for all of Bo’s hard-sculpted muscles, there’s a softness in his eyes, as if he’s remembering the past, too. Long moments pass and then he clears his throat, focusing on the doll in his hand. “What’s this one called?”

  Eden has to think for a moment. She’s not an expert on these Integrity dolls like some of her friends. “I think she’s Eugenia wearing the Fashionista dress from the Supermodel Convention. Most of what Emma created for me to wear today is from that collection.”

  “This one is a real beauty. She even looks like you.” He’s examining the doll from every angle.

  Eden walks over to him. “Really?”

  “The hair. The look in her blue eyes. The long eyelashes. The plump lips.”

  Eden runs her fingertips over her lips. “I never thought about my lips like that before.”

  “That’s what I love about you, Babe. You’re real. We’re surrounded by so many fake people and the pressure to be perfect in our business. I don’t know how you’ve managed to stay so grounded.”

  “I wouldn’t say that. You know when we were together I had to watch everything I ate. I still do. I’m far from perfect.”

  He sets the doll back on the table and exhales a long breath. “You’re as close to perfect as a woman can get. But I don’t think you can see it because of people like me who’ve hurt you.” He stretches his jaw a bit, as if his next words are hard coming out of his mouth. “I used you for my image, even though I didn’t realize it at the time. I will never be released from that guilt. And I’m sor—”

  “—you don’t need to tell me you’re sorry anymore. I know you are.”

  “I really hurt you when we broke up. And I truly did want it to work, even though it was doomed from the start. I just didn’t know that.”

  A sigh comes from somewhere deep inside her. A place she had forgotten about. “It did hurt. But if it’s any consolation, that’s a drop in the bucket compared to the pain I feel without Logan.”

  Bo brushes his fingers along the side of her cheek and twirls a strand of her red hair around his finger. “Did you do this for him?”

  “Yes.” She’s had blonde hair and pink highlights—or at least some tint of highlights—in her hair for years. “He said he liked my natural color, so I went back to it. It’s like I stripped away part of what I’d been hiding, not just from him, or even the world, but from myself. It’s a powerful feeling. I think you should try it sometime.”

  He withdraws his hand from her. “The world wouldn’t accept me. Not if I want to stay Bo Hunter.” The lines around his mouth crease. “Have you ever talked with Logan about me?”

  She shakes her head. “I promised I would never tell anyone, and I keep my word.”

  “I won’t blame you if you change your mind.”

  “I said I won’t. I love you
, Bo. Not the way I love Logan. But it’s still love. That will never go away. Neither will my promise.”

  He pulls her into a hug. He’s safe and warm and here.

  She rests her head on his shoulder. “You said you think Logan is jealous and wants me back. Were you just saying that to make me feel better? Because I just didn’t see that last night.”

  “Babe, take my word for it.” He tightens his arms around her. “I know our plan is to make him jealous, but part of me is jealous of him. I love you. I always will. If I were the man you needed me to be, I’d never let you go.”

  That’s what she wants—Logan to hold her so tightly because he never wants to let her go.

  Yet perhaps maybe not so tight. “Well, you’re going to have to let me go because I can barely breathe.” She laughs. “I think you forget about all those muscles.”

  He relaxes his hold on her, but doesn’t release her. “I know I have to let you go, but Logan better deserve you.”

  Logan is not laughing. On the far side of the ballroom from the entrance where he stands, Eden is wrapped in a lover’s embrace with Bo. It’s G-rated compared to the images he had of them in his head all night, but still.

  For God’s sake, even in my own house, they can’t keep their hands off each other?

  He shoves his hands in his pockets and is about to turn around, when Poppy catches sight of him from the hallway.

  “Aren’t you going to be late for school?” He asks her.

  She skips over and hooks her arm in one of his. “If you don’t help me find Eden, I will be.” She spies Eden across the way. “Oh, there she is.” And she pulls him along with her.

  Eden and Bo disentangle themselves when they approach. Eden straightens her hair, and Bo stands close behind her. Too close.

  “Good, you guys showed up on time.” Poppy says with too much energy for six-something a.m.

  “I thought there would be more people than the four of us,” Logan comments to Poppy. “Where’s everyone from yesterday?”

  “Our director Jean-Paul and his crew should be here soon.” Poppy takes her cell phone out and glances at it. “We have some slight changes to the plan. Bo, I need you to come with me to finalize some things with Jean-Paul when he gets here. Eden, good job on your own hair and makeup. Logan, that suit will work well on you for filming, and you won’t need to change. But Eden’s got a lot of costume changes and I need you to help her.”

  That’s madness. It’s like asking a diabetic to hold a Snickers bar. He crosses his arms. “I don’t think—”

  “—Logan, I need your help today. Not your attitude.” Poppy taps her foot. “We have the best film crew in the world here to make this video perfect. Grandfather is paying for that, but there are other costs. And the more we do ourselves, the lower the cost of this shoot. That’s why Emma made all the costumes for free. Eden did her own hair and makeup. I’m organizing. We’re all helping out where we can so that more of the proceeds can go to the military families who’ve lost someone and need help.”

  That shut him up.

  “I have a lot going on behind the scenes. I thought I could ask Emma to help with the costume changes today since she made them, but she can’t be here.” Poppy looks at her cell phone. “In fact, I have to leave soon because she might need my help before school with… a special project.” Then she points to the dolls arranged on the table. “Now, Bella put together this display as a visual of each costume change. Use that as your guide.”

  “Isn’t Bella that doll shop owner?” Logan asks. “Maybe she’d help with the costume changes and I’d do something else.” Anything would be better than helping a woman he couldn’t have take her clothes off. Now that he thinks about it more, that’s like being told not only to hold a Snickers bar, but also to unwrap it and not eat it.

  Poppy shakes her head. “She can’t help today either. She doesn’t feel very well.”

  “Oh no, is she okay?” Eden’s voice is tender. “I saw her last night when I was talking with Prince Michael, and she seemed fine to me.”

  “Long story for another time.” Poppy sighs. “Logan, all you have to do is help Eden with buttons, belts, shoes. That kind of thing.” She gestures to the corner, full of changing panels and racks of clothes. “She needs to be ready and onset for the camera crew before filming so they can set up for lighting.” Poppy blows a piece of hair out of her face. “’kay, we’re all set. Let’s get to it.” She leads Bo out of the ballroom to see if the director has arrived.

  Logan watches his sister leave. How did she grow up so fast? She’s got the rallying skills of a general. These palace walls won’t contain her for much longer.

  She’s made no secret of wanting to leave home. Yet all his life, he just wanted to come home and feel like he belonged there.

  Now he has this mansion, a home of his own, and no wife to share it with. Because the only woman he’s ever wanted as a wife is Eden. Not only can’t he have her, he has to watch her with some other guy.

  In his own home.

  Agreeing to this video shoot was an epic disaster.

  “Hand me that Miss Amour dress from the rack, will you?” Eden calls out from behind the changing panels.

  “The what dress?”

  Eden laughs. “Miss Amour is the name of it. It’s huge like a Scarlett O’Hara dress. You can’t miss it. And it’s pink.”

  “Like everything.” He mumbles, rummaging through the dress rack.

  Eden says, “I love pink. I think I might have to hire your decorator to supervise some renovations to my place.”

  “That would be Poppy.” A trigger goes off in Logan’s head. What had Poppy said? She wanted to make it so that Eden would never want to leave him. Everything is pink for Eden.

  But pink wallpaper wouldn’t cover up his promise to Dante.

  “Poppy did this?” Eden asks. “What does that girl not do?”

  “Stay out of trouble.”

  They both laugh. He carries a monstrosity of dress over to her. It’s long and there are ruffles everywhere. Everywhere.

  “Here you go.” Logan does the gentlemanly thing and looks away as he hands it to her.

  “No, come in here.” She laughs. “I won’t be able to get that thing on by myself.”

  Oh, this is so not a good idea.

  “Let me see if I can find a woman to help you.” He looks around the ballroom, but the place is as empty as the base mess hall when all the food is gone.

  “Who are you going to get?” She peeks out. “There’s no one else around.” She goes back behind the panel.

  He takes in a deep breath and readies himself before he enters.

  She’s got her back turned to him.

  Her naked back.

  And there’s this white frothy slip covering her from the waist down. But it’s see-through.

  And she has nothing underneath. Except the perfect curves of her butt and thighs.

  Good God. He breaks out in a sweat.

  “Whatcha waiting on,” she calls over her shoulder. “Help me put it over my head.”

  If he could move.

  “Logan, you’re being a prude. It’s not like you haven’t seen me naked before. Get over here.”

  He doesn’t need to be told a second time. Maybe if he touched her soft skin. Just once more. Maybe that would be enough to end his obsession with her.

  She raises her arms and he slides the material over her, letting his fingers glide down her arms. Did she just shiver?

  Her skin is silk. Softer than the material of this dress.

  From behind her, he smooths his hands over the curve of her hips to bring the material in perfect fit with the clasps at her waist. He takes his time rubbing the creases down her thighs and around her hips.

  There are rows of cascading pink ruffles going up the dress like fancy frosting on a wedding cake. But there’s no material covering her back. The front is a halter that ties around her neck. She lets the halter dangle in front of her, leaving the swells
of her breasts exposed.

  “Help me tie this.” Even her voice is made of silk.

  She lifts her luscious red hair with one hand, exposing the nape of her neck. He leans in, almost close enough to kiss her there.

  From over her shoulder, he sees the creamy mounds of her breasts and the dusky pink tips of her nipples. He aches to touch them.

  He reaches his hands around her waist for the halter ties, hugging her from behind. He lets his hands graze the sides of her breasts. So soft. He groans.

  She snatches one of his hands and settles it firmly on her breast.

  An electric shock shoots through his veins.

  “If you’re going to touch my breasts, do it right,” she whispers.

  He grasps her fullness. Massaging her. Kneading her nipple with his thumb. Over and over and over. “Like this?”

  “That’s it.” She gasps, swaying her body into him. “Oh, Logan… I want you.” She drops her hand from her hair and reaches behind her back to cup him.

  She rubs her palm over his hardness. Her initial touch causes his body to quake. Each stroke is an aftershock, rippling through him.

  “You want me.” Her voice is sultry, beckoning him. “Take me.” She moans and rests her head against his shoulder. “Just love me back.”

  I do... I love you.

  The words almost come out. Yet the words he most wants to say to her, he shouldn’t. They would lead to an expectation of marriage, of a future, of more than he’s bound by honor to give.

  “Eden.” He drops his hand from her breast. “We shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be doing this.”

  “Why not?” Her muscles tense.

  Because of a promise I made to your dead brother. A promise that includes me never telling you about it. A promise it’s killing me to keep.

  There’s also her Hollywood hookup. “Bo comes to mind.”

  “I don’t want him.” She angles her head to the side and looks up at him through her long eyelashes. “I want you. Just tell me you love me. And you can have me… all of me.”