Royal Mess

by Jenna Sutton

  “That’s your fault. I told you that we didn’t have time—”

  “You asked for a distraction, and I gave you one.”

  “Technically, you gave me two.”

  He laughs. “Then I’d say it was time well-spent.”

  He pulls my dress over my exposed rear and helps me stand. I can feel his eyes on me as I adjust the crystal-encrusted bodice of my gown and smooth the silky material of the skirt over my hips. After checking my makeup in the mirror and reapplying my lipstick, I announce that I’m ready to go.

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?” he asks.

  I turn to face him. His mouth is curled in a devilish grin, and he’s twirling my panties around his index finger.

  “Give me those!” I snatch them away from him. “I can’t believe I almost forgot my underwear! I can’t stand on a stage in front of five thousand people and give a speech commando!”

  He snickers. “No one would know.”

  “I’d know!”

  I stare at the scrap of black fabric in my palm, trying to figure out the easiest way to pull on underwear while wearing a ball gown and spiky heels. Maybe I should forgo them.

  Suddenly, Leo drops to one knee in front of me. My heart seizes in my chest.

  “What are you doing?” I ask breathlessly.

  He looks up, a tiny frown creasing his forehead. “Riding a motorcycle. What does it look like I’m doing?” His voice is drier than water-deprived roses. “I’m helping you put on your panties.”

  Hope crashes and burns inside me. For a sweet second, I thought he was going to propose. I’m horrendously disappointed, which is silly, bordering on absurd. We’ve never talked about marriage. We’ve never even talked about us.

  I’m startled when Leo takes my panties from my numb fingers. “Tuck your dress under your arms and lift your foot,” he says.

  Mutely, I do as he asks. When I wobble, I clutch at his shoulder to steady myself.

  That’s Leo—steady and there when I need him. But for how much longer?

  After tonight, the media tour is over. Interest in me and my story as a transplant recipient will fade quickly, and when that happens, there will be no reason for me to stay at Helios. Plus, the royal family is moving back into the palace in a few weeks.

  What will happen then? Will Leo and I part ways and go back to our normal lives? Will our time together be nothing more than a shared secret?

  Leo works my panties over my heels and up my legs. I take over at mid-thigh and tug them into place. After I let my dress fall to the floor, he lifts the hem to fluff it, like a bridesmaid at a wedding.

  I stare down at his dark head, abruptly aware that one of the most powerful men in the entire world is kneeling at my feet. My stomach tumbles at the thought.

  When he becomes king, Alsania’s aristocracy will kneel before him and swear their loyalty. The rest of the world, meanwhile, will bow and curtsey and refer to him as His Royal Majesty. They’ll do the same to his wife, whoever she is.

  He rises to his feet in a smooth, athletic move and stares down into my face. “What’s wrong?” he asks, sensing my distress even though I tried to hide it.

  “Nothing,” I mutter.

  Curving his fingers under my jaw, he touches his thumb to the corner of my mouth. “Don’t be scared, Tessa. I’m going to be onstage with you, and you’re going to be great. You always are.” He gives me a reassuring smile. “Everyone loves you.”

  Do you love me?

  I want Leo to love me—desperately, passionately, mindlessly. I want that more than anything because that’s the way I love him.

  He opens the door and ushers me forward with a palm on my lower back. Once we’re in the hallway, he immediately removes his hand. Except for the time I tripped walking up some stairs, he doesn’t touch me in public.

  With a respectable twelve inches between us, we make our way to the double doors where Leo’s personal security detail stands guard. They go everywhere with us, and they must suspect Leo and I are having sex. I’m a screamer, or at least I am with Leo. Sex was never this good before.

  Unfortunately, the walk to the auditorium is shorter than I want it to be. All too soon, Leo and I are waiting backstage, behind an expanse of wine-colored velvet curtains.

  He squeezes my hand before he takes the stage. He strides across the hardwood with solid, purposeful steps. His confidence is such a turn-on, except when it crosses the line to arrogance. Thankfully, that doesn’t happen too often.

  When he steps behind the podium, the crowd welcomes him with uproarious applause. This media tour allowed the Alsanian people to get to know their future king a little better.

  I hope they see what I see: a man who cares deeply for his county and his people ... a man who sincerely wants to do the right thing. I hope they recognize his strength of character, his intelligence, and his integrity.

  Leo wrote his own speech, and his words enthrall both me and the audience. As he talks about his decision to put his name on the donor registry, I’m awed by his generosity of spirit.

  He willingly put himself at risk to give me a chance to live. He sacrificed a part of his liver to save me, even though we were strangers.

  He did it out of the goodness of his heart, expecting nothing in return. I’m not sure I could have, or would have, done what he did.

  Leo ends his speech by inviting me to share my story. Taking a deep breath, I straighten my spine and square my shoulders and step onto the stage.

  When I reach the podium, I smile widely at the man I love. Then I turn and face the crowd.

  I THOUGHT THE COCKTAIL reception was going to be small and simple, but it’s not. Several long tables dot the event center’s massive entrance hall, draped in white tablecloths and decorated with colorful hors d’oeuvres.

  The event center was designed with a contemporary aesthetic—lots of glass, concrete, and steel. As soon as Leo and I walk into the entrance hall, we’re mobbed and quickly separated. I free myself as soon as possible and find a quiet place. I’m not hiding, but I am partially hidden.

  From my position behind a concrete pillar, I have a good view of the action. This isn’t my kind of scene, not at all.

  White-coated servers weave their way through the crowd, fulfilling drink orders or distributing champagne. At least two hundred people are here, dressed in evening gowns and tuxedos.

  I spot Leo across the room. He’s talking with two older couples. The women literally drip with jewelry. I don’t know how they can remain upright under the weight of all those precious gems.

  These aren’t my kind of people. But they are Prince Leo’s kind of people.

  I look away when a tall blonde engages him in conversation. I don’t want to watch another gorgeous woman come on to him.

  Marco has the playboy reputation, but Leo gets plenty of female attention. I know this because I’ve witnessed it firsthand and because I conducted an online search after we started having sex.

  He’s been linked with a few women over the years. All members of the aristocracy. Daughters of dukes and marquesses and earls.

  Taking a sip of my sparkling cider, I relish the crisp sweetness of apples. Except for the occasional glass of wine, I don’t miss alcohol much.

  “Good evening, Miss Lulach.”

  The voice comes from behind me. Startled, I spin around and find myself face-to-face with King Carlo.

  “My apologies,” he says. “I didn’t mean to alarm you.”

  The truth is, King Carlo doesn’t have to sneak up on me to alarm me. Although he’s always been cordial to me, just being in his presence puts me on edge. I always feel like he’s studying me like a specimen under a microscope, as if trying to figure out who and what I am.

  Somehow, I muster a smile for him. “Good evening, Your Royal Majesty,” I murmur as I dip into a small curtsey.

  King Carlo inclines his head in a nod. Like most men here, he’s wearing a tux. A wide scarlet sash angles across his torso, denoting his po
sition as ruler of Alsania.

  “You did an excellent job tonight,” the king says. “Your speech was very moving. I saw several people in the audience using handkerchiefs to wipe their eyes.”

  “Thank you,” I reply, conscious of the fact that he didn’t say he was moved by my speech.

  He stares at me, unblinking. His dark gaze feels like winter to me, bitterly cold and dangerous if you don’t have the right protective gear.

  “The media tour has exceeded my expectations. I’m quite pleased.” King Carlo clasps his hands behind his back. “I’d like for you and my son to continue the tour abroad. I’m envisioning a series of interviews and events in the United States, China, Russia, and Australia.”

  I’m so surprised, my jaw hinges. I find it hard to believe King Carlo is so passionate about organ donation he wants to carry the message to other countries. There has to be another reason.

  He breaks our gaze and focuses on something over my shoulder. I turn to see what’s commanded his attention and catch sight of Leo. The crowd of people around him has tripled.

  “You’re good for my son, Miss Lulach.”

  I snap my head toward King Carlo, absolutely shocked by his comment. Does he know about me and Leo? How did he find out? When did he find out?

  Mentally, I replay his comment. You’re good for my son.

  Does that mean King Carlo is okay with Leo being involved with me? Would the monarch support a romantic relationship and eventually marriage with a commoner ... with me?

  “You’re good for his image, I should say,” King Carlo clarifies. “The most recent opinion polls indicate ninety percent of Alsanians have a favorable opinion of Leo.”

  “That’s wonderful,” I reply, genuinely pleased Leo’s approval rating is so high.

  “Prior to the surgery, Alsanians had a very unfavorable opinion of him.”

  Shame slices into me. I was one of those people who had an unfavorable opinion of Prince Leo—an opinion based on an amalgamation of half-truths and misperceptions.

  “When his approval rating dropped to a critically low level, we had to take drastic measures.”

  “Drastic measures?” I ask, my skin prickling with unease.

  King Carlo arches his dark eyebrows. “You don’t consider giving part of your liver to a stranger a drastic measure?”

  I stare at him as my mind skips to a conclusion. “Leo donated his liver because he wanted to improve his approval rating?”

  The monarch nods. “Unfortunately, the surgery didn’t achieve as much of an increase as we hoped.”

  The sparkling cider I drank a few minutes ago starts to churn in my stomach. All this time, I thought Leo donated his liver without wanting anything in return. But the truth is, he donated it with the expectation of getting something in return—the throne.

  “The media tour was the key that opened the lock.” A smug smile twists the king’s lips. “I knew Leo’s image would improve if people saw him with you.”

  The words stab into me like spikes on a holly plant. Did Leo have an ulterior motive in spending time with me? Was he using me to increase his popularity?

  “Without your involvement, the tour would have been a failure,” King Carlo tells me.

  Suddenly, I know the answer to the question that’s confounded me for weeks. “You leaked my identity to the media.”

  “Of course I did.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Leo

  I can’t find Tessa anywhere, and panic is starting to ride me hard. I haven’t seen her since we entered the entrance hall more than an hour ago, and she’s not answering my texts or phone calls.

  Spotting the head of my security detail near the side exit, I extricate myself from the conversation with the Duchess of Vera as politely as possible and head toward Gio. The moment I reach him, I say, “Have you seen Miss Lulach?”

  Gio shakes his head. “No, sir.”

  “Check with the rest of the team.”

  The guard speaks into his headset. As I wait impatiently for an answer, my gaze bounces around the room.

  I see a flash of emerald-green, the same color as Tessa’s gown, and my breath hitches in relief. I’ve already taken a few steps in that direction before I realize it’s not her.

  “Sir?” Gio stops beside me. “Miss Lulach wasn’t feeling well, so Dannell called for a car and escorted her back to the dressing room. He thought she’d be more comfortable waiting there.”

  Anxiety bubbles though my blood. I was worried the media tour would be too much for her, but she assured me that she felt fine.

  Maybe it’s not anything serious. Maybe she’s just tired. Maybe she ate something that upset her stomach. Maybe she has a headache.

  Or maybe her body is rejecting my liver.

  Invisible bands squeeze my chest, making it hard to breathe. Please, God, not that.

  I take off at a sprint, aware of people’s curious gazes but completely uncaring of what they might think. Bursting through the double doors, I almost collide with Dannell. I swerve around him, and the soles of my dress shoes strike the stone floor as I run down the corridor.

  At last, I skid to a stop at the door to the dressing room. I’m panting, not from physical exertion but from fear. I can’t lose Tessa.

  Swiping a hand across my damp forehead, I take several deep breaths to calm down. If she’s sick—really sick—she’s going to need me to be strong.

  I open the door as quietly as I can. I don’t want to disturb her if she’s sleeping.

  The lights are on, and I spot her immediately. She’s standing in the middle of the room, and the moment I see her face, I know something’s terribly wrong. Her red-rimmed eyes and blotchy skin clue me in to the fact that she’s been crying.

  I step inside the room and push the door shut with my foot before making my way to her. “Tesoro.” I run my thumb over her tear-streaked cheek. “What hurts?”

  “My heart.”

  I think my heart stops beating. “You’re experiencing chest pain? Why didn’t you alert me? Why hasn’t anyone called an ambulance?”

  I jerk my phone out of my tuxedo jacket, vaguely aware that my hands are shaking. Suddenly, she slaps it out of my palm, sending it flying to the floor.

  My gaze snaps up to hers. “Tessa. What the hell?”

  “Just stop!”

  Confused, I ask, “Stop what?”

  “Stop pretending that you actually care about me,” she shouts.

  I’m so stunned by her outburst it takes me several seconds to formulate a reply. “What’s happening here?”

  I look around the room, searching for an answer. My gaze lands on the vanity where I fucked Tessa before the speech. I wish I could rewind to that moment and prevent this from happening, whatever this is. I’m still not sure.

  “I talked with your father during the reception, and he admitted that he was the one who leaked my identity to the media.”

  Silently, I curse myself for not telling her as soon I found out what my father did. I shouldn’t have kept it from her, not even for one second.

  “You knew,” she says, her voice full of accusation. “I can see it on your face.”

  When I give a curt nod, she makes a pained sound in her throat. “This whole time, I thought you cared about me, but you’ve just been using me.”

  “Using you?” I repeat, my head jerking back involuntarily.

  “You’ve been using me to improve your image ... to increase your approval ratings so you could take the throne.”

  “I haven’t been using you.” Defensive anger heats my veins. “I didn’t force you to participate in the media tour. You offered, remember?”

  She huffs out a bitter laugh. “I offered after your father leaked my identity ... with your full support, apparently.”

  “My full support? What are you talking about?”

  “You knew he planned to leak my name to the media.”

  “That’s what you think?” I stare at her in disbelief. “I never would
’ve gone along with that. I didn’t want you to participate in the tour in the first place. I knew it would tear your life apart, and I didn’t want you to be hurt like that.”

  I can see her turning my words over in her head like stones, checking to see if anything dangerous is hiding underneath. I think she wants to believe me, but she’s afraid.

  “When I found out what my father did, I was so furious I told him I was going to cancel the rest of the media tour.”

  “Guess you changed your mind about that,” she says.

  Her snarky tone pisses me off. “Yes, I changed my mind ... after he threatened to leak photos of us. He said a picture was worth a thousand interviews.”

  Her mouth falls open. “What photos?”

  “Photos of you and me kissing in the elevator in the Alsanian News Network building. I don’t know where he got them.”

  Her eyes widen, and I know what she’s thinking—that kiss wasn’t exactly G-rated. My tongue was in her mouth, and my hands were all over her ass.

  “Is that why you agreed to extend the tour?” she asks.

  I nod. “I knew he wasn’t bluffing. He showed me the photo he planned to leak. It wasn’t explicit—he didn’t want to damage my reputation or yours—but that didn’t matter to me. I don’t want the whole world to see us together like that.”

  “Why not?”

  “What we have ... it’s ours. No one else’s.”

  She tilts her head. “What do we have, Leo? I need you to tell me because I’m not sure.”

  “We have something...” I falter, struggling to find the right words. “We have something...”

  “What?” she asks, impatience seeping through her voice.

  “Something special.”

  She closes her eyes for a long blink. “I’m done, Leo. I want to go home.”

  Although I’m surprised by her abrupt demand, I say, “I’ll let Roche know we’re ready to return to Helios.”

  “No. I want to go to my home. My apartment in Albee.”

  My stomach cramps with apprehension and anxiety. I’m losing her. I’m losing her, and I don’t know what to say to keep her with me.