“Can I?” An ache throbbed in my center.
“Yes.’ He plunged a finger inside me, then two. I was so tight. I was so wet.
“Kiss me, Max.”
He crashed his lips onto mine, his tongue slipping inside my mouth, exploring. And then he stopped and pulled away.
“We can’t,” he said.
“We already are.” I placed my hand on top of his. “Don’t stop.”
“Perhaps we can be together after this affair is over,” he said, moving his fingers in and out of my pussy, brushing my clit as he played with me.
I ground against him, writhing under his touch. “I’d like that.”
His fingers plunged in and out of me. “We’ll definitely be together.”
His eyes were dilated, his breathing heavy.
I pulled one side of my top down, put my hand on his face and drew his mouth to my breast. Good prince that he was, he knew exactly what I wanted. He toyed with my nipple, licking and sucking. Then he kneaded my breast with his hand.
“When?” I gasped. “When do we get to be together?” I closed my eyes.
“Six months? A year? I’ll travel back to the States. It will be difficult in Bellèno after Cici marries Leo. You look so much like her.”
“Not that much until you all made me over.”
“You’re hotter than her,” he said, coming up for air.
“I’m not here to date, Max. I’m here to get a job done. Fuck…” My eyes fluttered as I exploded in an orgasm, coming over his fingers. Coming under his touch. I shuddered as waves of pleasure filled my body.
“Good God, I wish we could. This will have to do for right now.”
“I thought Mr Cartwright and Cici hired me?” I reached for the bulge in his pants but he pushed my hand away.
“We have to stop for now.”
“How are you going to take care of that? Are you going to meet up again with the slutty girls? The ones who wanted to meet up with you in London?”
“No. The old-fashioned way.” He lifted a hand. “A hot shower. Cold doesn’t work for me. It was ultimately my decision to hire you. I pulled the trigger on The Crown Affair.”
“What was the trigger?”
“I needed to find a girl with the right look. A girl with the drive. And a girl who would do her best to make a tough job simple.”
“You could have hired a prostitute.”
“I was going to do that. Until I lucked into you.”
“I’m sorry?” I pulled back. “Did you just say what I thought you said?”
“You were so very eager for the job. So very desperate.”
“Desperate?” I asked, moving further away from him, a chill moving between us.
“I don’t mean it like that,” he said.
“Then how do you mean it?”
“Look, Vivian. This had to be done. I lucked out. I met you. We’re here.”
“Yes, we are.” I peered through a crack in the hedge at Prince Leo fidgeting with the flowers. “I obviously made the mistake of letting you into my space again. Clearly, I’m here to get a job done. Just like a call girl. Just like the prostitute you almost hired. I won’t be making the mistake again.”
“Vivian, no.”
I stood up and wiped the dirt off my clothes. Too bad I couldn’t scrub the filthy, awful feelings out my heart. “You’d better get Mr. Cartwright on the line, because I won’t be dealing with you anymore.”
I crawled through the thicket and made my way to Leo and the three ring royal circus revolving around him.
Leo dropped down on one knee. The quartet launched into “I Can’t Help Falling in Love with You” as a real prince asked a fake Cici to marry him. I blinked back tears that were caused by another man, exclaimed that I was the happiest girl in the world and yes, of course, I would marry him. He slipped the ring on my left hand. “You’re glowing.”
“I am.”
We kissed.
It was a good kiss. It was a thorough kiss. It meant nothing to me. The cameras captured it all. Hopefully they didn’t capture what Max and I had just done. I glanced back at the bushes surrounding my hiding place but I caught no glimpse of my beautiful, hot, ginger prince.
* * *
I discovered later on that momentous day that for the first hour following Leopold and Cici’s official engagement—we, the newly engaged royal Bellèno couple – were the top story on the local TV news channels.
Leopold’s sturdy arm encircled my waist for official royal PDA. We posed affectionately as more photographers and news crews showed up to snap photos, take videos, and grab a few interviews.
Reporters threw out questions. “Prince Leopold! When did you know Lady Catherine Fontaine was the right girl for you?”
“In grade school when I stole her doll and she fought back. She’s always been feisty.”
Onlookers laughed.
“Prince Leopold! Aside from Prince Harry, you’ve been the most eligible bachelor on the royal circuit. Why have you decided to settle down now?”
“Zoom in on her baby-bump,” Ducklips said behind her palm to her cameraman.
This was a pizza bump, definitely not a baby bump. I sucked in my stomach and held my breath.
“Because I was scared my right girl would grow tired of waiting for me.” Leopold flashed his sexy smile. “I didn’t want to lose her.” He leaned in and kissed me full on my lips.
I tried to make it seem like we’d been kissing forever. Perhaps I tried a bit too hard because the applause reached a crescendo. My eyes fluttered open, only to spot Max glaring daggers at us. He was straddling an idling Harley-Davidson barely a hundred yards away.
“Lady Catherine! You’ve been out of the public eye for over a year now pursuing advanced degrees at Marymount University in the State of Illinois,” Ducklips said. “Did know Prince Leopold was going to propose? Or was it a complete surprise to you upon returning to Bellèno?”
“I’ve always had a sweet spot for Prince Leo. Seriously, who hasn’t?” I looked up at him and batted my eyelashes.
The female reporters giggled.
“But recently we’ve been in touch more. E-mails, phone calls, texting, Skype, even old-fashioned love letters. We’re crazy about each other. I can’t imagine a more perfect match than Leo and me. If I don’t say yes and I don’t try this with someone who could be my best friend…” My gaze drifted toward Max.
“Yes, Cici?” Leo prompted.
My attention darted back to Leo and I smiled at him like he was chocolate. “I will forever wonder if we both missed out on something magical and wonderful. Something that was meant to be. I didn’t want to pass on my Happily-Ever-After. After all, how many people really get a chance at that?”
“Sweet.” The Bellèno News Network reporter wiped tears away.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Max rev the engine on his Harley and speed off. No cameras swiveled to film his exit.
“Show us the ring! Show us the engagement ring that Prince Leopold gave you!” Ducklips demanded.
I held my left hand out as the cameras popped and whirred. Two helicopters circled overhead. And I wondered if I was bleeding drops of blood into a nest of sharks. Who would be the first to bite? To discover I was an imposter? To destroy me? I watched Max ride out of the park and felt my heart clench. I suspected I already knew the answer to my last question.
Chapter 16
MAXIMILLIAN
The second I saw Leo kiss Vivian I knew I had to get the fuck out of Dodge. I called up an old friend who had a place a few hours away.
“What’s up?” Vander asked. “I just saw on the news that your brother got engaged to Lady What’s-Her-Name. Her father’s a billionaire. You must be wet dreaming right about now. Will he help with the predicament?”
“Better question,” I said. “Will you help with my predicament?”
“You’re too young for Viagra, Max.”
“Fuck you. I need to get out of here. I need some room. Some space
to breathe.”
“Party at the lake house, Prince Charming. I’ve got a spare cottage in the back with your name on it. No press allowed.”
“Are Daisy and Flora there?
“No, but someone else you might be familiar with, is.”
“Who?”
“Find out for yourself,” he said.
“Done.”
Chapter 17
VIVIAN
Days passed. I didn’t see Max. Only Leo. Apparently, Max had taken my threat seriously and was staying away. That should have been good. That was exactly what I asked him to do. Why did I feel so horrible?
I sat on the stool in front of Cici’s bathroom mirror as Bea deftly parted my hair with her fingers, and rolled and styled sections of it with a large curling iron. Joan flipped back and forth between makeup brushes, and tiny pots of color and pencils, micro-managing my makeup. Esmeralda sat on the bathroom floor paging through gossip rags. “Oh, look, that photo of you collapsed on the tarmac with your skirt hiked over your panties made the Daily Email again.”
“Color me delighted,” I said.
“Look all the way up.” Joan tapped the underside of my chin.
I dropped my head back and stared at the ceiling.
Joan pulled the bottom of my lower eyelid down and penciled the inner rim. “Stop blinking.”
“Is this necessary? You could poke out my eye.”
“If you shut up that might not happen. The white pencil brings out what’s left of the whites of your eyes. It makes you look refreshed. Trust me, you’re in need of refreshing.”
“Thank you. We’ve been doing this for an hour. It’s not like this is for a photo-shoot. Leo and I have already had a ton of those.”
“I’m sure you’ll look lovely in Pottery Castle, People More Important than You Magazine and Royally Glamorous.” Bea plucked earrings from a large jewelry box, holding them up to my face, eye-balling them. She switched them out until she found a pair she liked and handed them to me. “These.”
I slipped on the earrings.
“This is a more important occasion than a magazine photo-shoot.” Joan broke into a sweat as she blended concealer under my eyes with a makeup brush. “This is your first meet and greet with Leo’s family since you got engaged. Have you even slept the past couple of nights? Your eye circles are the size of Bea’s former dowry.”
“Which was huge,” Esmeralda said.
“In olden days it would have been the equivalent of three sacks of gold coins, a few rubies, one hundred pigs, twenty goats, and a couple of bones from dead saints,” Bea said.
“We’re going to have to order concealer in a tub.” Joan dipped the makeup brush into the pot and dabbed more under my eyes.
“I need you all to help me pick out the perfect outfit,” I said. “I’m starving. Anyone?”
“Watching my waistline,” Bea said.
“Didn’t hit the gym,” Joan said.
“Got it.” I punched a button on the intercom. “Helga? Do you have time to whip up a sandwich?”
“Changed my mind. On sourdough,” Bea said.
“With fresh Bellèno sausages.” Joan said. “I’ll workout tomorrow.”
“Four sourdough subs with fresh Bellèno sausages and the works. Thanks. I’ll come down to the kitchen and pick them up. No really. Are you sure? Thank you.”
Bea lifted her thumb to her mouth and tipped her head back.
“Can you bring us a bottle of Korbel as well?” I asked.
“Ha!” Joan said. “You’re hilarious. The Perrier-Jouet Belle Epoque Rose Cuvee, please.”
I handed the phone to Joan. “You tell her.”
* * *
We noshed on sandwiches in my bedroom and the Ladies drank Champagne. I abstained. Cici might have met the royal family many times in the past, but this was the first time for me. “My sleep has sucked for the past three nights. Every night Helga brings me herbal tea before I go to bed. In the morning she drops off fresh coffee. But it never really wakes me up. I don’t feel like myself. I think it’s all the stress.”
Maybe it was all the lying. Or maybe I missed Max.
“What stress?” Bea asked. “You’re engaged to a hot Prince, you’ll want for nothing ever again. All you really have to do to cement the deal—post-wedding of course—is pop out an heir someday. I delivered two. Hubby is quite content with his little ladies who adore him. Of course he travels five days a week and only has daughter duty on weekends.”
“I read an article in Euro Cosmopolitan that said getting engaged was in the top twenty of major life stresses,” Joan said.
“I come by my eye circles the old-fashioned way—too much stress,” I said.
“Or perhaps your lack of sleep is from all the clandestine sex you’re having.” Esmeralda threw herself onto my bed. “Someone pour me a glass of Champagne, please.” She propped herself up on her elbows and held out one hand.
“What do you mean, ‘clandestine sex?’” I poured a glass and passed it to her.
“What do you mean ‘finally getting?’” Joan asked. “Good God, Cici’s been getting more than her share for years. I’m a single barrister with a fifty-hour work week. When do I have time to meet men?”
“You meet men all the time,” Bea said.
“I meet men who are married, incarcerated, or married and soon to be incarcerated. My ‘getting’ pool is in the shallow end,” Joan said.
“All the clandestine sex Cici’s getting will be screeching to a stop after she marries and pumps out two heirs. Color me happy if the hubs and I have sex once a week.” Bea guzzled what remained in her glass and held it out. “And even then, it’s usually in front of the TV during a soccer match. Top me off, please.”
“You’re engaged to a royal, darling,” Esmeralda said. “The good citizens of Bellèno assume you’re having hot sex, and while most of them fantasize about it, everything still must remain hush-hush for etiquette’s sake. I can only assume Leo is sneaking into your room and banging you senseless every night. That’s why you’re not getting enough sleep. Hence the eye circles.”
“Leo’s a perfect gentleman. No one’s banging me senseless. And if I see this quote in a tabloid, I’ll have your ass, Esmeralda.”
“Take a number and stand in line,” she said.
“We need to pick a dress. What do you think?” Joan held out four—one draped across each of her forearms and one dangling from each hand.
“I like the red one,” Bea said. “That’s Cici’s signature color.”
“The blue one’s cute,” I said. “It’s sweet, modest, and—”
“Did you turn Amish in the States?” Esmeralda stared at me. “The Cici I knew wouldn’t be caught dead in anything that droll. The blush-pink concoction is feminine without being over the top. It’ll bring out your complexion, which has completely lost all the acne. And it practically screams virginal, even though we all know that ship sailed a long time ago.”
Actually, not that long ago and only with the Johnny’s pizza delivery guy who was working his way through pre-med until I learned he was working his way through half the girls on his route.
“You’re right.” Bea ran her hand over the blush pink silk.
Joan nodded. “You’ve always had an eye for details.”
“It’s beautiful. It’s the perfect meet the Royal Family dress.” I felt my face flush. Could I do this? “Thank you, ladies. I’ll let you know how tonight’s meet and greet goes, hopefully before it hits the press.”
“You’re welcome.” Esmeralda rolled to sitting, cracked her neck, and stood up. “I’ll know all before it trickles into my grandmother’s royal Depends, which will probably happen even before it’s leaked to the press. I am, after all, Leo’s first cousin and part of the Rochartè family. I’ll be at the royal meet and greet tonight. You need anything, Cici, just look my way and signal.”
“Thank you.”
There was a knock at the door. “Yes?”
“Special treat f
or you Ladies,” Helga said.
“Come in!”
Helga entered carrying a silver tray filled with cupcakes. “Strawberry tart cupcakes. A time-honored Bellèno good-luck tradition,” she said.
Joan grabbed one and bit into it. “Ooh, yummy!”
“Thank you, Helga.” Bea plucked one and nibbled.
“Helga, this is so sweet of you.” I picked up a cupcake. “Really you didn’t have to.” I placed it to my lips—
Esmeralda ripped it out of my hand and tossed it across the room where it splattered against my window. “Cici! You’re deathly allergic to strawberries!”
“I am?” I asked. “Oh right, of course I am!” I frowned and tugged on my ears. “I could swear she said fairy tart cupcakes. I think my ears are still clogged from that horrible flight on Bellèno Air.”
“I didn’t know,” Helga said. “So sorry!”
“No worries! Of course, you didn’t know,” I said.
The problem was—neither did I.
* * *
A few hours later I was dressed to the nines, my hair shiny and curly. I paced the Fontaine Penthouse rooftop terrace with its blooming flower gardens and vegetable boxes. A tall mesh security fence surrounded the patio. I wasn’t a fan of heights but Lord Angus had assured me the barrier was secure.
I pressed the cell to my ear. “Do not tell me to calm down, Mr. Cartwright. I can’t talk to Max. You and Zara are supposed to be my go-to people and neither of you are here. I’m meeting the House of Bellèno’s Royal Family for the first time. Going this alone was not part of my job description.”
“I’m sorry. Zara hasn’t called or texted me in a few days. Some kind of drama with Catherine,” he said.
“There’s always drama with Catherine. Why didn’t anyone tell me she’s deathly allergic to strawberries? I want to do a good job. I want to pull this off. What if I screw it up? Oh crap, I’m turning into a self-centered, insensitive bitch, aren’t I? I’m sorry.” I knocked my fist against my head. “How is your back?”
The Prince's Playbook Page 12
