The Prince's Playbook

by Pamela DuMond

  “You pushed me away, Vivian. You left me alone in the middle of a fucking park. You accepted my brother’s proposal, kissed him, have done God knows what else with him, knowing I was there watching, waiting, wondering about you.”

  “You hired me, Max. I’m not the ‘non-prostitute’ desperate girl you employed and trained to impersonate Lady Catherine. Remember the job requirements that I successfully pose as her for a few weeks? Keep your brother interested? I was instructed to flirt with Leo. The only stipulation was to try and avoid getting in the sack with him.”

  “Have you?”

  “Fuck you. No, I haven’t slept with him. You don’t get to tell me how to do this job, anymore. You’re out of the picture. I’m communicating with Mr. Cartwright, now.”

  And then he kissed me. His lips crashed onto mine. One large, firm hand on the back of my head, his fingers intertwining my hair. His tongue explored my mouth. He tasted delicious, intoxicating, and I wanted him.

  I wanted him to take off my clothes. I wanted us both to be naked. I wanted to feel him inside me. I missed him inside me. He felt warm, filled me, made me feel safe and loved and protected. But realistically, how long would that last? Eventually we would be interrupted. Life would return to the indisputable fact that he was a prince and I was an American commoner, a mere cocktail waitress. Prince Maximillian Cristoph Rochartè of Bellèno was someone who was out of my league. Someone who would always be out of my league.

  He stopped kissing me and stared into my eyes. “The pawn doesn’t get to tell the player how The Crown Affair plays out.”

  “You might have set The Crown Affair in motion, Max, but it’s out of your hands now, buddy. It’s flying free. I’ve got to get back. I’ve got to sign off on the wedding dress.” I shimmied out of his grasp but his hand landed on my shoulder, stopping me in my tracks.

  “Look at me.”

  I turned and stared up at him. His hazel eyes were intoxicating, his lips so full, his gaze mesmerizing.

  “Tell me I mean nothing to you,” he said, pulling me to him. “Tell me you don’t care about me anymore. Tell me you’re over me once and for all and I will leave you alone. I need to hear you say it.”

  I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood.

  “Just tell me, Vivian. You’ve got to say it out loud. Or I’m not sure I can let this go. I’m not sure I can let you go.”

  “I, I, I…”

  Esmeralda poked her head around the corner and frowned. “Max! Funny running into you here. I was just going to ring you.” She beckoned. “Cici, the designers are anxiously awaiting your final decision about the inlaid pearls for your bodice. Overnight weddings don’t plan themselves you know.”

  I slipped out from under Max’s hands and backed down the corridor, passing Esmeralda.

  “I’m not letting this go,” he said.

  “You have to.”

  “What were you thinking?” Esmeralda hissed.

  “I’m claiming my moment,” I whispered.

  “What moment is that, Vivian?”

  I stopped in my tracks. Like, seriously. I froze. Esmeralda knew. She absolutely knew. Oh crap. My cover was blown.

  * * *

  Esmeralda and I ditched the rest of the ladies. We holed up in a corner of a dive coffee shop on the outskirts of St. Luce and sipped from steaming cups of tea.

  “How’d you find out?” I asked.

  “You haven’t been the same since you got back. Close, but not the same. I called Zara and told her about how you dodged a possible murder attempt. She’s your, I mean-Cici’s best friend after all and I thought she should know. She broke down and told me they hired and trained you to impersonate Catherine for a couple of weeks until she concluded her business in the States.”

  “That nails it. Was Zara the least bit upset that someone might have tried to kill me?”

  “Like Cici, she’s always been a little icy,” Esmeralda said. “In spite of all these years and our adventures I still can’t quite get a read on either of them. Kudos, by the way, on being the best princess impersonator ever. I hope Cici’s paying you a royal arm and a leg.”

  “The pay’s decent. My Uncle Florio’s in Assisted Living. The money I earn from this job will be spent keeping him there.”

  “Good. Or I’ll kick Cici’s entitled ass when she gets back here. I like you. You’re a decent girl.”

  I smiled. “Are you pissed that I fooled you?”

  “For a second. Until I figured out you’d fallen for Max. Where is he in all of this?”

  “What do you mean I fell for Max?”

  “It’s obvious,” Esmeralda said. “You might as well be wearing a T-shirt that says, ‘I fell for Prince Max.’ in huge letters.”

  “It is not that obvious,” I said, wondering how obvious it really was. “You’ll have to ask him where he is in all of this. Are you going to out me to the rest of the Ladies?”

  “Nah. This is all too interesting to spill the beans. I might write a tell-all some day. I’ve always wanted to write a book and this would make a good one.”

  Maybe I did need to keep my feelings closer to the vest. Especially around Leo.

  Chapter 20

  MAXIMILLIAN

  It had been over a week since Vivian had nearly plummeted to her death due to the faulty netting. The Fontaine penthouse had been thoroughly searched, scanned, and checked for finger prints. There was no determination yet if this had been sabotage, or simply a malfunction. The Bellèno Secret Service gave Vivian, the Fontaine family, and their employees permission to return to the residence. But I was still worried for her safety.

  The time clock to the royal wedding was counting down. If all went according to plan, today would be a crucial play in The Crown Affair. The paperwork would be agreed upon, and last minute minor details would be altered before the documents were signed.

  Leo had already accompanied our father to his hometown of Friedricksburgh where a lunch had been scheduled to meet with the bankers, financiers, and their representatives. I’d planned on driving myself, but then thought I’d do the right thing and chaperone the Ladies to the lunch meeting. Why not pick Vivian up first? My driver dropped me off at the Fontaine condo.

  “Hurry up.” I said to Vivian, who was trying to wrestle a high-heeled pump away from the puppy. “We’re on a schedule, you know.”

  “Yes, I know. Stop that, Roman! Cici will kill you if you eat one of her precious Stewart Weitzman’s.” She pitched the shoe inside the closet and grabbed a pair of runners.

  “Not the runners,” I said. “Wear the sheepskin lined boots. Grab a light down jacket. The meeting is in Friedricksburgh which is in the foothills of the Alps. The weather can grow chilly on a dime.”

  “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

  “You’re marrying my brother in a few days. The Crown Affair’s business needs to roll out smoothly. We don’t need another hitch.”

  “Thank you for your concern. Nice to know me almost falling twenty-five floors was a simple hitch.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Yes, I do. Besides, technically Cici’s marrying Leo. Not me.”

  “That said, none of us can afford for you or Cici to get sick right now. The weather is spotty in Friedricksburgh. I’m advising you to dress accordingly.”

  “Bossy,” she said, and slipped on the warmer boots.

  “Better.”

  We made our way into the kitchen, the puppy racing ahead of her. “You’re just mad I didn’t give you the answer you wanted yesterday,” Vivian said. “I have to grab kibble, some bags—”

  “Don’t bring the puppy. Lunch is being catered in the upper room of a chocolate factory. As you probably know—”

  “Chocolate is poisonous to dogs. You’re right.”

  “Wait a minute. Did you just say I was right? Is it possible you declared that I was right about something? Do I need to take your temperature? Tuck you into bed? Maybe do more with you than tuck—”

 
She slugged my arm and pressed a finger to her lips. “Shh!”

  Helga came into the kitchen carrying a bucket and mop.

  “Helga, could I pay you extra to take care of Roman today?” Vivian asked.

  “Dogs are so much work,” Helga said. “Just like children. You love them and love them, but they always want more.”

  “I haven’t had kids yet but I bet you’re right,” Vivian said. “If you can’t do it that’s fine. I’ll find someone else…”

  “No.” Helga sighed. “I’ll do it.”

  “We need to go.” I tapped my watch.

  “Yes, Prince Keeper of Time,” Vivian said.

  I held the condo’s door open for her. “Does something seem off with Helga?” she asked.

  “I don’t know Helga that well.”

  “Neither do I.”

  * * *

  I sat in the front passenger seat of the SUV, Vivian and the Ladies in the back. The driver exited the freeway and made our way up increasingly winding roads that eventually narrowed to two lanes. We passed pastures with goats and cows as we ascended into the foothills of the Alps. The grass was green but there were small patches of melting snow.

  “Lots of goats in these parts,” Bea said.

  “All the better to churn out the fabulous Friedricksburgh goat cheese,” I said, glancing back at Vivian and the Ladies.

  Vivian pointed to a large marker on the side of the road. “What’s that sign with the picture of the saint and the dogs on it?”

  “The Saint Francis of Assisi Chapel,” Joan said.

  “Queen Cheree plunked down a small fortune and restored the five-hundred-year-old church,” Joan said. “She turned the chapel grounds into a sanctuary for Labrador Retrievers.”

  “Oh, I’d love to see that,” Vivian said. “Can we stop?”

  “No time. We’re meeting up with your fiancé and family at the chocolate factory.”

  We finally arrived at a hamlet dear to my heart. An arched sign read “Welcome to Friedricksburg.” My father’s home town. A quaint piece of property that was part of our history. If executed correctly, The Crown Affair would save the place.

  Vivian would learn more about the terms of the financial agreement between Lord Fontaine and the monarchy today. Hopefully she would be an excellent impersonator and tell Lord Angus that yes, the papers must be signed, and the funds needed to be transferred according to the contract’s stipulations.

  We pulled into a space in front of a large three story brick building with puffs of smoke wafting from chimneys. We exited the vehicle, and I was right, the temperature had dropped at least forty degrees since we’d left St. Luce. Vivian froze in her tracks and glanced around the town like she’d just landed in an amusement park.

  “It looks like a fairy tale village in a movie,” she said.

  “Yet another quaint Bellèno town,” I said. I’d seen this hamlet with its cobblestone streets and candy colored storefronts so many times it was all simply a dull blur to me.

  “It’s gorgeous,” Vivian said.

  “Can you believe King Frederick was born here?” Joan asked. “You’d think Royal Nana would have had him in a hospital in a bigger city like St. Luce.”

  “He was a month premature,” Bea said. “The family was staying at their lake chateaux several kilometers from here.”

  “No wonder he wants to keep this town preserved,” Vivian said. “It’s darling. I smell the chocolate in the air.”

  “That’s the chocolate factory,” Bea said. “Wait until we hit the sample room. It’s amazing!”

  I hadn’t visited the Friedricksburgh chocolate factory in over a decade. Now I stayed in the background, kept quiet for the most part, and watched the players play their roles.

  Leo flirted with Vivian, passing her samples. “Try this one, baby.”

  Vivian flirted back. She was affectionate, kind, and attentive. And yet every time the jealousy started twisting in my gut I reminded myself that my Vivian wasn’t overly suggestive. She didn’t throw herself at him. Maybe, if I was lucky, she hadn’t slept with him yet. Perhaps she hadn’t succumbed to his charms.

  A guy could hope.

  “It dawned on me,” Leo said as he fed Vivian a chocolate sample, “that you haven’t even seen the renovations on my digs since we got engaged. I was thinking tomorrow night. I want to spend that time with you, darling. No crowds, no photographers. Just you and me. What say you?”

  “That sounds—”

  “Impossible,” I said.

  Leo frowned.

  “Totally impossible,” Esmeralda said. “Isn’t tomorrow the cocktail party hosted by the Baroness Steadfast?”

  “That’s been on the books, forever,” Bea said. “I’m sorry your Royal Highness, but you’d break her heart if you canceled at such late notice.”

  “She’s your godmother, Leo,” Joan said.

  “Right. The next night then, Cici,” Leo said, nuzzling her neck.

  “But that’s getting awfully close to the wedding.”

  “Posh,” Leo said. “Still a few days away.”

  “Of course,” Vivian said. “Sounds perfect. Can I bring anything?”

  “Just yourself, darling. But first, more pressing matters at hand. Try the white chocolate fudge.”

  * * *

  After a three course meal in a private dining room above Friedricksburgh Chocolatiers, we dusted off the crumbs from our fingers and got down to business. I explained the basics of the contract that included the necessity of the upcoming wedding and the transfer of funds and signing of loan documents.

  “So Papa will enter into a joint partnership with the Royal Rochartè House of Bellèno,” Vivian said. “He will sign on the dotted line, take over the crown’s loans, and save them from being parceled out to the highest bidder.”

  “Horrible people who would turn this beautiful town into a giant tourist trap,” Bea said.

  “Cici,” I said, staring into her eyes because this was the money moment. “I am the financial advisor for the Rochartè Royal Family. You understand that you need to marry Prince Leopold in five days for the money to pass from your father to the current lender on this loan. Do you or your family anticipate any impediment that could delay this marriage, as well as the financial contraction, that will save the Bellèno royal lands?”

  “What do you think Papa?” She asked. “You hold the purse strings and basically this is up to you.”

  “It was your mother’s most cherished wish that someday you would marry into the royal family and become a princess,” Lord Fontaine said. “Your Highness, the money will be transferred the moment my daughter says, ‘I do.’”

  * * *

  I would gladly have skipped the cocktail party hosted by the Baroness Steadfast. But I was Leo’s best man and ditching the event would only incite nasty gossip in the usual rags. I decided to make an appearance, then skip out early and meet my mates at MadDog biker bar on the outskirts of St. Luce.

  The Baroness had married the decades older Baron for love when she was barely twenty. Upon his passing, she inherited his fortune, which including this small palace in St. Luce, a country estate, and an assortment of young, handsome assistants. She lived life large.

  The cocktail party for my brother and his ‘fiancee’’ was held in the ballroom, which was decorated in gold-patterned brocade wallpaper and ornate chandeliers. Four-top tables clustered around a polished dance floor in the center of the room. A small band played in the corner as fashionably dressed couples twirled across the floor.

  Leo took Vivian’s hand and led her to the center of the room. Her hair was up and she was wearing a dress with sleeves around her shoulders that showed off a deep, sensuous V between her breasts. I longed to kiss her and caress her gorgeous tits, pull that neckline down, circle my tongue around a nipple and pull it hungrily into my mouth as she gasped.

  Vivian shook her head, frowned, and said something to Leo I couldn’t hear. But I remembered she’d told me at the engag
ement party in Chicago, that she was a shitty dancer.

  Leo grazed his hand down the nape of her neck, pushing away the silken locks of hair that dangled from her updo. He whispered into her ear, then guided her onto the floor and pressed his hand in the small of her back. The band played “I Only Have Eyes for You.”

  I’m so sorry, Vivian. I miss you. What have I gotten you into?

  I was sick and tired of seeing Vivian at Leo’s beck and call. My shoulders slammed into my ears every time he leaned in for a kiss or slipped his arm around her waist. I’d been a good soldier. I’d been here an hour and it was past time that I got out of here. I turned to leave only to feel a small, firm hand on my shoulder.

  “Not so fast, buddy,” Esmeralda said. “We need to talk.”

  * * *

  Esmeralda and I walked past the sedans, the town cars, and the limos. My motorcycle was sandwiched between a Mercedes and a Porsche. I dusted off my helmet, wishing I could block out the sounds of the party coming from the third floor balcony above us.

  “This plot is huge, cousin. It’s bold. It’s crazy,” Esmeralda said. “I wish I had thought of it.”

  “Just because Zara told you about The Crown Affair, doesn’t mean you’re now part of the plan,” I said and straddled the bike.

  “Zara, Mr. Cartwright, and Cici are still in the States,” she said. “What if they don’t get back in time?”

  “Cartwright messaged me. Said he and Cici are headed to the airport shortly.”

  “Who’s helping you with The Crown Affair in Bellèno?” she asked.

  “I have people,” I said, lying through my teeth.

  “Right,” she said. “Like that sleazy friend of yours, Duke Pander?”

  “Vander,” I said. “He’s not a bad guy. But no, he’s not privy to The Crown Affair.”

  “Got it. The bug-eyed, bargain basement chick you showed up with at the engagement BBQ. Leo’s former hook-up. What was her name again? Clara? Riviera? Carbonara?”