The Prince's Playbook

by Pamela DuMond

  “Daira,” I said. “Not her, either.”

  “The Ladies are good with this stuff. We’d be happy to help. Who do you have backing you up, Max?”

  “For me to know and you to find out,” I said and started the engine.

  “Vivian’s a great gal,” Esmeralda said.

  “I know.” I reached for my helmet but her hand flew out again, as she squeezed my arm.

  “Don’t hurt her.”

  “Right.” I looked at the brightly lit ballroom three floors above us and revved the engine louder than I anticipated. “That was never the plan.” I peeled off.

  Chapter 21

  VIVIAN

  After a night of dining and drinking and dancing with gorgeous Prince Leopold at his godmother’s cocktail party I managed again to escape sleeping with him.

  Esmeralda shoved her way onto the dance floor after my third glass of Champagne. I was getting giggly and Leo was swinging me around the dance floor. She latched onto my arm and dragged me back to the table where Joan and Bea were sitting.

  “Where’s Max?” I asked.

  “He couldn’t deal,” Esmeralda said.

  “Deal with what?” Joan asked.

  “The current situation,” she said.

  “I don’t blame him. Politics these days are appalling,” Bea said. “More Champagne?”

  “No,” Esmeralda said. “We need to take Cici home.”

  And they did.

  The problem was, the next night was my official date with Leo at his place. It was a little strange that I hadn’t seen his place yet, but luckily he’d been in the middle of renovations and hadn’t insisted until now. I wore jeans, a cute blouse, and a light jacket.

  Esmeralda and Sergeant Laurent drove me to his place a little before eight p.m. He lived adjacent to Tiefencastle park in a three-story brownstone. A guard, dressed in khakis and a long-sleeve T-shirt with a jean jacket, sat on a chair next to the gate and checked his phone.

  “Gorgeous brownstone. This looks like something straight out of Chicago.”

  “Do you miss Chicago, Lady Fontaine?” Laurent asked.

  Would a fork miss a knife? Would Christmas miss angels?

  “Yes.”

  “Laurent, go ask that guard what kind of protocol they have to make sure Cici’s safe here.” Esmeralda said.

  “Absolutely, my Spanish flower.” He smiled and hopped out of the driver’s seat.

  She turned and glared at me. “You can’t sleep with Leo.”

  “What made you think I’m going to sleep with Leo?”

  “He hasn’t earned the nickname ‘The Playboy Prince’ for nothing. Leo’s going to try and seal the deal tonight.”

  “You mean get me in the sack.”

  She nodded. “Yes. I can just feel it. I’m psychic when it comes to love. The pinch of gypsy blood that runs through my veins is speaking to me via a tingle in my private girlie parts.”

  “Perhaps the pinch of your silk thong underwear is speaking to your private girlie parts.”

  “Don’t get defensive. Leopold’s going to make a move tonight, and when he does, promise me you’ll keep your phone on you at all times. Text me before it’s too late. I’ve alerted the other Ladies. We’ll be waiting nearby and concoct some fabulous excuse to whisk you away.”

  Laurent popped his head in the car. “Prince Leopold only has one guard but they’re stationed around the clock. He does, however, have an extensive security system and St. Luce’s entire police force will be here in seconds if alerted. Lady Catherine will be in good hands.”

  “Splendid!” I said and stepped out of the car.

  Esmeralda sighed. “And that’s what worries me.”

  * * *

  Leopold gave me the tour of his tri-level townhouse. It was simply gorgeous. Brick walls lined his residence. The first level was furnished with built in floor-to-ceiling bookcases filled with books and nick knacks. Signed lithographs hung on the walls. A bar was tucked into a corner of the room. There was a blackjack and a billiard table. Three flat screen TVs were mounted high on the wall. French doors opened onto a large walled-in patio accented with outdoor furniture and a fire pit.

  “Can I get you a drink, Cici?” he asked.

  “Sure. Something light.”

  He popped the cork on a chilled bottle of Champagne. “I’ve saved this Dom Pérignon for a special occasion. Tonight’s the night.” He poured two glasses and handed me one. “A toast. To the most beautiful, smart fiancée a prince could ever hope for.”

  We toasted and sipped.

  “Nice,” I said. “I never used to drink Champagne. I’m developing a taste for it.”

  “You always liked the bubbly,” he said and claimed my free hand. “On with the tour.”

  We climbed a tall staircase to the second floor. It featured a modern kitchen and a spotless living room with a huge fireplace, dark, distressed, lustrous wooden floors and large windows that looked out on Tiefencastle Park. The city lights twinkled like stars. “The view is amazing. Are you worried that people can see inside?”

  “I had the windows replaced with mirrored, bullet proof glass before I asked you to marry me. I didn’t want you to feel unsafe, or have your privacy violated. No one can look in, Cici. No paparazzi can snap a single picture. Once we marry, I want you to feel completely comfortable inside your new home.”

  Cici’s new home. Not mine. “That’s sweet of you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He held out the Champagne bottle. “Top you off?

  “Thank you.”

  He filled my flute.

  “Your townhouse is beautiful.”

  “Thank you. You haven’t seen the third floor yet.” His eyes drifted to my lips. “I’m saving the best for last.”

  “I think I’ve seen enough.”

  “No,” he said. “You haven’t.”

  * * *

  The top floor housed the bedrooms: three guest rooms, accompanying baths, and the master suite. Which is where we were now.

  “We could have your things moved in before the wedding,” Leo said. “Or wait until after we honeymoon?”

  “We’re honeymooning?”

  “St. Bart’s. My mates have a private estate. White sands, warm water, and balmy weather. I took the liberty of buying you a pre-wedding gift.” He handed me a small box adorned with a festive white bow.

  “That’s so sweet of you, Leo. You didn’t have to get me anything.”

  I pulled the lid off the box, unfolded the soft, white paper to reveal several pairs of tiny bikini bottoms. Most were floral. A few were solid, one printed with the House of Bellèno’s royal colors. “Wow,” I said. “I hope I fit into these. They’re practically thongs.”

  “Exactly.”

  I held one out in front of me. It was the size of a handkerchief. If your cat used a handkerchief. “There’s just one tiny problem,” I said. “There are no tops.”

  He grinned. “You won’t need them, darling. Simply sunscreen. Where we’re staying the beaches are topless. I have one more surprise for you. Hang on.” He raced into his bathroom. “No peeking.”

  “Close the door or I’ll be tempted.”

  He laughed and slammed the door.

  I strolled around his gigantic suite. The furniture was rugged and masculine. I ran my hand across a wooden bureau; this wasn’t from Ikea. French doors opened onto a terrace. The view was to die for.

  The king-sized bed had thick, rugged, hewn wooden posts. There were a few framed photos on his nightstand. I sat on the bed. His mom and dad were in one picture. In another he was hugging his Nana and wearing a cap and gown. Had to be his college graduation. There was a photo of him on the soccer field kicking a goal. His mates were jumping for joy in the air.

  Tucked behind all the pictures, almost as it had been shoved into hiding, was a picture of him kissing some girl’s cheek. I scooched forward to get a better view, practically lying on my stomach.

  “Getting comfortable without me?”


  “I’m sorry?” I turned and glanced up at Leo. He was naked except for board shorts that matched one of my new bikini bottoms. He was tanned and chiseled, his body filled with lean, ripped muscles, and I could see his length growing in his pants.

  “Do you like?” he asked.

  “Fantastic. We’ll be all matchy on the beach when we roll around in the sand.”

  “Even better, Cici, we can roll around in my bed. Get a head start on the sand.” His hard-on strained against his board shorts as he strode toward the bed and crawled on top of me before I had the wherewith all to sit up.

  “Um,” I said.

  “Yum, indeed.” He kissed me thoroughly, his teeth nibbling my lower lip, his tongue darting inside my mouth. One hand bunched my hair while the other caressed my face and then my shoulders. He pulled my top up. “Good God, Cici, after all these years, it’s you and me together at last. I can’t tell you how excited I am.”

  I could tell him how excited he was by the heat as well as the pressure from his massive, festively-attired cock grinding into my pelvis. If I was back in Chicago and Leo was the Johnny’s Pizzeria Delivery Guy, I would seriously be tempted to give this a go. But not only was I under strict orders not to sleep with Leo, I was also crazy about his brother.

  “Should we wait for our wedding night, when this will be so much more special?” I asked.

  He headed south toward the V between my legs. “I think it’s pretty damn special right now.” He unzipped my pants with his teeth.

  “I’m parched, Leo. Do you think you could get me a little more of that Champagne?”

  “Perhaps you’d like Champagne afterward?” He kissed my stomach, his mouth moist and warm on my skin.

  “No, Leopold, best fiancé ever. I need it now. And something to eat. I’m getting lightheaded just like that day on the tarmac.”

  He rolled off me. “You’re killing me, Cici. But there’s no way I could take seeing you pass out again.” He strode away.

  I grabbed my cell from my purse and texted Esmeralda:

  Vivian: 911! SACK ATTACK!

  I pulled my shirt back down below my bra and zipped up my pants so fast I caught the hem of my top in the zipper. “Crap!”

  “What was that, darling?”

  “Fat!” I yelled back. “I have to fit in that beautiful gown in just a few days when I marry you. Nothing too rich in calories for me. I don’t want to get fat.”

  Leo walked back in, carrying the bottle of Champagne. “You look gorgeous, darling. I called the kitchen for some food.”

  There was a knock on the door. “Your Royal Highness.”

  “Leave it outside the door,” Leo said.

  “Yes, Your Highness. But Lady Catherine’s Ladies-in-Waiting have arrived. They need to speak with her on a matter most urgent.”

  “Tell them to leave. We are indisposed until the morning.”

  “They say they won’t take no for an answer, Prince—”

  The door flew open and the Ladies strode in.

  “Pardon, Your Highness. We need the bride,” Joan said.

  “You can have her tomorrow,” Leo said.

  “Last minute wardrobe malfunctions,” Esmeralda said. “Something about the dress. It has to be perfect, you know.”

  “Oh Leo, I’m so sorry,” I said, holding my pants closed with one hand. “We were having such a delightful time.”

  “I can’t believe this is happening.” He sat back on his bed and dropped his forehead into his hands.

  The Ladies escorted me out of the room. “I’ll be back soon, Leo. I just know it.”

  * * *

  The disco ball glittered over the dance floor as strobe lights flashed on and off. A female DJ with multi-colored pink, blue and purple dreads sat in a booth high above the floor and spun a combination of hits from the 70s upward.

  Club Tiefencastle was packed with partiers. It was loud. It was decadent. Its customers wore everything from couture to jeans and T-shirts. No one seemed to care as everyone danced with everyone else and the vast majority seemed to be having a good time.

  “Have we time travelled to the 70s?” I hollered over the music.

  “No,” Joan said. “Someplace much more fun.”

  “I know you all mean well, but I’m not sure I’m up for clubbing,” I said. “Thanks for rescuing me. I think I’ll call it an early night and get some rest.”

  “Chill out, Lady Fontaine.” Esmeralda said.

  The Ladies had secured a four-top table adjacent to the dance floor. It was piled high with glasses and plates of munchies. A sweaty bottle of Champagne rested in a silver bucket. Bea danced to a rock and roll song with a buff, half-naked man, dressed only in jeans, boots, and a cowboy hat.

  We wore hats with tinted visors that covered our faces. “The Velcro on this thing is itchy. Why do we have to wear these?” I asked.

  “We can’t allow anyone to snap your picture and sell it to the press. It wouldn’t be good for your new, proper image.”

  Bea made her way off the stage, fanned her cleavage, and plunked down in her chair. “That guy knew how to dance, man. My hips haven’t moved like that since I gave birth. I tipped him ten euros. Is that enough?”

  “Yes,” Joan said.

  The DJ took the mic. “Ladies and gentleman. Welcome to Club Tiefencastle and Throwback Thursday’s fun night. We’ve got a great show for you. Let’s start the festivities with Lord Byron of Naughty-ham.”

  All the lights in the place were cut except for the strobes. A hush fell over the crowd.

  A handsome, buff guy wearing a tuxedo and carrying a small chair sauntered onto the stage. He bowed to the audience, shrugged off his coat, and hung it on the back of the seat. He stretched his shoulders wide, took off his tie and tossed it into the audience. The woman who caught it screamed. He winked at her then dropped to the dance floor and did a couple of push-ups. Then he popped back up, smiled at the crowd and ripped off his shirt. He swung it around his head a few times, his chest smooth, his six-pack abs rock hard and defined. “You want it—Ladies?”

  “We want it bad!” a woman yelled.

  He tossed her his shirt, then clasped his hands behind his head, flexed his chest muscles and did a few pelvic thrusts and grinds. Then he slowly unzipped his trousers.

  “You all brought me to a strip club,” I said.

  “It’s your secret bachelorette party,” Joan said.

  “Have another cocktail,” Esmeralda said.

  “I fear there are more cocks around here than tails,” I said.

  The stripper smiled over his shoulder and shook his ass. He shimmied off his trousers and hung them on the back of the chair.

  “Ha!” Bea said. “Lord Naughty-ham clearly proved you wrong on that one.”

  I pushed my chair back and stood up. “I’m tired. I’m out of here. You all stay.”

  “But I just paid Lord Naughty-ham seventy euros to give you a lap-dance!” Joan pouted.

  “Take that bullet for me. See you!” I threw them a kiss and walked out.

  * * *

  In the back of the cab I dug through my purse searching for my phone only to realize there was no phone. I’d probably left it on the bed at Leo’s place.

  “He’s sleeping, Lady Fontaine,” the guard said after he begrudgingly let me inside. “I’m under strict orders not to disturb him tonight.”

  “Yes, I understand that. But I’m pretty sure my phone’s in his room.” I strode past him. “He can go back to sleep shortly.”

  “Not a good idea, to wake him, Lady Fontaine,” the guard said.

  “I’ll be out of here in a second.”

  I strode down the hallway to the master suite. Outside the door I heard a few bangs and soft moans. Perhaps he was watching late-night porn. Taking care of his hard-on the old fashioned way. I cracked the door open. “Sorry to bother you, but I forgot my phone…”

  Leo was banging Daira, the brunette that Max had brought to his family’s engagement party. Daira, who Leop
old insisted he used to be involved with, but apparently was still involved with.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said.

  Leo moved off her, and pulled a sheet over them. “It’s just a farewell roll in the hay,” he said as if it was no big deal.

  Daira pouted. “That’s not what you told me.”

  “This is nothing,” Leo said. “This is a mistake. I’m sorry! It will never happen again. What kind of man do you think I am?”

  “I know what kind of man you are.” I twisted the ring from my finger and pitched it at him. “You’re fucking single, that’s what you are.”

  Daira caught the ring and smiled. “Leo, this is for the best. You need to let that bitch go.”

  “Cici, I’m sorry,” he said wrapping a sheet around himself, stumbling in the covers as he tried to get out of bed. “Give me another chance.”

  Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, the skanky ho with the alien bug eyes slid the ring on her finger, held her hand out in front of her, and smiled. “Cici doesn’t understand you the way I do, Leopold. She never will.”

  “Enjoy each other.” I grabbed my phone which had somehow landed up on the floor and left.

  “Cici!” Leo called. “I’m sorry! Come back!”

  Chapter 22

  VIVIAN

  I jogged back to the condo and tried to wrap my head around this. I wasn’t in love with Leopold. This was simply a job. But I still felt violated. I felt fooled. I felt embarrassed for myself and Cici. If a sane person in normal circumstances heard my story, they’d say I didn’t have a leg to stand on. Because I was crazy about Leo’s brother.

  I picked up the pace and ran the rest of the way. I took the elevator up to the Fontaine family penthouse only to be greeted by—silence. “Hello!” I said. “Is anyone home?”

  No one answered.

  I entered my bedroom. “Roman?” The pen was empty. Where was my puppy?