Perry and Her Princes (Kingdom of Veronia Book 1)

by Serena Akeroyd

  She pursed her lips as she caught the bitter edge to his words.

  Ever since Xavier had spoken to her of Edward’s past, she’d not deny, her thoughts about the Crown Prince had shifted somewhat. Her curiosity burned hotly and, she’d admit, morbidly when it came down to what had happened to him as a child. But his intensity still disturbed her. Not in a negative way. He just set her nerves on edge, and she wasn’t used to that.

  Or, that’s to say, men like Edward didn’t usually give her the time of day so she wasn’t used to being in their spotlight.

  “George seems to think I’ve been avoiding you. Would you agree with that?”

  She blinked. “No. We see each other three times a day.”

  He laughed a little. “That’s quite enough of me, is it?”

  She was taken aback by his amusement. Perry cleared her throat. “I’m a little uncomfortable, Edward. I’m sure you’ll understand why.”

  He leaned back into the high-backed visitor’s chair. “Uncomfortable or disgusted?”

  That had her brow puckering. “Disgusted? Why would I be disgusted?”

  “I’ve shared women with my brother, Perry. Most women would find that repellent.”

  “Well, I don’t. I’m all for living and let live.”

  “Just not with yourself?” he asked archly.

  “I’ve never thought about it before,” she replied, honest to the last. Hell, she’d read stuff. But everyone read stuff. They didn’t imagine themselves in the ‘act’. “It’s never cropped up.”

  “Until now.”

  She nodded. “Until now.” When he stayed silent, she felt like he was asking her a question she was supposed to have understood without him voicing it.

  Their gazes caught and held for what seemed an eternity. His avid cerulean eyes were more blue than green when his trapped and ensnared hers, and suddenly, she felt her body temperature spike. Her heart seemed to skip a beat as her lungs burned with the need for more air than she was inhaling. Her lips began to tremble.

  “It’s okay,” he soothed.

  It was? It was okay to feel like this? To feel so overwhelmed and lost over the sudden appearance of not one, not two, but three men in her life?

  She raised a shaky hand and covered her face.

  “Do you love my brother?” he asked softly.

  “Almost as long as I’ve known him,” she replied, shifting her hand so one eye peeked out to once again be caught by his.

  “Are you angry at him for…” He waved his fingers, indicating the two of them. “…bringing this topic to light?”

  Was she? She hadn’t really had time to be angry. Confusion had taken over everything else like kudzu. Twining, coiling, climbing over everything in its path, leaving her lost amid the roots.

  She swallowed. “I’m not angry. I just don’t know what to do or what to say. George is looking to me to make a decision, but I don’t even know how to go about formulating a response.”

  He nodded, seeming to understand where she was coming from.

  “That’s exacerbated by the fact I don’t know you. You don’t know me. George seems to think his opinion will sway both of us. Like his judgment is all that matters. He thinks I’ll like you and you’ll like me, so that’s it.” She rolled her eyes at his arrogance, a gesture that seemed to amuse Edward.

  “You know he’s usually right when it comes to judgment calls on the people he knows, don’t you?”

  “Yes. I do,” she grumbled, because she did. George managed people better than a HR manager could with a genie in his hand. “Doesn’t mean that in this instance he’s right.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why would a man like you want a woman like me?”

  He blinked. “That’s rhetorical, I assume?”

  She huffed out a laugh. “Don’t be coy. I know you don’t date when you’re in the country. There’s barely any press of you here with anyone on your arm save your wife. But when you’re in London or Paris, New York or Moscow, your dates do not look like me.”

  His jaw worked. “You’re not my type. I make no bones about it, but types aren’t the be all and end all.”

  Though she knew that was the truth, it surprised her how much it stung.

  “No? So what’s the point of even talking about this?”

  “Because, as I said, types aren’t always concrete,” he bit off, and she realized she’d angered him. “Those women are… arm candy for want of a better word. Do you think I get serious about arm candy?”

  “Depends how much of a sweet tooth you have, I guess,” she snarked, and he shot her a sharp-eyed glance.

  “Are you jealous?”

  Her chin shot up. “Of course not.”

  “Well, you’re doing a good impression of coming across that way.” Out of nowhere, he smiled.

  That smile was dangerous. Sweet Jesus, it was like being blinded by a megawatt spotlight. Her heart skipped another beat and she could feel, deep in her core, some kind of internal shuffling going on.

  God help her, was she wet?

  She licked dry lips. “You have a big ego.”

  He grinned. “Plenty of other big things, too.”

  “Ha-ha,” she snapped, peeved by his ease when she felt anything but.

  For a second, he said nothing, let the silence settle between them until she wanted to squirm in place. Then he murmured, “Would you like to go out to dinner with me?”

  Her eyes widened. “Like a date?”

  His nod came slowly. “Yes. Like a date.”

  Did that mean he wanted her like George seemed to believe Edward would?

  She rubbed at her temple.

  “Does George even understand how complicated he’s made things?”

  “George knows what he’s doing. He’s fighting for what he believes is our future happiness. It makes him—”

  “Arrogant.”

  He scowled a little. “That too, but he’ll go to any lengths to make his desires come true.”

  His words had her frowning. She sat up, leaned her elbows on her desk. “What do you mean?”

  He shook his head. “Will you come to dinner with me?”

  She gnawed at her bottom lip, and though she hated herself for being a pushover, knew there was only one answer she could give him.

  “Yes.”

  “What are you doing?”

  The sound of George’s voice nearby had Perry shrieking. As she did, she covered a hand over her mouth and demanded, “What the hell are you doing here?”

  He frowned. “I asked you first.”

  “Yeah, but we’re in my bedroom. My bathroom to be more specific.” Damn, was nowhere sacred?

  His lips curved into a smirk she felt like smacking. “Are you waxing your mustache?”

  She grimaced. “Bleaching. I’m bleaching…” A cough escaped her instead of an admission.

  He folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the doorjamb. “I wondered what you were up to.”

  Narrowing her eyes at him, she demanded, “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why did you wonder what I was doing?” Ever since he’d made his stunning revelations, they hadn’t been hanging out as much as usual. And though she missed him like crazy, the solitude was doing her good.

  She needed to think, needed to reason this all out in her head. She couldn’t do that when he was there confusing the life out of her.

  He shrugged. “Wanted to know if you fancied watching TV with me?”

  “Can’t.”

  “Why not?” He frowned at her, and she could tell, her rejection stung.

  She really shouldn’t have been satisfied by that. But she was. Call her a bitch or just a she-cat, she didn’t care.

  “I’m having dinner with your brother.”

  His eyes widened in surprise. “Edward?”

  “Yes. Edward. Have another brother you want to share me with?” she snapped angrily, unable to contain the bitterness in her tone even if said bitterness wasn’t even necessary
.

  Before he could reply, she deflated. Holding up a hand, she apologized, “That was uncalled for.”

  “You’re confused,” he immediately forgave.

  “Not confused enough to take my bad mood out on you.”

  “That’s unusual for you to be in a bad mood. You’re normally quite cheerful.”

  He was right, and that was exacerbating her temper. Because, the truth was, she was nervous. Nervous. It was why she was bleaching her damn mustache, had shaved so close to her skin her calves were itching, and she had more cream on her body than in the tub—hydrated wasn’t the word for her body now.

  She was scared to put make up on because she didn’t do make up, but if Edward wanted to take her somewhere fancy—and he was a prince so why wouldn’t he? She’d need to do something with her eyes, right? Lipstick, too?

  Then there was the age-old decision. Should she or shouldn’t she Spanx it up?

  The only decent clothes she had for a date were the ones George had bought her, and they all felt a size too small. On her visit into the city, when she’d met with Xavier, she’d hared off before the date to buy some ‘wonderwear’. But, if things got frisky between her and Edward tonight—and she wasn’t going to lie to herself, there was a distinct chance that would be the case—did she really want control pantyhose to spoil the mood?

  “Perry?”

  She blinked as George said her name. “What?”

  “Where did you go?”

  “Nowhere?” she huffed. “Aside from you pestering me, why are you here?”

  “I told you. I wanted to see if you were game for a TV marathon.”

  Oh, shit. He had told her that already. Christ, she needed to get her head in the game.

  Running a hand over her forehead, she murmured, “What’s wrong with me, George?”

  He was part of the problem, not the solution, so she wasn’t entirely sure why she was asking him, but he was also her best friend. The keeper of all her secrets…

  “You’re anxious about being with Edward. Alone.”

  “I’ve been alone with him before,” she denied.

  “I know. But not on a romantic setting.” He shrugged. “It changes things.”

  “Are you jealous?” She knew he was of Xavier, but Edward?

  “A little.” That surprised her; he seemed to notice because his lips twitched. “I’m only a man, Perry. But just like our relationship has had a chance to develop and grow, yours needs to have the opportunity with Edward.”

  Despite herself, his words settled in deep and made her feel calmer. It disturbed her that he repeatedly told her he loved her, all while wanting to share her with his brother. That didn’t compute in her mind. Knowing he was jealous? Well, it eased things for her. Made stuff seem a little more normal.

  Although, nothing about this situation was normal.

  The horse had already bolted after the stable door was firmly closed.

  His smile was gentle as he assured her, “You’ll have a great time. Edward isn’t always serious. He can be lighthearted.”

  She frowned. “I know that.” And she did. He wasn’t like George—quick to laugh. But she noticed how he behaved when he was amused. Had come to read those quirks of his that were unique to him alone.

  Unlike George who would freely chuckle, Edward was stingy with his laughter. But deep in his eyes, a twinkle would blossom if he was amused. She knew she amused him. She saw that twinkle there often, and each time she caught sight of it, it filled her with a warmth that discomforted her.

  Why? Because it was a reminder.

  That, for as much as she wanted to be testing the water with this crazy proposition for George’s sake, the way Edward made her feel was… Confusing, to say the least.

  That confusion didn’t abate after George left, an amused curve to his lips as he kissed her cheek in farewell and wished her well. It didn’t disappear when she did without the Spanx—just in case—and throughout the journey into Madela, she still felt perplexed.

  Especially as she was alone on that car ride. Having expected to meet with Edward at the palace and drive into the capital together, being alone came as a nasty surprise.

  The palace was surrounded by Veronia’s countryside. At the back of the castle, it was sheltered by a mountain range, and the front was cossetted by cliffs that overlooked the ocean. One side of the building looked onto a forest, and the other side, in the distance, the city itself could be seen.

  As they drove along the coastal road into the capital, she was once again enchanted by how old-world the place was. Sure, Ferraris were a common sight, but so were ancient buildings. Centuries-old churches that peeked out of modern areas, somehow managing not to stick out like a sore thumb. Skyscrapers scratched the sky, while plaques decorated street corners, small bronze squares dedicated to men and women who had died in their fight to safeguard Veronia from Nazi rule during the Second World War.

  For every kiss of modern life, there was an outright hug from the past.

  Truth was, finding those little quirks kept her occupied on the drive. And she needed that. Her nerves hadn’t dissipated. Not one bit.

  She felt sick by the time the car pulled up outside a large building. She frowned, wondering what it was. There wasn’t much of a clue considering they were definitely at the back of the edifice; the dumpsters were stored here, and the old stone walls were covered in signs for the personnel to adhere to. Everything was in Veronian.

  A man appeared at the side door, and he walked to the limo, lifting his hand to his mouth to speak into some kind of communication unit, and then opened the door for her to climb out.

  He helped her to her feet, though it wasn’t necessary. She’d stayed in flats and wore trousers that did good things to her butt without needing Spanx.

  The black pants were silky though and swayed about her curves in a way that added fluidity to the outfit. Topped with a sparkly camisole that danced with beads, she looked simple but dressy. The blouse was super heavy thanks to the beads, but they were the sole decoration on her outfit.

  She hoped she was neither under- nor over-dressed for wherever the hell they were.

  “Please, follow me.”

  They walked down narrow, darkened corridors, until a blast of light appeared at the bottom of one. When they walked into the atrium, she blinked, then grinned.

  Edward was sitting on a blanket in the middle of the space. He had a picnic basket to his side, a champagne flute in his hand, and his feet were crossed at the ankle. All the while, the Veronian Natural History main exhibit surrounded him.

  It was only 6 PM, which told her this place had been closed off for their date. Despite herself, she was impressed. As well as gleeful.

  And charmed.

  Damn him.

  She’d only said the other day at breakfast how she’d wanted to see the latest exhibition at the country’s largest museum—a collection of Mayan art that was on loan to the nation. It depicted their industry, how they’d lived and worked and loved.

  He’d listened. She was impressed.

  He didn’t get to his feet, which surprised her. Instead, he reached up with the flute in his hand and offered it to her. The lack of formality pleased her, and she slipped down to the blanket, kneeling at his side for a moment.

  She tilted the champagne flute at him and he carefully clinked them together.

  “This isn’t the date,” he informed her sagely.

  “No?” she asked, peering around the place.

  “Well, it’s the first part,” he conceded.

  “What’s the second?”

  He smiled. “A first glimpse at their next exhibit.”

  “Which is?”

  “That butterfly conservatory you were interested in.”

  Astonishment filled her. “But it’s not for another week.”

  “I know. There are perks to being royalty. The butterflies are in place for the first time. I thought you’d like to see it before the event goes live.”
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  As her eyes caught his, she figured she’d be nervous. But those nerves had withered away and died. Not only at his generosity, but at his kindness too.

  “Play your cards right,” she said huskily, “and this could be the best date I’ve ever been on.”

  He smiled. “I play to win.”

  She let out a shaky breath. Why didn’t that surprise her?

  Chapter Eleven

  “I wondered when you’d come and see me.”

  Xavier turned to face George who was flicking a leaf between his fingers. “You want to be careful with that. It has thorns.”

  George shrugged. “I know. They’re mother’s favorite flowers.”

  Xavier’s lips twitched. “Of course, I remember now.” Marianne always had appreciated acacias.

  George stepped back and shoved his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. As he did, he peered around, murmuring, “You’ve changed this place a lot since Uncle Sebastien died.”

  Xavier shrugged. “You can do that when you’re no longer the heir but the duke.”

  Xavier had loved his father, but the man made myopic seem short-sighted.

  Months after his father’s passing, he’d had this greenhouse built. It was half the size of the family manor and was where he spent a lot of his time developing new fertilizers that wouldn’t pollute the ground water while also tackling pesticides that wouldn’t leech nutrients from the soil.

  The greenhouse was his lab as well as his office.

  “You always did want to save the earth,” George murmured, his tone fond. “Just like Perry.”

  “Smooth segue, George,” Xavier pointed out wryly.

  His cousin shrugged. “I want to know why you’re still seeing her.”

  He turned his back on his workstation where he’d been making notes about his latest experiment—an organic pesticide aimed at greenfly.

  “You’re asking about my intentions?” His question was rueful. “Are you her father?”

  “No. I’m the man who loves her. Who she loves too.”

  Xavier didn’t stir at that. “She called me.”

  “She did?” George frowned, then lifted a hand to run his fingers through his hair.

  His cousin looked tired as well as confused. Xavier could well imagine George would lose his temper shortly—he always could be cranky. It came from being the youngest of their trio.