The Princess Finds Her Match

by de Borja, Suzette

  But Stefan just said one word. “Pygmalion.” Nic stiffened.

  “Stefan, if I may just have a word alone with Mr. Fernandez, please?” Lexie’s voice was controlled, but he could hear the tension underneath.

  Her brother appeared reluctant to leave but nodded just the same. “Come along, Miss Alano.” Theia gazed at her with worry, but she briskly followed Stefan out of his study.

  Lexie faced Nic squarely. He stared straight back, his stance relaxed, but his eyes were veiled. She caught herself tugging on her pearl choker nervously, and folded her arms across her chest to anchor them and stop herself from reaching out to touch him.

  “Nic,” she began with trepidation and noted how his jaw became taut at her use of his name, “I had an appointment that day and I panicked.” Lexie could feel warmth starting to suffuse her cheeks. A minute flicker in his eyes told her he had noticed. He remained quiet though, probably giving her enough rope to hang herself with later. “I am truly sorry for how things ended that morning.” It sounded so inadequate.

  He let the statement hang in the air for several seconds. “I’m guessing you also had a fully booked itinerary the next day so you were too busy to make a phone call.” He shrugged. “You can save your apologies, Princess. I’ll play along with your pretend game.” His tone was casual but his eyes turned hard. “Your brother has made sure I would dance to his tune,” he bit out. “Only a fool would turn down the chance to own that horse.”

  Suddenly he laughed, but there was little humor in it. A little piece of her heart broke to be at the receiving end of it. “Don’t worry your pretty little head over it, Your Highness. I may have foolishly forgotten back then that it was nothing more than a one-night hook-up but I’m a quick study, especially if it’s written in black and white.”

  Lexie looked at him blankly.

  “You seem to have forgotten something when you left in a hurry that morning. Housekeeping found it under my bed.” His hand reached inside the front pocket of his jeans, and Lexie blanched at the tiny scrap of cloth he was holding out. It was her underwear.

  She took it from him with nerveless fingers.

  “There’s more,” he said with an odd tone Lexie couldn’t make out. He pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to her. Lexie’s eyes widened in horror.

  Blair and her stupid bucket list. Confessing that she wanted to be anonymous for a night out in Vegas, Blair had egged her to make a list. When Lexie had asked her what sort of things she could do, her cousin had rolled her eyes and grabbed the pen and paper she was holding and proceeded to write her suggested to-do activities. Lexie didn’t even have to read them to recall what Blair had written.

  There were just three items: 1. Get wasted. 2. Get inked. 3. Get laid. Had Nic read it? His eyes were enigmatic but his next statement confirmed it.

  His gaze was piercing, expectant. “We never did get around to finishing item number three, Your Highness,” he said tauntingly.

  Visions of Nic’s dark head between her legs and his wicked tongue stroking her into a conflagration were too much. Lexie fled on her heels, slamming the door shut as Nic’s mocking laughter drifted out to haunt her all the way to Los Angeles.

  Chapter Six

  “What did the Prince want?”

  Nic swore under his breath. Rupert Butler was waiting for him in his hotel room, lounging insolently on the sofa and drinking something he had pilfered from the minibar. As he was the patron and paying for Nic’s accommodations, he couldn’t very well boot him out.

  Butler had spies, and Nic was not surprised he was keeping tabs on his whereabouts. He should have thought ahead about how he planned to spin this. “It’s personal.”

  Butler laughed mockingly. His pale forehead and light eyes brought to mind impressions of a Gestapo officer. “I bet it was.”

  Nic started pulling clothes out of the closet and stuffing it haphazardly into the luggage that was open on his bed.

  Butler took a slow sip and regarded him thoughtfully. “I gotta hand it to you, Nic. You’re a fast worker. You think on your feet. Not like that bastard Suarez,” he spat out the name of his team’s former captain.

  “Get to the point, Rupert,” Nic ground out, not in the mood for Butler’s games.

  “You better watch it. I don’t take kindly to prima donna players, no matter how high his handicap rating is,” he sneered. “Tell me, did dear old brother warn you to get your filthy gaucho hands off his delectable sister? If I had known she wasn’t averse to some horseplay, I would have mounted the bitch myself. “

  It was an act of supreme self-control that Nic didn’t pummel the patron in sheer rage. He knew Butler was baiting him so he said in a casually deceptive voice, “I don’t share, so back off.”

  The patron wasn’t fooled. “My, my. So that’s the way it goes, huh?” Nic hated the knowing tone in Butler’s voice. “Listen to me, Fernandez. I don’t fucking care if you’re fucking the Queen herself. What I do care about is getting the alledramite contract from that dithering fool Stefan. While he is trying to make up his mind which mining company to award the contract to, I want you to get close to the princess and dig up any dirt you can on the royal family.”

  “Blackmail? I must say, you’ve got very admirable business ethics, Rupert.”

  “Let’s just say I’m covering all my bases. I’ll make it worth your while.” He named an amount that would be able to keep the estancia afloat for several months while he turned it around.

  Wasn’t it just Nic’s fucking lucky day?

  First, the Prince offering him Pygmalion, his famous polo pony stabled in Walkden’s own horse farm in exchange for some playacting with Her Royal Highness. Pygmalion had won the Horse of the Year Award from the US Polo Association and had received numerous Best Horse awards from the US, English, and Argentine Opens. Stefan himself was an amateur player and competed occasionally when he was in England. Walkden used Pygmalion in his tournament line-up. The horse was a gift from an Arabian Sheikh to Stefan, and Nic would be a fool to turn down a champion horse, one that could sire future winners on his farm.

  “I’m throwing a party in LA next week. Bring the princess with you.” It was a command.

  When Butler left, Nic sank down on the bed and swore, wondering how his life had gotten bloody complicated in just a few short days.

  * * *

  The House of Ligueria’s official visit to the U.S. had ended. Stefan flew back to Seirenada to meet with the Council, and Lexie flew to California for damage containment.

  “Blair, I hope I haven’t inconvenienced you by coming over on such short notice,” Lexie said, lounging on the poolside recliner at her Uncle Rob’s Beverly Hills mansion, his fifth in ten years. Her uncle had a habit of crazy renovating and would flip the house on the market for a much bigger profit. Present mansion already had a subterranean movie theatre with “bed” seats plus a miniature lake with two white swans. Of course, the house wouldn’t be complete without the ever-present stable.

  It was a gated community, but Lexie made sure to wear a wide-brimmed hat and a pair of dark sunglasses in case some paparazzi were able to sneak in.

  Blair’s brown eyes were brimming with excitement. “Are you kidding me? It’ll be fun. This is going to be just like the sleepovers we used to have when Your Royal Highness deigned to ’rough it‘ and spend some summers here,” she teased.

  Lexie smiled wistfully. “I never did to get to paint my nails a different color each,” she quipped, thinking back on how when she was younger, she wished she had a sister to play with. Stefan had been packed off to boarding school and Lexie was often left in the palace with her nonna, while her own mother was gallivanting off somewhere with her father. Time spent with her grandmother meant lectures on a royal’s proper decorum and expunging any frivolous, flighty tendencies she might have inherited from her “common” mother. As a result, by the time she was seven and arrived at the local school, Lexie had more in common with her teachers than with her peers. By virt
ue of her royal standing, Lexie would have been labeled different from the start, but her formal manners, compounded by an innate shyness, gave her schoolmates the impression that she was standoffish and proud.

  “Who says you can’t do it anymore?”

  Me, Lexie thought, and that was the worst of all. Her nonna was gone. Stefan wasn’t looking over her shoulder. Even Theia had been sent packing by Nic Fernandez, his one condition to agreeing to their pretend relationship. So why did she feel adrift yet hemmed in?

  “You always overthink things,” Blair said after she had taken a sip of her sparkling water. Lexie nodded. Blair was flighty, but she always saw the crux of the matter. ”Just relax and soak up some rays. By the way, when are you going to see Nic again?”

  Two days in L.A. and she had yet to see hide or hair of that beautiful, infernal man. He was letting her marinate in her anxiety, and now she was stewing in resentment. No texts nor calls to let her know if they were going to dinner tonight as planned in the social itinerary Theia had printed out for them. She sighed, supposing she deserved it after the way she had treated him.

  Lexie had turned over onto her stomach to let Blair rub a generous amount of sunblock onto her back to prevent getting burned. She knew it was a business deal, but it rankled that the only allure she had for him was that dratted horse. She had seen his true colors now. He was tender and considerate that night but now that he knew it was harder to access the “goods”−Lexie cringed at the euphemism−he had stopped the pretending and the sweet talk.

  “Shit! You’re one crazy bitch, Lexie!” Blair cried in mixture of awe and alarm.

  “What is it? What’s the matter?” Lexie turned over to her backside, clutching her untied bikini top in sudden anxiety.

  “I can’t believe you really got inked!” Blair looked as if she was flailing. “And with a dude’s name? Don’t you know that tattoo is going to take longer to erase than a celebrity marriage in Hollywood?”

  “Oh that,” Lexie said dourly. “Remind me never to do the spontaneity thing again. It’s our fatal flaw. It never ends well for a Liguerian.” Her impulsive, crazy parents had, on a whim, decided to go skydiving for their wedding anniversary. They never came back to tell the tale. “At least I had the presence of mind to look for the parlor’s health license.”

  “It can’t be all that bad,” Blair consoled her. “Being fun and spontaneous landed you a hot hook-up for the night. I’ll squeeze you in for an appointment with my dermatologist and we’ll get that thing lasered off in no time.” A ringtone went off. Blair glanced at the LCD display of the mobile before passing it on to Lexie. Her expression grew mischievous. “And speaking of not bad, your Argentine Stallion is calling.”

  Lexie had already swiped the answer button on the screen, but the sunblock made her grasp slippery and it almost fell to the ground. “Damn! Fuck! Shit!”

  An amused chuckle came from the phone. “Last time you were mouthing off those same words, rojita, my tongue was in your other mouth.” Nic’s voice came through loud and clear, that hint of Spanish accent lacing his words deliciously. She must have hit the speaker button, too.

  “Merparoata!” Lexie cursed again before she could stop herself. She really should stop this stress swearing.

  Blair clapped a hand to her mouth, her eyes going wide, stifling a laugh. Lexie turned off the speaker, her face as red as her hair. Blair pouted and silently mouthed, “Spoilsport!”

  “What do you want?” she said brusquely. After days of keeping her in the dark, she was in no mood to be pleasant.

  “Tsk, tsk, tsk. Manners, Princess. I think I like you better when you’re drunk,” he drawled tauntingly.

  Lexie could only gasp in indignation. Recovering her dignity at the insult, she shot out, ”I was tipsy! And I never get drunk.” Liar, her nonna’s voice whispered in her ear.

  “Alcohol suits you. You should drink more often,” he shot back maddeningly.

  Lexie could only grit her teeth in sheer annoyance.

  “I’ll pick you up at 6 o’clock.”

  “You mean now? As in today?” she squeaked.

  “Can’t think of a better day. Oh, and Princess,” he murmured, his voice husky and sensual. Lexie braced herself for another sexually explicit statement, but all he said was, “dress casually.”

  He hung up, leaving Lexie irritated and strangely disappointed.

  * * *

  Nic rang the doorbell on the front door of the McMansion, feeling like he was picking up his bloody date for a dance. He figured he’d delay the inevitable and give his blood time to cool down before facing her, his kryptonite, and so he deliberately did not get in touch with her. Fucking smart idea, Fernandez. All he had thought about for the past two days was a certain redhead who had played with his mind and dick before leaving him in the middle when things started to get too rough and muddy for her to handle. Never again. He had his taste of high-maintenance women with Melissa, and he wasn’t coming back for seconds.

  He just had to stick to the “Sanitize the Princess’ Reputation” project for a few weeks, armor himself against a pair of cat eyes that had the tendency to make him lose his mind, get Pygmalion, and get the hell out of her orbit.

  Her cousin Blair opened the door. She was in a tank top and shorts and completely without make-up. “Hello there, Prince Charming,” she greeted, giving him a once over.

  “Is Her Highness ready?”

  “Ooh, so formal. Stefan’s not around.” She gestured to the sunken living room. “Would you like something to drink? Lexie will be down in a minute.”

  “I’m fine. Thanks.” His ass sank like a hot knife in butter into a plush velvet couch ,and because it was polite, he asked, “How is everything?” Fuck. He was beginning to sound like Her Highness herself.

  “I’m busy,” Blair tossed her head, a shampoo commercial worthy kind of toss that made her long hair swing to and fro. “Auditioning. Absolutely crushed though. I just had to turn down a reality show. Apparently, the producers wanted me and Lexie as a package deal. I would have totally gone for it, but Stefan totally went ballistic. Can you believe it?”

  He could bloody well believe it. What Nic couldn’t believe was Blair actually thinking the idea had a chance with the Prince. Nic was alerted by some sixth sense and true enough, he saw Lexie gliding down the grand marble staircase silently. Dressed in a white shirt and denims with her hair in a ponytail, she looked very young and carefree. He swallowed a lump that had suddenly formed in his throat.

  “Good evening, Nic,” she greeted politely. Her cat eyes appeared more green with the light bouncing from the floor to ceiling windows in the foyer.

  “Buenas tardes, Princesa Alexandria,” he answered in melodic Spanish.

  “I think I’m going to swoon now,” Blair said dramatically. “I just have this thing for men with accents.”

  From his peripheral vision, he caught Lexie doing some good-natured eye rolling.

  “Shall we?” He gestured for Lexie to precede him to the door and guided her inside his rental sedan.

  “Have a good time, kids,” Blair called out. “Oh, and Nic, remember she has to be back before midnight. Or else she turns back into a boring princess.” She laughed at her own cleverness.

  Nic chuckled despite himself. Lexie buried her face in her palms and just shook her head as he pulled out of the driveway and began their drive to downtown LA.

  From the rearview mirror, Nic spotted a black Camry following them. It was the bodyguards.

  “Your cousin is quite a character,” he commented as several minutes of awkward silence reigned in the interior of the car. He could make out her faint lavender scent permeating the air.

  “That’s very diplomatic of you,” she answered, staring ahead. “The truth is Blair is an overindulged, pampered, and spoiled young lady adept at twisting her father around her finger. But she is sweet and kind and always means well. I’m very fond of her.” Then as if realizing she had become too personal, she clamped her
lovely mouth shut.

  “I can see that,” he replied. She speared him a questioning glance. “You seem more natural around her.”

  “Natural?” she echoed.

  “More at ease.” Like you were with me that night in Vegas, the unbidden thought came. Regaining a modicum of familiarity with each other was not a bad thing, Nic reasoned. It would be easier carrying off a pretend relationship if he and Lexie weren’t all stiff around each other. Wrong choice of word there, mate. There was one thing that was perpetually stiff around her, and it was best kept under wraps.

  To fill in the ensuing uneasy silence, he turned on the radio and unbelievably, a fucking Britney Spears song came on. He peeled his eyes off the traffic for a second to glance at her. She returned his look blankly.

  Just as he was beginning to think she didn’t recognize who was singing on the radio, she deadpanned, “You are never going to let me forget my night of shame, are you?”

  “I swear to God it wasn’t deliberate−“ then he saw the mirth lurking in her eyes.

  The moment she knew that he knew he had been had again, peals of laughter burst forth from her luscious lips. Nic felt the answering tug on his lips and heartstrings. Shite! He was done for. He always had short-term memory when it came to her. It broke the iceberg between them.

  They stopped at a red light and he had cocked his body slightly, angling himself towards her. Bloody hell, she was so achingly beautiful. He let his eyes run over her creamy skin and noted a smattering of adorable freckles dusting her cheeks. Her eyebrows were perfect auburn wings. For a moment he let himself imagine she was an ordinary girl and he was not a puppet in this bizarre drama. For a moment he let himself imagine bending over, touching his lips to hers and claiming her for his own. She must have read something in his expression. Her laughter ceased, her pupils grew wide, and her breathing became shallow.