The blaring of a car horn jerked them out of their strange stupor. They did not speak again until Nic had parked the vehicle and they were walking away from the parking lot.
“It’s the Farmer’s Market,” Lexie exclaimed, recognizing the iconic clock on the tower. “The last time I was here, I was around fifteen.” She mentally recalled the schedule that Theia had printed out for her before she flew off to L.A. The Press Secretary was apologetic about not being to accompany her to L.A. due to a family illness, but Lexie had reassured her that since it was not an official visit, Theia’s presence would be welcome but not really necessary. Plus, Nic vetoed the idea of a chaperone. “I thought we were supposed to be lunching at The Ivy.”
Nic held out his hand and she took it automatically. “Not my scene. This is also a good place for celebrity spotting. Bound to be some paps around here.”
The reminder deflated her. It’s not a date. Do not forget, Lexie. This is just acting.
Why wasn’t she surprised Nic would refuse to follow anything just because it was an order? She and Nic meandered the rows of merchants for a while and decided on Korean food. While waiting for their orders, Lexie startled herself by bursting out, “Where were you the last two days?”
He regarded her from beneath half-shuttered lids. “Why do you want to know?”
“Because we had a schedule to follow, that’s why.” Lexie admitted she sounded huffy and irritated, but one look at him and she knew he wanted her exasperated. She shrugged internally. He had already seen her drunk, or rather tipsy. It was as far from her princess persona as possible so being bitchy was probably no big deal.
“I was at the Polo Expo,” he said simply, leaning back against the teakwood chair.
“Oh.” Lexie’s ire vanished immediately but again resurfaced as she countered, “Why didn’t you call or text me? I could have spent my time being productive rather than lazing around by the pool all day, waiting for you to make an appearance.”
“By being productive you mean shopping?”
“You think that is the only productive thing I do?”
“Why don’t you tell me what other,” a loaded pause, “productive things you can do?”
She speared him a supercilious glance, every inch the princess now. “Oh, just stuff.” And as if bored by his presence, she dismissed him and surveyed the various appetizers in tiny porcelain containers spread out before her. Lexie had an adventurous palate that sadly had no outlet in Seirenada. Global cuisine and ingredients still had to reach their shores. Lexie eagerly sampled some sweetened potatoes, bean sprouts marinated in some soy and vinegar, and crunchy deep-fried small fish. She separated a bowl of peanuts from the rest of the spread. Catching Nic’s questioning glance, she explained, “I’m allergic to them.”
“This is so good,” she moaned at the burst of flavors in her mouth. Nic wasn’t eating anything. “Please try some.” She suddenly felt self-conscious and wiped her lips delicately with a napkin.
“I think I’ll wait for our main meal. My appetite’s already been whetted as it is.”
Was that an innuendo? And Dio, why did everything that came out of this man sound so sexy? She popped a huge chunk of cabbage into her mouth and the tart, fiery taste immediately burned her tongue. Her eyes watered and she grabbed her glass of water, taking big gulps.
“Damnfuckshit!“ she cried when her tongue had stopped throbbing and she could talk. Nic had moved to her side when she started sputtering. “What the hell was that?” The spicy food had burned her mouth and loosened her tongue around Nic once more.
“Kimchi,” he said succinctly, observing her for any other aftereffects aside from her deep embarrassment.
Oddly, the kimchi had gotten to her. “I want more.”
Nic’s guffaw rose above the noisy din inside the small restaurant. Several heads swung towards their table, and by the growing excitement on their expressions, it was obvious that they recognized who they were. Mobile phones were discreetly pulled out from some handbags and pockets.
Nic’s eyes remained laughing when she said defensively, “What? It’s an acquired taste.”
Nic shook his head in amusement, looking at her as if not quite believing someone like her actually existed. “You are just so fucking precious, rojita.”
Oh God, no! To her horror, Lexie felt her nipples peaking at the profane F-word endearment. She gripped the edge of the table to stop herself from climbing all over him. Uneasy, she asked another question to divert his attention. “What were you doing at the Polo Expo?”
He knew what she was trying to do judging by the knowing gleam in his eyes, but he played along. “I have a booth to promote our estancia in Argentina. People from all over the world can come over and stay and learn how to play polo. They can also buy ponies and equipment from us.”
“Who runs the estancia when you are playing in tournaments outside Argentina?”
“It’s a family business. My parents and cousins are also polo players.”
“Just like our family business,” she replied lightly, stemming the bitterness creeping into her tone. “Ever think of retiring from the game?”
“In a few years, when the estancia has bounced back from our present difficulties and when I find a partner to fund a project I am working on.”
“Can’t Butler be your partner?” Lexie caught the fleeting hint of distaste on Nic’s face.
“Let’s just say we don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things.”
“Why work for him then?”
He shrugged. “Arion was the only team that had an opening in its roster when my former patron died suddenly. I took it.”
“But you’re the best polo player in the world. I bet any team would die to have you.” As I am dying to have you right now. She didn’t say that out loud, did she?
He slanted her a sexy look. Okay. It might have been just an ordinary look, but everything this man did she found unbearably hot. “It was the middle of polo season. The patrons had already filled in their teams’ line-up. Butler fired his team captain by coincidence and so there was an open slot in the team.”
Two steaming bowls of rice were laid down before them and slivers of beef, pork, and shrimp were presented on a dome-shaped grilling plate. The mouth-watering aroma of sesame oil and the barbecued meat teased Lexie’s nostrils. They ate in silence for the first few minutes.
Nic started asking her about Seirenada’s history, and eventually talk led back to polo. “I hear your brother used to play when he was studying in the UK.”
Lexie nodded. “He’s a good amateur player, but when my parents died, things just became too complicated. And Seirenada is a small principality. Even if Stefan wanted to, there would be no place to set up a field as big as nine football fields just for polo. It’s not a priority.”
“He sounds very practical.”
“He is,” she confirmed, carefully quelling any resentment that may tinge her voice. Don’t forget, Alexandria. Mr. Fernandez is not for you, her brother’s reminder suddenly came to mind. “Stefan’s vision is for Seirenada to become a serious player in the international business community. He is going to do it and see it through.”
She must have sounded too forceful in her assertion, for he answered wryly. “That I don’t doubt.”
His hand wrapped around a brown bottle with a foreign brand. She assumed it was Korean and alcoholic. He caught her watching him drink it. Lexie refused when he offered.
“I take it you’re not a big polo enthusiast?”
He had a manner of looking directly into her eyes. There was nowhere to hide. “I’m terrified of horses. I fell off one when I was little. If I were a fan, I would have recognized you instantly that night.”
He shot her a look she couldn’t decipher, then said as if against his better judgment, “Then I’m glad you were not a fan.”
“Let’s just say I’ve been recently converted.” Lexie, you flirt, her conscience chided. The thing was, flirting with Nic felt like the mos
t natural thing in the world. It was so easy to forget he wouldn’t be sitting across her right now if Pygmalion hadn’t been dangled in front of his beautiful nose. Containing her attraction, that was what was unnatural. This thing with Nic was a dead-end. Do not cross the line. Caution on yellow tape. He must have thought so too because he wisely refused to follow it up with a flirtatious rejoinder and his expression turned grim. She felt mortified.
They finished the rest of their meal with some semblance of normalcy. Lexie was vainly trying to train her body to shut down and her circuitry not to run haywire within a few feet of Nic. She refused coffee or dessert and acquiesced readily when he said that he would be bringing her home.
On their way to the parking lot, a flash popped. They both ignored it. Lost in their thoughts, they braved the downtown traffic.
Chapter Seven
Lexie started experiencing vague abdominal cramps just as she was disembarking from the car. The pain made her pause, one leg already out of the vehicle. Her skin started to feel clammy and nausea was already climbing up her throat.
“Lexie?” She dimly heard the car door slamming shut on the driver’s side and some hurried footsteps. In an instant, Nic was crouched beside her and the two bodyguards were hovering behind him.
“I think I’m having an allergy attack.” Her voice came out thin and reedy. Nic’s gaze roved over her body, checking for hives. “Sometimes there are no rashes,” she wheezed. “Hospital,” she croaked.
Nic drove like the whole Black Cavalier line-up was after him. Heart pounding, he burst into the ER with a limp Lexie in his arms, not waiting for a wheelchair.
“I need a doctor, now,” he demanded to a nurse who was carrying a clipboard. In a few seconds, a harassed-looking man stepped out from one of the curtain-lined cubicles. “I think she is having an allergic attack.”
Lexie was laid down on a stretcher and Nic was asked to step back from the scene. An IV line was started and the nurse started asking him details about what had happened. After recounting her symptoms, the nurse disappeared and approached the doctor, who started barking orders. She came back.
“Name of the patient, sir?” Her head was bent and the pen was already poised on the hospital form.
“Alexandria.”
“And her last name?”
Fuck! Did royals even have last names? “Ligueria?” he bit out uncertainly, his anxiety making him tense. The nurse’s matter-of-fact manner made him long to shake her.
“Would you care to spell that out?” Nic raked a hand through his hair in nervous frustration, and the nurse took pity on him. “Is it spelled Ligueria like the name of that royal family?”
Thank God. “Exactly.”
The nurse stepped back and took a good look at him. She blinked then she glanced to where Lexie was on the stretcher. She craned her neck sideways to see past Nic, and he knew she was now registering the two hulking bodyguards in their “men in black” suits by the entrance of the ER. She started backing away and scurried back to where Lexie was being treated. Nic saw her whisper something to the doctor in charge. He stiffened and his manner became more brisk.
Fifteen agonizing minutes later, the doctor in charge came out of the cubicle to find him pacing frantically.
“How is she?”
“The Princess is fine, Mr. Fernandez,” the doctor reassured him. Nic’s knees went weak with relief. “We just gave her a shot of epinephrine. Her blood pressure when she came in was normal, so that’s a positive sign it wasn’t as severe a reaction as we originally thought it had been.”
“She hadn’t eaten any peanuts in the restaurant we were in,” Nic recalled, puzzled.
“Sometimes it’s the peanut oil they use for cooking. At any rate, I’ll be prescribing some low dose steroid and round-the-clock antihistamine tablets just to make sure. She will be a bit groggy since we started her on antihistamine already, but she can be discharged as long as she has someone to look after her for 24 hours.”
After signing the discharge papers, Nic took Lexie back to the mansion. She was out like a light. The housekeeper informed him that Blair had gone out with suitcase in tow and she didn’t know what time she would be back. Mrs. Rosario showed him to Lexie’s bedroom on the second floor. After helping him get Lexie settled on the bed and returning with some bottled water, the housekeeper left them with directions to dial her assigned number on the house phone should he need anything.
Nic’s phone rang. It was Theia.
“Is Her Highness alright? One of the bodyguards called me.” Nic reassured her that she was and that she just needed to sleep it off. “She must have forgotten her EpiPen in her rush to pack.” Blair had flown to San Francisco for the night and would be back tomorrow morning. Could Nic stay with Lexie in the meantime?
“I’ll take care of her,” he said gruffly, thinking about the early photo shoot for tomorrow. If she was still feeling poorly, he would just call his talent agent and reschedule it.
He walked towards the bed and frowned down at her still figure, unsettled by the fear he had felt in the ER. He settled on the couch by the window for the night.
* * *
Lexie woke up to deep darkness. She was disoriented for a few seconds before memories came crashing back. Acid backed up her throat as she recalled discovering the truth on the tabloid someone had left by her night table this morning.
PRINCESS IN TORRID AFFAIR WITH MARRIED SPORTSMAN WHILE WIFE IS PREGNANT!
She groped for her bedside lamp but was confused when it wasn’t on her right side as usual. A weak light clicked on, and she shielded her eyes from the sudden glare.
“I thought you’d never wake up. Must have drunk more than you can handle,” a sardonically amused voice came from a corner in the room. Peter was puffing on his cigarette languidly, his hair dulled to matte gold by the shadows.
Dimly, Lexie had visions of her raiding her brother’s wine cellar and drinking to drown out the pain of her discovery. Warring anguish, rage, and mortification came crashing down on her as she drank her way into oblivion, knowing that to prevent further scandal, she couldn’t even risk a confrontation with the source of her pain. Stefan had warned her against him when rumors had reached him about her burgeoning friendship with the yachtsman, but she denied any romantic interest in him. She continued seeing him though, behind her brother’s back, believing Peter’s lies that he was divorcing his heiress wife. That is, until the day the media broke the news about his wife’s pregnancy side by side the photo of her and Peter kissing on the deck of his yacht.
Intoxicated, she snuck out a car from the palace, not informing anyone of her intentions. She drove to the little harbor hotel where Peter was staying and where his yacht was anchored. Fueled by alcoholic bravado, she went up to his room to confront him, but before she could open her mouth, she passed out the minute he had opened the door.
“Why?” she asked dully, her head and heart heavy as she surfaced from her drunken stupor.
Peter shrugged. “Why not?” He blew out smoke. “It was meant to be a casual hook-up. I was waiting for you to put out.” His green eyes pinned her. “Maybe it’s time you did.” Peter had pounced on Lexie before she knew what he was planning. Kicking and screaming, she managed to block his advances at the beginning, but he was stronger. Biting his arm, he screamed in pain and let her go momentarily, but he grabbed her hair and hauled her back clumsily, making her lose her balance. Her left hand shot out to stop her fall, but it bore the full impact of her weight. An empty wine bottle by the night table provided her the weapon she needed as she picked it up with her uninjured hand and bashed it against his head, causing him to crumple to the floor.
“Lexie! Lexie!” A worried voice was calling out to her. Where was it coming from? Somebody was shaking her, and she tried to fend those hands off her shoulders. “Wake up, Lexie!”
She surfaced from her drug-induced torpor to see Nic’s face above her. His lips were drawn tight and she could see alarm and concern in the electric
blue eyes.
“You’ve been dreaming,” he said, sitting beside her and brushing back sweat-dampened tendrils away from her face. “Have some water.”
Her heart was still pounding. She sat up on the bed and took the glass of water from him gratefully. Anti-allergy medicine usually tapped into her subconscious and gave her nightmares.
“Did Wainwright hurt you?”
She must have called out his name. How did one answer that question?
Her hesitation made him more vehement. “Lexie, did he hurt you?”
“Just a broken wrist,” she answered in a matter-of-fact tone, refusing to meet his eyes.
She regretted telling him the minute it was out. She sensed his banked rage when he bit out in a tightly-controlled tone, “You call it just a broken wrist?”
“I managed to put a gash on his cheek with a broken wine bottle, so I think that made us even,” she said with some satisfaction. Too late, she had let slip out something she hadn’t even told Stefan all this time.
He was quiet for several minutes and Lexie risked a peek at him. In the soft moonlight flooding the room, his eyes were glinting with some fierce emotion. “Why have I never read any of this in the papers or the Internet?”
Lexie remembered sneaking into the royal apartments and finding everything in chaos. Her nonna had suffered from a heart attack and was brought to the hospital, her last image of her berating Lexie in her cool, controlled voice about her relationship with Peter being splashed all over the tabloids and the shame she had brought to her family. Stefan had gone with their nonna to the hospital. Julian, who had been staying with them for Stefan’s coronation, had been the one to spot her as she slunk back to her room. She had told him she had taken a bad fall, and he had summoned a doctor to the royal residence rather than bring her reeking of alcohol and disheveled to the hospital.
“You didn’t tell your brother?”
She shook her head. “He had enough on his hands. My parents had died weeks before. My grandmother died in the morning and his coronation was in a few days’ time.” She shrugged, “I was always a bit clumsy so Stefan believed my story about tripping on a rock.”
The Princess Finds Her Match Page 10
