by A. C. Arthur
Unfortunately, Gary had alarming news in that department. From what he’d observed in the weeks since he’d been on the island, Malayka Sampson was undoubtedly in love with Prince Rafferty DeSaunters.
It was in the way she looked at him. The way she stood beside him, almost protectively at times, her arm intimately tucked into the crook of his. When she smiled with her dimpled cheeks and caramel-toned complexion, her brown eyes rested on Rafe in a way that spoke volumes. Even to a love cynic like Gary.
They made a striking couple, Rafe with his dark and foreboding looks standing tall and formidable beside the curly haired, pretty-faced American. They photographed well and, so far, were forming a very romantic alliance between the United States and Grand Serenity. Already, the president was scheduling a visit to the island. Gary was working with the Secret Service to figure out the safest and most opportune time for that meeting.
Still, Gary could picture the headline on the front page of global gossip papers and the reputable international press: President of the United States, First Lady, Prince Rafferty and Soon-to-be Princess Malayka. The caption, he was sure, would read “A beautiful union of diversity in a time when the world needs to see it most.”
To that end, Gary had made another discovery, one he was sure the DeSaunters children had not considered. Prince Rafferty was also in love with Malayka Sampson.
At first, Gary had been alarmed that he could see it so clearly, especially considering his own epic fail in the love department. He attributed both his awareness and failure to his mother. He’d married to please Maggie Montgomery and thus learned more about what true love looked and felt like because of her memories with his father. His divorce, which came only three months after his mother’s death, had been a direct result of what he knew love to be and what he was certain he never had in his union with Tonya. That and a slew of gossip and lies that had begun to work every one of Gary’s nerves.
Still, even with a failed marriage under his belt, Gary was certain of what he saw between the prince and his bride-to-be. They were in love. Which meant that the suspicions Kris had brought him there to confirm were slowly unraveling before Gary’s eyes.
“What are you looking at? Is she getting on your nerves, too?”
Gary didn’t answer but glanced at Landry, who was now standing beside him, then back to where Malayka and Rafe stood across the room. He kept his arms folded over his chest and his thoughts on the couple to himself.
“She’s happy to have her friends here,” Landry continued.
“The two over there, bridesmaids,” he said, nodding to his left where a tall woman wearing a very short green dress and another woman with long, curly hair and large-framed glasses sat.
“I wouldn’t exactly call them friends,” Landry replied. “They’re more like opportunists.”
“Why do you say that?”
Gary knew she was right, but still wanted to hear Landry’s insights on the matter.
“Last month, when I was back in LA—” Landry tilted her head slightly toward the tall woman “—she was hanging on every word of an R&B singer that I had styled for an awards show. This is what she does for a living—cozy up to the rich and famous. It’s a very lucrative career.”
“It’s degrading,” he snapped.
Landry chuckled. “I wholeheartedly agree.”
Gary shook his head. “The one over there has been using her phone for the last ten minutes. My guess is she’s Tweeting or Snapchatting everyone in this room,” he stated.
“You’re probably right. Which leads to my next question. Why did you and Kris allow all these people to come here for the weekend? With all that’s going on, this seems to contradict the tightening of the security plan we should be promoting.”
She was right. Again. The new princess of Grand Serenity was astute.
“Let me guess, you want to observe them all up close,” she continued. “Weed out the good ones from the bad, possibly?”
At that moment, across the room, Samantha walked up to her father. She leaned in to whisper something in his ear. Malayka frowned at the action, clearly not pleased with her soon-to-be stepdaughter.
“How do they get along?” he asked Landry. “Samantha and Malayka. I mean, really? You and Samantha seem pretty friendly, so she would tell you if she didn’t like Malayka.”
Landry made a tsking sound.
“A lot of people don’t like Malayka. And you’re right, Sam and I do talk. I have one blood sister and now one by marriage. So I’m not about to betray her trust by telling you how she feels about her father’s impending nuptials. Besides, that has nothing to do with our security.”
It had everything to do with their security, Gary thought.
“What did Sam have for dinner tonight?”
Gary answered the question reflexively. “There were two entrées offered tonight in honor of the American guests. Filet mignon and cheeseburgers. Samantha had the cheeseburger with mustard, lettuce and bacon. To appease the healthy portion of her conscience, she chose broccoli instead of fries and lemon water instead of sweetened iced tea. Which, by the way, was very well done. Tasted more like a glass of Southern iced tea than some I’ve had in Georgia or South Carolina.”
“My, my, but you are paying attention to details tonight,” Landry replied.
Gary heard the laughter in her tone as she patted him on the arm before heading over to the two ladies they’d previously discussed.
He could have cursed himself for falling so easily into Landry’s trap, but his ego wouldn’t allow it. He’d prefer to think she hadn’t trapped him into revealing anything he hadn’t wanted to reveal. Yes, he’d paid close attention to Samantha at dinner. He’d also paid attention to the way Malayka had eyed her future husband’s daughter. Gary wanted to know why.
* * *
“Dance lessons begin promptly at ten-thirty tomorrow morning. Lunch is at noon. Then you will be leading us on a tour of the battle ruins from two to four-thirty.”
Sam turned at the sound of her voice. She took a moment to resist saying the first response to run through her mind. Instead she clasped her hands in front of her and took a steadying breath. “I am aware of tomorrow’s schedule, Malayka.”
With a nod of her head, the gold hoops at Malayka’s ears brushed over her cheeks. The black-and-white floral maxi dress she wore was the perfect blend of sexy but casual. Landry was no longer styling Malayka and Sam knew that no one new had been hired. Now Malayka’s private staff consisted only of one maid, Onyae, who had been part of the palace staff for years, and Cheryl, who was originally her makeup artist but now pulled double duty as her hair stylist, as well. Observing Malayka’s casual style had Sam wondering if the woman possessed a bit of style and class of her own.
“I wanted to be sure you weren’t trying to change any of the arranged plans with your whispers to your father,” Malayka replied.
“My conversations with my father are private. In the event that I have something to say regarding scheduling with you, you can be assured that I will come directly to you,” Sam stated evenly.
Malayka gave another slow nod. “That would be preferable.”
“You should go back in to bid your guests good-night,” Sam told her and began to turn away.
“And we should further discuss relinquishing of duties around here. In the future, I will take care of directing the staff and planning the meals for events in the palace. Despite what you may have read in a magazine, not all Americans are in love with beef. Tonight’s dinner should have been more inclusive.”
“Tonight’s dinner was a nod to my mother’s hometown and one of her great loves as an American. Beef and Texas often go hand in hand,” Sam countered.
“I wasn’t raised in Texas,” Malayka snapped back. “If there is any woman residing in this palace that a dinner menu will h
onor, it will be me.”
“Is that so? Well, tell me this, Malayka, where are you from? Where did you grow up? What are some of the things you liked doing in America? You see, it’s kind of hard to do things to honor someone you know so little about. How about you and I set aside some time to get to know each other better? That way, when I plan for palace events, I can be sure to include things that more closely represent the person you are.”
“What I think will work better, Samantha,” Malayka said as she took a step toward Sam. “Is if you would stop acting like a spoiled brat and step aside like a good daughter should. I am going to be the princess of Grand Serenity and believe me when I say I do not need any assistance from you to do my job.”
“She knows that, Malayka,” Roland said. “We all know that you’re going to be a damn fine princess. Isn’t that right, Sam?”
She hadn’t heard him approach, only felt the tightening of his arm around her shoulders seconds before he spoke. He was holding her still because Sam had been more than ready to pounce. Malayka had pushed the right button when she’d told Sam she was going to be the princess. There was nothing Sam hated more at this very moment than the realization that those words were true.
“She’s going to be something” was all Sam could manage to mutter. “I’m certain of that.”
Malayka’s sickeningly sweet smile slipped as she made her way to the door of the dining room. It never stayed in place long when Malayka was not at her fiancé’s side.
“My position and the duties I will hold are non-negotiable. Maybe you can get that through your sister’s pretty little head, Roland. Oh, and it’s good to see you back. Your father was worried.”
Of course Malayka looked at Roland differently than she did Sam, and now Landry, for that matter. She’d begun smiling again and batting her fake eyelashes. The woman clearly thought she was every man’s gift, especially Rafe’s. However, Sam knew for a fact that Roland was not impressed.
“He shouldn’t worry. I’m a grown man and I’ve been taking care of myself for quite some time.”
“Nevertheless,” Malayka continued. “A little courtesy would go a long way. He deserves that much respect from you.”
The tension vibrating through Sam’s body seemed to transfer to her brother’s as she felt him stiffen beside her.
“Don’t press your luck, Malayka. You can plan all the parties you want, but what you will not do is tell me how to treat my father. Not now, and not even after you’re married. I hope that’s clear,” Roland said in an easy tone.
Malayka shook her head this time. “And this is why I never bothered to procreate.”
She turned and walked away at that point.
“She’s a piece of work,” Roland said with a sigh.
“She’s a bitch,” Sam replied. “And she’s not worthy of you trying to be polite about labeling her.”
He chuckled and the sound allowed Sam to instantly relax. It was always like that with Ro. Easygoing, fun times, smiles, good vibes. He was so much like their mother in that regard. Vivienne was all about living life to its fullest and having lots of fun along the way.
“Come on, I’ll walk you upstairs,” Roland said, once again wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
They turned and began walking down the long hallway that would lead to the curved staircase located in the center of the palace.
“Where have you been?” Sam asked after a few steps. “Things have been very interesting around here while you were away.”
“Interesting by way of seeing my sister in a hot lip-lock with the American she’s supposedly been having a secret affair with?”
Another thing about Roland DeSaunters was that he never pulled punches. Not even with his family.
Sam sighed heavily because she didn’t know what else to do. How could one split-second decision have such a huge impact on her life? Her well-ordered and sensible life, she might add.
“That was just...” she began but didn’t know what else to say. “It just happened.”
“The affair or the kiss?” Roland asked after a light chuckle.
“The kiss just happened. The affair was the logical excuse for the illogical lip-lock, as you so kindly put it,” she replied. “I was just trying to stop one idiot from harassing me and now I’ve ended up with the press and all the people of the island looking at me in question.”
“Ah, come on, you’re used to being in the spotlight. You were born for it,” he told her. “Remember how you used to stand at the top of the stairs and act as if you were holding a press conference? I don’t think you were more than eight years old when you did that for the first time.”
She remembered all right. Just as she remembered crying hysterically when she’d seen Alveta, the woman who used to be her mother’s maid and was now the palace’s maid staff supervisor, packing up her mother’s belongings. To console her, Alveta had packed a box of Vivienne’s shoes and dresses and put them in the back of Sam’s closet.
“This way you’ll always have a piece of her,” Alveta had told Sam.
She’d also inherited her mother’s antique tea set collection and jewelry, both of which were in a safe locked securely in Sam’s bedroom. Except for her favorite set of the collection. Sam kept that one out and set perfectly on a highboy table in the office section of her rooms. On days when she felt alone or confused, she would sit at that table and remember the first time she’d had a tea party with a real princess—her mother.
“I wanted to be just like her,” Sam said quietly as she and Roland approached the stairs.
She looked up the winding marble staircase with its black-iron railing and the huge glittering chandelier in the center of the room.
“So many times I’d watched her on television or even in the palace pressroom talking to everyone as if they were all personal friends. She never seemed confused or to struggle with what her job was, where she should be, how she should say things. She just knew and was perfect at it. Every damn time, she was perfect,” Sam continued.
She did not take the first step. She felt frozen at that spot and didn’t know why.
“You’re not our mother, Sam,” Roland told her. Dropping his arm from her shoulders, he touched her arms and turned her to face him.
“No more than I am our father, or either of us is Kris. We each have our own path,” he said solemnly.
Sam looked up into her brother’s face. He was so handsome it was almost heartbreaking. At that word, Sam wondered how many women had looked into Roland’s dark-brown eyes and fell quickly and helplessly in love. Whatever the number, their heartbreak was inevitable. If there were any of the DeSaunters siblings that knew what they wanted and what they definitely did not want, it was Roland.
“I wish I could be as strong as you are, Ro. I wish I could make a decision on how to live my life and do just that, without any thought to naysayers or repercussions. Or duty,” she admitted.
He shrugged then used his fist to lightly tap her chin. “You’re the strongest woman I know,” he told her. “The only woman that’s ever been able to body-slam me and Kris despite all the self-defense and combat training we’ve gone through.”
Sam couldn’t help but smile as she remembered those times when the three of them would play for hours in the playroom on the first floor. That room had been the place Vivienne had wanted her children to be free to do what children did, without maids or limitations or duty. Even after her death Alveta had made sure the children had at least an hour’s time in that room each week. That was where Sam’s brothers had decided to teach her how to defend herself. They had no idea how fast and studious a student she was. The memory never failed to make her smile.
“I don’t like them whispering behind my back,” she confessed to her brother. “Anytime I’ve stood in front of cameras or a room full of people, I’ve always
felt confident in my integrity and my birthright. Now, I’m deceiving them with this lie about an affair and about my confidence in Malayka becoming the princess. She’s not good enough for Dad, but he doesn’t see it. And I’m not capable of some grand love affair, but the world would rather believe in the fairy tale.”
“People believe what’s easiest for them, Sam. There’s nothing we can do about changing anybody’s thoughts. As for Malayka, remember what Mom always said about what’s done in the dark. We just have to let things play out. I don’t like her any more than you do. There’s something there and we’ll find it, there’s no doubt in my mind about that.”
He clasped his fingers in hers and took the first step, waiting a moment until she followed before he began again.
“As for this phony affair? Well, from what Kris told me in the wordy email he sent, it makes sense—for now, anyway. Though I know it’s not the best situation,” he said when Sam was about to debate his comment. “But like you said, you initiated it, so now you have to endure it for a while. Kris trusts Gary with his life. And I trust Kris. He’s the steadiest and most intelligent man I know. So that means I’ve got to trust Gary, as well. Play the game until we take care of Morty—and we will take care of his delusional ass. But let me know if this guy gets too into the fake affair. You don’t ever have to take any type of harassment from any guy. Not as long as I’m around.”
They’d made it to the top of the stairs by then and whatever Sam had wanted to say had vanished by the time Roland finished speaking. She turned then, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck, and held him close. For endless moments she just stood there, holding her brother, reveling in the strength and steadfastness he exuded. This was what Sam knew and what she trusted, it was the only thing she had—her family.
