by Renna Peak
“Yes.”
Leo
Elle has made me happier than I ever thought I could be.
Even a week ago, my life looked so bleak. I wasn’t sure I’d ever see her again, let alone that she’d agree to marry me. That she’d be carrying my child.
Without breaking our kiss, I let my hand slide down her body. She doesn’t feel different, not yet. But now I get to be here for all of it, get to watch her body change as our baby grows inside of her. Get to be next to her and support her every step of the way.
I finally tear my lips away from hers.
“I love you,” I murmur to her again.
Her eyes shine as they look up at me. “I love you, too.”
I bring my hand up to her hair. “I know I did this all wrong, and I have a lot to make up for—”
“You have plenty of time to make up for it.”
“I’m counting on it.” I kiss her again, losing myself in the taste of her.
I don’t know how long we stand there kissing, but finally I pull back once more.
“Will you wear the ring?” I ask her. “I promise you, Elle, this was never meant for anyone but you. I never could give it back to my mother because part of me always hoped…” I take her hand. “Part of me always knew my life would never be complete without you.”
Her hand feels so soft in mine. I gently slide the ring onto her finger, then close my hand around hers.
“You’re everything to me, Elle,” I tell her. “You have been since the day I met you. And you will be for the rest of my life. I only hope I can be the man you deserve.”
She responds by pulling me back into another kiss, and I’m only too happy to indulge her.
A few moments later, breathless, we break apart again.
“Perhaps we should go back to the palace,” I say. “As much as I enjoy what we’re doing, perhaps we should move somewhere a little more private. There might not be any paparazzi out here, but even a picture from someone’s mobile might end up on the internet.”
She frowns, then glances over her shoulder. “I forgot about that.”
“Don’t worry,” I tell her. “My family will do everything in our power to mitigate any press—”
“But you can’t make it completely go away, can you?” she asks. “I mean, you said yourself that part of the reason you stayed with Karina was to help control the story because the press would have run with it anyway. What are they going to think when they find out you became engaged to someone else the night your supposed baby was born?”
“Perhaps I should just tell them the truth,” I say. “That I stayed by Karina’s side because I thought it was the right thing to do, but that my heart lay elsewhere.”
She doesn’t look convinced. “It’s still going to look like you abandoned Karina. And…” Her eyes fall. “As much as I dislike that woman right now for the situation she put you in, she just had a baby. I know you said your agreement only lasted until the baby was born—”
“And she’s already made arrangements for where she can raise the child discreetly. Believe me, Elle, she never intended for me to raise the child with her. In fact… Though she and I rarely talked openly between us about personal matters, I got the distinct impression that perhaps the child’s true father is not completely out of the picture after all. Or at least that she might still bear some attachment to him, whether she wants to or not.”
Elle frowns, apparently considering this.
“Frankly, I don’t give a damn what the world thinks about any of this,” I continue. “I love you. And believe me—I’ve learned my lesson about letting things come between us. If we have to spend the next year holed up here, away from the press, so be it.” I squeeze her hand. “Though if you’d prefer to spend it on some remote island, far away, I could arrange that instead. I won’t lie, Elle—it might not be easy. But I promise I’ll do everything in my power to—”
“I know,” she says. “And for better or worse, I think I’m prepared to face whatever happens.”
I smile. “I’ll be with you every step of the way. And I swear, it gets easier with time—dealing with the press, I mean.”
“I know,” she says. “Victoria’s taught me a lot about it.”
I frown. “Victoria?”
“Victoria Simpson. The reporter who helped me get my story out there. She’s actually my date tonight.”
“Your…” It hadn’t occurred to me that Elle might have brought a date to the state dinner. But the tightening in my stomach is quickly relieved when I realize that Victoria has only ever been a woman’s name. And then another thought occurs to me. “You brought a reporter to the state dinner?” That makes things infinitely more complicated.
“It’s not like she had a camera with her or anything,” Elle says. “And she’s a good person. I trust her.” The corner of her mouth tilts up. “Besides, I honestly believe she’s far more interested in Andrew than she is in you or me or even Karina.”
“Andrew?”
She nods. “She went on and on about how mysterious he is.”
“Ah, poor fellow,” I say, grinning in spite of myself. “He never really liked the press. Never really liked attention much in general. Sounds like he’s in for quite a night.”
Elle laughs. “Maybe.”
“I’d like to think that we’re in for quite a night, too,” I say, pulling her close again.
She melts against me. “I’d like that. Now let’s get back to the palace. You have no idea what these pregnancy hormones are doing to me.”
My chest swells with emotion as I help her into the car. I still can’t believe how much everything has changed in one night. Sure, we still have some things to figure out—managing the press, dealing with my family, finding a way for Elle to continue working, even when we marry—but I have every confidence that she and I will face and conquer every one of those issues. Together.
She’s going to be my wife. My wife. And we’re going to have a baby. I never thought that having such bonds—such responsibilities—could make me so happy, but they have. I’ve never felt anything like this in my entire life.
“You know,” I say as I slide into the car next to her, “we don’t have to go to the palace. I can have Matthias prep my plane if you like.”
“And go where?”
“That’s the beauty of it,” I say, lifting her hand to my lips. “Anywhere we wish.”
Her smile warms me straight through. And for the first time in my life, I truly feel like the entire world is at my feet.
Epilogue - Victoria
Something isn’t right.
Call it a sixth sense, a reporter vibe, a journalistic feeling—whatever. I’m sitting at a table with eleven of my not-even-remotely close friends at the Montovia state dinner—a royal affair, even if they pretend like it isn’t. And I’m not stupid—I know it’s impossible for a journalist to score a ticket to this shindig. Just being here seems impossible enough. And I can’t remember the last time I heard that someone from the press came to one of these things. I know it’s a huge honor to be here, but I can’t shake the little twinge I always get when I know there’s a story happening.
I’m pretty sure I saw Lady Karina and Queen Penelope make a beeline into one of the rooms on the far side of the ballroom not twenty minutes ago. And I’m positive I saw the queen pull Elle in there not a few minutes later. Elle may not have wanted it, but holy hell, that silver dress was a show-stopper. All eyes were definitely on her and the man seated next to her. And that first dance they shared—they should be happy there were no members of the press here other than me. The electricity between them was palpable, even from all the way over here.
It couldn’t have been anyone but Elle who had gone into that room with the queen. And now… Now Leo has gone into that room, too. My stomach does the weird twingey-fluttery thing it does when I’m sensing a story. I can’t take it any longer—I stand and excuse myself from the table, making an apology to the Duke of Somewhere—a middl
e-aged, balding man who thought it appropriate to be the only person in the room to wear his red, official-looking royal suit. He’s also the only person to have paid me a lick of attention tonight, but that doesn’t matter at all. I’ve been listening to the talk—the whispers among the other party-goers, and it sounds like I’m not the only one who thinks something is fishy in the land of Montovia.
I’ll admit it—I only came here tonight to try to corner Prince Andrew. Elle thought she might be able to score me a seat at his table, but she probably has a lot less influence here than she thinks. I haven’t seen the man at all tonight. But even if I had, all eyes here are on this Leo and Karina situation. That’s where the story is—I just know it. I’ve been—yes, unfortunately—assigned to cover the bad-boy prince a lot more often than I’ve wanted to in the past few years. And I remember the rumors of his little fling with Karina. If I’m doing my math right, it was less than six months ago.
And that chick is way more than six months pregnant. I’m not sure how everyone else seems to have missed that little fact. If my previous experience means anything, most of the tabloid reporters I know don’t want to know the truth—especially if someone like Lady Karina is feeding them a story. It’s lazy reporting, but it’s easy—and it sells a hell of a lot of magazines.
But I would love nothing more than to break a story—any story—about Montovia and the stuff I know they’re hiding. Being invited here is next to impossible as a reporter, and I’m going to damn well make the most of my next few nights here, starting with tonight. Starting with this Karina story.
I make my way to the small crowd that has gathered near the side door where I saw the queen take Karina. After a few moments, Elle rushes past me, not even looking over. I don’t think she even noticed that a group had formed at all. It’s not even a minute later before Leo comes rushing past himself—and collides with a waiter holding a tray of full champagne flutes.
Thankfully, I’m able to step out of the way before I’m soaked or before any of the glass reaches me. Leo scrambles to his feet, and I’m about to follow him out when I feel a tap on my shoulder.
I turn and almost faint when I look up into the darkest blue eyes I’ve ever seen. They’re like sapphires, deep and blue, and the light from the chandelier is making them almost look like they’re faceted, just like jewels.
Prince Andrew doesn’t smile at all. He only extends his hand. “Would you care to dance?”
My heart feels like it’s going to flutter right out of my chest. My concerns with breaking a story about Lady Karina or Prince Leo or hell, even Elle’s role in all of it are the last thing on my mind when I look into those eyes.
I can barely nod, I’m trembling so much. But I manage to bob my head in agreement—I think I even crack the smallest of smiles before I squeak out my response.
“Yes.” And then I take his hand.
Epilogue - Andrew
I don’t care for dancing.
Unfortunately, for someone of my position, it’s something of a requirement at an event like this. Tonight, it’s even more necessary. It appears I am the only one in my family who cares to make it through this night without a scene—Leo has made a fool of himself once again, my mother has disappeared somewhere, and one can only wonder where Sophia has gone off to. It’s a blessing my brothers William and Nicholas aren’t here as well—my poor father would probably have had an aneurysm before this circus of a night was over.
As it stands, my father is doing his best to appear calm and collected, but I can see the tension around his mouth, and there’s a vein in his forehead that only seems to appear whenever he’s on the verge of exploding. He cannot get involved himself—that would be a sure sign something is amiss—so damage control has fallen to me.
Which, unfortunately, means dancing.
I look at the woman in my arms. Her eyes are on me, not on the door, which is a good start. She’s not particularly skilled at formal dance, but I’m not of a mood to show her the proper steps tonight. The next time I swing her around, I lower my face to her ear so that only she can hear me.
“No members of the press are allowed here tonight,” I say.
She pulls back slightly. “I’m not—”
“Don’t play me for a fool, Ms. Simpson. My family has done business with you before. Did you think I wouldn’t recognize your name?”
She raises her chin slightly. “I was only trying to say I’m not here as a member of the press tonight. I’m here as the date of Doctor Elle Parker.”
“Ms. Simpson, you might claim you aren’t here as a member of the press, but that role isn’t something you can pull on or off as you might a coat. I’ve seen how closely you’ve been watching everyone tonight. And that is, I assume, the only reason my mother allowed this to happen. But I’m not as trusting as my mother.”
“Elle is my friend, and I’m worried about her. Of course I’m going to be looking out for her.”
“It’s not just Elle you’ve been watching. Can you honestly tell me you haven’t thought once about what sort of story you might be witnessing here tonight? That your professional curiosity hasn’t gotten the better of you?” I feel my body tensing, feel my grip on her tightening slightly, but I try to force myself to relax. “As I told you before, Ms. Simpson, I am not a fool. And I do not abide liars, especially not in my home.”
It’s almost infuriating how boldly she looks back at me, as if she has absolutely no remorse for coming here tonight. There’s only stubbornness in her green eyes. My mother has always liked Victoria Simpson—she says she’s a sweet but fiercely intelligent woman, with more integrity than your average reporter. And when I first spotted her across the room, I took my mother’s words as truth—Ms. Simpson certainly looks sweet enough, with her heart-shaped face and full mouth. But the look in her eyes right now is anything but sweet—insolent would probably be a much better word.
“I’ve done nothing wrong, Your Highness,” she says.
These damned reporters are all the same, even the ones who look perfectly innocent upon first glance.
“You came to this event knowing full well that we don’t allow members of the press to attend,” I say. “Do you truly see nothing dishonest about that? I know reporters have a twisted sense of ethics, but I expected better from the woman my mother praised so highly.”
“If your mother is fine with me being here, then why does it matter to you?”
“As I said, Ms. Simpson, I am not as trusting as my mother. Now, let us get down to business—how much is your silence?”
She blinks at me. “Excuse me?”
“I think I’m being quite clear, Ms. Simpson. What is your price? How much will it take to keep you quiet about what you’ve seen here tonight?”
Her lips purse, her eyes flashing. She misses the next step and nearly trips over my feet, but it makes no matter. She and I are done dancing. We’re at the edge of the room, near the main doors to the ballroom, and I pull her out of the way of the other dancers and into the corridor outside.
“Your price, Ms. Simpson. Please be quick about it—I have other business I must attend to tonight.”
She looks absolutely furious. “I do not take bribes.”
I sigh. “Ms. Simpson, please. We’ve already established that you have a questionable set of ethics. Now please just tell me what you want so we can settle this quickly and quietly.”
Her shoulders tense, and for a moment I think she might actually try to throw a fist at me. But after a moment, she seems to control her temper.
“Maybe you didn’t hear me the first time, Your Highness, but I don’t take bribes,” she says. “Is this how you treat your guests here?”
“You are no longer a guest,” I say. “In fact, I request that you remove yourself and your things from the palace at once.”
Her eyes widen. “Are you serious?”
“Yes. You are not welcome in this palace,” I start to turn back to the ballroom, then stop. “If you are as ethical as you
claim, Ms. Simpson, then you will respect my request.”
“It sounds a lot more like an order than a request.”
“Interpret it as you like. But the result should be the same.” I plan on sending a couple of people after her to make sure she doesn’t try to cause any trouble—or do any snooping—on the way out.
This time when I turn away from her, I make it all the way to the ballroom door.
“You’re wrong about me,” she calls after me.
I pause at the doorway, looking at all the colorful couples swirling across the dance floor. “I highly doubt that.”
“You family needs some friends in the media,” she says. “One day, you’re going to need my help.”
“I doubt that as well,” I say. “I’m more than capable of handling my own affairs. Farewell, Ms. Simpson.”
I feel her gaze on my back as I step into the ballroom, but I’ll send my people after her immediately to ensure that she fulfills my request.
I have no patience for reporters—and certainly not for ones who so flagrantly lie about their motives. Sweet face or no, I intend to ensure that Ms. Victoria Simpson never sets foot in this palace again.
ANDREW - Part One will be available December 6, 2016. Sign up for the Royal Heartbreakers Reader Team now to be notified when it is available.
Cunningham Family Bonus
A BONUS Cunningham Family short story from Ember Casey!
Note from Ember: The following short story features characters from my Cunningham Family books and takes place after the final book in that series (THEIR WICKED FOREVER). I get so many messages and emails asking about these guys, and I couldn’t resist writing this special followup story for you and revisiting this family again (and I have to admit, it made me tear up). I hope you enjoy it!
