Can't Buy Me Love

by Abigail Drake

  “Of course, Your Majesty,” Bailey said. She polished off the remainder of her dessert in a series of nibbles that rendered his throat dry.

  “The truth is, we’re broke. All we have left is our palace. We have no income, no investments of any kind, no nothing.” Ash met his Grandmother’s eye. She nodded in encouragement. “I took the job with you because it was the only way to keep our home operational and our tradition alive.”

  “It was also one of the only ways we could avoid alerting the Florican people to our situation,” the queen said.

  “Why not be honest? Surely, your subjects would understand,” Bailey said.

  “You’re Florican. How would you feel knowing the royal family had gone broke?” Ash kept his voice light as he awaited her answer.

  She abandoned her dessert for the moment. “I’d be upset. You’re, both of you, you’re part of Florico.”

  “Exactly. It would cause mass panic. You must understand, Bailey—the royal family is an institution in Florico. They either love us or hate us. There are some”—Ash met his grandmother’s eye before turning back to Bailey—“who would happily see us gone and use this as an excuse to obliterate a four hundred-year-old tradition.”

  “I never thought about it that way.” Bailey shook her head. “I can see why you wouldn’t want the truth to get out.”

  Grandmother sipped her tea, her sharp eyes focused on Bailey instead of Ash for a change. “You’ll help us, then?”

  “I’m not sure what I can help you with.” A small divot formed between Bailey’s brows—one Ash found undeniably cute.

  He took Bailey’s hand. When their skin came in contact, a zing of adrenaline shot through him. Her face heated, her olive skin turning just a tad pink. “I have a bit of a reputation with the ladies, as you may be aware. It’s completely unfounded.”

  “So you say,” Bailey responded, but she didn’t take her hand from his.

  “Anyway, if we play this off as a romance, make the media believe I was only working to help the woman I love . . . then all doubts and fears about the country’s financial situation will be laid to rest.” Ash squeezed her hand, and then forced himself to release it.

  Bailey’s eyes widened. “So you want us”—she gestured to each of them in turn with her index finger—“to become involved?”

  “No. Of course not. I don’t want to ask you to do anything that would make you uncomfortable. I’m simply suggesting we be seen together. Visiting the sites and whatnot.”

  Bailey leaned forward, the collar of her blouse sliding to the side, revealing more skin than he’d imagined possible. He reached for a cake of his own.

  “Asher will simply take you about the city. To places he’s expected to be seen. He can show you the sights and sounds of Florico,” Grandmother offered. “At the end of the week, we’ll give a press conference.”

  “But I’m Florican,” Bailey said. “I beg your pardon, ma’am. I grew up here.”

  “Yes, but you haven’t seen my Florico. There are many wonders out there. I’m sure I could introduce you to at least a few before you return to New York.” He smiled, turning on the charm, and using the side of himself he showed to the camera. He was deliberately being manipulative and he knew it.

  When Bailey returned his smile, he almost felt guilty. Why should he? Bailey was there. They’d been friends when they’d worked together, or at least friendly. Why shouldn’t he get to know her better? Especially when he wanted to so very much.

  “When do we leave on this Untapped Florico tour?” Bailey asked.

  Ash sat up straighter, then chastised himself for seeming too eager. “Right now, if you like. I suddenly find myself with a clear schedule.”

  That was not true. He was supposed to meet with a fundraising coordinator for a local charity polo event, attend confession at the chapel, and participate in a video conference with Spain. All of those things could wait.

  Bailey had come to visit. She was all that mattered.

  “Grandmother can cover my responsibilities for the rest of the day, can’t you?”

  The queen beamed, while somehow managing to glare at him, all in one move. It was a masterful facial expression.

  “Fine. Then I won’t keep you two,” Grandmother said.

  Asher stood as the queen rose. Bailey curtsied. “Your Majesty.”

  Grandmother took her hands. “Vanessa. You may call me Vanessa.” Grandmother left the room, then, moving out of sight.

  Bailey faced Ash. She seemed nervous all of a sudden, linking and unlinking her fingers.

  “This is the most bizarre thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  That time, Asher’s smile came easily. “This is only the beginning.” Then, offering his arm to Bailey, he said, “Shall we?”

  She sucked in a small breath. So small, most might not have noticed it. But Ash did.

  Bailey nodded and let him take her arm. “We shall.”

  There was definitely something about the illustrious Ms. Parker which could get him in trouble.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Bailey

  Bailey’s head was spinning by the time she and Asher were seated in the back of his limo. She wasn’t certain how a pauper prince could afford a limo, but when the car wouldn’t start, she was rewarded with her answer. It, like many little things she’d already noticed inside the palace, had fallen into disrepair. The faucet in her bathroom had come off in her hand. One wall sconce hung at an angle beside her bed. The bannister which ran alongside the main staircase wobbled.

  They were little things, but the Winter Palace was very old. She imagined the required maintenance mounted daily, especially with the salt air eating away at everything. It probably formed a dead weight on Ash’s shoulders.

  Though she wasn’t someone who believed in lying, she’d understood his logic. The very notion of the royal family bankrupted upset her. She was no longer a resident, though, she supposed, once a Florican, always a Florican.

  Prince Asher didn’t expect a real relationship from her, either. It would be a pretense. Allowing the press to believe they were involved wouldn’t be hard. Though it just might kill her if he took her hand in his one more time.

  It was difficult enough being with him in such a confined space. Once, they’d flirted and chatted as though they were old friends. All that time, she’d never known.

  Her cheeks flamed and Bailey forced her attention to the window, tuning out Asher’s tour monologue. She should’ve told him she used to be a tour guide herself, but she let him ramble. If she pretended to be interested, she could almost manage the ride without meeting his eyes, without feeling like a fool.

  “Bailey, look at me,” Ash said.

  Or not.

  “Are you listening to a word I’ve said? I can stop talking if you’re jet-lagged or not interested.” His face radiated concern.

  She sat straighter, threading her fingers together in her lap. It would’ve been easy to blame it on jet lag, but Bailey had never believed in wasting words. She opened her mouth to speak, to share what was on her mind.

  The driver lowered the partition between them, however, and the moment was lost. “The Summer Cottage, Your Highness.”

  “Thank you,” Ash said.

  The driver pressed a button on the ceiling—the one that should’ve opened the gates. It didn’t. Instead, there was a squeak, a groan, and a clunk.

  “I’m sorry about this, sir.” The driver glanced in the rearview, wide-eyed. “I’m not sure how to get it open.”

  “Allow me,” Ash said. Before the driver could protest, Ash alighted from the car, jogged to the front, and lifted the gate up and out to allow the car entrance. The driver pulled through. Ash shut the gate several moments later, wincing at its squeal.

  He reached Bailey’s door in time to offer his hand. “Ms. Parker”

  She smiled. “That’s kind of you, but it’s not exactly a terrifying step down. I think I can make it.”

  “It’s for me, ac
tually.” Ash tossed the confession out without pausing. “You see, if the papers ever spot me not holding out my hand, I’m a heartless bastard. If I do offer my hand, I’m misogynistic. I’m simply choosing one of two evils.”

  Bailey smiled and, after a beat, took his hand in hers and hopped to the ground. “There. Now I’ve propagated your bad choices.”

  Ash smiled. He gestured to the palace behind him. “Here we are. The first stop on your tour. My childhood vacation home.”

  Bailey shielded her eyes from the sun as she glanced up. The Summer Cottage was as glorious as she remembered it. Not a cottage at all, but a modest palace.

  He led her through the front doors, and it was obvious from their first steps inside something was wrong. Every surface not swathed in sheets was covered in dust. It had the vibe of a very old building that had been slowly falling into disrepair. The broken gate they’d just passed through seemed to be one of many problems. Bailey stared at the Summer Palace for what seemed like a long time before she spoke. “You’ve abandoned it.”

  “We lost it. What Grandmother didn’t share is that we discovered my parents’ love of cards after their deaths. Or, at least, we learned they’d gambled all of our money away.” Ash smiled. “This was one of the first properties to go. It’s been empty for a couple of years. I had to get special permission to bring you here. As you can see, it’s not faring so well.”

  He opened a window, and the sound of the sea, close and loud, filled the room. What would it have been like to spend summers there? To Ash, the building was probably a reminder of his parents’ bad choices—of a residence he’d never planned to forfeit.

  Her anger dissipated. Not entirely, but enough. She couldn’t imagine what he’d been going through. “I’m sorry. It sounds awful.”

  He continued as though she hadn’t spoken. “The Winter Palace is still in good condition, but the building needs cared for. Things have already started to break that I’m not sure how to fix. I’m truly sorry I can’t provide better accommodations.”

  Bailey waved him away. “A can of paint, a few brooms, and the place will be good as new.”

  “Are you offering?” he asked.

  “I’m handy with a paint roller.” She turned away, scanning the walls, the torn silk hangings, and the scuffed hardwood. The cottage still had a warm and wonderful feel, just as she remembered from her teen years.

  “It’s so much more than I can manage, Bailey.”

  Bailey spun around at the grief in Ash’s voice. She could almost visualize the heavy weight of duty bearing down on his shoulders. A burden he could never shed. For while he might regain the money, it would take far longer to rebuild the esteem he once held his parents in.

  And suddenly, it no longer felt good to be in the Summer Cottage. Ghosts surrounded them. Even though they weren’t hers, they still haunted her.

  Ash took her hands in his, moving closer. “I never meant to use you or lie to you. I know you’re angry, but it all happened so fast. My parents died and all I had was the palace, an eighty-five-year-old grandmother, and no income.

  “Typeface design has been a hobby of mine for a few years now. I thought that I might be able to afford some of the lesser repairs. If I’d told you I was a prince—”

  “I might have sold you out.” Bailey didn’t need to work to finish the sentence. It made total sense. Would she have done anything different in his shoes? It wasn’t like she’d revealed any of her personal problems to him. “I get it.”

  “But there’s more. I wasn’t expecting to form . . . a friendship with you. I came to look forward to our exchanges. They kept me going. They made me feel normal at one of the loneliest points in my life.”

  Bailey shook her head. The last thing she wanted was his pity. To think about how he must have pretended to flirt with her. “You don’t need to—”

  “Yes, I do. I may have just asked you to pretend to be in a relationship with me for the press, but I meant every word I said in those texts. That was me. It wasn’t an act.” He stood so close, their bodies almost touching. More heat, the special kind that seemed reserved for Ash, flamed her face.

  You look beautiful.

  It was no doubt he’d meant those words, at least if the intensity of his stare right then was anything to go by. Would he kiss her?

  No, he was just waiting for a response. And she’d been staring at him like a love-struck teenager.

  “Thanks. I thought we were becoming friends.”

  Ash’s smile was quick, easy. “We were. We are friends. At least, I’d like us to be.”

  “Good. I’d like that, too.” She gestured to the space around them. “I am sorry about all of this.”

  “As am I. It will be all right. I have a plan.” His expression turned cryptic, and he took a step back from her. “Shall we continue our tour?”

  “Yes, please. Could this tour involve lunch, however? I’m starving. My treat.”

  Ash’s face split into a grin. “Where did you have in mind?”

  “The best Florican crêpes you’ve ever had. Bonjour’s.”

  “Really?” Ash cocked an eyebrow. “You think Bonjour’s crêpes are the best?”

  “What? You know someplace better? This is a very important claim. I’m only visiting Florico. I can’t eat inferior crêpes.”

  He took her hand in his, leading her back to the door. “Nothing but the best for you.”

  And there it was. Another of those one-liners designed to simultaneously thrill and embarrass her. Ash was kind of a hard read, but damned if she didn’t want to know him better.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Asher

  Having Bailey at the palace filled Ash with something. He could’ve called it hope or positivity, but even then, he knew it wouldn’t have been right. He couldn’t put a name on how he felt in Bailey’s presence. Not just texting, but talking, and taking long walks along the coastal path.

  They’d visited all of the sights, eaten hot banana and Nutella crêpes on stools in the kitchen, explored the palace’s vast library, and even scoured the Winter Palace’s walls to name every one of Ash’s ancestors. He should’ve felt trapped, what with the press attempting to follow their every move. Instead, he was . . . almost happy. It was definitely unexpected.

  After two days together, he couldn’t remember a time when Bailey hadn’t been with him. That day, he’d decided to take her out to lunch at Frerique’s, his favorite restaurant. He knew what it would mean—even more paps on their tails—but it would get the message out for their big interview in two days’ time.

  “Okay, worst borsht ever?” Ash asked.

  Bailey burst into laughter. Her laughs were magical, almost like the tinkling of wind chimes. “I can’t say I’ve eaten enough borsht in my lifetime to award one the title of ‘Worst.’”

  “Ah. Clearly, you’ve been missing out.” Ash chuckled. “Well, I have. It was on an estate visit to Élysée Palace in Andorra. I was nine.”

  “What happened with the borsht?” Bailey asked, tapping the corner of her mouth with a linen napkin.

  “There was something alive in my helping. A mouse, to be precise.”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh, no.”

  “I rescued him. I named him Philippe.”

  “That is the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.” Bailey seemed like she’d meant it, too. She’d pressed her fist to her heart as though Ash had made it hurt.

  He sipped his wine, his attention dropping to the smooth curves of Bailey’s exposed collarbone. He imagined his lips there. What would she taste like in that small hollow between her neck and shoulder? He had to stop. She was his friend. Besides, he needed to find an heiress.

  After Grandmother dropped a hint about him marrying for money, he’d enlisted Jenson’s help in tracking down suitable future queens. Four candidates showed a great deal of promise. He’d already slept with one last year: Lady Kovačič from Slovenia. She’d been most accommodating. Willing to go down on her knees for the job. A
sh shouldn’t want more.

  But as he sat with Bailey, he finally began to understand. Being with someone, committing to someone, wasn’t just about great sex, though it didn’t hurt. No, it was about friendship, trust, understanding and love. If you combined all four of those things together, the great sex followed.

  His parents once had those things in abundance, though he couldn’t bring himself to think about the sex portion.

  He and Bailey had formed a friendship. They got each other. Ash was pretty certain no one had ever understood him.

  He also trusted Bailey. She could have gone to the press and done a massive interview on her time working with him. She hadn’t. She’d kept his family’s secrets.

  He didn’t love Bailey, but he wanted her. God, did he ever want her.

  But wanting was one thing, and taking was another. He couldn’t be with her. He had a duty to his family.

  “I’ve been wondering something about you.” Ash ran a finger along the stem of his wine glass. He glanced up and met Bailey’s wide, brown eyes.

  “What’s that? I’m pretty sure you know everything about me.” Her smile was easy, warm, as she picked apart a pastry with her thin, sure fingers.

  “Why did you stay in New York? Why not come back to Florico after college? It’s a great country. I hear the royal family is top notch.” He smiled, expecting a snappy retort.

  He didn’t get one, and Bailey didn’t glance up. She continued with her croissant, though she’d started to bite her bottom lip.

  “Too hard a question?” Ash asked. “I’m sorry if I’m prying.”

  She shook her head. When she glanced up, tears had formed in her eyes. She blinked furiously, but it was too late. Ash had seen them, as well as her expression. There was no mistaking the emotion in her eyes. Trapped. Bailey felt trapped.

  If she didn’t want to share, he wouldn’t be the one to force her.

  “Worst fast food?” Ash smiled, taking her hand in his, squeezing it in apology. A jolt shot through him. It was more intense than any adrenaline rush he’d ever experienced. He didn’t let go, even when Bailey’s face reddened or when she met his eyes.