by Alta Hensley
“Sir, allow me to call security and—”
“I got this,” I interrupted. “The last thing Cheri needs right now is to be hounded by men in suits. She’s already a flight risk, but do make damn sure she hasn’t booked a flight out of here.” I looked over my shoulder. “Did you follow through with the other plans?”
“Yes, sir. Everything is taken care of.”
“Good.”
I grabbed my wallet and keys and headed toward the door, knowing that the change in plans was damn near causing Silas to stroke out. He hated when things didn’t go as planned. Hell… so did I.
I couldn’t get out of Spiked Roses fast enough. I needed to find Cheri before her mind got the best of her. I knew she was scared. And I knew a big part of that was me. I was playing as if I was the biggest bad boy drinking my bourbon. The poor girl probably thought I was the biggest dick. And I was one. Cheri deserved better than me telling her I didn’t really care about marriage but rather just fucking. Hell, the woman deserved caviar, champagne, a ten-carat diamond ring and none of the alpha bullshit I threw at her.
Why the fuck was it so hard with this woman? I felt off my game around her. I never had this problem with women, but with Cheri, I felt as if I had to be more, someone better.
Despite what I’d told Silas, I did have an idea where she would go. A couple, in fact. But my first spot was going to be the New Orleans Yacht Club. That had been the place of our first kiss, and always a favorite spot of ours. Cheri loved the yachts. She used to say that she pictured herself in one and sailing around the world reading books as the setting sun dipped behind the large expanse of open water. My Cheri had always been a romantic dreamer. Though even in our youth, she’d dreamed of escape, and all the extravagant boats were like an answer to her dreams.
6
Cheri
Lake Pontchartrain possessed a level of blue today that I hadn’t remembered seeing as a child. It truly was a magnificent sight. I maybe hadn’t seen every ocean or lake, but the life I had lived growing up had afforded me the luxuries of travel around the world, and New Orleans was one of my most favorite places. Which when thinking back about my upbringing, and the words of Tennessee, I realized I really did live a life many would only dream of. So why did I feel the strong need to escape? Why, the moment I recovered from the most amazing sex of my life, did I instantly plan my getaway? Was it Roman?
No.
It was Prince Roman. I didn’t want to be with a prince, and I most certainly didn’t want to marry one. I didn’t want to be a fucking princess. I just wanted to sit in some café writing poetry. I wanted no one to know my name, yet still have the money to sip espresso in cafés in Prague and other bohemian destinations.
I snorted as I crossed my arms against my chest. I sounded like an entitled, spoiled brat. I had the opportunities in life that many would love to have. I was lucky… and yet, for some reason I didn’t feel lucky. Why?
With just a quick look around at all the yachts docked at the harbor, I knew it was very likely that I knew many of the owners of these boats. I knew people who made more money while they drank their morning coffee than I ever would winning some poetry prize, and for some reason, I had always felt their wealth was something to despise. Why was having money a bad thing? Why did I put those rich people in a box labeled bad persons? Were these people—though extremely wealthy—any worse than the barista at the coffee shop serving the coffee? Some were awful people. But I knew poor people just as awful. Why did I judge all the people of my past so harshly? There really was no reason.
“I knew you’d be here,” I heard as footsteps approached the pier I was standing on. I didn’t need to turn around to know it was Roman.
“It’s always been one of my favorite places,” I said, staring at the seagulls flocking over the surface of the gentle waves. The fishy aroma of the lake filled my nostrils, the humid air wafted against my face, and I did feel a sense of home.
“Why did you leave?” he asked, always getting straight to the point. He walked up to where I leaned against the railing and did the same.
“I needed to get out of there.”
“Obviously. But why?”
That was a question I couldn’t exactly answer. “I don’t know. I just needed to.”
“You owe me a better explanation than that.”
“Why? Because we fucked last night?” I asked.
“No,” he snapped before he took a deep breath to calm down. “Because this is you and me we are talking about. Last night was fun, and I plan to do that to you over and over again, but there is more than just a night of fucking between us and you know this.”
Not wanting to fight, and knowing Roman was right, I nodded. “Yes, you are owed a better answer. I just wish I knew what it was. I have no idea why I am so resistant to this life.”
“Is it me?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No. Actually, you are the only thing about this entire situation that seems right. But even you aren’t strong enough to make me not want to run. Something inside of me is screaming for me to flee right now.”
Roman didn’t say anything for several minutes. The awkward silence had me racking my brain for something more to say. I didn’t want to hurt him. Far from it. But I feared I had.
“Roman… I’m sorry—”
“Do you remember our first kiss here?” he asked, cutting me off.
“Yes.” It was a moment I would never be able to forget. I don’t think any woman forgets her first kiss, but mine had truly been magical. We’d both been so timid and uncertain, but the minute our lips had connected, I’d known it was right. Everything had been so, so right.
“I knew then I would marry you,” he said. “And not because we had been told that we would wed most of our lives, but because I fell in love with you that day.” He turned his head to look at me, and our eyes locked. “Maybe that is sappy as shit, but it’s the fucking truth, and I’m not ashamed to admit it.”
“I knew too. Because I loved you,” I admitted softly, not sure if he even heard my tiny voice.
“And I understand why you had to leave. I hated it. I hated that you didn’t say goodbye. But I understood it. You needed to find yourself”—he ran his hand through his hair—“hell, I had to find myself too. We were kids, and in no way were we prepared for marriage. But it’s different now. We are adults and—”
“Yes, but have we found ourselves? Really? I don’t think I have. I think I’m more confused and lost than I was the day I left this city,” I confessed.
“Who’s to say we can’t find ourselves together?” he asked, determination in his eyes. “I’m not going to lie and tell you that I haven’t been with a lot of women. I have fucked more than I can count. I’m not ashamed of it one bit either. I needed to so I would be ready for you. I know you are the woman I am to marry just like I knew when we stood on this same dock and had our first kiss so many years ago.”
I didn’t like hearing of him being with other women, and the green-eyed monster threatened to take over, but I had to shove the jealousy away. I wasn’t exactly pure and virginal either.
“This just isn’t me. I’m not cut out for everything you need out of a princess. A wife.” I had to be honest, and these were the fears banging against my skull and ringing in my ears.
“Why? Because assholes want to take pictures of us? Because we have to show up at parties and shake hands with people? Is it all really so bad that you have to walk away from us? Away from what we could have?” He took hold of my hand. “I’m not going to be king. I have older brothers for that. So, the spotlight is not going to be all that bad. And the main attention I currently get is being the bad boy prince. But once we are married, and I settle down, a lot of the paparazzi attention is going to die down. I’m not going to lie to you and tell you that I love it all either. I fucking hate it at times. But rather than focusing on the negative, I choose to concentrate on the positive.”
“And the positive is what?” I asked
. “Don’t even say money and notoriety because I hate that shit.”
“The positive is you. I concentrate on you.”
His words were like a punch to the gut. Roman truly did care about me. I could see it in the way he looked into my eyes. And when he took hold of my hand and turned me so that we were both facing each other, I could feel the love between us. It had never left. I could put continents between us, but it had never left.
“But if you don’t want to marry me, and if you want to leave on the next plane”—he took a deep breath—“I won’t stop you. I won’t force you into this.”
“Silas said that you own my mother’s house and that—”
“That was to get you here,” he interrupted. “And though it wasn’t right, it was the only way I could think of. But that wasn’t the reason I bought the house. I felt I owed that to you. I didn’t want to see your mother lose everything. Especially when it was a problem that was so easily solved.”
“So if I said no to all this arranged marriage stuff right now, you wouldn’t make my mother leave her house?”
He shook his head. “She’ll never be asked to move, and the monthly stipend will not go away either. She’s been good to my family, and good to me. She’s owed it. There’s a cost to loyalty. A cost I’m prepared to pay.”
I turned, feeling as if a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders and stared back out to the sea. No matter what I chose, my mother would be fine. My choices would affect me only. “I thank you for that. For taking care of her.”
“But I do hope you won’t leave. I hope you will stay and not run away this time.”
“And marry you?” I asked.
“Yes, and marry me.” Roman tugged on my hand that he was still holding. “Come with me. There is something I want to show you.”
I walked beside him, hand in hand, as he led me down a couple of stairs to a dock that housed a bunch of luxurious yachts.
“Where are we going?”
“To my boat.”
“You finally bought a yacht? Are you going to be part of the races?” I asked, though I knew Roman had always wanted his very own when he grew up. He hated asking his father for permission to use his.
“I did, and maybe with you by my side.”
“What did you name it?” I asked as I scanned the names of the boats we approached, wondering which one was his.
“Popped Cherry,” he said with a devilish smirk. “Since I popped your cherry and all.”
I stopped walking and yanked my hand away from his in a huff. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
He began to laugh. The same kind of laugh that started in the depths of his belly and reminded me of our childhood. “I’m kidding! Kidding!” he said with his hands up in surrender. “I thought about it,” he said between his laughter, “but decided on My Cheri instead.”
Right as he answered the question, he turned and pointed to the large white boat bobbing in the harbor behind him. I saw My Cheri written in elegant royal blue script, beckoning me to come see it. “Oh, it’s lovely.” I was drawn to the magnificence of the ship, and started walking toward it, just dying to hop on board. I had always wanted a yacht, and seeing my name on one was… well… the royal treatment.
“Do you like it?”
“Roman, it really is gorgeous,” I said as I still walked toward it, almost in a daze. “May I go on? Will you show it to me?”
“Of course,” he said as he walked up to me and put his arm around my shoulders.
As we boarded the vessel, I could tell that no expense had been spared. It wasn’t garish or over-the-top like some yachts I had been on, but it had excellent craftsmanship. We turned a small corner, and I stopped dead in my tracks. There was a bucket of ice with champagne chilling. Two flutes surrounded by scattered white feathers were next to it. I looked up at Roman to make sure that we hadn’t walked in on someone else’s romantic party.
He smiled and led me to the white leather couch wrapped around the center table near the champagne.
“Why are there feathers?” I asked, not sure why they were cast around. Clearly, Roman was trying to be romantic with the champagne, but the feathers were odd.
“You always said you hated flowers. That they were pretentious. So sprinkling rose petals all around wouldn’t work, and I felt I had to do something so”—he shrugged as he reached for the champagne bottle—“you got feathers. You always take flight like a bird and…”
I giggled. I couldn’t help it. Roman could be so damn irresistible and charming, just as he could be an arrogant asshole. I loved both sides of him. Yeah, I could admit it. I loved Roman.
Roman popped the champagne cork with an ease and grace that only a man who had done it a million times before could do and filled the glasses with the bubbling liquid.
“You had this all planned? How did you know I would be here?” I asked as I took my drink from him.
“I didn’t. I had the harbor on my list. There were about ten other spots where I was going to look for you as well. So there are ten other champagne bottles on ice spread throughout New Orleans. Lots of feathers too.” He took a sip of his drink and casually sat back as he looked at me with a smile. “A guy’s gotta do what a guy’s gotta do.”
“You’re kidding right?” I asked. “Please tell me you are kidding.”
He shrugged. “You’ll never know.”
“Prick,” I teased.
“I can be.” His face grew somber. “I definitely can be.” He leaned forward and placed his glass on the table. “I’m sorry, Cheri. The way I went about getting you here, and the way I acted last night was not fair to you.”
“What was wrong with last night?” I asked. “I remember us having a good time.”
His face lit up. “That it was. But you do deserve better. I didn’t bring you to New Orleans just so I could fuck you at a high-end club.” He smiled. “Don’t get me wrong, I definitely wanted to fuck you, but that wasn’t the reason I really wanted you to come back to me.”
I raised an eyebrow in curiosity as I sipped from my glass, enjoying seeing this more sensitive side of Roman. It reminded me so much of the boy of years past who had grown to become a man. Warm familiar feelings—other than the passion and the sexual need of last night—came flooding in.
“I wanted you to come back to New Orleans to marry me. You know this. But just because you do know the royal arrangement, and you always have, doesn’t mean you don’t deserve a proper proposal.”
My heart stopped. The pounding started in my head again. My ears rang. I wanted to run. Fast.
No. No. Fight it. Don’t try to escape.
It’s Roman.
Roman lowered himself to one knee and reached for my left hand. “My sweet Cheri, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife? Will you please marry me?”
I sat stunned, not once having expected Roman to ever do such a thing. My already opened mouth opened wider when he pulled out a Tiffany-blue box from his pocket. Opening the lid, he lifted out a beautiful diamond ring in a platinum setting. It wasn’t so big that I would hate the obscenity of it, but instead it was the perfect size. It appeared antique in appearance, and I instantly fell in love with it. Roman knew my style through and through—feathers and all.
I nodded with tears in my eyes. I couldn’t believe I was acting like one of those girls. The type who cry at amorous gestures—but I didn’t give a damn. This was the most romantic moment of my life, and if I wanted to cry, I was going to cry. “Yes, yes! I will marry you,” I said as I allowed him to put the ring on my finger. It fit perfectly, which again I expected from Roman. He always covered all his bases.
I put down my glass, wrapped my arms around his neck, and placed my lips to his. I kissed him differently this time. Not out of lust but out of love. When I pulled away after the most tender of kisses, I said, “Promise me that we won’t have a huge wedding. I can’t take that.”
“I don’t know if I can promise that. Your mother is going to go crazy. It�
��s her I worry about.”
“If I can control my mother, will you promise me that you won’t let all the planners and organizers step in? Please?”
He smiled and kissed me on the tip of my nose. “I will promise you if you promise me something.”
“Anything!” I agreed, desperate to avoid a full-blown media circus of a wedding.
“No more running. I don’t want to go to bed every night and worry if you’ll be in the bed the next morning.” He gave me a wink. “I happen to like morning sex.”
I playfully shoved him, but then nodded. “Yes, I promise. No more running. Unless…”
His eyebrows rose and his jaw tightened. “Cheri—”
“Unless we run away together. Together.”
“Together,” he repeated.
“Until death do us part.”
“It shall be our royal duty,” he said as he leaned in and kissed me with all the love of the years past, and all the love still to come. “But,” he said, breaking the kiss. “Now that we have had the light part of this story and did what was needed to officially get engaged, it’s time for the dark side too. I told you that training on how to be a proper princess in my world would be required.”
My eyebrow rose, and I pulled away slightly. “Yes. I remember.” My voice quivered as I said the words, revealing my uncertainty. “What exactly are you talking about?”
“I want you to go home to your mother’s and rest up. I will be there at 8:00 pm to pick you up. The first step of becoming my bride begins tonight.”
7
Roman
“Thanks for coming in to meet with me,” I began as all seven of us took our usual seats.
It was out of the ordinary for me to call a meeting at Spiked Roses, since that was mainly Kenneth or Matthew’s department. Out of the seven powerful men who owned the club, they took the lead. They did a good job running the business side of the club, so the rest of us were perfectly fine with taking a back seat. Spiked Roses wasn’t your normal men’s only membership club. There was nothing stuffy or blue blood about the place. Elite, power, wealth, and sinister delights oozed from every crack in the old building draped in baroque design… but with class.
