Ravishing Royals Box Set: Books 1 - 5

by Holly Rayner

  “You left your family behind and went to another part of the world with no set plans. You agreed to stay married to a complete stranger. You have faith and trust in your heart. How could you not handle one dinner with the King of Stromhaer?”

  Tears blur my vision, and I swipe them away. “Okay, well when you put it like that…”

  “I mean it.” He chuckles.

  I blink my eyes dry. “Thank you. If you believe in me, that helps.”

  Knowing he has confidence in me changes so much. It allows me to feel excited about all of this. I’m going to a palace! To have dinner with the king and queen!

  Never in my wildest dreams did I think something like this would happen to me.

  “It will be a success,” Max says. “I promise. And soon we will be out of Stromhaer and doing as we please.”

  That comment shocks me a little.

  “Stromhaer is great,” I say.

  He shrugs. “Yes, outside of the palace it is great. But as far away from Otto as possible is even better.”

  There’s a twinge in my heart. “Do you really want that much distance between yourself and your dad?”

  His posture stiffens. “It’s not that simple. It’s something that has to be done in order for me to preserve my sanity.”

  I nod and get busy drinking water. My dad and I were close, but we had a lot of difficulties as well. His getting sick made me want to work through those problems for the first time in my life. In a way, I’m grateful for the two years we had in the knowledge that they would be the last.

  Would Max feel differently about his dad if he had the same heads-up? There’s certainly nothing like a ticking clock when it comes to putting perspective on things.

  Putting my water down, I consider pressing the topic, but Max is standing.

  “I must shower and freshen up,” he says. “There is a guest room if you would like to rest.”

  “I’m fine,” I say. “Too nervous to really take a nap or anything.”

  He nods, and I feel something is different between us. He doesn’t like what I said about Otto. It hit a nerve.

  “Someone from the palace will arrive to clean up,” he says. “Please make yourself comfortable and let me know if you need anything.”

  He goes through the kitchen and down the one hallway, and I’m left to explore the cottage on my own.

  There’s not much more to see, it turns out. The guest bedroom and bath are as simple as the rest of the home. It’s more like a hotel in here than anything else.

  Sitting on the couch, I rub my palms up and down the tops of my thighs. My anxiety’s returning.

  Max believes in me, but what if that trust is misplaced? From the way he talks about his father, the man sounds larger than life.

  Could it be I’ve bitten off way more than I can chew?

  Chapter 12

  Poppy

  My phone pings while Max is still in the shower. It’s the lawyer, with the message that everything in the contract looks good.

  I didn’t know I was nervous about the contract until now, when I learn I’m in the clear in that area. Sighing in relief, I fall onto my back on the couch.

  A giggle escapes my throat. I can only imagine what the lawyer thought when he first set eyes on the contract for marriage obligations between a Jersey girl and a Scandinavian prince.

  Checking the time, I see it’s right after dinner in New Jersey. Laura could be busy getting the kids ready for bed, but if Oscar is there to help out, I might be able to snag a quick chat with her.

  Still reclining on the cushions, I call her up. A few rings go by.

  “Oh, hey, Princess Poppy,” she answers.

  “Stop,” I chastise.

  “Why?” She laughs. “Have you gotten yourself kicked out of the kingdom already?”

  “No, not yet.” Sitting up, I glance in the direction of the hall. I can still hear a shower running on the other end of the cottage, so I have some time before Max is back.

  “How is it?” Laura asks. “Tell me everything.”

  “I don’t know if I could tell you everything even if I had all night. I did get the contract back, though. And it looks good. Thanks for the recommendation.”

  “You’re welcome, but is that really the news you’re gonna throw at me? Tell me what you’ve been doing there. Or who.”

  “Laura!” I laugh.

  “Don’t act coy, sis.”

  Sighing, I wiggle around on the couch. It’s a comfy one, but I can’t seem to get settled. I’m too worked up.

  “Nothing like that has happened between us,” I whisper. “You know it can’t.”

  “Correction. You said it can’t.” There’s the sound of a cabinet shutting, and then what I think is the dishwasher running. She must be cleaning up after dinner.

  “And it’s for the best, although…” I press my lips tight together. I shouldn’t have said anything, but it’s too late.

  “Although what?” she asks, the question dripping with suspicion. “Poppy?”

  “We had a really great night last night. Like, amazing.” Shaking my head, I close my eyes.

  Max was in my dreams all night long, but they were mostly replays of our evening together. Apparently my subconscious couldn’t think of anything to add, except one thing.

  In my dreams, we kissed on that bench by the ice rink, and it was absolutely the most romantic and sensual experience of my life.

  “That’s great,” Laura says.

  “His mom died eleven years ago. When he was eighteen. Did you know that?”

  “Yeah. I read it online.”

  I twist a strand of hair around my finger. “It’s so sad.”

  “Our mom died,” Laura points out. “And our dad. I’ve never heard you ask for people’s sympathy.”

  “Yeah, but this is different.”

  “How so?”

  “His dad is still alive, and they don’t have the best relationship. From what I’ve heard, it sounds awful.”

  “Well, he has a lot of expectations,” Laura says, “being a king. He wants his son to live up to some pretty high standards.”

  “I think it’s more than the royal aspect.”

  “What else would it be?”

  “I dunno. I’m not a therapist or anything…”

  “Clearly,” she scoffs.

  “But maybe it’s some old stuff. Like resentments from when Max’s mom was alive, or from around when she died.”

  “Hm.”

  I wait for her to continue. “Hm?” I encourage.

  “I don’t know if it’s that. Unless—did he tell you he holds something against his dad?”

  “He’s said…” I try to remember Max’s specific words when talking about Otto. “He doesn’t seem to want to say much. He’s just told me that he doesn’t like how his father wants to control his life.”

  “Hm.”

  “Another hm?” I ask.

  “Yeah.”

  “You’re not telling me something,” I say.

  “You’re not telling me something!”

  “Okay, fine!” I throw up the hand not holding my phone. “I’m wondering if I’m doing the right thing helping Max trick his father. What if it’s not what he really wants? What if he gets away from his dad, and then something happens and Max regrets ever pushing him away?”

  “Something meaning like his father dying.”

  I cringe. It’s hard to say, but… “Yeah. Exactly.”

  “Wow. You are worrying a ton.”

  “Laura,” I say. “Help me out here. Please.”

  “I am, and I think you’re freaking out when you really don’t need to be.”

  “But what if—”

  “Nu-uh,” she interrupts. “You and I had a good relationship with our dad. Not perfect, sure, but it was better than what most people seem to have.”

  “Yeah,” I whisper. “True.”

  “But Frank wasn’t king of a small country.”

  “Mm-hmm.”

&n
bsp; She gets that Laura-quiet again, like she’s waiting for me to figure out what she’s hinting at.

  “Please go ahead and say it,” I say.

  “You’re doing a good thing by helping Max out. There’s nothing to regret here. Max doesn’t want to deal with all that palace hubbub, and you’re giving him a hand. Plus, you’re getting paid, so there’s that. It’s a job.”

  “Yeah,” I agree. I haven’t told her about the exact amount I’m being paid yet, and I feel like now’s not the time. I’d like to get some money in my bank account before going around saying I’m rolling.

  “You don’t sound sold.”

  “I think I need to meet King Otto first,” I say.

  “When’s that happening?”

  The question makes my pulse race. “Soon. Real soon. Max is getting ready now.”

  Laura squeals. “This is crazy.”

  “I know. I think I’m going to throw up. Unfortunately, we didn’t go over the royal etiquette of what to do if I barf on the king’s shoes.”

  Laura laughs. “Oh, whatever. You’ve got this. Hey, Dad always said we could do anything we put our minds to.”

  My heart melts. It’s a bittersweet reminder.

  “Yes,” I say. “He did, but I’m sure he never thought I would be having dinner with a king and queen.”

  “You know what, though? I bet he’ll be there with you tonight.”

  Tears spring in my eyes, and even though I’m hurting, I’m also smiling. “Thanks, Laura.”

  “You’re welcome, girl. Anytime.”

  A door opens and closes on the other side of the cottage, and I sit up straighter. “I should go. I think Max is coming out. Love you.”

  “Love you, too. Call me as soon as you can, okay? I want to hear everything.”

  “I know, and I will. Bye.”

  We hang up, and I put the phone down right as Max walks into the room.

  At least I think it’s Max.

  The man standing in front of me doesn’t have the thick, dark beard the one who went down the hall a short while ago did. His face is clean-shaven, showing off a strong chin and dimples in each cheek.

  I can’t believe I didn’t notice his dimples before. Even with the beard in the way, I should have spotted them, they’re so prominent. With his face clean-shaven and his hair slicked back, the only word I can think to describe Max is the one thing he probably doesn’t want to hear: royal.

  He looks like a prince.

  Chapter 13

  Max

  Poppy’s face is unreadable. She sits on the couch, staring at me, her hands in her lap.

  “What do you think?” I spread my arms. “Do I clean up well?”

  She blinks.

  My chest constricts. I shouldn’t have shaved. She doesn’t like the new look. I thought it would be a good idea to get rid of the beard in order to appease my father, though the very thought made me angry, and it looks like I should have kept it after all.

  If Poppy doesn’t like how I look, what does it matter?

  It’s an odd thought. I didn’t even know I was that desperate for her approval.

  Until now, with her staring at me like she’s speechless.

  I start to make a joke about going and putting the beard back on, but she stands.

  “You look amazing,” she breathes.

  My shoulders sink with relief. “Thank you.”

  She looks down at her dress. “I feel so silly in this now.”

  “No.” I close the space between us and take her hand. “What are you talking about? You look beautiful.”

  “It’s a cute dress, sure, but you’re…” She gestures at me.

  “Wearing a tuxedo?”

  “To dinner with your family,” she laughs. “And you look amazing.”

  I touch my lapel and shrug. I could probably get away with a blazer and a button-up, but I wanted to go the extra mile tonight.

  “I do have a dress for you,” I say.

  Poppy’s eyebrows rise. “Really?”

  “Yes.” I hold up a finger. “Although not because I think there’s anything wrong with the way you dress. I like it an extreme amount, as a matter of fact.”

  Poppy shakes her head. “It’s okay. You’re not offending me. So you got me a dress, huh? Did you pick it out yourself?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes. I did.”

  I haven’t had time to go to any stores, so I had a palace assistant bring me a selection of ten dresses that are currently in style, and I picked one of those.

  “Really?!” Poppy asks.

  “Yes. Why are you so surprised? You think I don’t know what looks good on a woman?”

  She folds her arms and gives me a pouty look. “I’m very curious to see what you think looks good, is all.”

  I can’t take my eyes off those lips. They’re so full and red, curved like a heart and begging for me to kiss them. If she’s wearing makeup, it’s not off from her natural color. Her lips are perfect the way they are, always looking like she’s just bitten into a strawberry.

  My hands itch, and I have to clear my throat and look away. If I’m not careful, I will do something regrettable. Poppy has made it clear enough that she is interested in me no longer. If she were, she would have kissed me on the bench last night.

  “If you don’t like it,” I say, going to the closet near the fireplace, “we can have another one sent for you.”

  “There’s no time for that.”

  “We can make time.” Hand on the closet’s doorknob, I look over my shoulder at her. “I have people for that.”

  “Of course you do.”

  She’s making fun of me, smiling away, and again it’s too much for me to handle. If I catch one more look of those sparkling eyes, I might decide to skip dinner with my family and stay here with Poppy. We could order something in and watch a movie. Nothing else need happen. I simply have an ache to be near her.

  But I can’t do that. I need to grit my teeth and get through tonight. After that, Poppy and I will be free to do as we please. Whatever that might be.

  Opening the closet, I pull out the evening gown. It’s floor-length, lavender, and with the tiniest of sequins going down the skirt.

  Behind me, I hear her gasp.

  Smiling, I hold the dress up for her inspection. “What do you think?”

  Her hand is halfway up to her mouth, like she was about to cover it in shock, or she already did, and I missed it.

  “It’s beautiful,” she says.

  “The top you wore the night we met was lavender, so I assumed you like that color. It also looked particularly good on you.”

  Her expression softens. “Max,” she says softly. “That’s really sweet of you to remember that.”

  “It’s not something I could easily forget.”

  Her cheeks color, and I grin. One of my favorite things about her is how easily her emotions show. She’s not good at hiding anything.

  “I believe it’s the right size,” I say, “but you should try it on to make sure. That way, we can get it adjusted while your hair and makeup are being done.”

  “My what now?”

  I study her reaction, not sure what it means. Did I just displease her?

  “Only if you want,” I clarify. “You always look beautiful, so I think if you go as you are now, you will leave an impression. I only thought that, if you wished to go all out tonight—”

  A knock on the front door cuts me off.

  “That would be them,” I say. “I can tell them to leave if you wish.”

  “A hair stylist and makeup artist? Are you freaking kidding me? Bring them in!”

  “Your wish is my command.” Crossing the living room, I lay the dress across the couch and open the door.

  Upon seeing me, the hairdresser and makeup artist both immediately curtsy. They’re not from the palace, though I did have Henrik put out feelers for them. I’m tired of using palace staff for everything and want to keep any little bit of my life that I can separate
from royal affairs.

  Both women’s eyes are wide as they enter with their clear bags stuffed full of sprays, powders and brushes.

  “Your Highness,” the older of the two says, “it is an honor to be here.”

  “Thank you,” I tell her. “I’m grateful to you for coming.”

  “Is this the beautiful lady?” she asks, her attention going to Poppy.

  “It is.”

  The woman presses her hand to her heart. “I do not see much that can be improved upon.”

  “Indeed,” agrees the younger woman. “But we can bring out even more of that natural beauty.”

  “Natural is perfect,” I say. “You are most correct. Poppy is amazing as she already is.”

  Poppy’s growing pinker by the minute, but from the way her lips are twisting as she attempts to stop a smile, I can tell she also likes the attention.

  “How does the guest bedroom work?” I ask, showing them the way.

  They take the dress in with them, and the door closes with a click, leaving me standing alone in the quiet hallway. I can hear them talking on the other side, and one of them must say something funny because Poppy and another one of the women laugh.

  I check the time and decide we are doing well.

  Going into the living room, I pour myself a glass of bourbon, but I take one sip and end up pacing with the drink in hand instead. I told my father I am bringing a special guest to dinner tonight, but that was all. It was a message I sent, not spoken in person, and I left him to wonder what “special guest” means.

  Tonight is everything. If Otto likes what he sees and is convinced that having Poppy in my life means my priorities will fall into the order he deems appropriate, the entire dynamic will shift. I know my father. He gets riled up about things, but convince him something is as he wants, and he will fall for it. He’s used to people doing as he says, so he never thinks to question a situation too much.

  My phone buzzes in my pocket, and when I pull it out I find a text from my friend Jorge.

  “How are you doing being home? Still alive? Do you need me to come and rescue you?”

  Smirking, I put the phone away. I’ll text him back later.