Ravishing Royals Box Set: Books 1 - 5

by Holly Rayner

  I don’t know, but I can’t stand around and watch while Max and Otto duke it out.

  “Max.” I tug on his hand. “A word.” Swallowing my fear, I address Otto. “My King, may I please talk to Max for a second?”

  Otto opens his mouth, looking like he might respond by biting my head off, but then he only nods.

  “Thank you,” I say.

  I don’t know why Max’s family hasn’t come at me with a full attack yet, calling me an opportunist or worse. Maybe it’s coming, and I’m next.

  I yank on Max’s arm and practically pull him to the other side of the room.

  “Are you crazy?” I hiss.

  His dark eyes are wild. “Sacha cannot take the crown,” he hisses right back. “It is rightfully mine.”

  “Oh, yeah? Are you sure about that?”

  “I…” He falters.

  “That’s what I thought,” I sigh. “Look, I really think we should—”

  But he’s not listening. He’s striding back to his family.

  “Poppy is the woman I love,” he declares. “And it does not matter if we have known each other for a week or a year.”

  “It’s been a week,” Sacha points out.

  Oh, brother.

  Closing my eyes, I shake my head. This whole thing is getting worse by the second.

  I admire Max’s ability to work with this new twist and pretend that, despite the circumstances, it’s still a match made in paradise, but geez. Does he really think he’ll get away with it?

  “Impossible,” Otto roars. “This is your last chance, Maximillian! If you do not—”

  “Enough!” Greta, normally so soft-spoken, yells. She cuts her hands through the air. “Let’s all calm down and sit to discuss this. I will ring for tea.”

  “Thank you, Greta,” Max says, “but please do not bother. I will not be subjecting my wife to any more of these interrogations.”

  He looks to me. “Are you ready to leave, Poppy?”

  I open my mouth, but my jaw only hangs, slack. Dumbly, I nod.

  “Good.”

  Max takes my hand, and we walk from the room.

  I can hear Otto behind us, cursing and shouting about the shame that will come to their lineage, but Max slams the door shut, cutting him off.

  Max is a live wire as we walk through the palace. He grips my hand, and I have to hustle to keep up with his long, fast strides.

  “Max.”

  It seems he doesn’t hear.

  “Max.”

  We’re at the front. Two footmen with blank faces open the doors for us.

  “Max!”

  On the front steps, he stops and looks at me. It’s like he’s been shaken from a daze as he blinks and looks my face over.

  “Do you understand what you just did?” I ask.

  His nod starts slow, then picks up speed. “Yes.”

  “You lost. Otto won.”

  The statement is an anchor weighing my heart down. After my realization at the cottage this morning, I didn’t think I cared about what happened to Max. I didn’t think I could. He’d hurt me, and I wanted nothing to do with him.

  But it’s not that simple at all. Despite his feelings towards me, I love Max. I know that probably makes me a fool, but I want to see him succeed. I want him to have the best in life.

  “You might not become king.” My whisper is cracked. “Are you really okay with that?”

  He runs a palm over his mouth, his eyebrows pinching together. It’s clear the idea causes him pain.

  “It is something that I want,” he says. “Despite the obligations and stress that come along with the position, it always seemed to me favorable to being a prince who must do what his king tells him. I have been born a royal, and I could take my jet as far from here as possible, and that would not change. I would still have restrictions. At least, with the crown on my head, I could do more for the world.”

  Tears well in my eyes. I don’t know what to say to that. He made a bad choice back there, and even though I barely know Otto, I don’t think he’ll be forgiving his son for this one.

  Max reaches into his pocket, but his hand comes out empty and he ends up patting all around his pants.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  His face darkens. “I left my phone at the cottage.”

  “Ah.”

  “How about we walk?” he says. “I need to get this anger out somehow.”

  “Okay.” I shrug. “Sure.”

  I don’t remember exactly how far it is to his cottage. Maybe a mile? Can the palace grounds even be that long?

  It doesn’t matter. We’re down the steps and going along the drive, Max walking at almost as brisk a pace as he was inside.

  We walk quietly for a few minutes, nothing but the slap of our shoes on the pavement breaking the silence. We pass the gardens and the tennis courts. Some tool sheds.

  “I’m sorry my family treated you that way,” Max says suddenly. “That was uncalled for.”

  I look at him in surprise. “They barely looked at me in there. Most of their anger was directed at you.”

  His lips draw thin. “They don’t understand.”

  “Yeah. I know. I’m sorry.”

  We fall into another silence, but it’s not long before I can’t keep my questions to myself.

  “What’s going to happen now?” I ask. “Is Otto really going to pass the crown to Sacha?”

  Max sighs, and it sounds like his whole soul is weeping. “I don’t know. It’s hard to tell if his threats are legitimate or not. Sometimes he follows through, and sometimes he doesn’t… But I’ve never seen him this angry. I can tell you that.”

  “Maybe he needs some time to calm down, is all.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  He says this with a fierceness, but I can tell he’s hiding pain. It does matter to him.

  I stare down the road, trying to catch sight of the cottage, but there’s nothing there. It’s a nice day, perfect for taking a walk, but I want to get back as soon as possible.

  The sooner we get to the cottage, the sooner I can grab my purse, and the sooner I can catch a flight out of here.

  I’m assuming, following the confrontation we just had, that the jig is up. Max and I will end our marriage agreement after it has hardly begun. This whole adventure has ended in nothing other than a good story for me to tell my sister.

  And heartbreak. Can’t forget that.

  “Sacha,” Max is muttering. “How could he?” He shakes his head. “This isn’t like him. He’s usually on my side… the only understanding one…”

  His words make me feel like I’m getting wound up tight.

  “I’m sorry,” I gush. “I should have told you about the conversation last night.”

  “It’s not your fault.” He pauses. “What was said in the conversation?”

  “Not much. He said it was weird that you never mentioned me, and I said maybe you’re not one to kiss and tell… that was basically it. And I meant to tell you last night. I tried to, but then…”

  You kissed me, and nothing else in the world mattered.

  “I’m sorry,” I continue. “If you’d known this was coming, we might have been prepared. We could have come up with a better explanation. We could—”

  “Poppy.”

  His voice is faint, and it takes me a moment to realize he’s stopped walking. Spinning on my heel, I turn to look at where he’s come to a standstill.

  “It’s not your fault,” Max says.

  I shrug. I don’t know if I believe him.

  Really, I don’t know what I think anymore. I’m just tired, and I want to go home.

  “Poppy,” he says, his brow lowering. He steps toward me with a frown and puts his hand on my cheek.

  I jerk at the touch, and Max’s frown deepens.

  Biting my lip, I try to think of what to say. There’s no point in having an adult conversation where I tell him things got lost in translation. We have no future together, and I don’t owe
him anything.

  I need to take care of myself, and right now that means getting out of here.

  I go to turn, but his other hand touches my wrist. It’s a slight touch, but it has more power in it than a board-breaking karate punch. I still.

  “Don’t let my family’s bad behavior weigh on your conscience,” he says. “They are the ones who are in the wrong here. You have done the best you can. You are an honorable woman.”

  I look down and shake my head. Hooking his fingers under my chin, he raises my face so that I’m looking at him.

  “Nothing they say or do will ever change the fact that I love you,” he says.

  My breath catches in my throat. I stare into Max’s eyes, more confused than I’ve ever been in my life.

  “You… but… you…” Those are the only words I can catch.

  He nods, the hand on my chin going to cup my face while the other one presses gently against the back of my neck.

  “I love you,” he repeats. “And nothing will ever change that.”

  My mouth’s gone dry, and I can barely hear my response over the hammering of my heart. “You love me?”

  “Yes.” His gaze never wavers from my eyes. “I love you more than I can say, Poppy.”

  I’m choking over a laugh. This is insane.

  Max’s eyebrows knit together. “What’s funny?”

  I rest my hand on his wrist that’s touching my cheek. “This whole thing. Are you… You’re being serious right now?”

  He frowns. “Why would I not be?”

  “Because of everything,” I cry, stepping away from his touch and waving my hands. “I don’t know how to read you, Max. To be blunt, you’re extremely confusing.”

  “What is confusing about loving you?”

  “It’s not that, it’s…” I press my knuckles against the sides of my mouth. I need a timeout. I need to collect myself. A minute ago I was planning on putting as much space between Max and me as possible, and now he’s telling me he loves me.

  My brain’s about to short-circuit.

  I drop my arms to my sides, but I don’t reclaim any of the distance between us. Max stays where he is, watching me warily, like I’m a wild animal that could dart off at any second.

  “I thought this was all fake,” I say.

  “It started that way.”

  “Yeah, but last night…”

  “Was amazing,” he finishes.

  I swallow hard. “I thought it wasn’t a personal thing, Max. I thought it didn’t mean anything.”

  “Is that what it was to you?” he asks.

  “No! Not at all. But this morning, you asked me if I was ready for an encore performance, and what that meant to me was that we’re still pretending in every way.”

  “Ah.” He grimaces. “A poor choice of words on my part. I apologize for that. I was scattered and stressed due to the phone call with my father. Poppy, do you not believe me?”

  His eyebrows are raised, his face hopeful, but there’s fear there. And of course there is. He just did the bravest thing a human being can do; he stood in front of me and poured out the contents of his heart.

  “I’m shocked, is all,” I say. “I didn’t expect this.”

  “Poppy,” he murmurs. “I have never been so comfortable with someone so quickly. I have never felt so respected. I have never been able to trust someone like this. I handed you a secret that could destroy mine and my family’s lives, and you accepted the challenge. Do you understand what that means to me?”

  “I’m getting an idea,” I whisper.

  “On top of all that, you see beyond the royal projection. You see me… and you understand me.”

  Tears blur my vision, and I blink them back. “I love you, too,” I say with a sniffle.

  They’re the words I’ve been holding back. I hated that I even thought them, hated my heart for living the truth of them. Finally getting to say them is like being reborn.

  “Everything I told my family just now was true,” he says. “I love you, Poppy. You are the woman for me. Can—”

  Whatever he was planning on saying next, he doesn’t get out. I throw myself into his arms, my lips landing on his.

  He freezes momentarily, but just as quickly relaxes. His arms slide around me, drawing me even tighter to him, and his mouth caresses mine.

  We kiss and kiss for so long that time can’t possibly exist anymore. His lips meet my cheekbones, the tip of my nose, my chin. Everywhere they can get to, they kiss.

  When we finally draw back, he cups my face and looks deep into my eyes.

  “I care about the crown,” he says, “but not one hundredth as much as I care about you. I am willing to give it all up in order to be with you.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Really.”

  I wipe away the last of my tears. “I love you, Max.”

  He takes my hand in his and kisses my knuckles. Our gazes locked, we continue our walk to the cottage. It’s the same road it was five minutes ago, but everything about the journey on it is now different.

  Chapter 21

  Max

  I’m walking on air.

  Poppy loves me.

  She wants me as much as I want her.

  As the cottage comes into view, I lift her hand for perhaps the tenth time in the last few minutes and give it a kiss. She laughs, and I pull her in close so that I can deposit a second kiss on her lips.

  “That hasn’t gotten old yet?” she giggles.

  “It has only been a few minutes since we confessed our love for each other,” I point out.

  She bites her lip in that sexy way that drives me wild. “True.”

  “To be honest,” I say, “I don’t ever want to release your hand.”

  “O-kay. Now you’re getting a little creepy.”

  “I can back off some, if you wish,” I say, though I’m grinning.

  “Naw.” She wrinkles her nose. “I think I like you a tad creepy. But only a tad. Don’t take it any further, okay?”

  “Okay.” I kiss the side of her head, and we walk around the bushes in front of the cottage. It’s mid-morning, I suddenly realize, and we still have had nothing to eat.

  “I will remake you breakfast,” I announce.

  Poppy says nothing, and I look down to find hesitation on her face.

  “Or we will go to your hotel and eat there,” I say.

  Her shoulders drop in relief. “That sounds nice. But whenever. I can wait.”

  “You should have to wait for nothing,” I say, meaning it.

  I unlock the door to the cottage, and the moment we enter it, I hear my cell phone ringing from somewhere in the back. Poppy and I look at each other for a long moment.

  The ringing stops.

  A few seconds later, it starts again.

  Sighing, I close the door behind us. “I won’t answer it.”

  “You’re not going to see who it is?”

  “If they’re calling repeatedly, it’s someone from my family.” I make sure to lock the deadbolt behind us; if Sacha or my father intend to drop by, I plan on ignoring them completely.

  Poppy’s quiet. She goes to stand at the window, her hands clasped.

  The phone continues to ring.

  “I’ll see who it is,” I say. “You get comfortable. Have some coffee and relax. We will leave soon.”

  I follow the ringing to my bedroom and discover my phone on my bed. The determined caller turns out to be Sacha.

  As much as I hate to answer the phone in anger and without having something planned to say, I swipe the green button.

  “What do you want?” I bark.

  Sacha doesn’t even take time to inhale. “You’re being ridiculous,” he says, completely breathless.

  “Really?” I scoff. “You called me up to tell me I am out of line? What do you expect me to say to that, Sacha?”

  My voice rises with each question. Closing my eyes, I pinch the bridge of my nose. It’s not good form to lose your temper, and in one morning
I’ve had enough weak moments in that regard to last me a lifetime.

  “Father is ranting about banning you from the palace,” Sacha says. “Do you understand what that means?”

  I walk across the room and close the bedroom door before answering. It’s embarrassing to have Poppy see me lose my cool, and that’s more than likely what is about to happen.

  “Does it mean I will be free from ever having to attend an excruciating dinner like last night’s?” I ask. “If so, then excellent. Dreams do come true, after all.”

  Sacha growls. “He will take your inheritance.”

  “You are only repeating what our father already said. I know this. Frankly, I do not care.”

  “Try saying that with no money in your pockets.”

  “I have ways of making money, dear brother. Do not worry about me there.”

  It’s true. Aside from splurging on travel, I have been reasonably good with my money. Much of it I have invested, and I’ve been seeing returns on that for years now. Even if Poppy and I never made another dollar between us, we would not be destitute.

  “Why did you call me?” I ask. “Was it only to attempt to make me feel bad about my decisions? If so, I will tell you now that will never happen. Poppy and I are happy together.”

  There is a long silence, which is strange. Sacha is usually so quick with a comeback.

  “I’m sorry,” he says.

  My chest squeezes tight, and my eyes sting.

  “I really am,” he says when I don’t answer.

  Sighing, I sit on the edge of the bed. “Why, Sacha?”

  “I want to ask you the same thing.”

  “You know why I did it,” I say.

  “There are other ways to get out from under Father’s thumb.”

  That makes me guffaw. “No. There are not.”

  There’s another long silence. We’re both trying to figure out what to say next, hoping the other will take the lead and saying something to get us out of this uncomfortable state.

  “It’s different for you,” I say. “You are happy with your life.”

  “Whatever gave you that impression?”

  “You… are,” I fumble. “You don’t complain.”

  “That doesn’t mean I’m completely at ease with the situation. I am accepting of it, yes, but…” He clears his throat. “Nothing is going to change.”