by Scott, S. L.
After I finish in the bathroom, I come out and give her a few kisses while getting dressed. Sitting down next to her, I kiss her, and then say, “I’ll see you downstairs, beautiful.”
“I’ll be the one in the green dress.”
Sending her a wink, I run my hand over her cheek as I get up. “Looking forward to seeing the dress . . . on the floor of this bedroom later.”
“You’re so bad—”
“Don’t forget hot.” I stand and head for the door.
“And humble. Don’t forget humble.”
I chuckle. “Can’t forget that.” With my hand on the knob, I add, “And by the way, you’re more amazing than I remember, and I have incredible fucking memories of you.”
This time, she doesn’t smile from my jokes or any of my arrogant antics. Her smile is genuine and drop-dead gorgeous. It’s Ally, not the cool-as-ice princess. “Everything about you is unforgettable.”
“You got some lines there, Princess.” When I open the door, I peek out.
“Hey, Hut?” Looking back, she says, “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Reminding me how to smile.”
She melts my heart when I see said smile, wishing I could stay longer. “My pleasure.”
“Stick to the outside edges of the walkway, and the camera won’t catch you. And staff doesn’t come up here unless something is requested or taken care of when we’re not here.”
“Beyond me having major issues with the lack of security around you, I’m going to try to push that aside since it gives me easy access while I’m here.”
Giggling, she replies, “Probably best. I’ll see you later, sexy.”
I give her a wink and slip out of the room, sticking to the edges. The coast is clear, so I hurry out and down the long hall. Once I’m on the stairs, I feel home free.
* * *
I’m used to wearing suits in New York. I wear them to work every day. But here in Brudenbourg, I’ve stepped up my suit game—fine fabrics and impeccable tailoring.
Ally usually can’t keep her hands off me, but I have a feeling the restraint she’s shown in public while here is going to crumble before dessert is served. At least that’s what I’m counting on.
With our physical bond stronger than ever, I’m glad we’ll have New York to get to know each other without an audience. We’ve never had the option. Margie was in Texas, and here, she’s surrounded all the time. The problems of a future queen have become my problems when I just want to date her. Love her.
I meet Bennett in the corridor. “How does it work dating a future queen?”
“Hello to you too. And I was just wondering the same thing.”
“You were banging her in Austin, and you’re trying, if you haven’t succeeded yet, to bang her in her own palace, but dating seems to be off the table?”
“Stop calling it banging. We’re not seventeen.” We continue to the stairs to take them to the first floor. “And get the fuck out of my head. I have enough to worry about without you reiterating my every thought on the situation.”
“Is that what she is? A situation?” We start down the large staircase. “And damn, dude. If you’re banging in a fucking palace, it’s only downhill from here.”
“You’re such an ass sometimes, Ben.”
He shrugs. “I don’t hide my likes, and I like women a lot. I like having sex with them even more. No apologies.”
“You haven’t met the right one yet. If you had, you’d be content just being in their mere presence.”
“Mere presence? Okay, Shakespeare. Whatever. And let’s talk about that ‘right one’ you just threw out there like you have met her. Is Ally your right one?”
My brothers and I don’t hide stuff from each other, not professionally or in our personal lives, but feeling like I’m constantly under scrutiny here, there’s a sense of protectiveness that comes over me. It’s wrong when I’m with my family. I can tell him anything, and he’d have my back no matter what.
I stop before we reach the bottom step. “I never got over her.”
The jokes and smiles cease. He walks down and looks back up at me. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
I nod, my throat tightening from the confession, my chest feeling exposed. “Well, let’s get you the girl then.”
“It’s complicated.”
“It always is.”
“I’m referring to her being next in line to the crown.”
Now he nods. Crossing his arms over his chest, he says, “It does make things more complicated but not impossible. I see how she looks at you. The duke doesn’t stand a chance.”
“I don’t have land to offer her.”
“Buy some.”
He makes it sound so simple. Thinking about it a little deeper, maybe it is that simple. “I can buy land. What about a title?”
“Everest is a pretty damn good start, but who needs a title when you’ll be the crowned prince if you marry her?”
“Marry her?” I repeat, letting the words roll around in my conscience. “I could marry her.”
“Do you think you both are ready for that?”
“By how much time I spent thinking about her when she was gone, yes.” Marriage. I’m thirty-one years old, and before now, I hadn’t really given marriage a huge amount of thought. Sure it crossed my mind when my mom asked me. That was easy enough to blow off, though, since I wasn’t dating anyone seriously.
Now really isn’t the time to do that thinking, but it does need careful consideration. I don’t know the rules or laws in her country. What if I legally cannot marry Ally? What would it mean for my job if I can? My . . . my life? The life I’m building back in the US.
Later, Everest. Think about this later. “I’ll get a better feel for where her head is at in New York.”
“I got the news earlier. How much work and how much play are we talking here?”
“Ten-ninety split?”
He laughs. “I had a feeling.” Stopping once more before we join the others in the library, he says, “Ethan wants to see you happy as much as I do, but this isn’t the same woman you met in Austin. She’s in a whole other league with problems of her own that come along with her position. Be careful, brother.”
“I will.” I’m about to walk in but take a detour. “I’ll be right back.”
Heading into the dining hall, I want to make sure tonight goes as planned. I learned my lesson the hard way last time. I swap my place card with Bennett’s, which now puts him next to Marielle. Figure he’ll owe me one for that score. And I make one other change before I leave.
Margie’s place card is currently directly across from Ally, so I move her next to Yamagata and Ally’s father at the other end of the table, keeping Duke Dick centered for two reasons—not to be too obvious with the changes and to keep my eye on him. He’s friendly to me because he doesn’t realize who I am to Ally. Once he does, his ego is swollen enough for me to know that he’ll be trouble.
21
Princess Arabelle
Hutton Everest is trying to kill me one suit at a time. Seeing that fine wool fitted to his athletic build is a glorious way to die.
The melted chocolate of his eyes causes my body to quiver under the intense gaze. There’s no question who my body belongs to, and my heart made up its mind back in Austin. I’m tempted to run into his arms and jump on him, mount him, kiss him all over, and mark that man as mine for everyone to see, but I have to be sensible. Act with propriety, as is expected of a future queen.
He speaks with my parents briefly and then heads my way. With a glass of wine in my hand, I’ve had the luxury of enjoying a few minutes of solitude by the fire. I’m happy to have him invade my space. “Princess Arabelle,” he greets, kissing my hand, then quickly placing one on the underside of my wrist. The gentle gesture always makes me weak in the knees. “You’re breathtakingly beautiful.”
Reaching up, I’m about to touch his tie but think better of it. Too many witnesses, and I’m so cl
ose to New York I can taste it. I’m not blowing it now. “You look incredibly debonair, Mr. Everest.”
“You clean up nicely, but I prefer you dirty.”
I giggle. Giggle like a schoolgirl. He does that to me. “My sister doesn’t. She told me I smelled after spending time with you. I should say she didn’t know we had been together or what we had done, but if I could, I would wear your scent all over me for days.” I sip my wine, not ashamed at all.
As he tucks his hands in his pockets, I wonder if he struggles not to touch me. Is he as weak to me as I am to him?
My mother joins us, her hands clasped in front of her. “Good evening, Mr. Everest.”
“Good evening, Queen Aemelia,” Hutton replies with a bow. He’s so charming.
I can tell my mother thinks so by the way she smiles at him. It’s a less-guarded grin reaching her eyes. She says, “You have quite the cheerleaders in your corner regarding the communications package and media deal.”
“Is that right?”
“Jakob has been very impressed with your innovative way of approaching our needs.”
His eyes glance at me. “I try to meet any needs before they arise.”
“It seems. Then our lovely Arabelle will be joining you in New York City to be our eyes on the ground.”
“I’m looking forward to showing her around. It’s quite a large operation.”
My mother replies, “I’m sure she can handle it.”
He smirks. “I know she can handle large operations.”
And I die . . .
With interest, he angles more toward her. “I’m curious what you want Princess Arabelle to see while she’s in the city. I like to be prepared. The corporate office might be uneventful unless . . .” He looks at me with the kindness of someone looking out for me, someone who cares about my well-being. My insides warm, and I know it’s not from the fire. “Seeing employees hard at work is of particular interest. Our network is housed in New Jersey, but since the princess has an interest in communications, I think she’ll enjoy seeing the studio we’re building in Brooklyn. It’s a fifty-million-dollar project that will be finished next year. It will also be where our media broadcasting division will be moved. So when we sign the deal—”
“If,” the queen corrects.
He chuckles, charming her like he did me. “I prefer when.”
“I’m sure you do, Mr. Everest.” Her tone is playful, matching her expression.
“There’s never been anything built like this. It’s under lock and key, protecting the top-secret technology. It’s quite a sight.”
“I’m sure it is. I look forward to my daughter reporting back.”
He says, “I think this trip will be quite productive,” and glances at me. “Hopefully helping the committee decide.” The queen looks pleased. Score one for Hutton and me. “Mr. Everest.” Looking toward the grand hallway, she adds, “Dinner is ready. Shall we?” When she levers her hand toward him, he picks up on the signal and offers his elbow. What he doesn’t realize is she’s just made a bold statement, elevating him to the next hierarchy of royal prestige. No one can walk in front of her, except her guards, but not just anyone can walk next to her either.
“I’d be honored, Queen Aemilia.”
Hutton looks at me and offers his other elbow, but I shake my head subtly. I stick to protocol and stay three feet behind her, following them to the dining room.
He escorts her to the head of the table and then with swagger makes his way to my seat, reaching it as quickly as I find it as if he already knew where I’d be. “You’re very good, Mr. Everest.”
“So I’m told.”
“Again, and humble.”
He pulls my chair out for me, and I slip my hands under my dress to straighten before I sit. He leans down as he scoots me in, and whispers, “It’s hard to be humble when one is built to please a queen.”
“I hope you’re referring to a future queen over a sitting royal.”
Laughing, he says, “Only a future and forever queen for me,” making my body tingle. He’d helped me work up quite the appetite earlier, but all I can think about is getting back in bed with him.
When he sits across from me, I start laughing. Margie says, “What is so funny, Princess Arabelle? I could really use a good laugh today.”
The guests, all seated, turn to me as I look at Margie. “Just happy.”
She flattens her napkin on her lap, eyeing me. “It’s wonderful to see you so happy again. Any particular reason?”
I’d shoot her a glare, but everyone is silently waiting for an answer as if I’d discovered the fountain of youth. My mother says, “My Arabelle always did love to travel to far-off lands.”
My father interjects, “Even if in her own head.”
I feel the pressure of Hutton’s shoe against the tip of mine. When I look up, I’m met with the kindest eyes I’ve ever seen. My mouth opens, but I catch myself before I speak.
He loves me. I feel it. I can see it. Does anyone else?
My mother continues as if my father never spoke a word. “She’s always wanted to travel to New York.”
“Yes, Mother, I can’t wait.”
“I’ve been cleared to travel with you.” Margie is smiling as if she just won some grand prize—pretty on the surface and fake as fuck underneath.
“Oh, I assumed you’d be too busy working.”
“Never too busy for you, Princess.”
The soup is served like it’s my saving grace. My gaze dips to the bowl in front of me. To the server, I whisper, “Thank you.” The knot that’s suddenly formed fills my stomach, making me worry. I’ve been so naïve. I need to stop acting like a princess and start thinking like a queen. Did I ever really think I’d get to spend this trip alone with him? Will Hutton and I have time alone, or will I be babysat the entire time?
Think like a queen.
Margie doesn’t control me. And if I’m careful, she won’t ever know a thing. I’ll formulate a new plan by morning.
Hutton says, “Trust me. It’s going to be an amazing trip.”
Through the courses, I start to realize Margie has no power over me or Hutton or our relationship. It doesn’t matter if we had a fight. I know when it comes down to our friendship that she’ll back me. Ultimately, she wants what I do, and that’s what’s best for our country and for me. If that’s Hutton, which my heart believes it is, then she’ll support us.
She just doesn’t realize that I’ve already fallen for him.
Fallen for him.
With my heart lumped in my throat, my gaze travels to the man on the other side of the table from me. Fallen for him . . . I haven’t fallen for Hutton Everest. I’ve crashed and burned for him.
I now wonder . . . did I subconsciously believe he could be the man who might sit next to me on the throne one day? I’ve always known the type of man I should marry—and that it was part of being queen—so had I already noted those qualities of respect and leadership in him from the beginning? The qualities I want in my life permanently.
Giving.
Caring.
Patient.
Loving.
Kind.
Respectful.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen him treat anyone with disrespect. I laugh to myself, inwardly rolling my eyes. The only exception is me when he’s pushing my buttons. I love the way he challenges me.
He doesn’t treat me like a princess he has to bow down to. He treats me with honor while also treating me as an equal.
“Did you save room for dessert, Princess?”
When my eyes meet his, I feel the heat from our connection rising inside and coloring my cheeks. “I always save room . . . for dessert.”
Magnetic.
He commands a room like no other man has tonight. Everyone is drawn to the dark-haired knight. Even his biggest rival is fascinated by Hutton’s charisma. He’s entertained us and has conversations with my father, the prince, and competitors as if they’re longtime friends, holdin
g his own.
Hardworking.
Intelligent.
Supportive.
Maybe he’s not fully adjusted to the idea of me being a royal, but even as Ally, he was proud of my accomplishments. He’s the type of man who wouldn’t lose sight of who he is, and he’s not threatened by who I am.
“Arabelle?”
I turn to the sound of my name. My father says, “The duke asked you a question.”
Shifting to look toward the other end of the table, Duke Dick says, “I was asking if you were free for a stroll around the gardens after dinner.”
My eyes glance to my father, my stomach starting to sink. My father replies, “I informed him that you’re free to speak on your own behalf.”
“Am I?” The question is met with ire in my father’s eyes. Turning away to avoid him, I swallow hard and try not to look at the only ones I want to see. I know the answer to the question asked of me. I just don’t want to say it because, despite my father claiming I have free will, I know better. “Yes, sir.”
The duke says, “Splendid. As soon as Queen Aemilia is finished, we can head out. It’s supposed to be a full moon tonight.”
My mother stands, cheerily. “I’m finished. Please don’t let me keep you.”
Staring at Hutton’s hands, I keep my eyes locked down.
His fingers twitch, and then they’re gone, a napkin tossed in their place.
I’m dragged out from under the table by the chair being pulled back suddenly. What the hell? The duke holds out his hand for me. “Princess Arabelle.” A demand, not a request.
I don’t want to do this because I know what this is leading to. If the scene hadn’t been set for a proposal, my mother’s happy tone was a giveaway. Reaching up, I set mine in his, and it’s wrong. All wrong. Cold and kind of clammy. Thin and bony. Weak, like his personality.
When I dare to look up, Hutton’s eyes are caught on my hand that Dick is holding to help me up. Even though I whisk it away, Hutton says, “Please excuse me,” and walks out of the room, heaviness in every step. The other guests follow as if there’s entertainment in another room.
