Maid For Royalty

MAM Books LLC

MIA KAYLA

Maid for Royalty

© 2018 Mia Kayla MAM BOOKS LLC

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This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Blurb

Maid for Royalty

For twenty years, Charlotte has lived in the lavish surroundings of the castle. Luscious meals, down comforters, comfortable quarters made up most of her life. All rent free. One of the perks of being the daughter of the head of the royal staff.

But Charlotte has wanted nothing to do with the castle, nothing to do with the royalty and most definitely nothing to do with the pompous prince of Itasca who believes he’s God’s gift to women.

Just when she’s about to be free from the reminder that although she lives the life of royalty, she’s far from their standards, a case of mistaken identity leads her into the prince’s bed. Once she finds her lips against his lips, her hips against his hips and her skin against his skin, she forgets how much she loathes him.

But nothing comes without a price and this time the price is too high to pay. This time, it will cost her heart.

Chapter 1

Crazy. This place was built for a bunch of crazies. The royal castle of Itasca was beautiful on the outside with its rolling meadows, immaculate lawns, clear blue lakes, and peach trees galore. But on the inside, there were a bunch of lunatics. Even one of my best friends—Megan.

It was my summer break before I had to get back to school. Wasn’t summer supposed to be relaxing and stress-free?

I propped my back against the headboard of my bed, not wanting to give in.

“Charlotte ‘Charlie’ Rose, please,” Megan said impatiently, standing over me, her eyes pleading. “I need to get away with him. It’s only one day. Just cover my Friday shift.” Her beautiful brown locks, curled and ready, were full and luscious. Her purse dangled from her arm, and her gold hoop earrings shimmered against the light. She was ready for her date, and she knew I wouldn’t say no. When did I ever say no to my friends?

“Just do it,” Rachel chimed in, her nose deep in the book she was reading at the foot of my bed.

“Why don’t you do it, then?” I shot back. I threw a pillow in Rachel’s direction, and she caught it on the fly and tossed it right back.

Rachel lifted an eyebrow. “My shift starts at the same time. Sorry.”

Rachel didn’t seem sorry, which made me want to pull her pretty red hair from her head, strand by strand.

“I don’t feel right about this.” I shifted, unease settling under my skin. “Have you seen this room? It’s messy and crazy, and my books are everywhere.” My eyes did a scan of my bedroom. Books were on the floor, on my desk, on the foot of my bed. My makeup was scattered on my dresser, and clothes were overflowing from my drawers. There was no way I could cover for Megan. She was part of the cleaning staff. I couldn’t keep my own shit tidied up, let alone someone else’s.

Megan pushed out her bottom lip, and I ignored the urge to roll my eyes. “Listen, I’ll make you a list,” she promised. “It’ll be so easy. They won’t check if you’ve wiped down or dusted thoroughly. He won’t even be in his room at that time. The prince has horse riding at eight in the morning and isn’t back till ten. You’ll be out by then. You have to be out of his room by then.” Her eyes pleaded with me like this was a life-and-death situation. “Please, Charlie.” She pressed her hands together, as though she was in solemn prayer. This time, I couldn’t hold back the eye roll.

Megan was one of the unlucky ones in charge of Prince Bash’s chambers.

Great. The puppy dog eyes were out. They may work on everyone else; too bad they didn’t work on me. But what she had going for her was her endless years of loyalty and being one of my best friends.

What she wanted me to do was not unethical, but one mishap, one wrong move, and my mother could get in trouble, or worse, fired.

My mother was head of the maid staff here in Itasca. Megan’s whole family, she included, worked under my mother. If I was caught breaking the rules, everything could be jeopardized. Cleaning the prince’s room, without clearance or training, was most definitely against the rules.

And though I wanted nothing to do with the royal family, I liked where we lived. Even the maid’s quarters were better than half of the apartments in our country of Itasca.

The palace treated its workers well. My mother loved her job. She believed she was doing a service to her country. Since my mother was the head of the maid staff, I reaped the rewards of having my own room even though I hadn’t worked there. It wasn’t massive by any means, but it was mine—my space—and it had been since I was ten.

When she was promoted, she got two quarters adjoined by a door. One she eventually made my own room. Our deal was, I’d finish school and load up on classes, and then I’d retire her from her job at the castle once I was on my own two feet.

If only cleaning the prince’s room would be that easy. There were checkers. Checkers of the checkers. Auditors of every aspect of the castle to ensure it stayed immaculate.

I glanced around my bedroom. I was lucky if my clothes made it to the hamper. Cleanliness was not my strong suit.

“I really like this one, Charlie. And I think…” Megan’s cheeks turned a slight pink shade. “…I think I even love him.”

Rachel yelped with joy. “I told you he was a keeper.” She shut her book and edged between us on the bed.

I stared up at Megan, her perfectly immaculate, made up face. She was in love weeks ago, but she was in denial. I heard it in the lilt in her voice every time she talked about Trenton, and that faraway look in her eye when she was thinking of him. This was their first time alone for the weekend. She’d be back on Monday to carry out her duties. What was one day, right? I felt myself caving in. Doing my best friend this one favor wouldn’t kill me.

Sensing that I was going to give in, she squealed and jumped on me. “I love you, Charlie Rose. I love you so much.”

I hugged her back, just as hard.

Megan jumped on Rachel next and hurled herself out toward the door. “Omigod, I have to get ready for my date.”

She was more than ready for her date. Any more makeup on her face and she’d look like a drag queen.

“Don’t forget to leave me directions in your room!” I yelled before my bedroom door slammed shut behind her.

Rachel laughed. “With the amount of makeup on her face, you’d think she was getting married.” Switching topics, she leaned into me and furrowed her brow. “Can I wax your eyebrows?”

I inched away. “Nope. You’re not doing your beauty training on me.”

“You most definitely need it, Charlie.” Rachel scrunched her nose, touched at my brow and I flinched. “Go and look in the mirror and see,” she said.

I rolled my eyes. “I just did them myself. And you’re not practicing your attendant duties on a friend. Find another guinea pig.”

Where Megan was stationed in the cleaning and in charge of the upkeep of the castle, just like our mothers, Rachel was in the training process of being an attendant—the handmaiden of the next princess. Rachel’s mother personally tended to the queen and Princess Anne, who was a mere ten years old. Where my mother headed up the maid staff, Rachel’s mom headed up the attendant staff.

There was a whole staff that tended to manning the royals here—dressing them, washing their laundry, and taste-testing the food to make sure it was to their liking.

I’d lived here and grown up with Megan and Rachel since grade school, as our parents had always worked for the royal family. Megan and Rachel were going to follow in their parents’ footsteps. I, on the other hand, wanted nothing to do with the royal family. I wanted to live my own life, far from the castle. And that’s why I was studying my ass off to finish school so I could eventually become a doctor, then move out. I’d never desired working or had worked for the castle and never planned on it.

I nodded to Rachel’s book. “What’re you studying now?”

“Hygiene.” Her eyes glinted with secret humor. “Everything from waxing to plucking to shaving. I guess if you’re a royal, having hair, other than on the top of your head, is frowned upon.”

“Even Prince Bash?” The moment the words left my mouth, my cheeks warmed.

“Yes, girl.” Rachel wiggled her eyebrows. “No hair. Down there. But his male stewards take care of that.” She let out a solemn sigh. “I, unfortunately, don’t.”

I averted my eyes. “Don’t know why I even asked.”

Rachel ducked to get in my line of sight, her eyes filled with mischief. “You asked because he’s the finest guy in Itasca.”

“And he knows it, too,” I snapped.

She shrugged, unbothered. “He knows it because it’s true. Make sure to get a sniff of his pillow or a lock of his hair in the bathroom when you clean up his room tomorrow.” With a smug smirk, she scooted off the bed, grabbing her books in the process. “Maybe we can clone him.”

I frowned with disgust. “Why would you want to clone the cocky bastard?”

“The clone wouldn’t have to talk. We can just look at him all night.” After she kissed the top of my head, she said. “Love you, Charlie. I’d take your place tomorrow, but I’ve got early training on the proper etiquette for events when accompanying the princess,” Megan sassed, turning up her nose and feigning royalty snootiness.

My bottom lip slanted in a pout. “I hate this.”

“It’ll be over before you know it. How many people can say they cleaned Prince Bash’s chambers? I’ll pass by Megan’s room and pick up your instructions and keys for tomorrow.”

“You better!” I said, pointing a stern finger at her. Although I didn’t feel stern, as annoyance itched beneath my skin.

A few hours later and into the late evening, the key to his chambers and directions were slipped under my door, along with Megan’s ID.

Shit. What about the uniform? I forgot to ask for the standard maid uniform.

I groaned inwardly. Great. Just great.

Chapter 2

I flattened my hair and pulled it into a long ponytail, the blonde in my locks mixed with darker streaks cascaded down my back in the reflection of the mirror hanging behind the door. I slipped on a white shirt and skirt with pleats, the only stark white clothing I had. Too bad it was my dirty nurse Halloween outfit from two years ago. And too bad the skirt was so short that if I bent over, I’d give everyone a peep show.

Megan didn’t even leave me the signature cleaning crew uniform. Keys and directions—that’s all I got.

I huffed, putting on my spring coat, tiptoed, and moved sleek like a cat, as though I were part of the Mission Impossible movie, slipping through doors, avoiding my mother and other staff. Rushing out of the servants’ corridors, I darted outside. I needed the air, space, and the wind on my face. I lifted my head to the morning sun shining above me and inhaled deeply, taking in the fresh country.

I loved Itasca. We had the greenest of orchards, wildlife was rampant and free, and the country was without the noise and bustle of city life, where I currently went to medical school.

I’d miss this. The castle gardens were one of the many things I’d miss once I was out of the palace. But the good did not outweigh the bad. The bureaucracy, the drama, and the gossip of castle life were things I wouldn’t miss.

A few guards on their horses nodded toward me as I walked past the golden gates to the front of the palace.

The royal family spoke for equality—royalty was for the people, with the people. But if this were true, why were the castle gates closed off to the public and only open on the weekends when castles all over the world were open all year round? That didn’t make much sense to me, but I didn’t agree with a lot of the bureaucracy and politics of the palace.

Ten guards stood tall by the gates. The stiffness of their shoulders in their navy-blue uniforms only highlighted their skyscraper height.

“Megan Rothschild,” I announced. Tingles of fear prickled my spine. “I’m to take care of Prince Bash’s chambers.” I smiled, but that did nothing for my crazy rapid pulse. I wasn’t trained like Megan. I didn’t even know how to make my own bed properly. This could backfire bomb-style in my face.

I took in one big deep breath.

You’d already agreed to this. You can do this.

The guard eyed me with a look of discontentment. “You’re Megan Rothchild?”

There was no way I could lie. If he asked for my ID, I’d be screwed. I looked nothing like Megan. “No, I’m filling in for her,” I said, sweat forming on the back of my neck.

Before he had a chance to deny me, I plucked my badge from inside of my purse—the badge that allows you access through the castle gates. “My mother is Elizabeth Cornell, the head of the maid staff.” I tipped my chin toward the guard station to his computer. “You can go check.” He’d see the connection between my mother and me, believe me, and let me through.

The castle had everyone’s names and pictures online for security purposes. I wasn’t an intruder, murderer, or robber, I was simply doing a favor for a friend.

My whole body was sweating profusely. I should have worn damn deodorant. I was sweating as though I had just finished a basketball game, ran a marathon, and swam five miles—all within thirty minutes.

We had a mini staring contest that lasted about five seconds too long, then he moved to the guard station. I followed, then watched him type my name, then my mother’s name, looking down at my ID. When he clicked on my mother’s profile, it linked to mine and my picture, bright and cheery smile, blonde hair, hazel eyes, and all popped up.

I let out a sigh of relief.

But then … he picked up the phone.

“I’m calling up there.”

My eyes bugged out of its sockets. Crap. Crap. Crap. I was a dead woman. Dead. Dead. Dead.

My mother was about to find out and would stick me back up where I came from.

All the excuses I’d give her filtered through my brain like a Rolodex, all while the guard still had the phone connected to his ear. But everything I could come up with didn’t make sense, so I knew I’d end up telling her the truth and we’d all be busted. Megan and my sorry butt.

“She’s not picking up.” He dropped the phone, crossed his arms, then looked at me again.

I lied through gritted teeth and smiled sweetly. “Come on, I obviously live in the castle, and my mother is the head of the maid staff.” He didn’t look like he was falling for it. I should have given up right then and there but then the prince would have shown up to a room not cleaned, and I didn’t want to think of Megan’s repercussions. In my sweetest tone, I said, “I’ve received clearance and need to get to the prince’s room. If it’s not tidied up after his morning ride, we’re all going to get in trouble.” I threw him a pointed glance that insinuated that the all included him.

That seemed to straighten his shoulders—even more than before—and he turned to the guard station, printed something out, and gave me what looked like a visitor pass.

“Make sure you return this before your way out.”

Once those two words left his mouth, my whole body relaxed, and I used all my energy to keep myself upright.

The golden gates opened, and I strolled in, taking in the massive palatial castle. Our gold and red flag hung from the posts, the colors waving bravely against the breeze.

If this was one of the days that auditors were monitoring Megan’s shift, she would be fired. There was proper protocol for these types of things, and since Megan didn’t want to tell her mother she was shacking up with her boyfriend and to get a replacement, I was her saving grace. She owed me. Big time.

I cleared four more posts with my visitor pass until, finally, I was in the foyer of his room with my cleaning supplies, my vacuum, and my nerves on edge.

Please, please, please don’t let him be in here. I stepped through his open bedroom door, and I saw it was empty, I released a silent sigh.

Thank you, Jesus.

Glancing at my clock, I knew I only had two hours to get this place spotless. So, I slipped on my latex gloves, picked up his massive piles of clothes strewn everywhere and put them in the laundry bag that I’d brought with me.

I surveyed the suite. A sitting room, a pool table, a grand piano in the far corner. A bar that was stocked with the finest liquor. A mini wine cooler in the other part of the room—with the finest wines in the world, I was sure. I’d imagined that the prince’s bedroom was massive and standing in the middle of what looked like the Penthouse Suite at the Peninsula Hotel, and my imagination did not disappoint.

A massive oil painting of the royal family spanned half the wall, and I merely stared. The picture was recent. King Charles, Queen Grace … Princess Anne was tiny and no more than ten years old. Then there was Bash in all his beautiful glory. The hard set in his confident shoulders, his square jaw, his dazzling semi-smile and those eyes—those piercing brown eyes that were mesmerizing, dizzying, dazzling. He was cocky, no doubt, but he was beautiful, and no one in the kingdom would deny that.

I blinked through the fog and got back to work. Time was ticking, my watch was clicking. I needed this job done.

There was protocol on how to clean the prince’s chambers. I knew this because my mother oversaw the training staff. Since I hadn’t been trained, I did the best I could and picked up the first thing that I crossed, making my way across the room, dusting, wiping, throwing trash.

After wiping down the center table in front of the television and the bar and every counter space where I saw dust, I made my way to the dining area and still had an hour to spare.

My hands fell at my hips, and I admired the gleam of the dining room table, the sunlight from the windows hitting the glass. After I grabbed my cleaning supplies I made my way to his bedroom.

It felt forbidden and exhilarating all at once to be in his secret chambers. Only a few people, a very select few—Megan included—had ever been in here, and now here I was.

His four-post bed was massive and took half the space of his bedroom. I pulled the sheets off the bed, and a used condom was flung in my direction. It almost hit me square in the shoulder, but I dodged it, and it landed on the ground.

Eek!

“What the hell? Gross.” I reached for it, glad that my latex glove was between me and his royal sperm.

Megan had told me stories of what she’d found in his room—lube, lingerie, used condoms. I double-dared her to steal them, but she was too afraid. Not that I blamed her. I wouldn’t risk the livelihood of my family and future for a good laugh.

Black thongs had been left on the mattress, and I threw them in the laundry bag, trying not to gag.

Prince Bash had a reputation. He was the pristine prince, the future of Itasca. The people and parliament believed it. One day, he would be king, and he’d produce beautiful babies with the sucker woman who would marry him.

But everyone in the castle knew the truth. Within the castle walls, people huddled and whispered and gossiped. Prince Bash, unknown to the rest of the world was a spoiled, messy, manwhore. He got what he wanted, did what he wanted, whenever he wanted.

The castle servants feared him. Maybe even his parents. They’d raised him to be a monster, gave him practically everything he ever wanted since he was out of the womb. They catered to him, and because of that, good-looking or not, I despised him. He was exactly who my father was—the spoiled, entitled bastard that had abandoned us.

I was humming a Rihanna song, smoothing out the bed, when I froze as the door slammed shut behind me.

I blinked, stunned into a stoic stupor.

My breathing accelerated as heavy footsteps padded through the suite.

If I was fast enough, I could have hidden.

Then a husky voice spoke. “So, I see you’re ready for me?”

The color drained from my face.

I turned around.

It was the prince himself—Prince Bash.

Chapter 3

I jolted upright and fidgeted with the edge of my short skirt. Even through the shock, my eyes took in his stature, his over six-foot frame, his chestnut brown hair that was short but not short enough to notice that his hair had a little wave and the darkest set of brown eyes that I’d ever seen in a man. “Your Majesty. I’m so sorry. I—” I took him in, the smirk on his face, his eyes watching me carefully. Automatically I bowed, keeping my head down.

“Don’t be sorry. So, they sent you early?”

His statement had my face jerking up. I shook my head, confusion reigning in my mind. What?

He stalked toward me in a predatory manner, and my pulse raced into Nascar overdrive. My eyes widened and, for the first time in my short life, I was stunned, stupid, and speechless. When he took another step forward, about to close the gap between us, I found my voice. “I’m not sure what you’re …”

Then he was right in front of me. My breath caught, and I stared up at him, locking my hazel eyes with his dark-as-night ones. His one hand went to the nape of my neck, and the other on the small of my back. Goose bumps formed where his hand met my body, tingles spread down my spine, igniting a deep hunger in my belly. Before I knew what was happening, before I had a chance to deny him, he pulled me in and kissed me, lightning fast.

Oh. My. Goodness.

I exhaled a heavy sigh, and my hands gripped his shirt.

His lips were magic.

Heat. Pure heat rushed my whole body, and instead of fighting him off, I fell limp in his arms, melting into that one kiss. An unbelievable scorching hot kiss. My breathing sped up. My thoughts were mush. Time lapsed and I forgot where I was, who I was, and who I was with. All I could concentrate on was my lips on his lips.

I could feel the hard span of his chest, the strength of his arms around me, and his hard length pressing against my belly.

He moaned into my mouth, and when he picked me up with his ten fingers grabbing my ass, clarity snapped me into focus.

“Wait,” I breathed. It was as though I’d been doused with a bucket of ice. My head jerked back as though that ice pummeled me in the face.

He dropped me on the bed, and my head bounced against the cushions. “Wait? Playing coy now? You’re here to clean up my mess, aren’t you, but I’m the one who is going to get you messy in one second.”

He pulled my legs to the edge of the bed, then dropped to his knees. Oh god, no. This was bad. Shit-hit-the-fan-then-fall-on-top-of-my-head bad.

“Please…” I said, lifting myself to my elbows. His hands were tightly gripped around my ankles so I wasn’t able to move, let alone breathe.

“Please,” I said again.

“You don’t have to beg because I’m going to give it to you right now.” His lips started on the inside of my ankle, and my short white skirt rose to above my thighs.

I wiggled and squirmed. He thought I was someone else. That had to be it. Did he do this with everyone else? Had he done this with Megan?

No. She’d be the first to brag about it.

I firmed up my shoulders, but my breathing turned rampant. “Please stop,” I whispered, my words getting lost to the sensation of his lips on me.

Shit. I noticed my hands were threaded through his hair.

Crap. Crap. Crap.

When his lips trailed farther up my thigh, I wiggled in his hold.

And when his lips inched higher on my inner thigh, a few inches from my panties, I shifted and knocked him in the jaw by accident.

My hands flew to my mouth, shocked stoic and still. I stared at him as his eyes grew darker, deeper, wider.

Uh oh.

He didn’t look angry. The smoldering looks in his eye earlier turned deadly, hungry, and horny.

I blinked, and when he reached for my ankle and pulled me farther down the bed, the door flew open, and a woman in a maid outfit, fishnet stockings, cleaning supplies, and a broom walked in.

We both stared at her, me from my lying position on his bed and Bash towering above me.

Where I was in all white, she was in seductive black from head to high-heeled toe. And I knew, in that moment that this was a case of mistaken identity.

The woman pulled down her shirt and did a cat walk across the room, her hips swinging from side to side.

It was as if I were in a bad porno movie, and I needed to leave stat before the deed was going to get done.

I pushed myself to a sitting position, but it was hard to move from the bed with Bash’s close vicinity, hovering over me.

“I’m here to clean up the dirty, dirty mess you’ve made.” The other woman bent over, exposing her breasts and her voice was seductively low.

Shit. Was she going to seduce him with me in the room?

Her eyes were set and determined, and I knew she didn’t care who watched.

And at that, I bolted from the bed and chucked the cleaning supplies in the bucket on the floor and the laundry bag over my shoulder.

Bash’s attention was back on me, and he gripped my forearm and forced me to face him. “Who the hell are you?”

I jerked back my arm. I didn’t care who he was, no one had the right to manhandle me. “I’m stationed to clean your room today.”

His dark brows flew to his hairline. “You’re not in the standard uniform.”

I glanced down at my shirt, white skirt, and the top that I’d tied on the side, and shrugged. “I had nothing else clean to wear.” That’s all I had, and it was the truth. I didn’t care. I simply needed to get out of here before I watched a porno film in the flesh.

The blonde with the long legs and big breasts sashayed toward Bash. “Let me release some of that tension, Sire.”

Though the woman was flaunting and flirting with everything she had, Bash’s focus was purely on me. “Where’s your ID?” he snapped, not at all troubled that this woman was propositioning him while I was in the room.

I lifted my ID, then stuck it back in my skirt pocket. There was no way he could miss the white and gold logo on the 2x4, laminated card. “There. Since you’re busy, I think I’ll get …”

His five fingers dug into my side. “Your ID. I want to see your ID.”

If he saw my ID, he’d be able to identify Megan, eventually tie us together, then tie me to my mother, head of the cleaning staff.

My panic radar jumped from alert to 911-call-the-ambulance.

Crap. Crap. Crap.

I breathed in through my nose and thought of running out of the room, but I wouldn’t make it down the hall before the whole royal guard would be in the corridors.

The blonde ran a finger across her well-endowed chest. “Do you want to see my ID?”

Talk about blunt, aggressive, to the point, and out-of-this-world-odd.

Did she not see that I was still in the room?

I moved so that the woman was in between us, but Bash didn’t relent on his grip on my wrist.

Only then did he turn toward her, but his face was not filled with lust, but pure annoyance. “Get out.”

Shit. This woman is my ticket out of his room.

Her eyes widened, and she stood there as though she hadn’t heard him correctly.

“Get out and tell Madame Crystalle you serviced me well. You’ll be paid in full.” He tipped his chin toward the door. “Now, go.” His voice was authoritative and warranted no arguing.

Then his focus was back on me, with a harsher tone. “Your ID.”

I blinked a few times, unable to move, unable to do anything but breathe.

“It wasn’t a question.”

I knew there would be consequences for what I’d done, what we’d almost done, but I knew there was no way he was letting me out of this room without showing him my ID, so I handed it to him. Mine, not Megan’s.

And before he said a word to me, I stormed out the door, praying and wishing that the prince hadn’t sent out the guards to find me. I ran down the hall, out the golden gates and into the maid’s quarters, knowing full well my life was about to change.

My life as I knew it was over. I paced Megan’s room over and over, back and forth and forth and back again, waiting for her. I had called her, but her phone went straight to voice mail. I glanced at the overhead clock in her room that she shared with Rachel. It was the middle of the weekday and Rachel was off in training, but it didn’t stop me from calling her, either.

I was dead, dead, dead. There was no way this could end well.

I was formulating a plan to fess up and tell my mother everything when a sudden knock on the door had me jumping up from Megan’s bed.

“Come in.” I don’t know why I was allowing someone else to come into this room. It wasn’t even my room. I didn’t even have the right to be here.

Megan’s mom, Laurie, peaked in. Her facial features relaxed when she saw me.

“I’m sorry. Megan stepped out for a second,” I said. I wasn’t going to tell her that it was for the whole night.

“No, no. I was looking for you, Charlotte. Christian is here to see you.”

My shoulders relaxed a little. I let out an overly long sigh and threw back my head. Christian was the ex-boyfriend, my ex-boyfriend, and also the head of the royal guard in the west quarter of the palace. I had loved him but not enough to want to stay with him.

He stepped in behind Laurie, and his almost stocky frame crowded the room. Christian was built like a football player, like most of the other guards. I wondered if being beefy was a requirement to apply to the royal guard.

His eyes took me in, and my stomach dropped to the floor because, in that instant, I knew he wasn’t over me. I could tell in the way he looked at me, his big blue eyes, like a puppy dog, waiting and needing and wanting something I couldn’t give him. Although he was perfect in every way a boyfriend should be—responsible, caring, doting—and not to mention one fine specimen of a man, he wasn’t the right man for me.

It was either break his heart now or break my heart for being in a relationship I didn’t want to be in. I loved him, but not in the way he wanted me to love him, but I loved him enough to let him go.

“I think I’ll leave you guys to it.” Laurie shut the door behind her, closing us in together.

“Charlie …”

I averted my gaze and swallowed … “Christian, please. I can’t keep doing this. Keep feeling like a bitch for breaking it off. You deserve better than me, okay? Someone who’s going to love you unconditionally—”

He cut me off. “Uh … I get it.” He paused to take me in, then inhaled deeply. “I’m not fully on board with it yet. Call it denial. But that’s not the reason I’m here.”

I glanced over at him, feeling stupid all of a sudden and now wondering why he was here.

“Prince Bash has the whole royal guard looking for you.”

I blinked. Not once, not twice, but three times.

My breathing sped up and, although I tried my very hardest to keep my face steady, it was all for nothing, because I was about to keel over.

“What does he want?” The tremor in my voice was obvious.

“No idea. But we’re supposed to track you down and bring you back to his chambers.” Christian’s eyebrows pulled together, his normal confident demeanor turning into concern. “What happened, Charlie?”

My hand kneaded the back of my neck. I shook my head, my thoughts racing. “Nothing.”

With Christian, he always knew that nothing meant something. He leaned in and gripped my hand. The tenderness of his touch almost broke me, but I didn’t want to lean on him like I used to. It’d give him mixed signals, and I couldn’t do that to him. It wouldn’t be fair, so I tore from his hold. “It’s nothing.”

The hurt in his eyes from my rejection was undeniable. “It can’t be nothing when he has the whole castle looking for you.” He searched my face, then lowered his voice to barely a whisper. “Tell me what happened so I can help you.”

I waited there a moment, frustrated and annoyed at how I’d gotten myself in this situation. Why couldn’t I have simply said ‘no’ to Megan? Finally, I sighed and spilled the truth. “Megan went away with her boyfriend last night. She wasn’t back this morning, and it was her turn to cover the prince’s chambers. I filled in for her, and I got caught.”

His frown lines deepened, then he scratched at his temple. “So, you got caught lying. This can’t be a good thing. But why did he make it sound so serious?”

I wasn’t about to fill Christian in on how I accidentally fell into Prince Bash’s bed and how his lips accidentally fell on mine.

“He called all the palace guards to his chamber. He had your ID in his hands like it was important. Then he was determined to go through the computer database searching the staff records, determined to find you.” With one shake of his head, he uttered the words that had me feeling helpless. “I have direct orders to bring you back to his office as soon as I find you.”

Every muscle in my body tensed.

Oh, hell. This couldn’t end well.

Chapter 4

Christian didn’t coerce me or have to force me to meet Bash. I knew I didn’t have a choice. It only took two hours for his minions to find me, and it would only take another thirty minutes to have my mother and my belongings out the door if he decided to throw us out.

Then we’d be nowhere. No money. No house. Nothing but bills and bills and bills, and college tuition that I couldn’t afford.

I had to find out what he wanted and stat. Then I would convince him that I would do anything—everything—to keep my mother working at a job she loved and for something she cared about. Anything but what we had done earlier.

My feet felt like lead weighted against the thin, beige carpet, chains on my feet and metal blocks on my back weighing me down, but I trudged forward. When the gold double doors to his office opened, I walked in, shoulders straight, head held high even though I felt so dizzy I thought I’d tumble to the floor. Christian and two of Bash’s main guards followed right behind me.

Bash sat, relaxed, behind his desk, his fingers steepled by his mouth. His floor-to-ceiling windows behind him revealed the rolling meadows and green pastures of Itasca. When his eyes flipped to mine, they heightened with curiosity.

He waved two fingers in the air. “Leave,” he said, acknowledging the guards. It was one word, but in that single word, there was power, a command not to be argued with.

His guards immediately about-faced and left the room, but Christian stood there, straight in his practiced stance, unmoving. He bowed toward the prince, then said, “May I have a word?” Christian was going to try to save me, say something on my behalf. Trying to save the damsel in distress, which was another reason we would’ve never worked out. I didn’t need saving. He treated me like the wallflower I was not.

Bash cut him short. “No. I’m not sure if you understand English, but I said leave.”

I turned to Christian. “Go. I’ll be okay. I promise.” Though my words were firm, I didn’t feel them in my gut. I wanted him to leave before he got in trouble. Because I was already in a lot of trouble. We both didn’t need to roll in the same pile of shit.

His stare wavered between the prince and me.

Bash stood slowly, then nodded to the door. “I won’t say it again. Leave us.”

The apprehension in Christian’s eyes was undeniable. He didn’t want to go, but he did as he was told, and as soon as the door shut behind him, Bash stood at his full height.

We were all lips and hands and passion this morning, a ball of fiery need and want and hunger, but now I felt nothing other than this overwhelming dread of what was to come. The darkness in his eyes and strong set in his shoulders that filled in his coat had the anticipation building in me. He was the dark prince. Dark in ways people inside the castle knew but everyone else didn’t.

He stalked toward me, just like before. But this time there was no anger in his features, no contempt in his eyes, only pure uninhibited curiosity. And something else I couldn’t pin down, a look that made my stomach flip and the butterflies fly out of a gaping hole in my abdomen. I swallowed when he was a foot away.

“Why were you in my room this morning?” He smiled suddenly, as though that would ease the tension in the air, but it didn’t.

“I was covering for my friend.” I didn’t return his smile.

“Megan Rothschild.”

He knew. His face told me as much. He knew everything by now. Why did he care? It’s not like I had done anything deceptive. Except let him kiss me, touch me, lead me into his bed without hesitation. My mouth had said stop, but my body language had given off a different vibe. Shit.

I would blame it on my hormones and the fact that I hadn’t been touched by a man in months, but that was still no excuse.

“I wasn’t in my standard uniform because I’m not from that sector,” I said, spine straight, eyes firm as others behaved in front of the prince. Being surrounded and growing up around the staff had instilled in me how to act in front of royalty. I couldn’t show fear even though my insides churned. At the last second, I decided to be truthful. “I don’t work for the castle, actually.”

He smirked. “I know. But your mother does.”

My mother was the head of the cleaning staff. Of course, he’d known her, or his advisors would have known her.

I wanted to say something snarky, but my words jammed in my throat. My eyes bore into his. “She does,” I said slow and careful with my words. “And I want to tell you she loves it here.” If I had to kiss ass until I graduated, fine, but the first opportunity I had to leave, I would. Graduation would fly by, and before I knew it, I was sure I’d be able to support my mother and me and be out of this hellhole.

He inched closer, but I didn’t step away. Yes, I loathed the man, but I didn’t think I’d ever for the life of me forget the way he tasted, the way his body felt against mine, or erase the memory of how my whole body zinged with arousal when his hands and lips were on me. A dizzying current took over me, and I had to hold my breathing steady and concentrate on not leaning into this magnetic force that drew me to him.

After a moment, I did the wise thing and took a step back.

This was crazy—all of it. I should’ve been running out of here like a banshee. Not wanting anything to do with him. But I wanted to find out why I was here and if he was going to punish me for no other reason other than that he could, simply because he was the prince.

“Do you love it here?” he asked, his eyes dipping to the slender part of my neck.

I swallowed. “Ahh, of course,” I lied. “The queen and king and Your Majesty have been gracious and kind to my family.” There was no denying that they’d provided a roof over our heads for years and they were kind. As long as my mother did her job and managed a good team, there were no issues. And there hadn’t been any problems for years. There was no way I was going to tell him at the first opportunity, I’d be out. This wasn’t a castle. This was a prison.

“Where do you work, Charlotte?” He tilted his head, his eyes assessing me. “Or should I call you Charlie?”

I blinked.

He knew my name and my nickname. The name that everyone close had called me. I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I didn’t like the way my nickname rolled off his tongue.

If it wasn’t for my mother, I wouldn’t have cared about his rank, who he was, but he had power over us. My mother needed this job, and I needed her to keep her employment until I graduated medical school and could finally support us both.

“Charlotte is fine,” I snapped.

His mouth twitched, as though my answer didn’t please him. Good.

“Charlotte … that’s a beautiful name,” he said.

“Thank you,” I said, my voice quiet and soft when all I wanted to do was storm out of the room.

He took a step forward and erased the distance between us. I felt dizzy again. Stupid hormones and if only he wasn’t so damn good-looking. Get a grip, Charlie. This was so unlike me.

“I can’t forget the way you tasted this morning.” His voice dropped seductively low, his eyes taking in my face, my features.

I exhaled deeply, my body starting to give me away. There was no way I’d admit that I couldn’t forget what had happened this morning, either.

His eyes flickered to my lips, and he angled closer, lowering his head. His hand trailed down my arm to grab my wrist, leaving goose bumps where he touched.

Breathe, Charlie. Breathe.

“Well, you should forget it,” I said, jerking my hand back. He wasn’t using his power and rank to have his way with me.

He blinked—stunned—but didn’t relent his hold on my arm. I was sure he wasn’t used to rejection.

Then there was a knock on the door. We both turned before the door flew open. It was Christian.

It was like my body had been doused with cold water; my sanity had returned.

Christian’s eyes widened at Bash, our closeness. I jumped back as clarity finally pushed through.

“I forgot my lanyard.” He walked toward the desk and snatched the gold and red ID. “Uh … Is everything okay here?” His eyes flickered to mine for confirmation.

“Yes,” I replied, my tone firm, needing to handle this situation on my own.

The muscle in Bash’s jaw ticked and ticked and ticked. He released me, but not before he stalked right by Christian, getting in his face. “What are you doing in my office unannounced?”

“I knocked, Sir.”

“But did I tell you that you could come in?” His voice was stern, eyes showing annoyance. His one hand gripped the top of his hair, and he let out a low sigh.

Christian’s gaze dropped to the floor. “No, Sir.”

“Then what are you still doing here?” Bash pressed.

My fists were balled to my sides. My body tensed, and anger threatened to choke me.

Tell him to stop talking to you that way, Christian. He deserves it.

But Christian did nothing, his shoulders slumped, his head downturned.

“The next time you come in here unannounced, there will be some serious consequences for you, guard.”

Bash’s actions were so over-the-top that I couldn’t bite my tongue any longer.

“He forgot his lanyard. He’s grabbing it and leaving.” My voice dripped with seething sarcasm and anger rose to my stiff shoulders. “He’s going to get fired for grabbing his lanyard? You might as well let him go for breathing wrong in your vicinity.”

Christian’s eyebrows flew to his hairline. I snapped my mouth shut, the venom in my voice surprising even myself.

The prince did not look amused. A normal person with half her wits would’ve shut up. But I was not a normal woman, and if I had my wits, I wouldn’t have let him kiss me.

“I get to decide what’s fine and barging in here is not fine.”

I cleared my throat, trying a tamer tone. “You are being extreme here.”

“Charlie,” Christian began. He shook his head as though to tell me that he could handle it, which he obviously wasn’t.

”’Charlie?’” Bash asked. “You two know each other?” His eyes ping-ponged between us.

I groaned inwardly. What I didn’t need was for my whole life story to be played out in front of the Prince of Itasca. “Yes, we do and it’s really none of your concern.” I lifted my nose and crossed my arms over my chest.

Bash’s eyes turned to Christian, whose whole focus was on me. Christian had the same puppy dog look as he did earlier and slowly but surely Bash could read his features.

Bash’s eyes narrowed, but Christian’s gaze didn’t break from my face.

“Guard, out.” Bash’s tone was curt, harsh, all business.

Christian didn’t move or say a word.

“I’m not going to ask you again. Leave us.”

Only when I nodded toward Christian, a sign that I’d be okay, did he turn and walk out the door.

After the door shut behind Christian, Bash turned to me and asked, “How do you know that guard?” Bash’s eyes didn’t waver from mine.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” I was surprised my courage was back, but crap my mouth would get me in a lot of trouble.

The muscle in his jaw ticked and his voice was low. “Everything in this castle is my business.” There was a tiny glint of humor in his eyes as though mouthing off amused him. And that pissed me off even more.

I gritted my teeth. This pompous ass was only getting what he could on paper. I wouldn’t give away a single thing about my personal life.

“Are you going to answer my question?”

My eyes flashed. “No.”

He smirked, then walked toward me and the closer he approached, the faster my pulsed raced. “You’re cute when you’re angry. Has anyone told you that?”

My breath caught, and my damn betraying body warmed. “Are we done here?” I was ready to get out of his chambers and run to the farthest point in the castle, away from him. If anything, I’d go take a trip to the village to cool down, or better yet, take a cold shower.

He glanced back toward the door. “You two have a history together,” he said knowingly. Like it was any of his business.

I glared at him, my one look alone telling him he wouldn’t get anything further from me. I stepped back. “Are we done here?” I asked again. My voice was flat and devoid of any emotion, even though my heart was beating a million times a minute.

His dark eyes held a secret expression. “Done? For now, yes. But I’m not finished with you.” A devilish smirk popped up on his face. It made me want to knock him hard on his ass, then pick him up and kiss him senseless. What the hell was wrong with me?

“Charlie, the fun has just begun.” Then he had the audacity to wink at me. Wink!

“Don’t call me Charlie,” I snapped. “Only my friends call me that.” Then I turned on my heels and left the chambers, not looking back and knowing his eyes were on me the entire time.

I didn’t know what he meant about not being done with me, but in the next days, I was going to find out.

Chapter 5

That evening, I was holed up in my room with Megan and Rachel, lying in bed, feeling defeated and anxious about the unknown.

I couldn’t explain to my best friends how I could hate a man, despise everything he was one minute, yet not stop him when his hands and lips and body were on me the next, so I said nothing about what had happened. It made no logical sense, and I had built my life on logic. I studied the sciences where everything made sense, but I also studied psychology, and one could equate my behavior to wanting something you couldn’t have, or more so, shouldn’t have. Really, this could be blamed on my daddy abandonment issues.

I promised my daddy issues would not play a role in my life, yet here I was. My hands clenched, and my nails dug in the inside of my palms, creating indentations of half-moon crescents.

One thing my dead-beat aristocratic father—he’d abandoned my mother when I was merely in the womb—had taught me was that he possessed qualities that I didn’t want in the father of my future children.

I didn’t know who he was, what he did now, nor did I care. In my eyes, he was simply a sperm donor.

Bash was the entitled male, everything I hated and what my father was.

“So, he called you to his office because…?” Megan popped her hand on her hip. She’d been pacing my bedroom for the past five minutes, trying to draw out all my secrets. “Did he say we were in trouble? How about me, our mothers? Did he say anything about our jobs?” Her voice heightened, and she bit at her nails, continuing to pace.

“He didn’t say anything other than he wasn’t finished with me.” What the hell did that mean? I rubbed at my brow and tried to ward off an incoming migraine.

“Was he pissed?” Rachel piped up from the bed. “Did he mention anything else? Repercussions?”

If only I could rewind this whole day … “No. Not at all. He just was … I don’t know.” I shrugged. “Curious to why I was there.”

“That’s crazy that he thought you were the maid to service him.” Megan squinted, perplexed. “His usual rendezvous are at night.”

I cringed. Seriously gross.

“He can lay anything with legs without having to pay someone,” Rachel said while lying at the foot of my bed, twirling her hair within her fingertips. “Why he feels the need to sleep with some whore is beyond me.”

“It’s because he’s being discreet. Not like it makes it better.” Megan shook her head. “I know about this Madame what’s-her-face. All the aristocrats use her. She’s secretive, discreet, and the only reason I know this is because Trenton works for the state, and half of the people in government are getting laid left and right without their wives’ knowledge. It’s gross.”

“So, Trenton, your ‘the one,’ has used her before?” I asked, suppressing a laugh.

Megan blinked, then she slapped my arm. “Of course not.” But then she tilted her head as though she was contemplating it. “Well, if he did before, it doesn’t matter. That was before me. Anyway, people want secrecy. It only makes sense that the prince would hire out to fulfill his needs. The media practically makes it seem as though everyone he’s seen with is going to be the next princess.”

I nodded. I understood his predicament, but still, it wasn’t any less disgusting.

“I can imagine,” Rachel said, looking dreamily. Rachel had always had a crush on the prince. She was enamored by what the royal family had. Even though she basically served them and was being groomed to be Princess Anne’s steward, she loved being surrounded by them, by royalty.

“Who cares about his sex life?” His sex life was much more interesting than mine and, although I wanted to deny it, I couldn’t because I was attracted to him. More than that, I was turned on by him.

His hands. His lips. His tight grip on my body … I pressed a palm to the slender part of my neck, flushed with warmth, and swallowed. I had to shake my head, to get the visual of what had happened this morning out of my brain.

I was smart enough not to go there. I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. I needed to get him out of my head, and what I really needed above anything was to get me out of this house. For good.

“All of Itasca is obsessed with his sex life.” Rachel wiggled her eyebrows and let out a low laugh. “Let’s be real. Everyone wants to know who the new princess will be.” She plucked at her shirt as if to cool herself down.

I sighed. Great, let them find the new princess. Leave me out of it. “All I want is for him to leave me alone long enough so I can get us out of this place.” I leaned back on the bed and Megan scooted beside me.

She patted my knee. “Charlie, is it all that bad? You have a roof over your head, you’re fed daily. You’re knee-deep in school debt. I say after you graduate, you live here for a few until you really start earning money.”

The idea sounded ideal, but not to me. My earliest memory was my mother crying. I didn’t know what it was about, but later I had learned it was because of my father, a father who had come from money and a family that could’ve provided for us for years. Too bad my mother was from a different class, and they couldn’t accept their love for each other. Even worse, my father had chosen them over us. He may have loved her, but it obviously wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to stay.

Her consolation prize? Getting my mother a job as a maid at the castle. It was one of many reasons that I felt imprisoned in the only home I’d ever known.

I was determined to get us out of this place, once and for all. It was my sole purpose in life, to work hard, make enough money, and take my mother with me when I left.

“I just can’t. I can’t stand this place and what the future king stands for. And honestly, I want to start fresh, new, and I don’t like feeling like I’m in a prison, which is exactly what I feel like being here.”

I bit my tongue as soon as the words slipped out. Rachel and Megan worked for the castle and would probably live and die here. I didn’t look down on them for that. That simply wasn’t for me.

“Thanks,” Rachel said, her face downturned.

“That’s not what I mean. I’ll miss you guys terribly.” I placed a light hand on her leg. “I just want to … be free.” How was that a bad thing?

The knock from the door had us all jolting from the bed. When the door flew open, it was my mother. Her face said everything words didn’t have to.

“Everyone out. Except for Charlie.”

Elizabeth Cornell was exquisite and proper and kind. She always tucked me in at night, said prayers while holding my hand. Her demeanor was normal, meek, and quiet … until something pissed her off. And right now, her stern face, her stiff posture, and the way her arms were crossed over her chest told me that I was going to get a beating with words.

Her blonde hair was sleek and short and tucked behind her ears. Where we shared the same shade of dirty-blonde hair, that’s where the similarities ended. I wondered what my father looked like because there were features like my hazel eyes, my button nose, my round pixie-like face that I’d inherited that weren’t from my mother.

“Why?” Her nostrils flared. “Why, for the love of God, would you agree to something like that, Charlotte Rose Cornell?” She lifted her head to the ceiling and then steadied her focus on me. She never raised her voice, but the look in her eyes told me she was beyond annoyed by the situation.

That would make the both of us.

“Who did you find out from?” I lifted my chin and sat up straighter on the bed. My fists were balled in my lap, and I was done done done with this nonsense.

“My superior.”

I cringed, my defiant self fading. There was consequences in what I had done. She’d get in trouble. I cowered into myself, wanting to curl up into a ball. “It’s not like I hurt anyone. I was just covering for Megan.”

She huffed, as though that had been the wrong thing to say. With my mother, the best approach was to shut up, but I wasn’t the shut-up kind of girl.

“You didn’t hurt anyone, but there are rules here,” she seethed. “Rules we have to abide by. Rules set up to keep everything running in the castle and everyone in the royal family safe.”

“I was cleaning his room, Mother,” I groaned, hoping she didn’t press for details.

She continued as though I hadn’t said a word. “Rules are rules, Charlotte. People in this castle have trained for years under apprenticeship—in-house servants, out-house, the kitchen staff, the political staff, advisors, attendants. The list goes on and on and on forever. Megan knows particularly how Prince Bash likes his pillow fluffed. She’s been trained by her mother, by our staff.”

I threw up my hands. “Okay, I get it. I was filling in for a friend, wanting to help her out. Sorry, I’ll never do anyone any favors next time.”

She stewed for a minute, pacing the worn carpet of my bedroom. The bedroom was tiny and only had room to fit my twin bed, a desk in the corner, a bookshelf filled top to bottom with endless romance and medical books, and a tiny dresser to fit my clothes. It didn’t matter if the room was small, because it was mine.

“I told Megan’s mother right before I got here,” she said.

“What?” I blinked, my insides churning. “Why would you do that?”

“Because first …” She ticked off a finger. “She shouldn’t lie to her mother, and second, she is one that knows how this palace operates. That’s acting irresponsibly on Megan’s part.” She gave me a pointed look. “But you’re not off the hook either. You should have told Megan ‘no’.”

“Fine,” I huffed. “What did your superior say? Who’s in trouble?” I held my breath waiting for the outcome. Whatever it was, maybe I could fix it. I’d talk to the queen herself if I had to, make sure no one lost their job. It couldn’t end that way.

“No one.”

I blinked. I couldn’t have heard her right. It was too good to be true. When I saw the truth in her deep blue eyes, my whole body relaxed. This would be another slap on my hand, and I knew I wouldn’t associate with the royals anymore, and that was fine by me.

I was about to lie down and get under the covers when my mother’s voice stopped me cold.

“You’re working for Prince Bash now.” Her tone was sharp, but her eyes grazed my face, gauging for a reaction.

Nothing could hide the shock on my face. “What?” I pushed the covers to the floor and stood.

“It’s not a punishment, per se.” She let out a low sigh, then her shoulders relaxed, and her facial features softened. “But it’s to teach you a lesson.”

“What lesson is that?” My voice increased with mounting rage and my whole body tensed.

“That there are rules, Charlie.”

“No.” I stomped my foot, and my hands were fisted by my sides. “I don’t have the time, nor do I want to work for that pompous playboy. Plus, I start school again in the next two weeks.”

She nodded once. “I told them that, and that’s when your servitude will end.”

I blinked, glaring at my mother as though this was her fault even though I knew it was mine. We had a staring contest that seemed to last forever. What was I going to do? Ask her to go back to her superiors and tell them I wouldn’t do it. That wasn’t an option. I’d tell them myself. I lost the staring contest because I turned on my heels toward the window, taking in the pastures of green that led to the castle that I hated. I hated that I was even in this predicament. That was the last time I broke the rules for the greater good. “No, Mom. I won’t.” I said, turning to face her. There was no way I could serve and nod and not say a word when it wasn’t built in my DNA. More importantly, this went deeper than that because I didn’t believe in the aristocracy and royalty and what Bash stood for—playing up the good image when I knew he was anything but.

“You don’t have a choice.” She tipped her head, and I swear there was almost a deep regret heavy in her eyes. “You’re still in school. You’re over your head in debt, and I need this job to pay for your books and supplies and to keep us afloat.” I hated that she was right.

She lowered her voice and her shoulders drooped. “I’m happy here. No one will pay me as much as they do. It’s a prestigious job.”

“Working as a maid?” I snapped, hating the words as soon as they fell from my lips. I was taking my anger out on my mother, and it wasn’t fair. I knew this, but I was frustrated at the situation I’d been put in.

Her eyes softened at my rage, which made me feel worse. “Yes. Working as a maid for this family and leading my own team. Everyone wants to work for this castle. You know this, Charlie.” She reached for my hand and squeezed it between us. “Once you’re in, they provide for you for life.”

I couldn’t contradict her there. A lot of these people that I’d grown up around were lifers—Rachel and Megan included.

“I want out, Mom.” The fight was lost in my voice. She knew this.

She squeezed my hand again, tighter this time, the tenderness of the gesture almost breaking me. “I know. You’re the one not happy here, and I get it.” With the lightness of my mother’s fingertips, she grazed the side of my cheek. “When you’re out of school, we’ll leave. That was our deal.” She cupped my chin, and the soft touch eased my mood a bit. “I’ll follow you everywhere. Because you’re my baby. But you have to finish school first.”

I nodded, meeting eyes so different than mine. “Two weeks?” Peering up at her, I stubbornly obliged.

“Yes, honey. Two weeks. You report to his office Monday morning at eight. You can discuss logistics when you get there.” She smiled. “It’s only temporary, but there are lines and lines of people that would draw blood for this position.” She was trying to remind me of my good fortune, but I couldn’t accept it. I’d do my two weeks and get the hell out of here. That’s all I knew.

“Well, let them have it,” I said, annoyed, but the fight had gone out of my tone.

She shrugged. “That’s just not how it goes.”

“What happened to the prince’s other personal assistant?”

“He fired her,” Mom said.

“When?”

“This afternoon.”

Internally, I groaned.

“Fine.” My answer came out short and curt. The next two weeks were going to be hell. I’m sure he’d make it hell. But little did he know, I was the devil in the short white skirt, seemingly sweet, but deadly dangerous.

Chapter 6

The weekend flew by fast and furious. Monday morning I woke up earlier than I would’ve on summer break. Not like it mattered. During school days, I was awake before the sun rose, up past midnight studying, so waking up early was not a big deal to me.

What was a shit deal was dressing in a preapproved all-black skirt suit uniform that my mother had laid out for me, and walking through the palace garden, looking like the help, and heading to Bash’s chambers to show up to a job that I didn’t apply for.

I lifted my head to the summer sun, taking in the cool breeze against my cheeks, through my hair and at the back of my legs. The temperatures would rise to the eighties later and what I wouldn’t give to go for a morning run, far far away from this place.

I entered through the golden gates, clearing two security posts with my own ID this time. My mother had dropped it off when she handed me my uniform. I entered into the palace, clearing one more security post, and headed up the imperial staircase, admiring the pictures of former kings and queens and paintings, some I’d recognized by famous painters of Itasca.

The sounds of the vacuums buzzed through the halls, and the cleaning staff were in full swing, dusting and polishing and organizing. The sunlight from the windows gleamed against the marble pearl white floors.

I waved to a few people I recognized. By now, they knew what had happened, how I covered for Megan. None had asked me why I was here. They only helped give me directions to the prince’s office, which I already knew because I’d been escorted here by the guards only a few days before.

I turned to walk through the double doors when Christian’s voice stopped me.

“Charlie?”

My cheeks flushed pink as he took me all in. “What are you doing here?” He was in his standard uniform, black pants and red jacket. The emblem of Itasca was sewed on his collar.

“Reporting to duty.” The annoyance was heavy in my tone. There was no way to hide that I was not happy to be here.

“What?” He cocked his head to the side, his eyes cautious. “Why?”

He knew me well enough to know that I wouldn’t be willfully working for the palace. “Because I’m being punished, that’s why.”

“For covering for Megan? Where have you been assigned?”

“I’m working for the prince.” I cringed at the thought of where I was going to spend the end of my summer vacation.

His eyes flitted around the room, then landed steadily on my face. “Doing what?”

“His personal slave … I mean, assistant.” I threw him a sarcastic smile, one that was supposed to make me feel better and ease the tension off his face, but it didn’t work.

He stepped into me, grabbed my forearm and leaned in. “You can’t.” The firmness in his voice jarred me.

“It’s not like I have a choice,” I said. Well I did have a choice, but that choice might cost my mother her job and I wasn’t about to take that chance.

“Get out of it. He’s a terror.” His eyes widened, and he bent down to lean into me further, whispering so no one else could hear him. “And the stories I’ve heard. The things he does to … to women.” Now it was his turn to turn a darker shade of pink. “You’re not like that.”

I let out a slow breath. If he only knew. If he only had an inkling of what turned me on. If only he didn’t solely resort to missionary style in the bedroom. If only …

Then maybe we would’ve lasted.

“I can take care of myself,” I said defiantly, turning toward Bash’s office.

“I know you,” he insisted. His grip lightened and his hand dropped to my fingers. “I do know you,” he said again. “I know you like it when I pick the movie and the restaurant when we go out. I know you like to be taken care of, and here’s me trying to watch out for you.”

I blinked up at him. That was where he was wrong. He didn’t know me at all. I’d been taking care of myself for as long as I could remember. I wasn’t a wallflower. But for once, I wished he was right. I wished he did know me. I wished he did understand me more. Maybe then we could have worked out because Christian had all the boxes checked—good job, loving family growing up, kind and genuine.

I didn’t have to turn around to know he was watching me as I walked toward the doors of Bash’s office. “You only know the person you want to see.”

The two burly guards pushed open the double doors trimmed with gold. Bash was sitting there in all his handsome glory and his eyes immediately locked with mine. His desk was immense, almost as long as a twin bed. Something during my red-filled rage that I hadn’t noticed the day before.

The desk was stacked neatly with files and papers. A pencil sharpener was positioned to the right of his desktop computer. By the phone was a small desk lamp, stapler and box of tissues was to the left. It looked like a typical desk you’d encounter at a normal office job; except that everything was gold, not black. Oh, and the prince of our country sitting with his hands steepled at his lips, watching me.

He nodded to the guards that had let me in, speaking without words. And those that served him daily understood what was needed with a flick of his wrist or a tip of his chin. They exited and shut the doors, leaving the two of us alone.

My neck stiffened and every muscle in my body strained as I walked further into the room.

“Come, sit down.” He leaned back against his sleek leather chair and rested both arms on the armrests.

I hated taking orders from anyone who wasn’t the woman who birthed me.

He tipped his chin toward the chair in front of him as though I were his guard, his attendant, his maid. But I simply stood there.

“I prefer to stand if that’s okay.”

“Charlie…” He said my name as though he was testing it out. He already knew the people that knew me the most called me Charlie, so it was as if he was using my name to spite me. “Charlie…” My name rolled off his tongue slowly. “I’m not going to bite. Well, unless you want me to.”

And there it was again, the sly smirk that reminded me who he was and what clout he had over my family and me.

The glint from the expensive chandelier reflected on the gold bracelet on my wrist. The one my mother had gifted me when I graduated high school. I focused on it and told myself that this was temporary. I was only doing this for the next few weeks until school started.

My head lifted, and I stared at him straight on. I would let him know that I wasn’t intimidated. “I know why I’m here.”

“Do you now?” He lifted a disbelieving eyebrow, the sly smirk still heavy on his face.

“Yes. I do.” It’s because, in that tiny brain of his, I had duped him somehow, tricked him, and now he was using his almighty reign to wreak havoc in my life.

I eyed him carefully. “What will I be doing for the next two weeks?”

“Serving me.” His voice dropped seductively low, and the way he looked at me gave me unwelcome chills. Chills that jolted something deep and forbidden and lustful inside of me.

“Serving you what?” I snapped, my back straightening.

He stood, and I widened my eyes when he approached. He sat at the edge of the desk, ankles locked, hands folded in his lap. “I fired my personal assistant. She was untimely, irresponsible, and also screwing one of my guards when she should’ve been on duty.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. Maybe he was offended that his last assistant had chosen his guard over him.

“It’s not funny,” he said, voice stern. “Not when I’m the face of the kingdom, and I missed a meeting with the council because of her stupidity.”

I bit my cheek, all humor gone. That would piss me off too, and dismissing the council was no laughing matter. Even I knew that.

“So, I need an assistant.” The corner of his mouth tipped up. “One to keep my schedule in order, run my errands, coordinating with the kitchen staff to make sure my food is prepared when I eat, make sure I’m awake when I need to be. And busy work polishing my shoes, picking up my dry cleaning. Any miscellaneous errands that I have you run.” He laughed. “You don’t like that, do you?”

“What?”

“I can tell from your face.”

I blinked and unscrunched my expression, letting out a low exhale in the process.

“You’re not very easy at hiding things,” he said.

He was right; I never had been. I straightened my spine and tried my best to keep my features even. This was beyond ridiculous. A slave? His beck and call? If he said jump, I’d have to comply. But what other choice did I have?

My gaze dropped to the desk, understanding the fact that any hope of getting out of this situation was not happening. “I’ll be done in two weeks because I’ll have to go back to school.” I had to make that clear.

“No.”

“What?” This time I jolted forward and my chin jutted out. “I’m in medical school, soon to be graduating and going into my residency.”

“I know,” he said with a humorous light in his eyes. He probably knew everything about me by now.

I blinked. “I’ve worked four long years to get to this point.” If he thought I would die and work at the castle and give up all my dreams of being a doctor, he might as well drag my ass to jail for treason because it wasn’t happening.

He was silent for several long seconds, torturing me. I hated him. I hated him so much. I was going to despise working for him. Finally, he said, “You’ll work for me after school.”

“There’s not enough time,” I insisted, my voice rising with resounding resolve. “I study non-stop. I have clinicals and group projects. It’s not happening.”

He studied me calmly. “You’ll make it work until I find a replacement.”

“Why are you doing this?” I wanted to pull my hair out then stomp on his beautiful face. “Because I tried to be a good friend and cover for Megan? It was one mistake. I didn’t kill anyone, hurt anyone. I didn’t …”

Then he bent down and kissed me. All the words left my mouth. The whole world stood still. It wasn’t the passionate, uninhibited, and wild kiss from mere days ago in his room; this was slow and deliberate. One hand moved from the curve of my neck and cupped my face, bringing me closer, taking me in.

My mind, my self-control was shot. Because, oh my goodness, did it feel good to kiss him. There was power and lust and one hundred percent male behind that kiss. Never had I experienced a kiss like this, one that jump-started my pulse and ignited licks of flames in my belly.

“One night,” he whispered before pulling back, eyes still closed, peppering kisses against my soft lips. “One night and your duties are relinquished.”

I breathed one long breath out and pushed him away with one hand, so I could think more clearly. This was ridiculous. I wasn’t this girl.

“You’re crazy.” Yes, I called the prince of our kingdom crazy, but he was if he thought I was another one of his hookers. “And don’t do that again.” My pulse was beating loudly in my throat.

“You liked that kiss.”

“No. I didn’t.” My voice shook, and I teetered in my two-inch heels. He steadied me with his hands on my hips.

“Why did you kiss me back then?”

“I did not,” I argued. Get a grip!

I stepped back, then pointed a shaky finger in his direction. “You cannot order me to do anything. I’m not an employee of the castle. I don’t even have to agree to your two-week requirement.” Who was I kidding? I had to agree. But I would not, could not let him know he’d gotten to me.

A low chuckle escaped him. “You’re a feisty one, aren’t you? And even sexier when you’re mad.”

When he went to reach for me again, I stepped back, not because I felt violated, quite the opposite. I didn’t know if I’d give in to him because, although I didn’t want to admit it, I craved his touch. It heated the cold in me.

His hand fell by his side, but his eyes were blazing fire. “I can’t deny I have been thinking of you. Since I tasted your lips and held you against me.” He raked in my face, then his gaze dropped to take in the rest of my body as though he were drinking me, quenching an inner thirst. “I also can’t deny that I want you.” He swiped at his full lower lip. “But you’re right, I can’t take what I want, and there are strict rules that I’ve made—which are to never to mix business and pleasure.”

My breathing was even now, slower, steady, and controlled.

“So, I’ll give you a choice, Charlotte Rose.” He stepped forward, and my lips parted at his proximity. His height, his overpowering demeanor, was turning me on.

I peered up at him, taking in the dark brown in his irises. They reminded me of an endless river of molten dark chocolate.

“Give me what I want, and I’ll relinquish you from your duties. One night.” He shook his head, dropped his gaze and when he stared up at me, his irises were darker. “No. One week.” He ran one hand down my arm. “One week and you’re released from your servitude.”

His proposition was tempting and revolting all at once. He was treating me like a prostitute, and I couldn’t deny that, but he made me want to do forbidden things, give into my wants. What was wrong with me?

Maybe if he were a normal guy, a guy on the street, a classmate at school, a mutual friend, I would have. But he wasn’t. He was the prince of our kingdom and with that, sleeping with him, even though I was one hundred percent attracted to him would’ve had consequences and cause my simple life to be not-so-simple.

He wanted me, there was no doubting that, and I wanted him equally as bad. Even more, since it’d been a long dry spell without a man’s touch.

But that wasn’t going to happen, because of who he was, who I was, and I refused to be used and thrown to the side.

I lifted my chin, showing stubbornness and confidence. “Where is your schedule and how do we start? Two weeks. That’s all I’m giving you.” There was finality in my tone.

He blinked a couple of times, unbelieving, as though he was so sure I’d take him up on his sexual offer. Then he leaned against the desk and shoved his hands in his pockets. He lifted his chin, defiant, and I could tell he was a little taken aback.

Then he turned on his heels and sat back down behind his desk. Opening his drawer, he pulled out a planner that seemed outdated. He tossed it at me, and it landed on the desk. “Here’s the planner for the month.”

I quirked an eyebrow. “Outdated, are we?” I almost laughed out loud but noted the seriousness in his face and thought better of it.

“I like pen and paper and …” He tipped his chin toward the brown calendar. “It’s also for security reasons.”

I plucked the pen and calendar from the desk, gripping it tightly within my fingertips. “Where do we begin?”

After a nod toward the door, he said, “Go check with Gladys from the kitchen. I haven’t had breakfast yet.”

After slipping the items under my arm, I turned to walk out the door, huffing and puffing in my head. My feet padded heavily against his polished hardwood floors, and I didn’t even try to hide it. He could’ve called down there if he wanted to. He was going to make me pay for turning him down.

“Charlie?”

I turned around and met his stare square on.

There was a glimmer of mischief in his eyes, like a little boy up to no good. “It’ll be easier if you give me one week.”

The easy, self-entitled smile was heavy on his face.

“I’ll get your breakfast.” Those were the last words I recited as I stepped out the door and made my way to the kitchen.

But I waited long enough to see his sly smile slip.

One point for Team Charlie.

Chapter 7

The next few days with Prince Bash were more than eventful. I’d thought he would merely play and flirt and try to proposition me, but I was surprised that his demeanor had switched from not-so-playful to full-on work mode.

I’d never excelled at typing, and I was doing my best to keep up and take notes. In school, I recorded most of my lectures. I should’ve thought to do that when I began.

With his arms around his chest, his head held high, he paced the width of his study, swallowing the space with large steps. His leather shoes wore down the imported oriental carpet.

My head was deep into the computer, my fingertips tapping away on his keyboard, trying to get all the fine details down.

“And tomorrow, I’ll need to be out of the palace by eight-thirty to get to the orphanage in time, which means breakfast at seven-thirty. You’ll need to contact Leon, the head of our limo staff and he’ll get in touch with our security team for the security detail. And regarding that …”

“One second,” I said, typing as fast as I could.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“What?”

“I said wait.”

Tap. Tap. Tap.

I met his gaze for a millisecond and dropped my stare back to the screen.

“I’m starting to wonder who’s the boss here.” The glint in his eyes told me I was amusing him again.

I ignored him and concentrated on the task at hand.

“Some might think it’s disrespectful to not address your prince when you’re being talked to.” There it was again. That little smirk that made me want to hurl my computer in his direction.

My face pinched. Wasn’t there a mute button on this guy? “I know you’re the boss here and I’m merely you’re PA.” I could no longer hide my annoyance. “If you think for one second that I forgot who’s in charge, you’re sadly mistaken. But I’m not trained in this job, so if you want me to get everything down and make sure you safely arrive on time, you’ll just need to give me a second.” I waved a hand, motioning for him to go on. “You may continue.”

A devil disguised.

He sat at the edge of the desk, crossing his ankles. Cashmere socks. I bet his socks cost more than my books for next semester.

His masculine demeanor made me shift in my seat. The power in his stance, the strength in his thighs, the strong set in his shoulders was hard to ignore, but hell if I wasn’t doing my best to ignore him.

“You may continue,” I said, trying to not let him affect me.

He leaned in, and his scent was intoxicating. No doubt a cologne not manufactured anywhere in our country or one that could be bought at the store. This cologne was made special for him, his own signature, and it made my mouth go dry as though I’d swallowed a bottle of baby powder.

I didn’t break eye contact, feigning cool composure and taking in his dark irises and the sparkle of hazel beneath the chestnut brown. My heart beat in overtime like a ticking bomb ready to blow, but he wouldn’t have been able to tell because I kept my breathing steady.

If I turned away first, he’d know he’d gotten to me, and I had too much pride.

He angled closer, and my breath caught.

Shit.

“I think I’m going to enjoy the next two weeks,” he said, his voice gravely low—so low it hit the pit of my stomach. “Who knows? I may never give you back.”

My eyes fluttered without my consent and I inhaled deeply, taking in his wonderful cologne.

“And you may even like working for me.”

That would be impossible. I would never enjoy working for him. I hated his kind. Just because I was attracted to him didn’t mean I liked him.

“I doubt it,” I muttered.

The corner of his mouth tipped up, amused, and that made my temperature increase.

My head was back in my computer, my fingers ready for his next words.

He stared at me for far too long. I didn’t have to look up to know because I could feel his eyes burning through me, searing the side of my face like a laser beam at its target, and all from his one look.

My breathing was ragged this time, not at all slow and steady. My whole world tilted on its axis, and I shot up from my seat.

“I need to use the restroom.” I didn’t meet his gaze as I stormed out of the room, not even waiting to be excused. That’s not what any normal civilian would have done in the presence of royalty, but this was no normal situation.

Once the bathroom door flew open, I ran to the sink, turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on my face. The frigid water did nothing to the heat rising within me. The crazy thing was, I didn’t know if the rise in my body temperature was from my annoyance because of the predicament that I’d been forced into or because of Prince Bash’s eyes on me.

I’d hate to think it was the latter.

Chapter 8

The next morning, I awoke in my own bed, but I didn’t get an ounce of sleep the night before. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Bash’s face. A dark knight that threatened my slumber.

There was nothing I could do, so I tossed and turned and when morning light seeped through my curtains, I stared at the ceiling. My head throbbed. I couldn’t escape him in real life, and now he haunted my dreams.

I was on official Bash PA duty and, as much as I hated being forced into this job, I wanted to make sure that the day ran as smoothly as possible.

From ensuring the security detail was on point, to scheduling transportation to and from the orphanage, to making sure that the press was informed on where the prince was going to be. All the minuscule details—including what he liked to drink in the limo—were driving me crazy.

And the fact that I would be in close quarters with him the whole day was giving me almost panic attacks.

The banging on the door had me pulling up my sheets over my tiny nightie. I nearly yelped when the prince barged in.

“Don’t you lock the door?” He was carrying a tray of food.

“Don’t you wait until someone says, ‘Come in?’” I protested.

“You didn’t answer my question.” He set the tray on my side table and approached the bed.

I wanted to scream. Could this man get any more annoying? My tone came off calm and cool, though my insides brewed with frustration. “No. We’ve known everyone in my quarters for years. Any theft would be reported, and no one wants to leave.” Except for me.

I glanced at the clock on my side table, and it said six o’clock in the morning.

“What are you doing here? “I snapped.

“I couldn’t sleep.” He eyed me with curiosity as though it was my fault.

“I don’t have to report to duty until seven,” I said, matter-of-factly. Maybe he’d forgotten. My lack of sleep was putting me in the foulest mood, and I was bone tired.

He didn’t look any better. The bags under his eyes were dark and unnaturally puffy. There was grogginess in his posture. “That’s true, but I thought we’d get an early start today.”

I barely controlled my eye roll. The vein in my temple ticked, ticked, ticked away. If I were a cartoon character, my brain would have exploded by now.

Because this was Bash, and because he felt the need to peruse my room and do as he pleased, he picked up my pictures on my nightstand and looked through my books. His broad shoulders filled out his robe, and his tall stature made it seem like the room was made for a midget.

“You seem mighty interested in my Med Surge books.”

He shrugged, as though all my mediocre belongings and medical books fascinated him. “I’ve never been in the servant quarters before.”

“Slumming it now, aren’t we?” I mumbled. My stomach grumbled, and I eyed the food grudgingly. I wanted to eat it, but I didn’t want him around when I scarfed down the goodies.

He turned my way, smirking. “I’d slum it all day and night with you.”

“In your dreams,” I gripped the sheets closer to my chest, covering my breasts and my cheeks heated. I was almost naked under the covers, but he didn’t know that.

“Which is why I couldn’t sleep last night.” He eyed me carefully again, as though I’d physically gotten up in the middle of the night, gone to his room and bothered him senseless all for the purpose of preventing him from falling asleep.

He took the tray to my bed, sitting on the edge as though it were his bed and his room.

“Bash, what are you doing here?” There was an undertone of harshness in my voice, but by his laid-back demeanor, he hadn’t noticed.

He lifted an eyebrow. “Bash? Is that how you address your prince?”

My whole body stiffened, and I sat straighter, careful to readjust the cover against my body. “Prince Bash,” I retorted. “Your Royal Highn-ass.” The moment the words slipped from my mouth, my eyes widened. Crap.

He merely smirked, amused again at my jab. I forced my features to ease because I didn’t need to get myself in more trouble than I already was.

The tray was filled with goodies, from eggs to pancakes, pastries, and bacon. Goodness, how I loved bacon.

“I brought breakfast,” he said.

Good for him. Maybe he wanted a gold medal for doing something for someone else for once. I was careful to keep my commentary to myself.

“What you brought was a feast.” My stomach grumbled louder because I ignored it the first time. Feed me, feed me, feed me. One arm dropped to my middle section, needing the grumbling to stop.

“Since I can’t get you out of my mind, I thought we’d eat together.”

His hot then cold, professional, and then not professional stance was giving me whiplash.

He sounded sincere, but what aggravated me was that I didn’t have a choice in the matter. I couldn’t merely say, I don’t think so. I’d like to eat alone, but please leave the tray. Because who dared say that to the Prince of Itasca?

His eyes found mine, then dipped lower to my breasts that he could probably see through the thin white sheet that covered my nightie. My nipples were hard, erect, and there was nothing I could do to hide them except cross my arms over the sheet, over my chest, which only accentuated them more.

He angled closer, and I read a sensual light pass through his eyes. “Let me feed you.”

“Absolutely not,” I said, pulling the sheet closer to my chin now. This was where I drew the line. I glared at him. Is this where we reenacted a commercial or porno flick, where he fed me strawberries dipped in chocolate. I think not.

After a beat, he tore his eyes from mine and dropped his head toward the tray. “At least let me eat with you.” He sounded resigned and maybe a little defeated as though he knew what my answer was going to be.

I was about to protest again, but then one word slipped from his mouth, a word that I’m sure he rarely ever uttered. “Please … please, Charlie. It’s one meal, and I want to get to know you since we’ll be working together.”

It was the first time he let a little of his guard down and it surprised me, so I blinked up at him, debating, hesitating, then finally giving in. What harm could one breakfast do? I scooted so the blanket was still covering my body but swung my knees out to the edge of the bed. Then I heard him make a low, throaty sound.

“Do you always sleep in nighties?”

My eyes turned ice cold, squinty, my expression pinched again.

The rumble in his chest and laughter that fell out of his mouth were overpowering and masculine and all king. Enough to heat my face, and I hated that I kept reacting to him this way. “Okay, I’ll stop,” he said, sounding apologetic enough.

“I’m serious though. I think since we’ll be working together I wish you’d stop looking at me as though I’d killed your puppy,” he said.

“Well, then stop behaving crudely and acting all mighty,” I said, lifting an expected eyebrow.

“But I am almighty.” He pounded his chest with his fist. “I am almost king.” The roar from his chest made my lips twitch that I had to bite my inner cheek from letting out a full-on smile.

“Bacon or Sausage?” he asked. He playfully knocked his knee to mine. Then he answered his question before I had a chance to answer. “I prefer bacon unless it’s sausage filled with maple syrup. I have a weakness for everything sweet.” He eyed me expectantly. “How about you?”

“Bacon. Hands down. Pancakes or waffles?” I asked him. Since he was being cordial, I was going to try to play nice girl with the hopes that these next few weeks would fly and be less painful. I wondered if he shared a meal with his prior assistant. I debated on asking him but thought better of it.

“I prefer waffles. Just the consistency. It’s basically derived from the same ingredients.” He tipped his chin toward the waffles on the tray.

“True,” I said. The way he was looking at me, the intensity of his stare was unnerving.

We stared at each other for a beat, two beats, three, without saying a word.

The tray sat between us like a barrier between his body and mine. There was no denying I was attracted to this man. I couldn’t stop the pitter-patter in my chest or the fact that my whole body heated simply by being next to him.

Luckily my head was stronger than my horny female hormones.

I took the knife on the tray and buttered the bread still warm in my fingertips. There was nothing like the scent of newly-baked bread in the morning. Itasca was known for its peach jam. Peach trees filled our luscious land. It’s what made up of half of our exports and what our economy thrived on.

Peach jam and newly-baked bread. I was in absolute heaven.

“Do they always prepare this tray for you? I mean, the staff has to know that you’re never going to finish everything on here.”

“Actually …” He took the knife from my fingers, and the mere brush of his hand against mine made my stomach flip. “I went down to the kitchen myself this morning to make my own tray. In our conversation yesterday, you said you liked peach jam and sunflower bread.”

He remembered that? The thoughtful gesture had me smiling.

Control, Charlie. Seize control.

I took a bite of my bread. It was heaven as bits crumbled on my tongue. I tried not to watch him as I ate, but I couldn’t help it. The morning light from the window highlighted his five o’clock shadow. God was he beautiful. Great genes. Gorgeous.

We ate. We talked about our favorite jams, apple peach being my favorite, pear peach being his. He talked about the process of making peach jam. He had visited a vast array of jam factories and swore he could run one himself.

With a light touch, he swiped at my lower lip. “Leftover jam,” he said, his eyes concentrating on my lips. The way his chocolate brown eyes darkened had my pulse quickening.

He let out a low, ragged breath and now that breakfast was over, quietness engulfed the room. As he stared down at me, a blush crept up my cheeks, reaching farther up my neck. The silence only heightened this palpable attraction between us. An undeniable heat passed, just by our shared glance, and every part of me itched to touch him.

“Well, thank you for breakfast.” I had to tear my gaze from his, concentrate on anything other than the beautiful face on the most pompous body.

The tick of the wall clock and our breaths were the only sounds in the room.

When I decided to steal a glance, Bash’s eyes were dark and full of promises I shouldn’t be thinking of. His lips slipped ajar. “Do you like potato bread?” His voice was throaty and hot. “Do you want to try some? It’s … it’s delicious with the jam.”

My breathing slowed as he angled the bread closer to my mouth, tempting me like the forbidden apple in the garden.

My body was like a taut wire, being so long since I’d been with a man. I craved the intimacy; the passion and the lust was simply an automatic reaction. More than being touched by any other man, I wanted the touch of this man, this powerful man. This prince. The prince that brought women to their knees. The next heir to the throne.

Before I knew what I was doing, I opened my mouth and let him slowly guide the piece of bread into my mouth. The move was seductive and sensual, and I could feel the sizzle between us heighten as his fingers touched my lips.

“Does … Does it taste good?” His tone sounded barely controlled. And as he angled closer, my body went into overdrive.

He didn’t even fully touch me, but my panties were wet, and my core was pulsing with want, with need, with desire.

“Fruit?” he asked, his voice a breathless whisper. “Do you like strawberries?”

With a tip of my chin, he pushed a strawberry into my mouth along with his two fingers and goodness gracious, I didn’t stop him. My mind was mush as I took his fingers between my lips and sucked, and right before he pulled them out slowly, I bit down a little on his finger. But I was the one that felt the pain, the throb, deep below my belly.

The juices from the strawberry slipped from my mouth, but he closed the gap between us and caught the juicy dribbles with his finger.

Suddenly, the tray of food slipped from his lap, and the silverware and all the food splattered—the bacon, the bread, the open jar of peach jam and all the pastries were on the floor in one big thud.

I went to move to pick them up, but he blocked me from standing. “Leave it.”

He reached for my wrist and our eyes locked. In that moment, I knew it was game over. All his wants and needs and desires were heavy in his eyes and a mirror to mine.

I was going to give him my virtue on a silver platter for him to feast on and give him seconds if he wasn’t satisfied.

And before I knew it, his lips were on my lips, the sheet that had been keeping me warm was ripped away from me and his chest was against mine. He tasted like mint, smelled of his signature cologne, and felt like the dominant all-powerful male he’d been groomed to be.

Slowly he ushered me on my back, and we were all lips and hands and heavy breaths, but his kisses were slow and deliberate as though he’d mastered the art of kissing. First concentrating on my upper lip, then my bottom and back again.

The heat—the electricity—was palpable. His firm rule of not mixing business and pleasure and mine of staying away from the prince was all shattered at this moment. This wasn’t an error of mistaken identity or a late drunken night. We were fully aware of what was happening.

He cupped the side of my face, and a slow, shaky breath escaped him as his lips pressed to my neck, and he made sure to nip at every spot starting below my ear to right by my collarbone.

My eyes fell shut. My breathing slowed. I could feel his warm breath against my skin. His fingers skimmed down my body, then went to the apex of my legs, and my breathing sped up when he pushed my panties to the side. I was powerless to resist.

Then the door flew open.

I immediately shot up to a sitting position, dizzy in the process of losing my equilibrium.

I thought it was my mother, but when I gained my bearings and looked up, I was more horrified than if it had been my mom catching us.

Christian.

Chapter 9

Christian’s face was shell-shocked. Eyes wide, mouth ajar.

“What the hell?” The normally composed prince was livid, eyes blazing. “Who gives you a right to barge in here unannounced?”

Christian stuttered. “Ah … eh. I’m sorry?” Then he shut the door behind him. I bit down on a groan, barely containing my mortification at being caught by my ex-boyfriend when the heartbreak was evident in his eyes. It would’ve been better if the prince left.

My face brightened, the heat of shame spreading to the tips of my ears. I wanted to hide, leave, cry. All of the above.

My ex had just walked in on another man—scratch that—the Prince of Itasca on top of me. Of all people, Christian knew how I felt about the royal family, about the castle, about this life. Pure shame rattled my insides.

I dropped my head to my hands, feeling eyes on me, judging me—Christian’s eyes.

“Why are you still here, guard?” Bash’s tone was razor sharp and cutting.

“Please leave.” I had to get the words out before I made a further fool of myself. “Both of you.” My voice shook with deep emotion.

“Charlie …” Bash’s voice was feather soft, but I needed him out. I couldn’t look at him. I was embarrassed as hell, and my body was wired most likely from what Bash had started but had not finished.

When I lifted my head, Christian was out the door, but Bash hadn’t moved from my bed.

“Pl-please,” I begged him. Heat formed behind my eyelids. I was close to tears and I bit my cheek hard enough to concentrate on the pain rather than my true emotions, or else I’d have a breakdown. Why had I given into him? I didn’t think I liked him that much, and yet … “I’ll be upstairs to report on time.” My voice was firmer now, meaning business.

His loud exhale chilled the room further. He didn’t like taking orders, but I couldn’t, wouldn’t face him right now.

When the bed creaked and he stood, I knew he was leaving.

When the door shut, I pulled my hands from my face and skittered to the edge of the bed. The floor was covered in jam, breads, pastries, fruit, and silverware.

I let out a long breath. How did I end up here? Why the hell was I in this predicament? What happened to my self-control?

Now everything was shit.

I bent down and picked up the mess that was scattered all over my wooden floor, grabbing the bread from the floor and slamming it back on the tray.

“I can’t believe I was about to let him do that.” Slam. “He’s probably used to getting his way all the time.” Slam. “I’m no different than his freaking whores.”

The door flipped open.

“What!” I exploded.

Christian stood there, dumbstruck. Who knew if it was because it was the hardness in my tone or the fact that I was on all fours picking up food tossed on my floor, or the fact that my nighty was white and see-through?

Forget it. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen me naked before.

“He forced himself on you, didn’t he?” His words were gentle but sure.

“Christian…” I groaned, closing my eyes.

“He did, didn’t he?” He balled his fists, his temper flaring. “I’ll … I’ll …”

What was he going to do? Nothing. That’s what. Christian obeyed authority; he didn’t defy them.

I debated on what I should tell him. Maybe I should’ve lied, to save him some hurt. “He didn’t force himself on me,” I answered. If anything, I had welcomed Bash with opened legs. I shook my head, sighing heavily, and my whole body slumped against the floor.

Christian’s whole face fell.

“Why?” His voice was hushed and hurt and confused.

When I stayed silent and continued to pick up the rest of the food, Christian paced the room. “This is ridiculous.” He ran one aggravated hand through his hair. “You know he’s only using you, right?”

I cringed. Of course, he was only using me because that’s what men of his rank and stature and authority did with everyone around them. We were at their disposal—nothing more than something to keep them entertained. But maybe I wanted to use him, too.

“Why?” he demanded again. His voice was barely controlled, and a sudden chill hung at the edge of his words, his body stick straight, tense, and unmoving.

“I don’t know …” That was the truth, slipping out. “I don’t know!” The frustration I felt oozed out in a ball of fury. There was an internal battle happening within me. Why was I attracted to the conceited, self-righteous prince and why had I let it get that far? Because I’m attracted to him, I admitted to myself outright, and because I had a momentary lapse of sanity.

I saw the anger working up on Christian’s face. I wanted to hate myself for it, but I didn’t. Christian needed to move on from me, and maybe this would help. I didn’t want to break his heart, but he also wasn’t giving me a choice.

His jaw clamped down. “I’m not going to let him use you like that,” he promised me. “I refuse to let him—"

My voice was soft but resigned. “You’re not going to do anything, Christian. If you were, you would’ve said something to him when you walked in on us.” I knew what I said hurt, but it was the truth. I knew Christian better than he knew himself sometimes.

The lack of sleep was catching up to me suddenly. I stood wearily, placed the tray of food on my side table, and walked up to him. The gentleman that he was, his eyes stayed focus on my face. At one time I’d been in love with him. It had been a slow-building love, one I’d thought I could fall into. But the more that I’d been with him, the more I’d realized he wasn’t for me. If we had stayed together, I would’ve married him because of comfort and nothing else.

“Christian, I’m a big girl. If I made a mistake …” And I sure as hell did. “… then I’ll live by it.”

He simply stood there, wordless, but his face told it all—the dip in his head, the frown on his face, the way his eyes saddened when he said, “Why would you pick him?”

I wanted to tell him I didn’t. In my one moment of weakness, I’d given in to the lust and it would never … ever … happen again.

But I didn’t say that to him. Instead, I said gently, “Christian, I think the best thing right now is if you live your life and you let me live mine.”

Chapter 10

After Christian left, I cleaned up quickly, hurried to get ready for my day and report for duty. The walk to Bash’s study was awkward and terrifying, and all the things that made me want to rush back into my room and dive under my covers and hide forever.

But I didn’t. I held my head high as I walked straight into his study, sat down in front of his massive desk, making eye contact as I read back every little detail of the day. He hadn’t said a word to me about what had happened earlier, nor did he say anything inappropriate. For that, I was glad.

After calling security, I trailed behind him to the multiple Escalades and the white limo, which held the Itasca gold emblem. Royalty always rode in the white limo; it distinguished itself from the surrounding Escalades that were occupied by servants and guards.

I wondered how safe that was, given that it would point out the prince specifically.

The first photo op of the morning was outside the castle. Multiple news stations were situated on the outskirts of the lawn. I followed the prince, noting the way his red coat with the gold emblems of Itasca highlighted his shoulder blades, the way his black slacks hugged his firm thighs.

The insides of my palms began to sweat as I remembered his lips on me earlier. The hard nips and tucks of his mouth on my upper lip then lower as though he had to pay them both the equal amount of attention.

The flashes of light broke me from my sex-filled trance. Bash stood there, all in his handsome, confident glory. He smiled big, raising a hand in greeting and the news team and crowds outside the gates roared to life.

Our prince, the princess, and the royal family were loved and respected, no doubt. Little did everyone know that the next in line for the throne was a little freak. I doubted anybody outside the inner circle of the castle knew what was really going on, how these royals lived, and it wasn’t as pristine as they thought it would be.

As we made our way down the stairs and I was to head to my assigned Escalade, one of the bodyguards whispered low into my ear, “Prince Bash wants you to accompany him in the limo.”

I reeled back and assessed the guard’s face. There was an underlying question in his eyes, as though he questioned my intention or didn’t trust me with the prince.

“I don’t think that’s standard protocol,” I said, trying to get myself out of a trainwreck of a situation.

“It’s not.” The tall, bald man quirked an eyebrow. “But an order is an order.”

I wanted to deny Bash in front of this guard, but that would cause unnecessary drama, and I was already shit-deep in drama.

Christian had already seen us together. Although I doubted he would start castle gossip.

My feet stomped through the gravel and my insides heated to immeasurable temperatures. This was not good. Soon the guards would be talking, then this would get to my mother, and that’s the last thing I wanted. I didn’t want to worry her any further. My whole purpose in my adult life was to make her life easier, not harder, and here I was … not succeeding in life.

When I approached the limo, another guard opened the door, and I slipped into the leather seat. The interior of the royal limo was black and red and gold. Somewhat tacky in my opinion, but this limo had been in the family for years. The seats were black leather, but the walls were a deep crimson red, and the cups and drink area were bright gold.

I stared up at him. He was smirking and already holding a drink. It was only nine in the morning.

“This is not protocol.” My tone was short and clipped and what I needed was two shots of tequila to get me through the rest of the day.

“We stopped protocol a long time ago. If you had any doubt, this morning we broke protocol.” His smirk widened. It took all my energy not to slap it off his face. “If you were wondering, I don’t service my PAs the way I serviced you this morning.”

I shifted in my seat, unease filling every molecule of my body.

“Nor do they service me in any way that’s not professional. I don’t like to mix my personal life with business.” Then his smile faltered. “But with you, it’s … it’s different.” I pondered on his words, as he paused to examine me.

“Well, it was one of the biggest mistakes of my life, and let me tell you that I hardly make mistakes.” My outward stubbornness was overwhelming, and I crossed my arms over my chest.

The way he was looking at me, his quizzical expression, had me tugging at my neckline.

“Plus, that’s never happening again,” I added for emphasis. But as my body heated, I doubted my own words because I’d gone back on my promises multiple times when it came to Bash.

He mumbled something under his breath that I didn’t catch, but judging by the look on his face, maybe it was better that I didn’t.

I cleared my throat. “Well, since we’ve crossed that professional line, I might as well have a drink.” I grabbed the bottle of wine in the cooler, a gold-rimmed wine glass and filled it halfway, then I gulped it back, willing myself to relax. Hopefully, I could drink this whole day away.

“We never met the conventional way,” he said casually.

I threw up one hand while I tipped back my drink. “Yes! I know. I helped a friend out, and now you’re punishing me.” I didn’t need to be reminded of my stupidity. I’d had enough of this out-of-control feeling. I needed to be out of this car, this job, this life.

“Why do you hate me so much?”

I stared at him. Dumbfounded. What?

“Or you just hate all men?” He studied me closely, as though watching my reaction.

“I don’t hate men,” I said, eyeing him carefully. “Just the entitled, spoiled kind.”

He laughed, unfazed. “Well, I know who I should come to if I want honesty.”

Yes, I wasn’t anything if not honest. “Speaking of honesty. Do you hire hookers all the time?” If we were being honest, and he was being blunt with his questions, I was going to go full throttle with mine.

He blinked, his brow furrowed. His expression turned bleak. He ran one aggravated hand through his hair and, for the first time ever, I think I’d caught him off guard. “My life is complicated.”

I waved a hand to the limo. “Complicated or very fortunate?” I sassed.

“Both,” he huffed, and this time he was the one to shift in his seat. “I’m a man. I have needs.”

That age-old excuse? I rolled my eyes. “Please. I don’t need to know about your needs. You can get any girl, but you have to waste taxpayers’ money and hire overpriced hookers.”

“It’s not taxpayers’ money,” he disagreed. “I use my inheritance.”

I pursed my lips, disgusted. If this ever got out to the general public, the royal family’s name would be tarnished. Maybe it should. “And that makes it so much better.”

He threw up both hands and slumped against the cushion. “You don’t understand anything.”

I lifted an unbelieving eyebrow. Were we really going to have this conversation right now? I’d caught his hooker walking into the room for their rendezvous.

He let out an exasperated sigh, annoyed. His expression pinched. “Every single person I’m seen with, converse with, or even slightly look at a different way is overanalyzed. The press is so excited in hooking me up with someone that they’ll make up any story to sell papers.” His stare didn’t waver from mine, as though he wanted me to understand him. “My needs are not different than any other man’s needs. It’s just … my situation is different.”

He scrubbed one heavy hand down his face. “You know that when I step out of this car, and you follow me, the press will speculate.” His words were calculated, watching for a reaction, but I gave nothing away.

I placed my glass on the counter, already feeling warm from the glass of wine I just pounded back. Gossip came with the royal family territory. If they only knew what we said behind castle walls.

I added, “And let’s not mention the guards who will gossip along with the press. Why would you want everyone to romantically link you to the,” I put my fingers in quotes, “‘lowly maid’s daughter’?”

There was something new in his eyes. Something softer, more feeling, more intimate. “Maybe this time … I don't care.”

His answer caught me off guard, and by the look on his face, it caught him off guard too. The next words jammed in my throat. My normally snarky comment, gone.

It took a few seconds to collect myself. “Well, maybe I do care. Maybe I don’t want to be the prince’s plaything.”

“You’re not.” He frowned as though that wasn’t his intention or maybe once again, he was playing a part.

I scoffed. “Please save your words for someone that actually believes them.”

His lips were tight, and his head lowered as he reached for the wine bottle and poured himself another glass. “That mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble.” He tipped back the glass then said, “I don’t know if I should punish you for talking to your prince like that or kiss that smart mouth of yours.”

“How about neither?” I said, the wine loosening me up, making honesty easier.

How the hell did I get myself out of this predicament? I was less than a week into the job, and my whole world was teetering on the point of obliteration.

I’d be happy if we were at the less-than-a-week mark to the end. Interviews were already taking place for my replacement. It couldn’t happen soon enough.

“How can we make this work?” All my pent-up emotions and feelings laid out on the line. “How can I work for you when something inappropriate is always coming out of your mouth? I just want to finish this obligation and move on.” My voice was tired, like my whole body, my mind, my whole self. A re-do of earlier would not happen, so I had to set the boundaries now. I couldn’t say one thing and then act another way.

All the fighting and back-and-forth cutdowns were weighing on me. “Please.” I placed both hands in my lap and curled into myself. “I cannot do this day in and day out until this assignment is over. This morning was a mistake.” A glorious mistake, but nevertheless, a mistake. “And it’s not going to happen again, so tell me how I can fulfill my duties without all this other noise.”

He paused, sipping his wine carefully. “Is that what you really want?”

I threw up both hands. “I’m not your typical girl that says one thing and means another. Yes. That’s what I really want.”

All humor slipped from his face, and silence stretched between us. “Fine. It’s done.”

I lifted an eyebrow, and my voice heightened with incredulity. “Really? Done? That’s it?” Goodness. If I’d known all it would take was a little heart-to-heart, I would’ve done it sooner. “No more flirting? No more stolen kisses?”

“Yes.” He tilted his head, assessing me. “I guess I’m a little offended that the feeling is not mutual, or you don’t want to even entertain the idea of where this would go.”

I didn’t want to admit it, and I’d never admit it out loud, but it was mutual, and maybe in another lifetime … “Just be quiet. I feel like that’s the best thing for both of us right now.”

Chapter 11

The orphanage was on the south side of Itasca, which wasn’t the best part of our country. Full of poverty, there were no rolling meadows or succulent peach trees, only the deserted area flatlands and buildings occupied by people who couldn't afford their own homes. Government subsidized housing was built in this part of town.

I didn’t understand why the government couldn’t build subsidized housing all throughout Itasca. It was as though they wanted to purposely segregate the people who couldn’t afford to pay normal taxes, as though they were being punished.

The streets were lined with people waving the signature gold and red flag, sporting the star of Itasca. People hooted and hollered as the barricade of the prince’s entourage made its way past the boarded-up shops and graffiti-filled buildings.

The whole city, despite their segregation, worshipped the royal family. I wished, for once, they would reciprocate and work for the greater good. Or maybe I simply didn’t understand what they did.

The prince hadn’t said a word to me since I’d begged him to keep things strictly professional. When he opened his window and raised his hand to wave to the audience, the crowd roared, a deafening cheer as they screamed his name.

They loved him. Just getting a passing glimpse of him probably made their day. And a tiny bit of me, the non-skeptic, understood why. The royal family signified change, hope, and love. The king—the leader of today, and Bash—the future of Itasca.

Traditions were passed down year after year, and I guess there was some ease and comfort with the known, the familiarity. I could see how people looked to the Celebration of the Monarchy every year, or the fireworks before and after our Independence parade. People looked forward to these events, and I couldn’t deny that I did too because I enjoyed being at the events with my mother, my friends, with the children of the castle. The king and queen’s love story was broadcasted all over the television on their anniversary. They renewed their vows each and every year. I could see how people would want that one day, a love so strong, one where the outcome was one beautiful girl and one handsome boy—the next king. I wanted that one day—a family.

As I took a glimpse of Bash’s profile, I wondered if he even enjoyed doing these things, visiting orphanages and hospitals, or was it purely out of obligation? It made me absolutely sick to my stomach that there was a massive segregation in classes.

Everything that the world perceived was not as it was.

A broken system. That’s exactly what we had, and I hoped that he was genuinely concerned in fixing it.

When we stopped in front of the orphanage, I took everything in. The white building shined with a fresh coat of paint. The building was a contrast to the surrounding worn-down buildings, deteriorating scaffolding, and whitewashed siding.

This could’ve been me. This would’ve been me if my mother hadn’t met my bastard of a father, the aristocrat whose family didn’t think my mother, or her unborn child were good enough for them. My father had introduced my mother to someone who had worked for the royal family. Maybe it was his way of throwing her a bone after he’d left her pregnant with his child. I bit the inside of my cheek. I had to stop with the negativity. If my mother hadn’t met my father, I wouldn’t have been born.

It was hard, sometimes, not to think about how different my life might’ve turned out had my mother not met my father.

So, some may think that I owed them in some way. But I didn’t. Who I owed was my mother. She’d sacrificed day in and day out for me, so I could go to college and do what I wanted, and for that, I was forever grateful. And to pay her back, I promised her I’d make enough so that we could finally move away from the castle.

What I needed to do now was what I’d been doing for years. Trek on. I couldn’t change my past, but I alone would make my future.

Guards lined both sides of the aisle as I stepped out and moved to the side. When Bash stepped onto the concrete, the flashes of light began again, followed by the cheers of the crowd around us.

A tall bald man with glasses tipped at the edge of his nose walked up to me. “I was told you are the prince’s assistant. I’m Carlos.”

I took his warm hand in mine, noting the crisp lines in his black suit and friendly smile. “Yes, nice to formally meet you.” I had been corresponding with Carlos, the head of the orphanage, via email. The love for the kids and his mission beamed through his messages.

“After the opening ceremonies and cutting of the rope, we’ll head inside for a photo op with the children, then off to lunch. Would that work for the prince?”

“Yes, of course.”

Prince Bash made his way up the stairs toward the red-ribboned rope by the doors, and when he glanced my way, I followed behind him. I held the pad of paper with his itinerary in my hands.

Bash walked to the podium, standing tall, confidence set in his broad shoulders. He began to speak to the audience. “Good morning, people of Itasca. Thank you for having me today. It is such an honor to be at this opening ceremony. The children of Itasca have always been the center of my focus.”

He paused, then stared out to the audience. “We do not choose what family we are born into, and I was lucky enough to be born into a family that loves me dearly. While I was born into royalty, I know many have not been as fortunate. Some children are born into dire circumstances where our government has to get involved and take some child out of an awful situation. Some children are abandoned at birth.”

He stopped, looking thoughtful. “I have been fortunate, and because I’ve been bestowed by God as prince, I know it is my duty to stick up for those less fortunate. It is my duty to fight for the innocent, to fight for those who cannot fight for themselves. Therefore, you see how this orphanage holds a special place in my heart. Some may think I’m spoiled.”

His stare flickered in my direction. “Some may even think I’m pompous.” Then he smiled coyly. “But my main focus is our country and the future of Itasca. And that future is our children.” Loud applause followed his words.

I would’ve rolled my eyes if he hadn’t sounded so sincere, so genuine. His voice boomed through the microphone, matching the heightened roar of the crowd. “And this orphanage is one of many that we will rebuild. One that will give our children a good home, foster great values, and be the building blocks that will lead future generations.” His smile was glorious. Glorious enough to stir butterflies in my stomach. I hadn’t noticed I was smiling along with him, with the crowd.

Though this part of the town was desolate, the prince’s words gave everyone hope. Hope for a new horizon, a different outcome, a better future. He was obviously a gifted speaker. I had to give him credit. But beyond that, I kind of, sort of believed him. Maybe because I wanted to believe that the system would change, that the less fortunate would get more opportunities.

He stepped in front of the red rope, large silver scissors in hand. “To the future of Itasca.”

“The future of Itasca,” the crowd chanted back.

Then the prince cut the rope, head held high, smile heavy on his face. He looked glorious, his tan highlighted by the sun above him.

And at that particular moment, he never—in my eyes— looked more like royalty. Not sexy, but handsome. Not dripping hot, but regal. Like fine wine.

In that moment, I saw the depth to him, not the selfish manwhore I’d labeled him as, but a leader—one that truly cared about the people of Itasca. I’d seen him on television before giving one of his speeches, but in the flesh, in the moment, he seemed genuine, all powerful, and beyond that—convicted.

It took me a moment to tear my eyes from him and when I looked around me, I noticed everyone else was enthralled by him.

When the crowd died down, Carlos motioned with his hands for the prince to go inside. It was then the prince’s eyes sought mine. And when our eyes caught, I gave him a genuine smile and a small thumbs-up because he’d done amazingly well.

He tilted his head, amused, then motioned for me to come toward him. And although every sane part of my existence told me to stay away, I followed him, walking beside His Royal Highness.

“I did good?” he asked. In that moment, he seemed like a little boy seeking parental acceptance, his eyes waiting, inquisitive, almost pleading.

“Yes,” I said softly.

Something like electricity passed between us in that moment.. Our eyes locked, and though the chatter buzzed around us, we stayed silent. Then I cleared my throat, being the first to break our connection. “You were very believable.” I forced sarcasm in my voice to dim the butterflies taking flight in the pit of my stomach.

For a millisecond, he looked wounded, and it was as if I imagined it because he smirked, taking the teasing in stride, and said, “Charlie, you wound my already blackened heart.”

But a little shadow of doubt entered my head. Maybe there wasn’t any truth to all the negativity and gossip that I’d grown up around. Could the prince possibly, really care about these kids?

We all followed Carlos into his office. The prince and his bodyguards trailed into the small room to discuss what would happen with the rest of the day.

“Well, everyone else believed it,” I added quietly. “That’s what matters.”

He stopped mid-step, facing me. The whole entourage stopped as well. Everyone’s eyes were on us, and my vision perused our surroundings. Bash’s eyes were strictly focused on me.

My breathing sped up. “Is there something wrong?” I asked, in a rushed hush.

The intensity in his stare seared through me, stilling me in my spot, then his eyebrows pulled together, his expression thoughtful. “I’m going to find out why you hate me so much. There has to be an underlying reason. Above you working as my personal assistant. Above what happened the other day …”

My ears burned bright as everyone’s attention turned on us. When my eyes lifted to Carlos, the prince in all his handsome glory waved everyone out of the room.

“I need a moment,” he said.

Goodness.

Everyone scattered like ants in an ant farm, the food pile opposite of where we were.

When the door shut behind him, he stepped toward me. I didn’t retreat. Didn’t back down. Since everyone had left, I could’ve handled this little royal just fine.

“What is it? What is it about you?” he asked in a quiet voice. It was as if he was speaking to himself. “You annoy the crap out of me, yet I can’t get enough of you and your smart mouth.”

I gulped. “What happened to you agreeing to keep this strictly professional?”

“I tried.”

“For a few hours,” I argued.

He laughed. “Yes, and it was far too long.”

His eyes flickered to my lips and he stepped forward. One more step and he’d close the gap between us. “It’s the same for you,” he said matter-of-factly. “I can feel it. You hate me, but you’re attracted to me.”

“Am not,” I lied, my heart speeding up the closer he got.

He drew one fingertip down my arm, grasping my hand and intertwining our fingers. Goose bumps prickled every inch of my skin. And he noticed. He seemed to notice everything about me.

“Is that why your body reacts the way it does around me, every time I touch you?”

He drew his hand back and lightly pushed my long locks from my shoulder. The touch so intimate that goose bumps traveled farther down my back.

“Your breathing is shallow.” He said it as though he was so sure.

“Is not,” I lied again, my mouth dry, voice hoarse. He was spot on, but I swore to myself that I was not giving anything away. What happened earlier would never happen again.

“Why do you hate me?” He angled closer. So close that I could smell the mint on his lips. His eyes were intensely locked on mine.

Breathe, Charlie. Breathe.

“How do I make it stop so we can give into what we both want?” He chewed on his bottom lip, making my body shiver at the sight of him, as recollections of what happened earlier pushed to the forefront of my mind.

My eyes fell shut, and he pulled me against him. I could feel his hard body pressed against my soft, weak one. “Why do you hate me so much?” he asked.

I released an audible sigh. Or moan. I wasn’t sure. Having him so close to me was causing all my thoughts to vanish.

“Why?” he whispered against my ear.

He smelled amazing, felt amazing. A dizzying current ran through me where I was no longer in control of what was happening, weakened by the nearness of him.

“Because …” I sounded like a breathless girl of sixteen. My nails dug deep into my palms, giving me a sense of what was real and what wasn’t. The pain was real. You could feel it. I could feel my nails digging into my skin. I pushed out the first thing, “Because you guys always get what you want.”

My answer made no sense, but it was honest. Honesty flowed out of my mouth. Entitled males. They were all the same. Just like my father. They’d take what they wanted and leave everything a broken mess behind them.

“How can that be true?” he whispered. “When the one thing I want most is right in front of me, and you’re not even giving me an inch.”

His sweet words melted a part of me. I sighed and our eyes locked, and I so wanted to kiss him. It was the one thing I wanted more at that moment. To kiss him again and again and again and never stop.

But one kiss would lead to so much more. Too much.

I was the head maid’s daughter and playing hard to get. He’d throw me away right after I gave into him, gave into my own desires. And I couldn’t have that. I couldn’t let him win.

With all the strength that I could muster, I pressed a strong hand against his chest. “We can’t.”

“Why not?” He leaned into me farther, his eyes pleading, and his lips parted at our proximity.

“Because I said no.”

His eyes widened right before I stepped away from him.

A gush of air filled my lungs. I was able to breathe and move and function being away from him. I widened the distance between us. My senses were heightened, and I remembered where I was and who was waiting outside of that door—the staff, the children. And I remembered that there was a schedule we had to adhere to.

He ran one shaky hand through his hair, and my insides should’ve roared with victory, but they didn’t. Although I wasn’t giving into what I wanted, I knew I had affected him as much as he’d affected me.

Chapter 12

The day flew by slowly, and being around Bash was pure torture. There was this sizzle between us, a spark of electricity that I could feel every time we were mere feet from each other. It took all my effort to keep away from him. Because naturally, I was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. A positive to his negative. Except for his body. There was nothing negative about that.

After the tour of the facility, we entered the main auditorium where kids were sitting Indian-style on the floor. My heart bled for the children without parents, waiting and wanting a real family of their own.

One little girl, who must’ve been four or five, ran toward Bash. The guard was about to intercept her when Bash raised a hand to stop him. Then he scooped the little girl into his arms. She was beautiful with her big brown eyes and her ringlets of curls that cascaded down her back.

“Hello, princess. What is your name?” His voice was soft, cute, and my insides melted into molten chocolate watching his whole confident demeanor soften simply by the sight of this little angel.

“Rebecca,” she answered in the smallest voice.

“What a beautiful name.” He smiled.

I tilted my head to assess if he was genuine. Maybe … maybe he was. There seemed to be no ounce of pretense.

My eyes searched the area. Flashes were going off everywhere as the press shot pictures of the two of them, but it seemed as though Bash was oblivious to everyone around him—his sole focus on this little girl.

“You have such beautiful hair. So curly.” He touched her button nose.

“I’ve never met a real-life prince before.” She tipped down her head, seeming bashful, and color rushed to her round cheeks. Cheeks that I was tempted to pinch.

“Well, I’ve never seen a real-life princess before.”

“Not even in the castle?” She giggled, bringing her tiny hands to her mouth.

“Princess Anne, but besides that there is the queen and king.” A light shone in Bash’s eyes, then he smiled brightly. “I guess there are other princesses in other countries, but I must say you are the prettiest I’ve seen.”

“Me?” Her smile was blinding and her giggled only brightened Bash’s face.

“Yes you, princess.”

She reached up and touched his eyelashes. They were dark and long and the envy of every girl, even myself. Bash leaned back automatically.

“Are those real?” she asked.

“Yes. Very real.” Now it was his turn to laugh. The crowd’s laughter followed.

She kissed his cheek, surprising him. The crowd responded with more chuckles. “I always wanted to kiss a prince. Everyone does.”

“Not everyone wants to kiss a prince.” Then he winked at me.

I bit my lip to hide my smile, but in the next second I looked to see who had caught that—the photographers, the staff. Everyone’s attention was focused on Bash, so someone must have noticed. When I turned toward Bash, he had moved on to the next kid as though he didn’t care.

The prince made his way to every child, making sure to listen to every single one of their requests. It was impossible to grant all their wishes because some of them wanted unicorns, others wanting to meet a real live alien. But he made a point to give each child their minute with him.

I watched and reveled in his interaction with them.

By this time, the photographers had left, and a very stubborn part of me believed he enjoyed this aspect of the job. His laughter was contagious, and the way he was talking to all the little ones, the way his voice hitched up in pitch, softened a deep part of me.

A tug on my shirt had me peering down at a little boy no more than five years old. He had the greenest eyes and brown hair that flopped over his eyes. He stuck his thumb in his mouth and peered up at me with doe-like wonder.

He was saying something, but it was barely above a whisper, so I bent down so I could listen closely.

“Y-you,” he stuttered. I still couldn’t understand him, so I scooped him up in my arms to get closer.

“What were you saying, handsome?”

He peered up at me with a boyish smile. “You a-a-a p-p-princess?”

I shook my head and cuddled closer to the little fellow. “Nope, not a princess. But I’m a fearless warrior with healing powers.” I wiggled my eyebrows. “And I think that’s just as close.”

He giggled. “You-you … you pretty.”

I angled my forehead against his. “Aww, thank you, little man. What’s your name?”

“H-h-h-henry.”

“She is pretty, isn’t she?” Bash stepped behind me, hands behind his back, smirk heavy on his face. His eyes were shining, dark around his irises, lighter in the middle. “Prettiest woman I’ve seen around Itasca.” He threw me a playful glance over his shoulder, which made me fidget in my spot.

Henry reached for my hair and tugged. “P-p-pretty.”

I nuzzled my nose against his and he giggled. “Thank you, my handsome Henry.” If I could’ve wrapped him up and adopted him right then and there, I would have. But children for me would be way, way, way down the road until I could properly afford to take care of them and I was in a stable relationship. I would guarantee my future offspring what I didn’t have as a child—a stable family, a two-parent household. That was of utmost importance to me because of my upbringing.

Carlos stepped to the front of the room. “Thank you, boys and girls, for behaving so well for our Royal Highness.” He motioned to the prince. “And thank you, Prince Bash. You’ve ignited the fire in everyone in this organization and the funds that you have contributed will help rebuild and build future orphanages to come. Everyone let’s go to the dining hall to have a snack.”

Carlos led the way, and I couldn’t ignore Bash’s warm hand against the small of my back, the way his body towered over me. Next to him I felt so small, yet I felt powerful, womanly.

The kids dispersed, the younger ones led by workers, to long laminate tables. Plates of pasta and potatoes and meats were laid out on yellow, divided platters.

I followed Carlos to the end of the room, where the only circular table was. Bash was right behind me. I couldn’t see him, but I could feel his eyes on me the whole time, burning a hole into the side of my face, heating my body, increasing my heart rate and pulse to the point that I worried I was going to go into cardiac arrest.

This is not healthy.

I didn’t want his eyes on me, but then I also did. Between my hormones and my mind, there was a battle warring. My heart was not in contention. That piece of me wasn’t even in the ring. It was libido and everything else connected to it.

“Hungry?” he asked, pulling out my chair.

If he only knew. If he could only read my mind and see how truly hungry I was. But it wasn’t for food. “Yes. Very.”

“Me too.” Then he licked his lips, and he pushed in the chair as I sat down.

For a tiny brief second, I closed my eyes and let out a silent breath, trying to collect myself. It’s not him, I told myself. I’d want any man that showed interest at this point. The last man I’d been with was Christian, and that was months ago. I was horny and needed my sexual needs tended to. That was all.

Carlos and his staff kept the prince busy with questions, and I was glad because I needed a few minutes to enjoy my food and not think of my absent sex life.

“Will you be back for the groundbreaking ceremony in March?”

“Of course,” Prince Bash responded.

“I’ll get with Miss Charlotte later to get on your schedule.”

He waved one hand. “There’s no need.” He paused, then his words slowed, sad even. “She’s only working for me on a temporary basis.”

My head perked up from my food. I was mid-chew when Bash added, “Too good and all,” he said playfully.

Carlos and his gang laughed.

“He’s so hard to work for. Demanding as they come,” I sassed.

The whole table turned silent, looking to Bash for guidance.

Bash showed no signs of amusement, but then his lips ticked upward, and he let out a low laugh.

The table followed his cues, and I did my best to hide my eye roll.

Prince Bash was comic relief, charming, and funny. There was this natural charisma about him; there was no way you couldn’t be drawn to him. I wondered if it was innate or if he’d been trained to act a certain way.

And in that moment, I realized something. Unless you truly interacted with the prince, you would’ve never known. You’d never get a glimpse of this side of him. I thought again of the servant gossip I’d heard through the years and wondered how much of it was true.

“Help! Someone, help!”

The commotion had me shooting up from my chair. People were congregated around one table, and before I knew what I was doing, I was running. Arms pumping, legs moving, eyes searching.

“Please!” someone yelled. “He’s choking.”

I raced to where everyone was, ignoring if Carlos or Bash was behind me. Then my eyes focused on a familiar boy, holding his throat. Henry.

A few staff members were ready to spring into action, running toward him, but I had gotten to him first.

He was choking on something. His hand was by his throat. Color drained from his face.

Immediately, I sprang into action. I took hold of him and gave him five quick blows to his back. He was still struggling, wheezing, crying without tears.

Around me, chaos erupted. Kids were crying. Adults were screaming.

“Ma’am are you trained—”

“She’s CPR certified and in medical school.” Someone had said above my head.

I ignored them all and my sole focus was on Henry. I stood behind him, and with a fist above his abdomen began the Heimlich maneuver, with swift upward thrusts. I continued and continued until he fell limp in my arms. My whole world bottomed out, my heart dropping like a ping to the ground. The beating in my ears deafened to a roar.

What was happening? This was not supposed to happen.

The craziness around me heightened.

“He’s dead. Oh my god, he’s dead.” More cries from the children.

He’s not dead. Henry’s not dead.

Then I slowly laid him to the side and opened up his mouth to see if I could locate what was lodged in his throat. But I couldn’t see anything.

Tears sprang to my eyes as I began CPR compressions. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six … After thirty compressions, I checked his mouth. Then began again. One … Two … “Come on, buddy.” More tears fell from my cheeks to his face. “Please.” Time seemed to slow down as the world around me became so vividly clear. The longer he was unconscious and the longer he couldn’t breathe cut the air supply to his lungs, to his brain.

Panic seized my chest as my breathing sped up.

I promised the heavens above and all the powers that may be that I would be a better person, sell my soul, do anything if they would let him live.

“Henry … P… please.” And again. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight ….“Come on, handsome.”

Then he began to cough, and a full flow of tears ran down my cheek. “Thank God.” I lifted him to my chest as he continually coughed and coughed until he threw up and whatever was in his stomach was all over my clothes. But I didn’t care. None of that mattered because that meant whatever was in his throat was out and Henry was alive.

I held him in my arms where he cried. We both cried openly. “You’re okay, Henry. You’re okay.” I kissed his forehead and cradled his face and rocked him in my arms.

When the paramedics came, they had to pry my hands from around Henry. I wanted to hold him until I knew for sure that he was okay. Until he was fully checked out and they had cleared him to go home, but they wheeled him out quickly, leaving me on the floor a broken, crying mess.

And when I stood, Bash was there. Immediately, I rushed into him and my whole body fell into his, continuing to cry into his shoulder and exhausted from what had happened. The vomit on my shirt was getting on his royal shirt. But he didn’t seem to care. All he seemed to care about was having me in his arms.

With his arms tightly around me, he led me into his limo and shut us in. I stared blankly at the white building, thinking of what had happened only moments before.

“You should drink something.” He opened a water bottle and handed it to me. “Please, Charlie. You’re as pale as a ghost.”

I nodded my head through the fog. “Okay.” I placed the water on my lips, feeling the liquid coat the back of my throat, but everything … every single part of me felt empty. Dry.

Before I knew what I was doing, I opened the door of the running car. Luckily it wasn’t going fast. We were only pulling away from the building.

“Charlie!” I ignored Bash’s panicked voice behind me.

My feet padded down the concrete, my two-inch heels clicking away, hair swishing against my cheeks. Before I reached the top of the stairs, a strong hand pulled at my arm. “Where are you going?”

“I need to know if he’s okay. The staff can tell us what hospital he’s at.” My voice heightened with hysteria. “We can go there now. Check on him.”

He rubbed my arms and pulled me closer. “He’s fine,” he whispered. “You saved him. He’s going to be fine … because of you …”

“Bash …” I rushed out. “I’d feel better if we check on him,” I said, my throat scratchy and sore, threatening to close up again.

He reached for both of my hands and brought them to his lips. “You’re amazing, you know that? I promise he’s going to be okay.”

When I didn’t move, he guided me in his arms and led me down the stairs, pulling me close enough so my nose was against his shirt. He whispered over and over again that Henry was okay, that he was going to be okay. That he was alive and well because of me, and for a tiny bit I let his words wash over me. And I believed him.

Chapter 13

A masculine spice filtered through my nose, and slowly, I blinked my eyes open. I yawned, noticing we were still in the limo, and I was sleeping on Bash’s chest, sans the vomit. Thank goodness. We had cleaned up a little in the limo.

“I’m sorry.” I jolted to a sitting position and placed one hand against his firm chest to steady myself. I patted my hair, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

“Stop. Get over here.” He pulled me back against him, the movement so abrupt that my cheek smacked against his chest. “I’ll just have to wash the drool off of this one.”

Automatically my hands went to swipe at my mouth. “No. That’s not embarrassing at all.”

He laughed.

We were back home. The castle gleamed, the spotlights highlighting the tall columns of the immaculate white architectural masterpiece. “How long have we been sitting here?” I asked. My body was bone tired, my mind still thinking about what had happened earlier at the orphanage.

“Hours.”

My head flipped back to face him. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

“You’d had a long day.” The back of his hand brushed down my cheek. “I think you were allowed to nap for a bit.”

The gesture was sweet and unlike him, so unselfish that a warmth spread through my chest.

“Well. Thank you.” I dipped my chin, suddenly feeling exposed.

“I called the hospital when you were asleep …” His voice trailed off and I straightened, my whole body on high alert.

“And?”

“Henry is fine.”

An audible rush of relief escaped me, and my hand flew to my chest. “Thank God.” I rested my head against the cushions of the limo, looking up at the ceiling, noting the tiny lights that accented the roof. “I’ve delivered babies before during clinical, taken blood, watched surgeries …” A shiver ran through my body as thoughts of earlier surfaced. “But I have never, ever brought someone back from the dead.” I squinted, remembering his limp body and noticing how no breaths were leaving his chest, the lack of oxygen turning him blue.

He placed a hand on my knee and squeezed. “He’s fine, Charlie.”

I nodded and met his eyes. “Yes,” I breathed. “He is.” I tapped a trembling hand against my chest, thanking the heavens above that everything had worked out. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if it hadn’t.

I knew I should get used to death and sickness and outcomes that I didn’t welcome. I was going to be a physician, and one day I’d have to deliver bad news to my patients’ families. It was inevitable. But today was not going to be that day. Not with Henry.

We were silent for a few seconds before he cleared his throat. “Ready?”

I nodded, then he opened the door and stepped out, extending his hand to assist me.

The moon highlighted the pristine castle and the rolling meadows and trees on the horizon, a contrast to where we just were.

Bash trailed right behind me. When I turned to him, his face was unreadable. His eyes heavy with questions and answers that I couldn’t give him.

I’d remember this day. Not only because of Henry, but because there was an internal shift in Bash and my relationship. Besides the attraction that had been there from the beginning, there was more respect, more understanding … and something more that I couldn’t place my finger on.

“Thank you. For taking me there and for …” I didn’t want to sound corny or too mushy, but I appreciated the aftercare from everything that had happened. It was one of the most thoughtful things anyone had ever done for me.

“It was my pleasure.” Bash smiled a sweet, boyish smile.

I bowed my head. “See you tomorrow, bright and early. You have to attend the national tennis match.”

His smile faltered, and when I was about to turn, he reached for my hand. “I know it’s crazy …” His vision dropped to where we were connected and for one of the first times ever, I sensed his shyness. “But I’m not ready to say goodnight yet.”

Me either.

But I had to. We had already shared something intimate.

Before I had a chance to deny him, he said, “You haven’t eaten dinner.” He raised an eyebrow and leaned in, waiting for a response from me. He looked so boyish—hopeful even.

This was a bad idea.

“I’m not hungry.” The stress of the day had apparently waved away my appetite.

“You have to eat. One dinner. No sexual innuendos or flirty passes.” He held still, his hand heavy against mine, eyes steady with expectation. “Though that may be hard, I promise to keep this strictly to dinner and good conversation.” He made a cross sign over his chest like the Boy Scout he never was.

Internally, I debated. This seemed more like a date than anything else.

He read the indecision on my face because he squeezed my hand almost in a pleading manner. “I just want your company. Give me that, Charlie. Please.”

I couldn’t deny that I didn’t want this day to end, either. As crazy as it was.

“Sure.”

That one word lit up his face. His smile was blindingly beautiful. It was one of his best features. “Let me call up the kitchen to fix us the fanciest of meals. Do you like seafood? Steak? I have the greatest dessert that the kitchen prepares.” He was practically skipping up the stairs to the front doors with me in tow.

“I’m not that hungry.” My cheeks hurt from my smile. “But … I’d like the company too.”

He stopped mid-step, turned, then stared at me as though he couldn’t believe I’d uttered those words. His eyes were thoughtful and questioning. “Okay,” he said softly.

And for a brief moment, he fidgeted as though he was nervous. It was unlike his normal confident demeanor and made him seem more … human.

Chapter 14

Dinner was served in the royal dining room. I’d never been up here before and was enamored by its beauty, it’s majestic nobility, the room that seemed as though it was hundreds of years old, but class was class and the decor was timeless.

Gold trim adorned the doors and outskirts of the room. A big painting of the current royal family was set against the wall. I stared at Bash and his no-smile picture. He was the ultimate regal in the strong set of his shoulders and sharp lines of his jaw. The painting made him look untouchable, beautiful even, like a Greek god. But I had to say, he was more handsome in the flesh.

The long table was etched in gold and white and red trim. It was set for the two of us but had seating for twenty. We were seated at the very end of the table, Bash at the head and I was to his right.

“Peach cobbler that my chef makes is the best in the whole country.”

I grinned, swallowing another forkful of the delicious dessert. “Since I know the chef, I have to agree. Mattie has a very fine taste for food.” I wiped the corner of my mouth with the edge of my napkin. “I’ve been the taste tester here for years.”

His brow furrowed. “Why haven’t I ever seen you around the castle?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. You do have a staff of over two hundred people and we live in opposite quarters.”

He wasn’t convinced as he watched me closely. “Still … I’d notice you.”

The way he said it made my heart stop in my chest, then pitter-patter back to life again.

“I haven’t been to the castle functions much,” I said. “I’m always studying or in school, plus I’m not required to go to the events because I don’t work here.” I was now babbling my head off, nervous jitters filling my veins. It was as if we were on a first date, but this was not a date. And he was my employer.

When I tipped back my glass of wine and finished the last drop, he poured me more. This would get back to my friends, no doubt. I didn’t know the server who had brought in our food, but I’d seen him before and gossip behind the castle doors flew faster than a high-speed train.

There were two things that the servants did well. That was work and gossip.

My mother didn’t like to gossip much. It was probably because she’d been the source of the gossip most of her life—an unwed, pregnant maid.

Everyone wondered about my father, who he was, what he did. I didn’t.

I hated him and since he had no part in my upbringing I wouldn’t have cared less if he were dead.

“Earth to beautiful.” Bash waved one hand in my direction. “Where did you go? Wherever it was, given that scowl on your face, I don’t want to go there.”

“I was thinking of my father.” The wine was making me more honest than normal.

Bash raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “Does he work at the castle?”

“No.” I tipped back my glass again and my whole body turned the heat up a notch. “He left my mother as soon as he found out she was pregnant.”

His eyes widened. “Charlie …” Sympathy filled his features, but there was no ache in my chest, no hole in my heart. How could you miss someone you’d never met? I had everything I needed in my mother.

“Please don’t say you’re sorry.” My fingers traced the intricate stem of the glass. “I’m not. He was born with wealth and prestige. I think his family owned a lot of land.” I lifted the glass to my lips and more wine filled my mouth. It tasted of grapes and slid smoothly down the back of my throat. There was no doubt the bottle had cost a fortune. It wasn’t like the typical box wine my girls and I were used to drinking. It was smoother, finer. And there was no way the prince would be drinking sour wine.

“My mother was not of the same class and so … there you have it.” I lifted my glass to him. “Here’s to the chickenshit who left a young woman to raise a child on her own. Because if she didn’t have such a hard life and instill good values in me, I’d be a spoiled brat who wouldn’t understand the definition of hard work. No offense.” I raised an eyebrow and Bash simply tipped his chin, studying me.

“None taken,” he replied. Bash’s face was unreadable, or maybe I was off to the tipsy and drunk land, too tired to try to decipher the questions on his face.

“Not all men are the same,” he said, leaning in, and resting his hand on my forearm. “Your father was a coward. You can’t blame the whole male race for his mistakes.”

I shook my head and waved one hand in the air. “I don’t. I know all men are not equal. Not all men are entitled. Christian isn’t.” I hadn’t meant to say his name, but when I thought of gentlemen and the goodness of Christian’s heart, I knew all men were not created equal. If we only had the passion between us to keep the relationship going.

The scowl on Bash’s face was etched deeply in his features. “Oh yes, the lowly coward that cowers when I walk in the room. If he had any sense of protection of you, he would’ve spoken freely … ahem … earlier when he caught us together.”

“That’s not very nice.” I said. “He was just …”

“Jealous that he wasn’t in my position.”

Our eyes caught, and heat surged between us. I shifted in my seat, thinking about the two of us together, lips on lips, hands on hips, his fingers digging into my skin.

“He likes to follow the rules,” I said, sticking up for Christian. But the very reason that I wasn’t with Christian anymore was the fact that he lived on such a straight and narrow line, and our relationship had suffered. He never once took me on a date that wasn’t the traditional dinner and a movie. There were so many times I had wished he’d touch me in public, be more risqué, just once have me against the wall or bend me over a desk, not missionary-style in his room.

His ironclad self-control and static predictability had been the end of us.

I needed a little excitement. Not the kind that would get us in jail, but the kind that would light a fire in me.

“There’s nothing wrong with following the rules.” He propped one heavy fist on the table. “But there is something to be said about a man not sticking up for his woman.”

“He did nothing wrong.” But my argument was mild.

“In your eyes,” Bash said, his voice hard. “And for your information, I do work.”

I frowned at him. “I never said you didn’t.”

“Well, it’s insinuated in your comments,” he said sourly.

I blinked, unable to come back with an apology because in truth, I did lump him in with my father. He was the entitled male next in line for the throne. I’d seen him almost hook up with a hooker.

“You’ll soon learn my schedule.” He picked up his glass of wine and took a sip, then placed the glass back on the table. “But I attend the government meetings weekly with my father. I’m learning the ropes so that when my father abdicates the throne, I can easily take over, budget our country’s monies,” he straightened in his seat with mounting confidence, “allocate funds to the less fortunate, and keep our programs up and running. You’ve seen my calendar.”

He continued without taking in a breath as though it was important to him to prove to me he was fit to be king. “Do you think I go to these philanthropy events just because? I’m the face of the country, and I want to unite the people, give hope to the hopeless. Yes, I’ve been blessed. There is no doubt of that, but don’t dare for one second think that I’m using my status to get me by.”

His voice rose with authority. “Because I want to change our country. Make it the best it can be. I’m for the people, Charlie, not above them or against them. But for them.” He spoke with such conviction, his eyes full of pride, and I realized in that moment that he did care.

Everything that happened earlier at the orphanage had been truly genuine. “I’m sorry,” I blurted out. “You’re absolutely right.” I’d been so blinded by the hate for my father that I was quick to prejudge him, and I couldn’t think clearly.

He opened his mouth to speak, but then shut it, looking almost surprised.

“I’ve …” My gaze dropped to the napkin in my lap and my fingers wrapped around the edge of the soft white cloth. “I’ve seen my mother struggle so much that I’ve blamed that bastard of a loser for so long. I don’t even know him, but I hate him.”

My eyebrows pulled together, and my stomach churned with unease. I promised I’d do better for myself, do better for us. My mother had never pushed me to get straight A’s throughout my academic career; I had done that. I had always lived on the straight and narrow, not venturing too far from the straight line I’d drawn for myself.

“I hate a man I don’t even know. And maybe I’ve had this bias, this misconception of you all along because of that. Because I associate you with him.” That was the truth of the matter. Bash wasn’t only off my narrow line, he was off the grid. And anything more than friendship was painfully scary to even entertain.

The silence was deafening, and I hated that I opened the can of honesty. Because once I did, a whole slew of emotions erupted in me. I’d never met the sperm donor that made me, but I’d heard of him. My mother talked about him kindly. The only reason I knew the story about how he’d left her was through the other servants. Through Megan and Rachel, whose parents had told them. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” I said, realizing I’d spoken the words in my head.

“Done,” he said softly. He pushed his chair back and extended his hand. “Will you follow me somewhere?”

I peered up at his outreached hand, debating. After a beat, I stood, needing the distraction, and wanting to be anywhere but stuck in my head and in the past. “Sure.” I placed my hand in his, noting the warmth at our connection and how perfectly our hands fit together, our fingers intertwined.

He led me down the hall and up a separate staircase and farther up more stairs. My eyes took in the castle in all its splendor. My heels dug into the plush white carpet of the stairs. Crystal chandeliers were hung from the top of the room, beautiful landscape canvas artwork, probably worth millions, were hung across the wall. As we made our way off the stairs, paintings of Bash’s ancestors, former kings were displayed, hanging against the cream beige walls as exquisite works of art. I didn’t know where we were headed, but, for once in our short and brief relationship, I trusted him.

I knew the ins and outs of the maid’s quarters, and I was sure Megan knew this place inside and out, but since I’d never worked in the castle, I’d only been in the royal ballroom for the celebration of the servants that was celebrated semi-annually. We stopped in front of two main doors that were as high as the ceilings—twice Bash’s height.

“Will you close your eyes for me?”

I threw him a dubious look and popped out my hip. “Why?”

“Woman …” He sounded exasperated. “I know how you are with orders and that’s why I phrased my order into a question to see if you’re more agreeable.” He laughed. “I guess not.” He brushed his knuckles gently against my cheeks. “It’s a surprise.” Then he placed one hand over my eyes. “Charlie, please follow directions.”

And then, I did, and I shut my eyes.

The door creaked open and one strong hand gripped my waist, ushering me inside while the other kept my eyes covered. I reveled in the feel of him close to me. He smelled amazing. I wanted to borrow his expensive bottle of cologne and spray some on my pillow. Or better yet, bury my head back into his chest like I did earlier.

“Ready?” he asked.

“For what? If this is your sex room, you’re going to get a good swift kick in your balls. Forewarning.”

His laugh was throaty and rich and oh-so-sexy.

Then he dropped his hand and my hand flew to my chest, my mouth dropping open.

It was absolutely breathtaking.

Rows and rows and columns among columns of books spanned almost every inch of every wall. The only space not covered with books was a sliver of an opening on the far end. There were floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the rolling meadows of the castle. At the base of the window was a couch with pillows that looked like blue clouds.

I stepped farther into the room, looking at the array of books. Too many to count.

“It’s absolutely beautiful in here.” I circled and peered up at the ceiling to make out words written in squiggly letters. “‘Be not afraid of greatness: some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them,’” I whispered.

“William Shakespeare,” Bash said behind me.

“I know. It’s one of my favorite quotes,” I said, smiling.

“I saw your books on your mantle in your room. You have a fondness of reading?” He displayed a relaxed posture and his eyes gleamed with an inner satisfaction.

“I do.” My eyes took in all the books within steps of me, my excitement uncontainable. “Historical. Classics. Romance.”

“Ohhhh, romance,” he teased.

I raised one eyebrow at him. “I think you’d learn a great deal of things about women if you read romance.”

“I know about women. From firsthand experience.” A glint of mischief was heavy in his irises.

I walked in farther, studying one bookshelf for titles I recognized.

“You were born great,” he said behind me. His words made me pause and turn toward him. They were said with such conviction, such certainty.

“I was. I, unlike you, didn’t have room for error.” I’d been born into a hard life, watched my mother work on her knees while I played with toys at the castle nursery. She was my rock star and I swore that I’d work my hardest to one day be hers.

He nodded and strolled to the end of the room where the wall of windows overlooked the vast property. “I, on the other hand, was born with greatness thrust upon me. I didn’t have a choice.” There was an undertone of sadness to his voice, longing even.

“You make that sound like a bad thing,” I said incredulously.

When he made no comment, I walked toward where he was standing. His stare was vacant, his shoulders stiff.

“Me … The next king.” His voice was whisper soft.

“Bash?”

I placed a hand on his shoulder and he shook his head and clarity filled his vision. “Sorry. You were saying?”

“Bash … you don’t want to be king?”

He ran one frustrated hand through his hair as though the answer wasn’t that simple. “Do I have a choice?” His laughter had an edge of sarcasm. “Now I must sound like a spoiled, entitled brat.”

Holy crap. He doesn’t want to be king.

I was stunned into silence.

“My father is a great king.” With one hand he absently rubbed at the base of his neck. His stare went back out to the window, his eyes vacant. “People respect him and love him. He’s the face of our country, the head of our government. He’s done a wonderful job. How do I know I can do the same?”

The distant look in his eyes told me that this was weighing him down. Down to the depths of his soul. He sat on the set of couches against the windows. “With my last name and my birthright comes great responsibility. And I’m up for the responsibility … But with that goes my privacy. I can’t shit without it making the world news. What I eat or prefer for dinner is the latest craze in Itasca. Peaches and cottage cheese and strawberries.” He let out one long, exaggerated sigh. “Sometimes … I wish for …”

I sat next to him, needing desperately to hear him finish his sentence. What did the man that had everything—the next heir to the throne—want?

“Normalcy,” he finished.

I blinked, staring at his side profile as he looked to the rolling meadows and endless peach trees that he owned.

Here I was, wanting a life that was not my own, wanting more than being born into poverty, wanting the riches that money could buy. And here he was, the next to be king. Everyone bowed when he came into a room. Someone waited on him hand and foot. He could ask and wish for anything, yet he wished for only one thing—normalcy.

I had pegged him all wrong. I thought his life was easy. I had misjudged him in too many ways to count. He lived a life of riches he didn’t want to live. I couldn’t imagine being born into a heavy set of expectations because I set expectations for myself.

My heartbeat slowed as my veins filled with sympathy. I pursed my lips and reached for his hand. “Well then, you shall have it,” I said.

“What?”

“Normalcy.”

He laughed as though my suggestion was absurd. “That’s not a possibility.”

“Why the hell not? You’ll go incognito. We start two days from now. You have nothing on your schedule then.”

“What do you mean?” His eyes lit up with amusement. “The guards.”

I tilted my head, eyes incredulous. “Are you not the almost king?”

“Yes, but I have to have them around.”

“Who says?” I challenged him.

“Well …”

“Who do they take orders from?”

“Well …” He was still stumped.

“You.” I pointed to his chest. “They take orders from you.”

“You’re right.” His brows furrowed, confused. Then with more certainty, he said, “You’re right. Absolutely right.”

I stood. “Then it’s settled. Thursday I’ll pick you up here at nine. Tell the kitchen staff you won’t be needing breakfast because we’re going out to eat. Then we’re heading downtown.”

“Downtown?” He seemed perplexed and before he had a chance to deny my request—because gosh darn it, I knew I’d have fun watching him fend for himself for simple tasks on Thursday—I was already out the door.

“You’ll have to wear comfortable shoes. We’ll be doing a lot of walking.” I glanced back one last time, noting his state of confusion because someone else was giving him orders. “And we’ll be taking the subway.”

Chapter 15

The next few days flew by in a blur. And although I didn’t want to admit it, I enjoyed tagging along with Bash as he made his required rounds, but I was slowly beginning to understand that his job was not all fun and games.

At the orphanage, Bash interacted with the children and was overjoyed. I could sense it, see it. But at the tennis match, the monthly council meeting, the budget meeting, and other required events that Bash had to show up to, I could tell they were taking a toll on him.

One minute he was on, smiling for the cameras and confident in his demeanor, then as soon as we were in the comfort of his limo, he would slouch against the cushions, have a drink of wine, and close his eyes.

This life was stressful at times. I understood it now that I was in the mix.

So, when Thursday came around, I was practically bouncing in my seat, ready to show him what normal was about.

I guess I hadn’t thought things through, but I doubted we’d get in much trouble for one day. If Bash was disguised and we weren’t strolling down marijuana and coke alley, I believed leaving the castle for one day would not hurt anyone.

Bright and early, I strutted into the study to meet him. As soon as the double doors opened, I stopped mid-step.

His jeans hugged his thighs. I didn’t even know he owned a pair of jeans. He obviously did because I was blatantly staring at his tight ass and hard as rock thighs as he adjusted his cap over his eyes. “So, am I recognizable?”

Even in the dim light of his office, he was recognizable.

He needed a better disguise.

“Yes.” Except to me. He looked different without his stiff royal ceremonial clothing that he wore every day and to events.

With one hand cupped over my mouth, I circled him, eyebrows pulled in tightly.

“I doubt anyone would know it was me in this getup.”

My eyes widened. Was he serious? “Your face is plastered all over the city. You’re on the television every single day and you don’t think anybody will recognize you?”

He huffed. “Then tell me, what am I missing?”

Stepping into him, I lifted my head and placed a finger on my chin. “Hmmm. Maybe this.” I plucked a mustache from my back pocket and threw him one wide grin.

He narrowed his eyes, then let out a peal of laughter. “This is ridiculous. No. It’s not happening. I refuse to look like a clown.”

“It’s better that you look like a clown than the Prince of Itasca.” I lifted an eyebrow, tapped my foot on the ground and extended the mustache. “You wanted normalcy and I want to give it to you, but you won’t have a chance if you don’t put this on.”

The prince never pouted. I’d seen pictures of him and archives of video of when he was a child. He’d never thrown a tantrum. He was always composed and collected in front of the cameras. So when his lips turned downward, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.

“Fine,” I sighed. “We don’t have to leave the castle.” I snatched the fake costume accessory from his hands. “I’ve seen the city.”

“I’ve seen the city, too,” he protested.

“Have you ever had a hot dog on sixth street?” I placed a hand on my hip. “Or shopped the flea markets in Carlisle and picked the ripest fruit from the market?” I challenged him. “Or gotten cupcakes and burritos from the food trucks on Clark Street?”

His frown deepened, and in that brief moment, I realized—this man—though he had it all—had seen our country, but he hadn’t seen our country. He’d seen the world at its grandest, but not on an everyday level. And there was so much beauty in the simplest things.

He grudgingly snatched the play mustache from my hands, undid the sticky paper and pressed it on. “I want to see the world … experience it as you do.”

I leaned in and straightened his mustache, then he finally smiled, making the mustache tilt on his face. He looked silly and handsome and for the most part, unlike his normal put-together demeanor.

Shit.

I was in trouble.

As hard as I tried to deny it, I couldn’t ignore the stir in my belly or the palpitation of my heart.

I thought … I thought I was starting to like this spoiled, entitled, pompous ass.

“What did you tell your guards?” I asked as we slipped out of the castle unnoticed. His mustache was almost comical, but weirdly realistic. The train from the castle was less than a mile away, past the gates. I was surprised when no one asked us questions as we strode out the golden gates and the standing guards didn’t give him a second look back.

“I told them they could have the day off.”

“And that’s that?”

He tipped his cap lower when a group of girls passed us on their way to the castle. They carried cameras and were dressed to the nines, obviously tourists.

“And that’s that. When the heir to Itasca says you have the day off and aren’t needed, they don’t have room to argue.” He lifted his chin when we had a clear path to the station. “People rarely argue with me.”

“Except me.” It was true. I’d given the prince the hardest time ever since we’d met, and oddly we had formed this comfortable bond. Now it was natural for me to forget his rank, his title, and for me to plainly be me.

He eyed me carefully, then brushed his knuckle down my cheek. “Except for you. Yes.”

We stopped in the line in front of the ticket booth. He eyed me with inquisitive wonder, then his eyebrows pulled together. “I wonder why that is.”

I exhaled, slowly wondering the same thing. Why was he a pompous ass to everyone else? How could he boss everyone else around, but with me exhibit a great deal of patience? I guess he hadn’t at first and I had grown on him.

The thought gave me a gooey warm feeling that I felt in the center of my chest.

“Next!” The lady sporting a scowl motioned us forward. She didn’t like her job—obviously.

My smile widened in spite of her. “Two for downtown.” When I reached in my purse to grab my wallet, Bash retrieved his money clip and got out his credit card. “Let me.”

I pushed his hand away from the window. “I suggest you use cash.”

He blinked. “I don’t have cash.”

I glared at his card with the royal seal and his full biological name. After a shake of my head, I pushed the cash in the lady’s direction.

“I don’t have any cash,” he said again.

“How do you not carry cash?” I asked quietly, shaking my head.

“Who doesn’t take credit card?” he asked, incredulous.

“If you want to go incognito, I suggest you don’t bust out your Black Amex with the royal logo on it,” I whispered to him.

He rubbed one aggravated hand over his face. “Let’s go back. Let me grab some money first.”

“Absolutely not. The train will be here in a few minutes.”

“But …”

I tugged on his hand and jogged forward toward the platform to keep him distracted.

“Charlie, I don’t feel good about this. I mean you paying. Call me old-fashioned.”

The train pulled into the station and everyone pushed to the front, getting as close to the doors as possible.

“Hey,” he said, addressing a teenage boy who had shoved me. Bash’s eyes narrowed, his lips flattened. There was tightness in his eyes that told me that this wouldn’t end well. I bet his guards never let people crowd him like this. “Apologize to her.”

I tugged at his shirt. At this rate, we wouldn’t make it past the station. “It’s fine,” I said.

“No, it’s not.” He pushed his finger into the guy’s chest. “Apologize.”

This was going to escalate into a full-blown fight, and I doubted Bash had ever in his adult life gotten into a fight. If he had, I would’ve known about it because it would be all over the nightly news.

The boy snarled, but given Bash’s stature and build and the fact that Bash has never had anyone deny him, therefore he didn’t know how to back down, the boy took a step back and mumbled, “I’m sorry,” under his breath.

“That wasn’t an apology …” Bash started.

But then the doors to the train opened and I gripped his hand and tugged us inside. “Do I need to leave you at home?” I dragged him up the stairs to sit on the second deck and pushed the single chairs in a direction so we were facing each other. “Sometimes I don’t even think you’re listening. You probably have the ability to block everyone else out and only listen to what you want to hear.”

“Who taught that kid his manners?” Bash grumbled.

“This is what people do during rush hour,” I told him, crossing my arms and sitting back. “They hustle to get to work or school or wherever they have to go. They don’t have time to dilly-dally. Everyone just wants a seat on the train before they begin their strenuous day at work. And seriously, for once, can you please keep your temper …”

He kissed me, mid-sentence mouth closed, eyes open.

The felt from his mustache brushed against my upper lip and a slight pang shot to my chest. I held my breath the whole time our lips were connected.

When he pulled back, I inched closer, needing more, because it was clearly not enough.

I blinked, and seconds passed, then he reached for my hand, brushing his thumb against the top of my fist. Warmth spread where we were connected. “You were causing a scene, dear.” He tipped his head to the left, then the right and my eyes focused on the group of people staring in our direction.

“You started it,” I muttered, pretending to be irritated, though that kiss wiped everything out of my mind.

He smiled. “Real mature, princess. Real mature.” He licked his lips and our eyes locked again, his swirling with sweet desire.

“Tickets,” the conductor said, walking down the aisle.

I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t function, couldn’t think of anything other than that oh-so-brief kiss, yet I felt it everywhere. I pulled both of our tickets out, giving myself something to do.

“Is this the train you normally take?”

“What?” I asked, dazed, and confused and in a still shocked kiss stupor.

His eyes perused the area, wandering over people sitting on the first deck.

“I take the earlier one usually because my class starts earlier.” After handing the attendant our tickets, I turned to Bash. “So, what do you want to do today?” I steadied my voice, though my chest pounded hard.

“I’m quite hungry.” He patted his stomach and there was a glint of amusement in his eyes.

Right. This man had breakfast waiting for him as soon as he woke up.

Food would do me good, too. “Well, I know where exactly to take you. You’re in for a treat.”

We ended up on Clark Street, where a row of food trucks was lined up. Cupcakes, lobster rolls, Mexican food, donuts. You name it. There was a food truck for every culture, every type. Every truck a different color, matching the personality of what they were selling. They served food morning, noon, and night.

The scent of everything yummy filtered through the air. Coffee, bacon, and donuts bombarded my senses and my stomach flipped and flopped.

Bash took everything in, eyes gleaming, walking slowly while people raced past us. The sidewalks were packed with pedestrians, business professionals in suits, morning shoppers carrying bags, dog walkers, retired early morning risers taking their stroll, students with backpacks—all ready to get food before they start their day.

He stopped in front of each truck, studying their menu. I didn’t rush him or tell him I had the perfect truck in mind because this was my normal, and I wanted him to have this.

There were no guards around, no devoted commoners to get a glimpse of him. This was Bash, curious and hungry, living what would be his normal day if he’d been born without royal blood running through his veins.

“There are so many choices,” he said. “I think I want to try them all.” But then he rubbed at his brow. “Shit. I didn’t bring cash.”

“No worries, I’ve got you covered.” My grin hurt my cheeks. I couldn’t hide my glee that I could be this person for him. I’m sure he had staff that followed right behind him, swiping his royal unlimited credit card. I bet he’d never had a local, a commoner, cover him.

“You … I’m forever indebted to you,” he said, sarcasm etched in his tone.

“Whatever,” I chuckled.

“I’m serious. If not me, my mother then, who always likes to keep me well fed. I can die of starvation because right now my stomach is eating its lining.”

I rolled my eyes. “We had a full dinner last night.”

He pinched my side, making me jump, and waved a hand to the line of trucks on the street. “Feed me, woman. Which truck first?”

I knew exactly where to start.

I stopped in front of Dinah’s truck. They served the best, greasiest, out-of-this world breakfast sandwiches. I figured, since we were both going to eat our way through Food Truck Row, we should pace ourselves, so I ordered one sandwich and had the vendor cut it in half.

The moment the guy with a bandana handed me the brown bag, the warmth and scent of the bacon had my stomach growling.

“I can smell the grease,” Bash said.

“Wait until you taste the grease.” I grinned.

He laughed, and his eyes widened, taking in the surroundings again with childlike wonder. “Where do people eat here? Are their seats somewhere? A cafeteria.”

I walked to the side against the building, to let people pass. “People usually take it to go because most are on the run, but we’ll eat here, standing up.” Digging into the brown back, I pulled out the sandwich wrapped in white paper. The grease from the bacon had leaked through, creating large, translucent spots. “It’s the Dinah special, my favorite. You’ll never be the same after this.”

He watched me, all humor gone from his features. Then he tilted his head and touched my nose with his pointer finger. “I haven’t been the same these last few days.”

Chapter 16

The moment the sandwich met his lips, he closed his eyes, leaned back against the building, and let out an audible sigh. I let him have a moment to enjoy the party in his mouth, the joy in his belly.

His eyes opened, then he took another bite, and another. He lifted the croissant, reviewing the makings of Dinah's breakfast sandwich. His eyebrows pulled together.

“It's just bacon, eggs, avocado, and a croissant,” I said, amused at his deep curiosity for a simple sandwich.

“There has to be a secret ingredient." It was as though he was trying to decipher computer code, the way he was studying the sandwich. "It's the sauce." He brought the bread to his face and inspected the inside. It was the funniest thing to watch.

"It’s not the sauce. Well, it might be the bacon,” I remembered. “It's coated in sugar."

Then he stuffed the rest of the sandwich in his mouth. "Half wasn't even enough. We need another one." He straightened and turned toward Dinah’s, but I placed a hand on his chest.

"There's still so much left to try."

"Well then, I must ask Dinah to work for me." His eyes were serious, his stare solely focused on the truck. I bet he was picturing a row of trucks lined outside the Royal Castle at his disposal on a daily basis. "And here I thought we had the best cooking staff in the nation."

"You do.” I laughed. The staff back at the castle were the best of the best, world-renowned chefs that specialized in fine dining. “And I doubt these vendors use organic ingredients."

There were about four other people in line waiting for Dinah's famous sandwich and I took this as the perfect opportunity to change course. "Coffee?" I asked directing his attention like a young child with a new discovery. I pointed to the pink girly coffee truck at the end of the street.

A part of me was afraid that he’d fire his whole kitchen staff, which would leave a lot of people I knew jobless.

"I do like coffee. It's my one addiction." His eyes twinkled like a little boy getting a new toy. Who knew the prince would be so easily amused by food trucks? I could sell this story to Global News. They’d sell millions of magazines, but then Food Truck Row would be packed with people daily, which in turn would ruin my normal. I knew I was being selfish in a way, but a woman had her vices. So, yeah. Never mind.

“I’m about to introduce you to the Coffee Cup.” I waved a hand toward the truck. “The best coffee in town."

When I slipped my arm through his, he took my hand and intertwined our fingers instead. The move was intimate and sweet and all the things that made my heart flip. "Lead the way, beautiful."

After coffee, donuts, tacos, lobster sandwiches, and prime rib, we were stuffed to the max. It wasn't even eleven o'clock, and I was done eating for the rest of the day. I didn't think I could fit another thing in my stomach.

We were both sitting on the curb, beyond full to the brim. “Put a fork in me, I am officially done.”

Bash’s chest rose and fell with a chuckle. “Three Michelin star meals cannot compare to this,” he mused, rubbing a satisfied hand over his still-flat tummy. Men.

I sighed and shifted uncomfortably in my spot, my stomach pushing into the waistband of my jeans. “I’m sure those restaurants are just as good. Just different. Less greasy for sure."

Bash patted his stomach again and let out an audible sigh. "That's it. I have to hire all the vendors right away. They’ll want for nothing as long as they cook for me every single morning, noon, and night." He grinned all teeth, all silly and cute and dangerously handsome.

Was he serious?

I blinked.

Shit. He was.

I could tell by the straight line in his jaw, the content look in his eyes, and the gratified way he patted his stomach with food satisfaction.

If anyone else had made that same statement, it would’ve been taken as sarcasm. But not from Bash. Not from the male that had everything at his disposal. Not from the guy who had the crown jewels and could literally buy whatever he wanted, even the livelihood of a bunch of truck vendors.

My mouth slackened, and I rapidly blinked at him. “You'll ruin everyone's normal if there were no more trucks on Truck Row.”

He lifted an eyebrow as if to say how does this apply to me?

"What about your loyal staff?” This spoiled entitled brat, yet I couldn’t help softening for him, given this seemed like the most fun he’d had in days. “The ones who slave for you, every day. They’re well renowned chefs from all over the world." I wasn’t lying to save these people’s jobs, either. The main chef had won a cooking competition on a reality TV show. He’d studied in France. The rest of the culinary staff was equally qualified.

I sat up straighter, biting my bottom lip. It was crazy how a family could hold the future of so many, how so many lives could be altered by one decision.

The cooking staff, I knew them. Their families. Their stories. Their lives. I had grown up with them in the castle, celebrated holidays with their families, grown up with the chefs’ children whom I’d met in the castle day care. I worried that they were happy, able to provide for themselves and their families.

The castle cooks were loyal. They only looked out for the royal families’ benefits. They picked out the finest homegrown produce, determining their weekly menu, and serving them a feast day to day.

He must've noticed the concern on my face because a moment later, he placed a hand on mine and squeezed. "I'm not going to fire the staff. Don't worry."

"Yeah, right. You meant every single word." I threw the paper napkin in his lap and he laughed.

"Yes, fine. I was debating it." He reached for a lock of my hair and played with the strand. "Maybe it's for selfish reasons. Maybe I want to bring your normal every day to the castle. Just so …" He paused, as if he were afraid to utter his next sentence. "So you never have to go.”

The butterflies in my stomach took flight again, simply by the intimate look in his eyes. Things between us were shifting. It was no longer the lust-filled passion of when we’d first met. It went deeper. Feelings that haven’t been conjured up in forever. Or ever.

The world around us quieted, and then he said, “You can work for me permanently."

I took in his words, breathing in slowly. Was he serious?

I held his stare for far too long, yet I couldn’t look away.

But that wasn't a possibility. I had lived my life, studying and working hard to get out of the castle. To get my mom out of the castle. And even if he was serious, there was no way … No way that I would back out of my plan now.

"I can't,” I said, noting the disappointment in his face as soon as those two words left my mouth. “I’ve worked so hard to get to this point and eventually when I’m done and have enough saved, I want to work for the underprivileged areas of Itasca, serve the kids we just served.”

He reached for my hand this time, absently playing with my fingers. “You can still that. How about I bring the professors and the university to the castle?" He leaned in, and I read a slew of emotions in his brown irises. Deep determination, longing, and something else I couldn’t place my finger on. It was as if he was trying to convince me to work for him and give up my plans that I’d wanted and dreamed of forever. This guy was relentless and also did not do well with people denying him.

I shook my head. “You know that’s not going to work. I have had my plans set in motion for some time.”

"I know.” In a lower tone, he said, “You're moving from the castle. But what if I don't want you to …?” His tone softened, as if those words weren't supposed to slip from his mouth. And determination set in his eyes, mixed with uncertainty, filtered through his vision. "What if I give you everything you want, and you never have to leave? I like you working for me.” He seemed so sincere, so honest, so serious that my breath caught.

This proposition was every woman's dream—to be taken care of, to worry about nothing, and to not want for anything. But I was my mother's daughter, after all. My mother had easily fallen for a man’s promises, a man who had supposedly loved her, a man who was supposed to provide for her, a man who had promised her things but never fulfilled. Look where that had gotten her.

What was Bash promising me here? I bit the inside of my cheek, telling myself that I wouldn’t think too hard or read too much into things. It didn’t matter anyway. I would not live off a man's wealth or future promises. And although he did seem genuine in the moment, he was known to be fickle. This was my life, and I was in charge of my own happiness.

"I don't take direction well, from anyone, especially you. We’d annoy each other and eventually you’d fire me or most likely I’d quit." I made a face, playing for cute.

After I wiped the dust from the back of my pants I stood, wanting to leave the land of the serious conversations. When he didn't have a reply to my statement and his normal snarky comebacks weren’t there, I decided my best tactic was to carry on our way and change the subject.

"You ready for your normal adventure?” I patted his leg and threw him a playful glance. “Let's get going.”

He peered up at me with that look again, the look of desire and mischief swirling in his eyes. The same look that made my knees weak and stomach do flip-flops. Then he smiled, tearing off his mustache in the process.

The most attractive feature on the prince was his dark chocolate eyes. They glinted with mischief like a little boy up to no good. “Where are we going next, princess?” He peered up at me, as though there were an apocalypse on the horizon, and I was the only one who could save him.

I took a full breath, collecting myself.

Fantasy, I told myself. This was all fantasy. I lived in the present. I lived in reality.

As I drowned in the endless depth of his irises, I knew the longer we went on like this, the more this fantasy would bleed into reality. But for today, I wanted to give in and pretend. "To the flea market," I said, pointing in the direction where we were going.

“I’ve never been to a flea market.” He chuckled, the sound vibrating in his chest and touching something deep inside of me, but I pushed it down. My inner voice, my sensible self told me to keep going and to separate fantasy from reality.

Chapter 17

After the flea market and museum, we sat on top of Evanistine Hill. It was the highest point of Itasca and one that I had visited numerous times after school or when I simply wanted to relax or be alone and enjoy the view. Every retail place was closed for the day and Bash reiterated that he didn’t want to go home, over and over again like a kid at an amusement park, never wanting the day to end.

I sat next to him, feeling the grass underneath my fingertips, soft, sharp, prickly and the scent of the fresh night air hitting my nose. The sky was adorned with pinks, yellows, and orange as the sun set in front of us. It was like a painting, a mural, a work of art. I’d been here countless times before, but it had never looked so beautiful, so breathtaking from this height. And every part of me believed it was because of the man beside me.

“I’ve never been here,” he said absently. His hand was placed comfortably on my knee as we sat right beside each other.

In one way or another, we’d stayed connected throughout the day, through light brushes between shoulders or the intertwining of our fingers. There was a sweet comfort in his hold that scared me. As though holding his hand shouldn’t feel so natural, but it did.

I sighed at the sheer beauty of it all. “I come here sometimes to take a break—from school, from the castle, from life.”

He laid back on the grass, crossing his feet at his ankles, then closed his eyes. “I think I’ve found my new favorite place.”

“I thought the flea market was your new favorite place and the museum and Food Truck Row.” I laughed, watching his whole face relax.

He opened both eyes then. “I can pinpoint one thing that tops everything else.” Then he reached for my hand and pulled me into him. And I let him, falling onto his chest and taking in the masculine scent on his shirt. The scent mixed with the fresh air of the open sky was intoxicating.

His fingers went to the end of my locks. “You’re my favorite place, Charlie,” he whispered. “My absolute favorite place.”

I rested my chin on his chest and we locked eyes. “This feels like a date,” I whispered.

“It does.” His light hand went to cradle my face and he tipped his head closer to mine. “But without the guards …” He inched closer. “Without the media …” And closer. “Without the spectators wanting a glimpse.” One more inch and he would close the gap between us.

My heart was going haywire. Every molecule in my body wanted this to happen.

He brushed his nose against mine and my whole body melted. He trailed his nose to my cheek, across my jawline and to my ear. Goose bumps peppered every inch of my skin.

This felt … different.

Different than the rough, sloppy kisses in his room, and then in mine.

This felt more intimate.

“But if this is a date, princess, then I’d kiss you.” He nipped at my ear and I let out a low sigh. He heard it. It was the kind of sigh that escaped after watching a love story or reading a romance novel or at the cheekiest part of a chick flick.

“Because I’ve never wanted anything so badly than to kiss you right now.” This time he wasn’t taking what he wanted. For once, he wanted my permission.

His eyes were vulnerable, pleading almost. And when I gave a little nod, he took that as my answer and bent down to meet my lips.

The kiss was soft, gentle, a caressing of lips against each other, but I felt it everywhere. This was different than our previous kisses, slower, more passionate, overwhelming, and all consuming.

Kissing Bash was unlike kissing anyone else. Not like I’d kissed a ton of people in my past. I’d only had two other boyfriends before Christian, and that was puppy love. But if I had kissed a hundred men, I knew nothing could possibly compare to this. He paid attention to my top lip first and my bottom lip next, then switched between the two. This was different. This was sweet, as though he were taking me in, living in the moment, not wanting to rush anything.

Kissing him was heaven. Slow, deliberate, but with every ounce of passion that could be packed into such an act.

I melted into him, aware of him spinning me over where I was gently on my back, the grass prickling my arms and neck.

He smelled amazing and tasted like mint and salt and all masculine male, and I basked in his hold, his lips, his essence.

My hands went to his back, underneath his shirt, feeling the strength and planes of the muscles. Soon, my body was aware of him hardening above me, against my stomach and automatically my senses were heightened, and my thighs ached to be touched.

We were alone, absolutely alone, so I parted my legs to cradle him between me and scraped his back lightly with the tips of my fingernails. Hot breaths escaped him, and a sheen of sweat formed at my brow. The cool air could not dim the heat rising within me.

Then the speed of our make-out session went from zero to one hundred in a flip of a switch. His hands gripped my hips. His lips went to the hollow of my neck. His tongue flicked, sucked, and licked from my neck to my ear, then lowered to right above my breast line.

I fell into a rhythm against him, but it wasn’t enough. I wanted more of him, all of him, inside me.

My fingers went to the tips of his hair as he suckled my breasts through my shirt and I felt every sliver of sensation from my sensitive nubs, down my spine, to the tips of my pinky toes.

Lips on mine, he took and took without taking a breath of air, then he backed away in one swift movement, leaving me a panting, wanton, wet mess.

“Why did you stop?” My chest heaved, and I sat up, resting on my forearms.

“Because I’m going to take you right here if I don’t. Out in public.”

He lay one hand over his eyes, groaning, “Shit.”

Both of my hands flew to my chest, trying to quiet the sensitivity and sizzle within me. It didn’t work.

It took both of us minutes to collect ourselves. The chirping of the cuckoo echoed in the background. The grass pricked the back of my arms as the colors of the sunset disappeared into darkness.

Bash sat up and I could feel his eyes on me, while mine stayed planted on the sky.

We were silent for what seemed like forever, until our breathing evened out and every molecule in my body cooled down. Bash was the first to break the silence.

“Ready?” When he extended a hand, I took it in mine and sat up, too.

My body heat hadn’t dimmed. It only heightened with the mere touch of his fingers.

I wasn’t ready for our wonderful night to end. The whole day had been epic. In showing him a good time, I had enjoyed myself more than I thought I would.

“Yes, I guess so.”

“Then let’s go home.” I knew he meant the castle, but for a brief second, it was nice to hear that word uttered from his lips, with his hand in mine. And I reveled in the warmth of him next to me as he led us both home.

When we approached the gates, the guards, unlike earlier, were on high alert, chests out, shoulders taut, guns by their sides.

“What’s going on?” I released my fingers from Bash’s.

“Nothing. I assume the day guards are more laid back.”

“IDs.” The taller, broad guard’s tone was rough and sharp and meant business.

I reached in my back pocket to retrieve mine, but Bash swiped my hand away and took it in his.

“Is that how you talk to a lady?”

The guard huffed and stared Bash down through narrowed eyes. Bash wasn’t recognizable to this guard, given his hat was tipped down low over his eyes and it was pitch dark.

“Give me your IDs or be on your way.” He stepped in front of Bash, eyeing him with discontent. “Do you have a problem, sir?”

I tugged at Bash’s sleeve, but he merely smirked at the guy with the gun.

“My problem is you and your rudeness. So, you’re the first pleasant face that commoners will see? The soldiers of the castle gates?” The guard had a strong grip on Bash’s arm now, but Bash’s smile widened like a mad man that had just escaped the asylum. “Let go of me.”

The guard twisted, and it was his turn to smile. “Or what?”

“Or I’ll have you thrown in jail.” Bash’s menacing tone had me tugging at the edge of his T-shirt.

The soldier’s laugh was cynical.

Then Bash tipped back his head, took off his hat and revealed himself with a smirk.

The soldier’s eyes widened, then immediately he dropped to his knees. The other guard did so as well. “I’m sorry, Your Highness.” The broad male kept his eyes to the ground, his voice quivering. “If I had known it was you … I would have—”

“Acted appropriately?” Bash stood taller, his nose lifted, his normal prince demeanor on full display. “It doesn’t matter who you deal with at these gates, you will and must show respect to all people. Stand, soldier.”

The way his tone leaked with authority, the way he commanded his men, was over-the-top sexy.

The man stood, head still bent, eyes to the floor.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Then please let us pass.” Bash’s patience was barely contained.

When we cleared the gates, I let out a low laugh. “I thought that guy was going to shit himself.”

“Me too.” A deep chuckle erupted from his chest. “For a moment there, I thought he was going to cry. Still, he shouldn’t talk to anybody like that.”

I laughed, thinking how fast that guard was able to stand down and drop to his knees. Given the guard’s stature and strength, I’m surprised he hadn’t toppled over.

Bash led us past the castle doors, not caring who was watching as he held my hand, head high, eyes with a light that was contagious.

“Where are we headed?”

He stopped at the base of the double staircase that led to his quarters. There were a few maids that passed us, and I could feel their eyes on me with quizzical wonder.

In the next second, he pulled me up the stairs. I didn’t argue. I knew where we were going because I’d been there to clean up. When he shut the door to his room, my fingers itched to touch him, and I had a strong desire to erase all the distance between us.

He answered my silent plea and cupped the side of my face, then slid his hands to the back of my head and threaded his fingers through the strands. “So, this … this is my first normal day.” His eyes flickered to my lips and I sucked in a long, dry core-shaking breath. I could feel his warm breath on my face, his hot hand on my skin, his other by my waist. And it felt amazing.

It was like he was silently asking for permission to kiss me again and the prince was never one to ask for permission.

“Give me this night,” he whispered, leaning closer. “Not because of who I am.” He tugged on my hair slightly and dropped his nose to the hollow of my neck. “Not because I’m the future king.” His lips nibbled up my neck to my ear. “Not because I’m paying you to be my assistant,” he whispered. Goose bumps prickled my sensitive skin from his hot breaths on my neck.

His grip tightened, pulling me flush against him, chest against chest, thighs against thighs. “But because you want to. Because you like me as this, the most normal I’ve ever been.” Then his scorching eyes met mine. “Because you want me as much as I want you. Because you’re feeling what I’m feeling.” Deep emotion was displayed through his dark irises, a look of longing, a look I’d never witnessed before in his eyes. It went beyond lust this time, something deeper.

I exhaled an audible sigh and knew I’d give in because I did like him. A lot. More than I should. More than my levelheaded brain wanted to allow. More than what was safe.

I liked his sweetness, not the facade that he put on for everyone else. I liked him. Him. Not the prince or the heir. This past week had shown me that.

“Please …” His voice quivered with uncontrolled want. “Give me tonight, Charlie.” His lips were millimeters away from mine, his hot breath on my face. “Please …”

I doubt he ever begged, and I wanted to put both of us out of our misery already. Our lips connected in a ball of impassioned fire, want, desire. This wasn’t the sweet kisses that had started on the top of Evanistine Hill. This was hotter, scorched with a deep, uninhibited animalistic need. Everything increased in tempo—my heart, the beating of my ears, my pulse. I rubbed my thighs together to ease the unbearable ache that I knew only he could easily satisfy.

He carried me by my ass and I wrapped my legs and arms around him as he led us to his bed, ironically where our relationship had started.

The massive bed was truly built for a king. Four posts as big as the small trunk of a tree adorned all four corners.

Everything was hot. Our lips connected, the air, and our bodies crushed against each other. My fingers threaded through his hair, tugging hard as I rubbed my aching breasts against his chest. The room, the world could be in the midst of an apocalypse, and it wouldn’t matter. All that mattered was him and me and now.

“I’ve wanted you since the first time I laid eyes on you.” His one hand gripped my hips, marking them, forming little indentations on my skin, and his intense hold sent a shiver of pleasure through me. “But it’s different now. I want you more. I need you, Charlie.” He uttered the words in a hushed, shaky, barely-controlled breath, as though I was his world and nothing else mattered.

He peered down on me as though he hadn’t eaten in months.

I was a panting, breathless, horny mess. With no shame and all my restraint shot, I reached for the buckle of his jeans. His lips fell to my neck and I was panting like I’d been under water and had now been able to come up for air.

“Off with these jeans already.”

He held my hands in his, forcing them above my head. “Patience,” he uttered shakily. He said one thing, but his hooded eyes blazed with fiery lust. It seemed as though he was on his last thread of self-control.

“Patience?” I reeled back while deep, heavy breaths escaped me. “It’s been forever since I’ve had sex and …”

I went in to capture his lips, but he gripped my chin. “I don’t want to be just anybody to you.” He kissed my chin, his eyes serious. “Because you’re not just anybody to me.” The intensity of his gaze seared through me, making my senses spin. For a tiny moment, I stared up into his eyes and decided that I could fall for this man. Bash. Just Bash. My heart leapt into my throat, and my patience was far and long gone. I wanted him the moment we had stepped into the room. I grabbed the edge of his shirt. “This needs to come off already.”

He complied and then once again our tongues danced and twirled together, causing everything south to tingle with heightened anticipation.

“I need normal with you. Soft and seductive.” He nipped across my jawline. “I need to know what feels good for you. What you want.”

He was killing me. Absolutely killing me right now. I was like a dog in heat.

“Everything feels good,” I groaned out, pushing my pelvis against his. “I want … I want you.” Now I was begging.

He slipped off my clothes and kissed every part of me, my lips, my cheek, the pulse on my neck … my collar bone, concentrating at the hollow of my neck. He moved at a painfully slow pace, and when his lips touched my breast, I threw my head back and let out a low moan and ran my fingers through his hair. He concentrated on my sensitive nipples for what seemed like forever, prolonging the torture, and turning my body into liquid, making me wet and hungry for him.

By the time we were both undressed, every single molecule on my body tingled with sensual sensation and the only thing I wanted—needed—was him inside me. After pulling back and putting on a condom, he entered me in one slow, agonizing pace and I nearly cried at the feel of our bodies joined, of him moving above me.

My eyes were shut, enjoying the course of tingles traveling to the very end of my toes. I gripped his ass and lifted my hips, getting him to drive deeper, faster, harder. Our moans were meshed into one. “You feel so good,” he groaned. “I’m never going to be the same after this.”

He cupped my face, staring deeply into my eyes, strong emotion passing through his brown irises. Then he slowed his pace as though he were savoring every thrust of his body against mine.

All I could feel was him inside of me. All I could smell was our passion in the air. All I could hear was the slapping of skin and his sweet whispers of longing and of how beautiful I was.

It didn’t take long for his hold to harden against my waist and his movements to drive faster and for all of the world to disappear as a burst of black stars filtered behind my lids and my body exploded in sensation.

We held onto each other as our world, our bodies, collided in ecstasy, and I knew I would also never be the same after this.

Chapter 18

It had been only an hour since we’d last had sex, and it must have been two or three because the morning light hadn’t seeped through the curtains, and it was still pitch dark outside.

Sleep. All I wanted was sleep, but Bash had other plans. I wouldn’t have even minded another round in the sack. I could forego sleep for sex, but he wanted to talk. My eyes were closed as he drew circles on my thigh and talked about our day, which food he liked the best—Dinah’s breakfast sandwich, the coffee, the glazed bacon jalapeño donut … and something else I couldn’t decipher through my sex-filled, satisfied, sleepy stage.

“Be mine,” he whispered, coasting kisses against my skin.

I opened my eyes, unsure if I heard him right.

“Charlie …” His eyes blazed with emotion. “Say you’ll be mine.” He brushed his knuckles against my cheek, his touch intimate and sweet.

The world stopped. My breath caught in my throat like a cotton ball.

I hadn’t come into this job expecting this. I had known from our very first meeting that I wanted him, but … “What does it entail?” The words slipped out before I could stop them. What am I thinking?

His fingertips trailed against my jawline. The corners of his mouth lifted. “I want you in my life, Charlotte. In my every day. I want us together to be my new normal. And if you say you’ll be mine, I will shower you with affection, with gifts, with love.”

His words had my insides soaring, and I couldn’t deny that I very much wanted the same thing, but it wasn’t that easy. Where would this lead us?

“Being my girlfriend will be complicated, I know. But for the first time, I welcome that complication. I …” He paused as though trying to formulate the words before he spoke, his eyebrows pulled together, and conviction and certainty reigned in his tone. “I’d never thought it was worth it before. I never found the right girl, the one I wanted to fight for … but you … I need you. I need you in my life, Charlotte.”

That could only lead to more. It could progress to … I didn’t want to think of what it could progress to.

My brow furrowed, and I could tell that Bash knew exactly what I was thinking. “Don’t think too much,” he urged. “I’m happy. Are you happy? Because all that matters is that we are happy together.” He cupped the back of my neck, bringing me closer. The touch passionate and all-consuming. “Be mine,” he whispered more forcefully. His eyes bore down on mine. “Exclusively and irrevocably mine.”

“Will everyone know?” I whispered. If I agreed to this, I didn’t want to be an undercover girlfriend, someone hidden. My mother and my father had lived their relationship without their families knowing because they had come from different classes. I would not live the same life as my mother. I wouldn’t walk her path.

He laughed softly. “Of course, everyone will know. My mother and father, your mother. Why wouldn’t they? If you think that I’m ashamed of your background …”

I cleared my throat. “When I was with Christian—”

Bash interrupted with a scoff.

I gave him a look. He quieted, and I continued. “When I was with him, there were no lies between us. Our relationship was built on trust.” And that had been the reason it was so easy to tell him that it wasn’t working out instead of dragging a dull relationship out. At least for me.

He studied me for a moment. “It’ll be even better for us. I promise to always be honest, even when the truth hurts … and I already know you’ll give me that.” The sincerity of his words touched me, and although I’d always been a skeptic, I believed him.

I closed the gap between us and brushed my lips against his, feather light. “No lies.”

His tongue flicked on the seam of my lips. “No lies.”

I smiled, feeling like my chest was bursting open. “Then I’m exclusively and irrevocably yours.” Our mouths collided in sweet surrender and he covered his body over mine. Our words were forgotten and replaced with pure, uninhibited passion.

Morning light hit every corner of Bash’s room, and I shut my eyes tightly again, wishing for sleep. Tender kisses trailed my neckline, moving farther down my arm, suckling my breast, moving to my thighs. Then my inner thigh. "What are you doing?" Every muscle hurt with the most wonderful pain, an ache that reminded me of the night before.

"What do you think I'm doing?" His voice was rough and sexy and hot against my skin.

"We have to get up. Today is Friday. You. Meeting at nine. Breakfast—" I lost the ability to speak, to figure out my next words, to do anything but feel Bash and his tongue trailing down my inner thigh.

There was a thump on the door that had me jolting upright and knocking Bash in the jaw with my knee. The blanket covered my body as adrenaline rushed through me and my eyes widened as I looked down to Bash for answers. I shook my head back and forth.

We could not get caught together. There was no way. Not before I was ready to tell people. Until we were formally introduced. "Don't open the door," I mouth silently, kicking him to move from the most compromising position. I wrapped the blanket securely around every part of me. “Do not.”

Unbothered, he moved up the length of my body and continued to kiss my neck. "Of course," he whispered. “They won’t enter without my permission.”

I leaned back against the endless down pillows, unsatisfied with his answer and drugged by the warmth of his lips. I gripped the tips of his hair. “Did you lock the door?” I asked, eyebrows raised.

Before he even had a chance to respond, the door flew open.

My body froze. As if I were in an alternate universe, my eyes widened as I took in the worst scene possible.

It was the queen.

Bash threw the covers over me and sat up. I knew she had already seen me, but I was hoping she would ignore the trembling figure under the comforter.

Bash pushed himself off the bed. “Hello mother,” he said, his voice light and pleasing. Not like his normal commanding voice he used on other people, only on his mommy. “I’m kind of busy at the moment.”

"I can see that." Her voice was stern, just like my mother's voice before I got a good lecture or more like a beating with words. “I need to talk to you. In the main room. Now,” she snapped.

My whole body was sweating profusely. I thought I was going to suffocate under the covers. Maybe it would be better if I did. Dying in a pool of my own sweat and shame would be better than living this out. If she saw me, that was going to be the end of my life.

My mother couldn't find out about this. I’d die. She’d die. They would fire her for sure. And I couldn't let that happen. I didn't move. I didn't even exhale a single breath.

“Where did you go yesterday?” the Queen asked.

“Yesterday? Hmm, what was yesterday?” Bash said, humor heavy in his tone.

“This is not a laughing matter, son.” Her mother’s voice increased with mounting rage. “Why did you leave the castle without your guards? You know that's against the rules! You know you could've been hurt or abducted or even killed. Do you understand that you are the next heir? Do you understand that?"

There was a slight tremor in her tone, the only revelation of his mother’s true concern—her fear.

"What the hell were you thinking, son? Why would you want to go to the city by yourself anyway? If you wanted to go, all you had to do was take your security team.”

“I was fine. It wasn’t a big deal,” he said, unfazed.

I cringed. Oh, hell. Wrong answer. Even when I was getting lectured by my own mother, I knew when to shut up. Obviously, Bash did not.

“You did not just say that." Her voice was low and menacing and would’ve frightened the biggest guard, the largest lion, the most dangerous prison inmate.

I pulled the sheets tighter against me. I needed to leave. But the conversation was so heated, there was no way that I could go past them unnoticed.

"The line of royalty is with you. Do you know how important that is? Do you know what that means? Do you know how much your head is worth? The biggest cartel could kidnap you, and there’s no amount … no amount that we wouldn't pay." Her voice trailed off on the last few words, angered but also revealing her underlying concern—her son’s safety.

"So I know your underlying reason now, mother. It's not for your loving son, but for the continuation of your line."

"Stupid boy! You are my son. My flesh and blood so don't think for one second that I don't care about you or your safety. But yes … There is a continuation of the line to consider. And I would be lying if I said I wasn't thinking of it.”

“I’m a grown man,” he snapped back.

“You are a grown man, and you should start acting like one. Does that girl know that you’re engaged to someone else? Did you tell her? Although it hasn’t been formally announced yet, you are still engaged, Bash.”

I blinked. My fingers clutched the sheet as though it were my lifeline. The air evaporated from my lungs. The enclosed place felt as though it was shrinking.

Engaged?

The ringing in my ears drowned out the explosive pounding of my heart.

Engaged.

The words boomed and echoed around me. My stomach dropped to the ground and kept going. I couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. Though everything inside me screamed for me to leave.

“I don’t see how that is any of your business,” he hissed at her.

I could almost hear the smirk in her voice as though she was excited for her to reveal that he was engaged. “Everything you do is my business.”

Here I was, unintentionally following in my mother’s footsteps. I was that girl. To the queen, a face without a name. And she would eventually find out, I was only a maid’s daughter. Not good enough. Not worthy enough. I swore that no one would make me doubt my worth. No one.

My mother had brought me up to be confident, independent, and, most of all, loved. I was a happy kid, even having very little.

Bash’s voice boomed in the background, but I couldn’t hear anything other than the blood rushing in my ears. This was more complication than I wanted. What was I thinking contemplating a relationship? A relationship with royalty? I would never ever be good enough. Hadn’t my mother’s past and who my father was taught me that?

The conversation continued for another few more minutes before I decided to expose myself. I needed to leave this room, this castle, this life.

I lifted my head from the covers, uncovering myself inch by inch. First my eyes, then my nose, then my face. I made sure to keep everything else covered. No one, especially the queen, needed to see me in my birthday suit. She already had known what we were doing last night and into this morning.

Both sets of eyes flickered in my direction, but I only locked eyes with the queen.

I'd seen her before at the royal ball. The castle had invited all the dignitaries once a year to wine and dine them and talk about their focus for the upcoming year.

Servants and staff were privy to this grand event. And that was the last time I’d seen the queen. But that was from afar. This time was up close and unwelcomed and personal. Her hair was the darkest of brown and curls cascaded down her back.

“Good … Good morning, my queen." My voice shook with uninhibited fear and shame and shock that this was actually happening.

Her eyes narrowed, glanced at me for a second, then her focus went back to her son. "Bash. Meet me in the great room." She pivoted on her heels and exited. Bash didn’t follow.

My cheeks flushed pink, the burn reaching to the tips of my ears. The walk of shame was about to happen, but first things first. I needed to get my clothes on. I slipped on my clothes in record time, ignoring Bash’s pleas for me to stay, my sole focus to leave.

Who knew what the consequences would be this time? I doubted it would be a continued job as his PA.

“Bash, I’m running out of patience for you.” The queen had reentered the room when Bash hadn’t followed her out.

He ignored his mother completely, not the smartest idea and his eyes never strayed from my face. “No. Don't go.” It was a direct order from Bash, and if he wasn't in front of his mother, I would have put him in his place. I grabbed my purse from the floor and bowed to the queen.

I didn’t know what to say, but it felt disrespectful to walk out of the room without saying anything. My back straightened, and I peered up at the queen. She had Bash’s eyes, mahogany brown and lighter in the middle.

I bowed my head slightly. “Sorry … Sorry to meet in such an awkward situation. But it was great to meet you.” Then I bowed again and was about to make my way past her when Bash gripped my wrist, stilling me.

Only then did I meet his stare. His eyes pleaded with me, but I was done. He had asked me to be his girlfriend when he was engaged to someone else. If that wasn’t the ultimate betrayal, I didn’t know what was.

"Charlie…" His voice softened, and the tenderness in his tone forced me to avert my eyes because I was on the verge of tears. “We …" His voice cracked with sullen emotion. "We have so much to talk about. Please don't go."

"I have to. It's fine. I'm fine. We'll talk later." But as soon as those words left my mouth, his hold on my wrist only tightened because he knew I was lying.

The queen’s eyebrows furrowed. She gave me the most quizzical look. Her gaze ping-ponged between us, then landed on Bash’s hold on me.

He knew as much as I did that everything after today would change. Everything as I knew it was up in the air. I just hoped to goodness that my mother's job wasn't in jeopardy.

"Later," I whispered, lying, and knowing that there was nothing else to say to him. There wouldn't be a later for us. The fantasy of last night was over. Now reality hit full force.

Chapter 19

There were times when I was younger that I was beyond embarrassed of things that had happened in school. Like that one time that I had toilet paper stuck, not on the bottom of my shoe, but on the back of my pants. Why no one had told me, I had no idea. I had walked to and from class and into the cafeteria. It was only when I was in line to order my food that the whole student body began to point and laugh at me. That day I went home early. I faked sickness. And I faked sickness the day after that, too.

I was twenty million times more embarrassed at what had happened with the queen catching us. So embarrassed that I hid like I had committed a crime.

Instead of going straight to my room, I ran into Megan's without knocking and locked us both in. She never locked her doors, and maybe she could've been with her boyfriend, but I didn’t care. All I needed to do was hide and escape everything that had happened this morning.

She jolted from the bed, her hair muddled on the top of her head in a high bun. “What’s going on?”

“What’s not going on, that’s the problem.” I hopped onto the bed with her, pulled her covers over the both of us, and snuggled against her. “I think I may need a hug.”

"Oh goodness, what did you do?” she asked, her eyes riddled with confusion. "Charlie, what's the matter?" Our faces were close together, my hands cradled my cheek, reminding me how we were when we were younger, and we had sleepovers and would talk about our deepest, darkest secrets, which at that time had been who our biggest crush was.

How times had changed. I wished my secret was as inconsequential as that.

When I pulled the blanket closer to my neck, she backed away and lifted a curious eyebrow. She assessed me without saying a word, and I knew with every fiber of my being my face told it all.

"Oh, shit, you did, didn't you?”

“What?”

“You slept with Prince Bash!" She jerked the blanket off me. Her eyes went saucer-wide. Any wider and her eyeballs would’ve dislodged from their sockets.

I ran one aggravated hand down my face, closing my eyes and trying to pretend that last night didn't happen, yet wanting to relive it all over again. Because from the moment I’d woken up yesterday, the excitement in my veins, and the whole day with Bash was wonderful. Just wonderful. And now everything was in the shitter.

I gritted my teeth and pushed down all the silly butterflies in my stomach every time I thought of him.

Engaged.

My stomach churned. Everything he had said last night was an utter lie.

She laughed, carelessly waving her hand in the air. "Charlie! You have to tell me everything.” In typical Megan fashion, she bounced on the bed. “You slept with the prince! That’s nuts.”

When I hugged her pillow against my chest, she narrowed her eyes and clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "Tsk, tsk … I know what’s happening here.”

My whole face pinched, and I groaned. I didn’t want to speak, didn’t want to do anything but cower into a ball, fall asleep, and never wake up.

“You didn't just fall in love with the prince, did you?"

"Of course not. How stupid do you think I am?" Because I was stupid, and I had believed everything he’d said last night. He’d made me believe that I was different from any of the other girls he'd been with. He’d made me believe that I was special to him. That I showed him a time that no one else had shown him before. I bit the inside of my cheek hard enough to feel pain.

"I don't know, Charlie." She pointed a shaky finger my way and grabbed the end of my locks. "Somehow, I don't believe you."

"Believe what you want to believe, but I am not in love with that lying, conceited, pompous ass of a prince." Then I turned over and pushed my face into her pillows, so she couldn't read my reaction. And maybe, just maybe, if I said it enough, I’d start to believe in my heart that it was true. That I wasn't in love with the prince, because obviously, he wasn't in love with me if he was engaged to someone else.

A rumble in my stomach had me shifting on Megan’s bed. Who knew what time it was? When I lifted my head, the sun was setting. Five or six maybe? I had slept the whole day. Megan had left this morning to start her day and clean the castle.

I was in desperate need of a long, hot shower. My clothes were wrinkled and smelly from the day before. I peered down at the stain on my shirt from the hot sauce from the taco we had shared.

The taco truck.

I sighed and squeezed my eyes shut, trying to clear my mind of any memories of yesterday, but it was impossible. Because every time I closed my eyes, I saw him. Bash. In all his handsome glory. His smile. His chocolate brown eyes.

Pushing off the comforter, I slipped on my shoes and headed to my room. When I unlocked the door, I was surprised to see Bash sleeping on top of my comforter.

He stirred, his eyes sleepy, his hair a mess. “Charlie,” he said softly. He spoke that one word like it was his lifeline, like I was his one call in the direst of situations. And my heart, my stupid heart, it believed him again.

My tone was not as kind. “Who let you in?”

“The staff.”

Great. Gossip was going to spread fast like a bad virus throughout this castle. The news would reach my mother soon enough. I was surprised she wasn’t already looking for me.

“I’m sorry about this morning.”

I wanted to cover my ears and not hear a single word because every word out of his mouth sounded sincere. And I knew now that everything had been a lie.

I crossed my arms over my chest, glaring at him, ready for him to get on with it. “Okay. Apology done.” Then I pointed to the door. “And now you can leave.”

“Charlie …” He pushed to a sitting position. “It’s complicated.”

“It’s really not, you see. You’re …” My stupid voice broke with emotion. “You’re engaged.”

He flinched as though I had sucker punched him. “It’s not what you—”

“You’re a liar,” I spat out as calmly and evenly as I could. “A liar on a mission to sleep your way through Itasca with every woman you want, some paid, some not, but who cares, right? As long as you do them all before you get married. Now that I have things straight, I think you should leave.” The words burned the back of my throat like acid, but I forced them out. All of them, because the truth would set me free. Free from him.

I wasn’t supposed to care about him. This shouldn’t have been so hard. I gave myself willingly with no strings attached, but he wanted the strings. He made me hope for more. This was his doing, and I would never forgive him for giving me false hope, for jerking me around, for giving me his heart that was already promised to someone else.

“I don’t love her.” He slowly approached, and when he reached for my waist, I shoved him off.

My calm demeanor faded, replaced by anger and shame and full regret. “Don’t touch me. You don’t get to touch me ever again.” I threw up both hands, glaring at him. “Are you going to say you don’t love her, but you love me? Because that’s a bunch of bullshit right there. You don’t even know me.”

His eyes broke, as though my words were pushing a dagger into his chest. Wow. And the Academy Award goes to …

“Don’t say that. I do know you.”

“Stop with the lies, Bash. Just stop.” My voice raised with resounding anger, my face red, my ears burning. I walked to the door, having had enough of his lying nonsense, and chucked it open. “Out.” A few other people strolled past, bowing to Bash before carrying on their way. Bash ignored them, his sole focus on me. His eyes begging forgiveness, but today my mind was stronger than my heart, and I no longer believed him.

“I’m not leaving you like this. I can’t.”

“Leave!” I didn’t care that I was yelling. I didn’t care that the whole floor could hear. I wanted him out of my vicinity, wanted him away from me and finally out of my life because I couldn’t think clearly with him in it. My whole life had turned upside down since the day I’d met him. I wanted my normalcy back, but even more than that, I wanted the drama free and happiness that was my every day. I needed to seize control of my life again.

“I can’t …” he said, a broken mess. Our eyes locked for a hot second. I turned away before I would start crying, then my savior walked through the door. My mother.

Her eyes widened right before her sights flickered between me and Bash. “Is there a problem here?” She wasn’t looking at me. She was staring directly at him as though he was the one in trouble. “Can I have a word with my daughter … Your Highness?”

He teetered back and forth, not wanting to go, yet not knowing what to do. His confident demeanor was obliterated by my mother’s stern stare. “Can you please leave so I can talk to my daughter?” She repeated. Her voice was buttery sweet, but there was no denying that she had just excused the prince from our room.

His eyes remained locked on mine and his body tensed. “Of course.” Then he dropped his head, backed away, his gaze never leaving mine, then shut me and my mother in.

My eyes fell closed as I dropped to the bed, wondering how my life had flipped sideways in such a short period of time.

“So, are you going to tell me what’s going on here or am I going to have to believe the gossip that’s been going around?” She tipped up her chin and paused to examine me.

I bit my bottom lip and my whole body sagged against the mattress. I didn’t know where to begin. And then for the first time since I was a little girl, big fat tears fell down my face.

Crying was for babies. Damn it.

My mother’s head jerked back, then her eyes softened, probably shocked at seeing me in tears. “Come here,” she said, sitting at the edge of the bed and patting the spot beside her.

And then, the truth all fell out in an endless rush of words, mumbled through choked tears. I told my mother everything shy of Bash making me come multiple times last night. And when it was done, and I was peering up at her through tear-filled eyes, she had nothing to say.

“Aren’t you going to tell me that I’m dumb?” I cried. “That you’ve been in my position before and how you told me over and over not to make the same mistakes that you’ve made.”

“No.”

I blinked, wide eyed and confused. “No?”

“And you …” She cupped my chin and leaned in. “… are not a mistake. Your father is a mistake. I never talk about him because there’s no need to. He was wonderful until I got pregnant, and at the end of it all, he chose his family over us. He was my mistake. But sometimes from mistakes come beautiful things.” She touched my nose. “Bash is not like your father, and you are not me, so quit comparing our situations in that beautiful brain of yours. Your life is your life to live.”

I swiped at my tears then stared at the ceiling, trying to blink them away. “I hate this. I hate crying. I don’t even know why I’m crying.”

“Because you’re in love, honey.”

My head snapped back at her, and my mouth fell slightly ajar. “I’m … I’m not in love.”

“It wouldn’t hurt as much if you weren’t.” She smiled then, as though this were a smiling moment, then she patted my knee. “I have a feeling everything is going to turn out okay. It has for me, and I have no doubt it will for you.”

I openly blinked at her. Turn out okay? My life was in shambles.

I straightened when she stood from my bed. “Is that all I’m getting?”

She shrugged. “Yes.” She shut the door behind her, then reopened it, and her expression turned serious. “You’re still planning on finishing school, right?”

I tilted my head and threw her a sideways glance. “What kind of question is that, Mother?”

“Just checking if I still have to make next quarter’s tuition; that’s all.” Then she laughed and walked out of my room.

Chapter 20

The next few days I stopped hiding and lived my life as normal as I could. There were still the stares from the staff and the soft whispers of people I passed to and from my room. But whatever. They didn’t pay my bills. The only opinion of me that mattered was my mother’s and mine. The end.

I was brushing my teeth in the common bathroom when Bash entered as though he lived here. I blinked unbelievingly because he was standing in the girl’s restroom.

What the what?

My toothbrush dropped in the sink, and my mouth slipped ajar, foamy toothpaste covering my lips. “You can't barge in here and do whatever you want."

"Technically … it is my castle.” The joke was made without humor, his face serious. His eyes took me in as though I was his first breath of the day and he had been without air for years. The dark circles under his eyes, and the wariness and slumped posture, indicated that he was tired. That would make two of us.

I gargled and turned to spit out the toothpaste. Maybe I could ignore him, but I doubted that would be possible knowing he'd follow me wherever I went until I gave in to him. This was the man that no one ever said “no” to.

"This is not funny. You have to stop." I wiped my mouth with the edge of my towel as Susan, one of the cook’s daughters, walked into the bathroom.

She paused, and her gaze traveled to Bash. Automatically she bowed, as normal traditions would have it. She looked to the door as if she were in the wrong room.

"No, Susan, you're not in the wrong bathroom. He is the one in the wrong area." Then I stared at him, blatantly glaring. "Unless there's something you want to tell us. Is there a sex change in the process?"

Maybe I could start a different rumor, a rumor that wouldn’t involve me. Susan gasped and she gawked at me like I was the crazy one. But I wasn't the one stalking the prince. It was the other way around.

I stormed past her and straight down the hall toward my room. Surprise, surprise, Bash followed.

There was a spectacle of people waiting in the corridor, who had probably watched him enter the women's bathroom and now they were interested in the commotion.

"Quit following me!" I didn’t have to turn around to know that he was directly behind me or that everyone's eyes were on us. I could feel their stares burning into my skin like a nasty rash.

"Why are you still here?" I stopped and flipped around in the main hall, not caring anymore that everyone was witnessing our fight. What didn’t matter to him sure as hell didn’t matter to me. He was the prince and if he didn’t care, why should I?

My hands were fisted at my sides, and I enunciated each word in case he didn’t understand English. “Leave. Me. Alone.”

With such intensity in his eyes and a voice so low I strained to hear him, he said, "I can't."

For a brief moment, I blinked and took a step back, anger erased from my features. I remembered what had happened a couple nights ago. I was transported to that night, to the way he’d held me, to the sweet words he’d whispered in my ear and to the tenderness of his touch.

I closed my eyes to break our connection because my heart hurt all over again. I exhaled a soft sigh, trying not to let his words affect me. More people had congregated in the hall, and more would eventually know our business.

His eyes flickered to our surroundings, following my gaze to the castle workers that lined the hall. And then without warning, he said, "I don't think I'll ever want to leave you alone, Charlie."

And that's all the drama that I wanted everyone to know. I pushed open my door to my room.

"I like you, Charlie. And I don’t care to hide for that matter."

I cringed. This spectacle was for everyone now. People were staring silently, their expressions curious. My eyes took in everyone. Christian wasn’t there, thankfully. I didn’t need another showdown with him.

"You want me to shout it to the world?" I didn’t know what his point was in his declaration to everyone that didn’t matter. But to me, it was a little too late.

I didn't give him a chance to say anything further, so I grabbed his hand and pulled him into my room and shut us in.

"I'm no longer engaged,” he said immediately. “I told my mother and my father and that woman that it was over. I was betrothed. I didn’t pick her. My family thought it was time and picked her for me. And the reason no one knew was because it hadn’t been formally announced yet.” His words rushed out like a flash flood, taking me under. “I didn’t choose her.” Then he said, very deliberately and with words carefully picked. “I choose you.”

It took a few seconds before I found my voice. Why wasn’t he honest with me from the beginning? He had countless moments where he could’ve told me, at Evanistine Hill or when we were merely friends and hadn’t crossed that unprofessional line. "It doesn't matter," I said, mostly to myself.

Because it didn't. And it would never work. We came from different classes and in real life that didn't work in favor of the lower class. Classes didn't mingle. They didn't coexist. The sooner I embraced this, the less it would hurt. I had hurt so much already.

When I didn't turn to face him, he walked toward me. I could hear his feet inching closer and feel the warmth of his body behind me.

"It does matter," he said, determination behind his voice. “Because now everything is out in the open. I made things right. Instead of simply doing what my parents asked, I told them what I wanted instead. What I want for my own future. And what I want …”

"Oh, and it's me?" I turned toward him. My voice was laced with heavy sarcasm, dripping from my mouth like drool. "I am so honored, Your Royal Highness. That you would choose me …" I placed both hands on my heart in an exaggerated motion.

"Don't be like that." His hands were outstretched, wanting to touch me, but I took a step back.

"Life doesn't work that way. Just because you’ve decided, it doesn't mean I've agreed. If you haven't noticed already, I don't care about your status. I don't care who you are, and I am not going to submit to everything you want like everybody else. Maybe other women will, but that's not me." I jutted out my chin and straightened my shoulders, faking it as though his words didn’t affect me. I wanted so badly to fall into his arms and pretend we were at Evanistine Hill again, to a few nights before where I was happy and so in … The thought had my heart stammering in my chest. In love.

My mother had called it, and she was right. This was why my heart hurt. It was because I was in love with Bash, but that didn’t change our circumstances and who he was.

His arms hung at his side, and with a trembling chin, he said, “You’re not like other women. I know that. It’s one of the many reasons I …”

I gritted my teeth, grounding on my molars. “Don’t say it. Don’t say I’m different, either. You’d think you would stop with the cliché lines and lies already because they don’t work.”

His gaze dropped to the ground as though he’d been defeated, and his heart was breaking, but how was that possible, when he was the one who’d lied?

"Why should I believe a single word you say? When were you going to tell me you were engaged? Right before you walk down the aisle with her?" A sarcastic laugh left my mouth echoing through my room. I sounded like the wicked witch of the East. "Better yet, maybe I find out from one of those gossip magazines." Oh boy, was I on a roll. Every word like venom from a snake spewing from my mouth.

It didn’t matter anyway; we would have never worked. Him being who he was and me being the maid’s daughter. Before he could start telling me how much he cared about me, feeding me his lies, and I believed them again, I had to put an end to this. What was happening between us? This back and forth. Because there was no point.

The look in his eyes mirrored my insides, broken, miserable, defeated.

My next words got caught in my throat, and I said, “I trusted you. Everything you said, about wanting to be with me …” I swallowed. “And I won’t believe your lies anymore.” With a slow shake of my head, I said, “Please. Please just leave me alone.” I wrapped my arms around my stomach, trying to keep upright, tripping to keep it together and not cower into myself and cry. Instead, I kept my face blank and forced my eyes to remain steady on his.

We stared at each other through the silence and space between us. And at that moment, I wished we had a chance or that he wasn’t the next heir to the throne. I wished that we were both born into middle class families where we could fall in love like normal people, without the eyes of the media, his family, the whole world watching us. Where we could go on normal dates and be together in the open and not have our relationship scrutinized. Because if we weren’t born into the classes we were born in, I knew we’d be able to be happy. Together. Because in that brief time when it was just the two of us, we were both happy.

It was crazy to think what had gotten us to this point when a few days ago we were both in utter bliss. The only sound that echoed in my small room was the ticking of the clock and the small breaths escaping the two of us.

I needed to be strong, for myself, and if he wasn’t going to leave me alone, then I was going to be the one who had to leave. Mustering up all the strength I could, I said, “If I ever did mean something to you, truly mean something, then you’d leave me alone. Leave it and let me be." Our eyes locked for a brief second and heat formed behind my eyes. I pushed past him and walked out my door, once again opening myself up to the prying and curious eyes of everyone outside. I dropped my head and let the first of many tears fall.

He let me leave, without argument, without a word, exactly as I asked of him. You would have thought I’d been happy that he’d actually listened.

But I didn’t feel anything but utter devastation. It was the end of us.

I didn’t feel victorious at all.

Chapter 21

The morning sun indicated it was a new day, but the ache in my heart, the tightness in my chest, that was not new, just old from a few days before.

There was nothing I could do about the situation but get up and move forward. So, in typical Charlotte fashion, I did. That’s what I always did.

I exited the castle gates, ready to pick up my books for the new semester. People were already scattered in front of the gates, admiring the castle, and wishing for a glimpse of the royal family. Usually, during this time, I’d be excited to start a new chapter in school, but not today. Not when my mind and thoughts and heart were somewhere else, or more so, with someone else.

But when thoughts would filter in my brain—the what ifs or the maybe we could have beens, I gritted my teeth and told myself to face reality. And the reality was we would never work out. I couldn’t live under a microscope. I lived under the radar, doing what I needed to do to finish school and get things done. My life would be so different if we were together. This was for the best. But even as I repeated those words over and over again, it didn’t help the immense heaviness that weighed on my heart.

I was about to cross the street when a truck blocked my path. “Excuse me, miss.”

It was the food truck. Not any food truck, but Dinah’s breakfast sandwiches.

I blinked when Dinah stuck her head out of the window. “I have a special delivery for you.”

“What?” I peered around us, noting the peach trees in the distance. I had to confirm I wasn’t at Food Truck Row. What the hell was Dinah doing here?

“Here, a special sandwich from someone who wants to prove his worth.” She smiled a secret smile. “Win you through actions and not words.”

Before I had a chance to protest, the sandwich bag was within my fingertips. The bag said the exact same thing that Dina had said: through actions, not words.

I held my breath, feeling the heat of the warm sandwich through the white bag, the light breeze of the air brushing against my cheeks. I stared blankly at the bag as a slew of emotions rushed through me as I thought of Bash’s first outing at Food Truck Row, the elation on his face discovering the trucks, the food we shared, the stories, the laughter.

With my free hand, I rubbed at the center of my chest at the memory.

Farther down the block, another truck stopped on the corner, and the vendor was calling my name. It was the coffee truck that I had taken Bash to. I came closer.

“Excuse me, miss.” The young man held an all-knowing smile. “Coffee for Miss Beautiful.” Before he gave me the cup, he leaned in. “He says he does know you. He knows you love to eat.”

The apple of my cheeks flushed pink before I took the cup from him. When I tried to pay him, he waved me off. The scent of coffee hit me straight in the nostrils, and after I brought it to my lips and took a sip, I released a satisfied sigh. Doing a full circle and with both hands occupied with the cup of coffee and brown bag, I glanced around searching for Bash, but he was nowhere.

Where was this guy?

After finding a bench, I sat down and began to unwrap my sandwich. Inside the bag was a little note, written by Bash. I’d know his handwriting anywhere. “If I told you I was sorry a million times, I know you wouldn’t believe me. But I am. I’m sorry for everything that went down like it did. I’m sorry that I didn’t meet you sooner.” I read the words again, taking them in slower and my stomach fluttered.

I lifted my head again, searching for Bash—looking for any signs of another truck. Where was he? I couldn’t imagine him doing all of this and not actually being here.

From a distance, a group of kids was approaching. Some had their arms linked together, others were skipping toward me. I squinted, taking them in and noticed they were the orphans from the orphanage. They wore their navy-blue pants and crisp white shirt uniforms. When they came closer, I noticed they were carrying roses.

A whole zoo of butterflies took flight in my stomach. Their smiles were blinding as though they’d been sent on some secret mission. And I knew who their ringleader was.

They formed a semi-circle around me.

“Miss …” The little boy with blue eyes and the blondest hair came forward first. “We have a few roses for the pretty lady.” The kids giggled around him. They were obviously reciting Bash’s words, not theirs, and the corners of my mouth tipped up. “Here’s the first one.”

I took the rose from his tiny fingers and opened the note attached by a little string. “You say I don’t know you, but I do.”

A little girl stepped forward next, giving me another rose.

I know you have an appreciation for food. It’s one of many of your best qualities.

Another little girl stepped forward, handing me another.

I know that you love your family and would do anything for them.

Then another.

I know that you’re passionate about children, about teaching and treating the children around you.

I know your laughter is the best sound that I’ve ever heard and if I could bottle that sound, I’d live the happiest life any man could.

I know you have the smartest mouth, witty and funny. I eat up every word you say and wait for the next words that will be said.

A young girl, no more than eight, stepped up with a white rose this time.

When I opened up the next note, my heart, and the world around me stopped. I know I’ve never—in my life— felt the way I feel when I’m with you.

“There’s more, miss,” the young girl said, turning the note over.

I’m cheating because now this is about me, but you must know that I miss you terribly.

I let his words rush over me and felt a fluttering in my stomach.

Sorry seems overused, but you must know … I’m sorry. And I wish that you’d give me another chance.

The next rose was given by a young girl with dark brown hair and eyes that matched Bash’s. She presented me with a larger garden rose, red on the edges and pink in the center. The note attached read: I may not know every single thing about you, but I know that I’m smitten by you. And I wish I could get to know you more.

Finally, from a distance, behind a tree, I made out Bash walking toward me holding the hand of a little boy. In his other hand, he held more red roses.

I stood, placed the roses on the bench. As they approached, I realized I knew this boy. My feet padded through the grass and I half ran to him. It was Henry. The last time I’d seen him, he’d been without the color in his cheeks, barely breathing, and almost dead.

Bash let go of his hand, and Henry crashed into me. I swooped him up into my arms and cradled his face. “Hey, Henry,” I gushed out, cupping the side of his face with one hand. “I’m so glad you’re okay.” I pulled back and ruffled his hair. His cheeks were full of color now, and his smile brightened. “Th-thank you f-f-f-for saving my life.”

“Oh gosh, Henry. Of course.” Then my motherly voice, a voice I didn’t think I had pushed through. “You have to cut up your hotdogs next time. Chew better. Promise me.”

“I p-p-promise.” He grinned.

When Bash stepped in front of me, I placed Henry on his feet. He adjusted his light sports jacket and smoothed down the grey Henley he wore underneath, almost fidgeting as though he were nervous.

“I thought you’d like to see that he was fine in person.” His eyes filled with a hope that made my pulse race.

I nodded, unable to form words or look at him. My thoughts were a jumbled mess, and I swung Henry’s hand in mine.

“For some reason, you never take me at my word, and I get that.” He rubbed the little boy’s head. “But he’s fine.”

I peered down at Henry and brushed the back of my hand against his cheek. “Yes, he is,” I whispered.

“M-miss,” he said, his voice so soft. “Give him another chance.” And that time, Henry didn’t stutter, didn’t miss a syllable.

I met Bash’s eyes for the first time. My stomach flipped and flopped at the sight of him. “You know, you’re horrible using children to get your way.” I couldn’t help but smile.

Then all the kids surrounded us and started chanting. “Please, miss. Please. Please. Please.”

Bash took my hand in his, and when I met his eyes, they were shining. “I’m not asking for forever. Not yet, at least.” He leaned in where I could smell the mint on his lips. “I’m just asking for another normal date. That will maybe lead to more normal dates. I’m asking for another chance.” The tenderness in his tone and the softness in his eyes were undeniable.

The children began to chant. “Another Chance. Another Chance.” Even adorable Henry joined in the chorus.

As I glanced into Bash’s eyes, I knew that I was a goner. I knew I liked him more than I should. “I’m scared,” I whispered, letting my honesty slip out.

He pulled me gently by my elbows, and his mere touch warmed me. “Of what?” he asked.

“Of everything, of what this means if I give you another chance. Of getting scrutinized and living under a microscope.” I peered up at him, squinting against the sun shining brightly above him. Of getting hurt.

He nodded, his face thoughtful. “I can understand that.” Then he cupped the side of my face and brushed my cheek with his thumb. “I could say it would be easy, that you could live your life as you did before if we were together, but we both know that’s not true.” He blew out a breath, and his eyes were heavy with a vulnerability I’d never witnessed before.

“And it’s so much to ask from you, Charlie—to ask you to be with me and open yourself up to the public. But I’m asking.” He shook his head, closed his eyes and then when he opened them, they were blazing with an intensity that cut through me. “If I don’t ask, then I’ll always wonder the what ifs, what could have been. And if you take a chance on us, on me, I promise to make it worth it, every single day we’re together.”

He closed the gap between us and dropped his hands from my arms to my waist. “You’re scared? I’m the one scared shitless. You hold my happiness in your one answer.” His smile was hopeful. “Would you go on a normal date with me? Today and tomorrow and every day after that?”

I peered up into his depthless dark irises and saw his sincerity. He held his breath the whole time, waiting for my answer. This time, I took a leap of faith because I wanted to see where life takes me instead of fearing the unknown when the unknown could be great.

I nodded, then was entangled in his embrace. “Fine,” I conceded. “Another normal date. But only if that includes donuts from the donut truck.”

He laughed, rich and throaty and oh-so-sexy. “Yes, of course.”

The children cheered and clapped and hollered.

“It’s unfair.” I said

“What?”

“You took the cutest little boy and a bunch of children to plead your case.”

“I did.” There was a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “I couldn’t exactly woo you with diamonds and pearls and silk.”

“You’re right.” I laughed. “You do know me.”

He inched closer. “That I do.”

Then I closed the gap and kissed my prince charming.

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Chapter One

Sonia

“Her boobs can’t possibly be real.”

My best friend, Ava, always tried to make me feel better. Too bad I knew she was lying. Lying through her teeth.

With my forefinger, I pushed my glasses farther up my nose and leaned closer to the computer screen, so close that I nearly went cross-eyed. The scent of coffee hit me directly in the nostrils. The sound of paper spat out of the printer. The chatter of my coworkers rang loudly behind me. But I ignored it all and concentrated on my computer screen—her—my replacement. Jeff’s replacement for me.

“She’s not that pretty,” Ava continued.

I scrolled through my ex-boyfriend’s Facebook feed again, fixated on their endless pictures together, laughing, hugging, smiling, eating. And her … I couldn’t get over her. The replacement was beautiful, her body built like those mannequins at the store, tall and perfectly proportional. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. High cheekbones contoured like those stupid tutorials Ava always watched on YouTube.

“I hate her.” Venom dripped from my tone. Not only because she was beautiful, but also because she had him.

Already tired of looking at my computer screen, I leaned back against my chair and straightened my pens, separated by color in their cup-like containers.

“I’m telling you, she’s not that …” She coughed. “But do you think her boobs are real?”

“They can’t be.” My eyes level with the screen. “Who has a perfect face, body, and boobs, too?”

Why must life be so unfair?

“Sonia!”

I jerked back at the sound of my boss’s voice and knocked over my coffee in the process, causing me to jump back and drop the phone. “Damn it!”

Liquid spilled everywhere—on the desk, on my keyboard, on my skirt.

Fisting a handful of Kleenex from my tissue box, I cleaned up my desk. The light-brown liquid soaked the tissues. I grabbed more, repeated the process, patted my damp skirt down, and glared at his office door.

I had ordered his breakfast, picked up his dry cleaning, and gone over his schedule for today. What the hell did he want now? Couldn’t I get some peace for five freaking minutes?

I reached for the phone dangling off my desk and placed it to my ear. “Gotta go, Ava. The crass hole is beckoning.”

She sighed overly loud. “Tall, dark, and oh-so fine. Give my love to your BILF.”

Boss I’d Like to—yeah, right.

How about Boss I’d Like to Kill?

“I’ll tell the BILK you said hello. Bye.” I reached for my iPad, adjusted my glasses, and skittered to his office, my two-inch turquoise Mary Janes clicking against the black marble floor. After I pulled down my plaid knee-length skirt, I entered his fishbowl office.

Floor-to-ceiling windows outlined every single wall. His eyes focused on the screen in front of him, his backdrop was worthy of a picture frame—the Chicago skyline.

Brad Sebastian Brisken had the face of a Hollywood heartthrob, the jawline of a GQ model, and the body of someone who lived at the gym all the time. His suit was always perfectly pressed, and the lines in his sleek slacks always hugged his firm thighs. There was never a dark strand of hair out of place. He looked like a Greek god—tall, fit, and fine.

“Took you long enough.”

“Sorry, was on the phone with my mom.” Jerkface. I didn’t sound sorry.

And this was how our two-year working relationship had been going. Him being a jerk, me snapping back or blatantly not caring.

Who cared if Brad was a millionaire? Who cared that he was seriously one good-looking, fine specimen of a man with his chestnut hair and dark brown eyes? Every woman fawned over him. Every male wanted to be him.

Me? Sometimes, he drove me to the point of insanity where I wanted to wrap my arms around his neck and choke hold him, WWE-style, until he turned blue.

After working for him for over two years, there was one thing I had come to realize: good looks and all the money in the world did not make up for his jerk-like attitude.

He motioned to the chair in front of his desk, and I sat down. And, as I swiped at my iPad, his phone rang.

“Hey, Jimmy.” He leaned back on his chair, resting his ankle on the opposite knee, and with a flick of his hand, he waved me off as though I were a fly on his shoulder.

I stood, about-faced, and was almost to my desk when he called out to me as though he had a permanent megaphone attached to his mouth, “Sonia!”

I pivoted and walked back into his office. When I sat down, his phone rang. He picked it up, and with a flick of his hand, he waved me off—again.

“Yeah, yeah. But did you get the tickets?” His boisterous laughter grated on my nerves. He swiveled in his chair and faced his floor-to-ceiling windows, his back toward me.

This guy!

I glared at him, stomped back to my desk, and was about to sit down when he called out again.

For the love of all that is holy.

My eyes fell shut, and I inhaled deeply. I took out my essential oils and rubbed one at my temples and my wrists. Lavender was supposed to alleviate stress, and I debated on dumping the whole bottle on myself to speed up the process.

Breathe. Or go postal and lose your job.

I counted backwards and walked into his office at a normal pace, purposely taking my time.

“Did you spill coffee on yourself?” He lifted a perfect eyebrow and eyed the brown stain on the front of my skirt. “That’s a first.”

Of course, it was a freaking first. I prided myself on being organized and neat, and I was—before stalking Jeff and his new girlfriend. Seeing them together and being so in love had officially screwed with my head.

Brad’s head ducked back to his computer screen where he tapped away. “Dry cleaning is on the couch. Where’re my other clothes?”

I peered over at the far corner of the room where a pile of pants, suit jackets, and shirts were stuffed into an overflowing bag.

“Last week’s dry cleaning is in your closet.” That was the first thing I had told him when I saw him this morning.

Maybe I needed to slip him some of that earwax solution, leave it on his desk with a little courtesy note.

“I’ve also made reservations at Alessi’s Restaurant for your date tonight.”

He lifted his head from the screen. “I said Carlucci.”

“You said Alessi.” My eyes widened, and I double-blinked. I’d chased this reservation down for the past few weeks and called every day to check if there was a cancellation. I’d finally snagged a reservation yesterday. Is this man serious?

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t.”

This coming from the guy who couldn’t read his schedule. Despite that I kept it organized, yesterday, he had met with the wrong Mr. Wilson.

Boss, really quick, can I borrow your desk because it’s closer than mine so I can bang my head against it?

“Did you book the hotel?”

“Yes.” I clenched my teeth in a tight smile and ground my molars. “I also ordered flowers, and they will be delivered to your table.”

I’d basically set the plans for him to get laid tonight. Who knew what poor soul he had his sights on?

I had tried to warn off the countless interns and account officers who walked through Brisken Printing Corporation, but they still wanted him. Brad threw them one look, and they were all a forgone without-a-job conclusion.

Because canoodling between the sheets with the boss could turn the most professional women into the jealous and crazy stalker types, which usually ended up with them quitting and heading to the back of the unemployment line.

“What kind of flowers did you buy?” He leaned back on his chair and steepled his fingers by his lips.

“Roses, the kind I always order.”

“I want to change it up this time. Order me some peenees.”

My brow wrinkled, and I leaned in, clutching the iPad against my chest. “What?”

“Peenees. Remember, I told you about them the other day. The front desk had an arrangement of peenees.”

My boss loved to hear himself talk, and I was on the receiving end of that one-way dialogue, but I filtered out all things not work-related, and that didn’t require my attention.

What the hell is he even saying?

“What kind of flowers?”

“Peenees,” he drawled out the word as though elongating the E would make me understand him. He sounded like he was saying penises.

Why will I have to order that? Isn’t she going to get that later?

He almost looked annoyed, so I made him repeat it again.

“Sorry, what was that again?”

I bit my lip and schooled my features. If he was going to make my life hell, I could at least have a little laugh of my own.

“Peenees.” His voice was softer this time as though he were unsure. “Oh, for shit’s sake, come here.”

He began typing on his keyboard, and when I approached behind his desk, I expected to see a bunch of penises on his screen, but he typed peenees flowers in his search engine, and peonies came up.

Like a smart-ass, I pointed to the screen. “There’s an O there. It’s pronounced as pee-O-nees.”

He visibly frowned. “Real funny,” he deadpanned. “Do I look like a florist to you? Just add those flowers to the order.”

“Okay, will do.” I smirked, stepping around his desk.

He waved a hand, dismissing me. “Thanks. Wish me luck tonight.”

Brad didn’t need luck. He’d get laid, and he’d lose interest. It was his MO. And I’d hear about it all the next day because he was a sharer—but only to me, it seemed.

“Make sure you pick up my lunch at Klypso,” he added.

“Already ordered. Is that it?” I lifted an eyebrow.

The sounds of him typing on his keyboard echoed through the room.

“Yeah.” He didn’t even lift his head from the computer.

He was in fine form today. I tried not to roll my eyes as I slowly shut the door and made my way back to my desk.

This is just a job, I reminded myself.

Charles—his brother, the CEO of Brisken Printing Corp.—and Mason—his younger brother and the VP of finance—had hired me over two years prior. They had interviewed me, and I had been told that the job had two main functions. One: keep Brad’s schedule organized and on track. And two: do not sleep with him. It was two requirements that I had to adhere to.

Before me, Brad had gone through six secretaries within six-months. But his inability to keep it professional and their inability to say no were affecting their work, and his schedule was disorganized. It didn’t help that some of those secretaries had gone on a warpath when Brad decided to move on. And he always moved on.

He changed women like he changed the channel—quick and wanting to know if there was something better.

I had been in a serious relationship with Jeff, so that number two rule was a no-brainer. It would not happen. Following rules was built into my DNA, and organization was one of my strong points.

And, although super fine, Brad was not my type.

I was kinda geeky. I embraced the romantic nerd in me. I loved playing Pokémon Go, I read a dangerous amount of romance novels, and I was the biggest Harry Potter Head.

I couldn’t exactly picture Brad watching a marathon of everything on the Hallmark Channel or all seven Harry Potter flicks.

Brad tended to like the girls with the A, B, Cs—ass, boobs, and curves.

And I was five-two, petite, and flat-chested with dark brown hair and glasses because I couldn’t function without them.

It was a match made in secretary-boss heaven. Purely platonic.

No secretary in the whole Chicagoland area made as much as I did. Seriously. I was overpaid but under-laid, which was fine by me. And it was worth it. My friends who had full-time jobs worked a part-time job to make ends meet. Me? I had a one-bedroom condo in walking distance from work in downtown Chicago, and I could only afford it because of my job. Every year, I got a substantial raise and a bonus. It was as if they were increasing my pay exponentially every year I continued to keep my legs closed.

The Brisken brothers paid their employees well, and keeping my panties on meant it would stay like that.

Brad

Maybe Charles was right. I was already tired of the dating game.

Looking at myself in the hotel bathroom mirror, I ran one hand through the top of my dark hair and let out a tired sigh. Tired dark brown eyes stared back at me.

My younger brother, Mason, was in a five-year-long relationship with the epitome of a gold-digging she-devil. When I thought of their relationship, it only confirmed what I never wanted in one of my own.

But my older brother lived in romantic bliss with his second wife, reminding me again how a good relationship should be. Seeing Charles and Becky together changed my mind about relationships.

I wanted what they had and what my parents had—a real relationship with someone I could connect with.

“Come back to bed, baby,” Olivia cooed when I stepped from the bathroom. Her tone increased in pitch, the way women tried to sound cute but weren’t.

I toweled off my wet hair and body, slipped on my black pants, and worked to button my shirt. I stared at her long and hard, trying to force a connection between us, but it simply wasn’t there. “I’m sorry. I have to go. Early morning meeting.”

She’d seemed prettier earlier, but maybe that was because I’d been drinking.

That wasn’t true. I hadn’t had too much to drink. I had purposely remembered to pace myself.

I averted my gaze, disappointment seeping deep into my skin. I had known this night would come. I was hoping it wouldn’t, but it had with the previous girls I dated. Like clockwork, after sex, I lost interest. Not because the sex was bad. It was good, as all orgasms were, but that closeness I had been hoping for—that familiarity—wasn’t there.

This was our sixth date. I’d thought dragging it on would be sweeter, and we’d have more of a connection, but I guessed not.

It wasn’t only Olivia’s red hair and deep brown eyes that had caught my attention; it was also her sharp wit and intelligent, investment banker self. Now, her red hair had lost its sparkle, and her brown eyes, which had once seemed endless and deep, were now shallow. I’d spent time getting to know her, wanting to know her, yet something else was missing.

She pulled the sheets to cover her breasts and sat up straighter on the bed. “Are you really doing this right now, Brad?” Her once-strong tone turned whiny.

This was the part I hated, but honesty was better than leading her on.

“I really do have to get to work early.” I walked closer to the bed and sat at the edge, finishing off the last button. “You are welcome to stay till the morning. Breakfast will be delivered.” I took in her tousled red hair, her once-piercing brown eyes … but there was nothing. No spark. No sudden urge to kiss her. Only an unbearable itch underneath my skin to get up, leave, and shower again at home.

“You’re not going to call me.” Her tone was resolute, soft, her high-pitched, trying-to-be-cute voice gone.

This was better than the previous psycho woman who had destroyed the hotel room when I left, but it still sucked.

I sighed resolutely, trying to add some feeling into it. “You’re way too good for me, Olivia. I’m too busy, I would never pay you any attention, and I’m an asshole.”

All of this was true, but really, she wasn’t the right girl for me. Maybe I was looking for something that didn’t exist. My parents had been married thirty-five years, and when my father had met my mother, he said he had known. It was in the way she’d made him laugh. He’d just known that she was it for him. I knew Olivia wasn’t it. And the woman before her hadn’t been it and the woman before that.

Will I eventually find someone I want to be with? What if it isn’t in the cards for me—to have what Charles or my parents had?

My gut clenched at the thought.

She leaned into me and rested her head on my shoulder, and I resisted the urge to cringe.

“But, if you change your mind, you will call me, right?”

“Of course.” I forced an even smoothness in my tone, knowing I wouldn’t, and I kissed her forehead one last time before standing up to leave. Relief flooded me once I was out of the hotel.

I hopped into my Aston Martin and headed home to the suburbs. I didn’t want to sleep alone tonight, not at my condo in the city. That wasn’t where I called home anyway.

As I drove and the city lights disappeared behind me, my shoulders slumped. I should’ve felt energized. Olivia was a freak in the bedroom, but all I felt was fatigue in my bones and an undeniable desire to knock out on my bed. All this work when dating—the wining and dining and the sex—was tiring. I didn’t mind the sex, but it seemed as though I were on the hamster wheel of dating. I’d pick a girl, repeat the cycle, and hope that it was different this time, that I’d like a girl long enough to keep her. But finding her hasn’t happened yet and round and round the cycle I went.

I hated when my brothers were right, and they were; I was already tired of the game.

I waved at the guard at our palatial estate to open the gates and drove up the winding road to the mansion that my parents had built and expanded over the years.

Thinking of not having them here anymore always sent an ache to my chest, an unbearable tightness in my lungs. It was almost four years ago, and it seemed as though tragedy had hit us one after the other during that time.

Charles’s wife, Natalie, had died when giving birth, leaving him to raise two girls by himself. And my parents asked Charles to move in so they could help with their grandchildren. Charles was an absolute wreck during that time, unable to go to work or properly care for the girls. It was one of the hardest times we’d gone through; we were all afraid he wouldn’t break out of his depression.

And, just when life had gotten back to normal, a drunk driver had taken my parents’ lives. It had gutted us, and we’d never been the same since.

But family was of the utmost importance, so we all tried. Mason and I had moved in to help Charles raise the kids. Though Mason and I had our places in the city, we were sleeping in our Barrington suburban house we’d grown up in because family always came first in the Brisken household.

As I entered our house and stepped into the silence, an agonizing sadness took over me. I took the stairs two at a time and slowly opened Sarah’s door. I could see the moonlight shine a light over my niece’s small twelve-year-old frame, and I released a soft sigh, knowing she was safe.

Next, I tiptoed into Mary’s room. The night-light on the wall illuminated her room in a faint amber glow. The princess decals on her walls smiled down on my sweet niece. I walked closer and took in her petite features, the way she hugged the elephant that I had given to her when she was three, and the way she slept with her mouth slightly ajar. Damn precious. I kissed the top of her head and brushed the back of my hand against her cheek.

Dads weren’t supposed to play favorites, but no one ever said anything about uncles.

Sonia

I lifted my head from the iPad screen, already seated in front of the BILK’s desk.

“Did you get that?” Brad paced the length of his office, talking while I typed, the Chicago skyline his backdrop.

Of course, I’d gotten it. I wasn’t an idiot, nor did he speak a foreign language. I typed faster than he spoke and had a typing accuracy of ninety-nine percent. I simply smiled.

Grinding my molars, I gritted out, “No, I didn’t. If you can speak a little slower.”

I lifted an eyebrow, looking at him as though he were an idiot, and he merely laughed.

If he had woken up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, I had fallen off the bed and woken up under it. I had been up stalking the replacement until midnight last night, and obsessed was an understatement. Now, I was sleepy and cranky, and three cups of coffee were not helping my foul mood.

“There is never a dull moment with you, Sonia.” He shook his head, amused. “You’re in fine form this morning.”

Me? ME!

I smiled often, but it wasn’t because I was happy or amused or even slightly entertained. I smiled because, in my head, I was ticking off ways I would secretly torture him if he weren’t my boss. Pull out his nose hairs with tweezers. Put itching powder in his dry cleaning. Or spit in his morning coffee, lunch, or afternoon snack. Or better yet, delete all his e-mails and pretend that it was a virus.

And that was why I smiled. It was that or throw this damn iPad against his beautiful face.

I bit my tongue. Don’t say a thing.

I reminded myself again, This job is easy and they pay well and I like living on my own and not with my five siblings back at home so I can handle his rude ’tude this morning.

“Why does it look like you have a bad case of stomach issues?” He smirked, entertained, and I so badly wanted to punch that cocky smile off his face.

“What?” My smile faltered, and I gave him that look, the look that didn’t hide a thing, the look that I was irritated beyond the highest mountain, the tallest skyscraper. I wasn’t in the mood, so it was especially hard to fake it today. And, after seeing booby girl kissing Jeff on his Facebook feed, I didn’t have enough room in my patience jar for any more of Brad’s rudeness. “I’m fine.”

“Did you get everything?”

“Yes,” I snapped.

He accepted my attitude with another smirk.

Asshole.

“All right then, read it back to me.”

My hands clutched the iPad harder within my fingertips, so tightly that I could have cracked the screen. I read back his schedule for the day, down to every last detail, knowing that I had captured every word, capitalizing the beginning of every sentence and ending with the right punctuation.

I should transcribe for a living. Given how fast I typed and my accuracy level, I’d rock at that job.

I had written down what was necessary, about Titan Printing company—a business they were looking to acquire—but ignored his regular topics off point, like how the CEO of one of our clients was a pompous ass or how the CFO of the same company was having an affair. Worst yet, he’d had to mention his horrendous date last night, his disappointment in not liking her as much as he’d thought he did. Honestly, how does that concern me?

Do men usually gossip this much? I hadn’t known him to talk this much to other people, or maybe he was only like this toward me.

The phone buzzed in my side pocket, and when Brad turned toward his floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, I swiped at my screen, reading back the text: Jeff is invited to the wedding.

It was Ava.

What?

An intense ringing initiated in my ears.

I blinked, staring at the screen, reading it over and over.

How does that make any sense?

My face scrunched at the cell. Then, I read it four, five, six times, as though reading it multiple times would change the text. Nope. Still the same.

There was only one wedding that she could be talking about. It was the only wedding that Ava and I were in together as readers of passages from the Bible and the only wedding that I had been invited to this year.

My stomach dropped and kept on going. I gripped my center as though I would throw up my breakfast on Brad’s black marble office floor.

I quickly typed back: What? How did you find out?

I pushed my glasses farther up my nose and peered up at Brad, who continued to babble. For once, I was grateful he liked to hear himself talk.

Because I couldn’t wait, I sent another text: How?

When Ava didn’t respond, I typed another slew of question marks to fill the next line.

Ava: Carrie told me. She’s going to tell you herself. But I wanted to tell you first so you wouldn’t be surprised.

I shook my head and lifted a hand to the ceiling as if asking the heavens above what was happening.

Ava was the gossip queen of the universe. This time, I was glad that the gossip queen was closer to me than she was to Carrie. Why would Carrie do that to me? She knew how brokenhearted I had been for months over our breakup.

Ava kept typing, little dots popping on my phone, and then she stopped. I was waiting for words. Reasons as to why Carrie would betray me.

I held my breath the whole time I was waiting, seconds ticking by. Good gosh, this woman needed to be more direct, even in her texts.

Ava: Tim wanted to invite him. He and Jeff have become good friends.

So? was my response.

I lifted my head to the ceiling, feeling my face brighten with heat that rose from my cheeks to my ears to my hairline. If I were a cartoon character, smoke would be steaming from my scalp.

What happened to girl code? Friendship? I’d known Carrie since college. Where is the loyalty in choosing to invite Jeff to the wedding instead of taking my feelings into consideration? I thought Tim was my friend, too. They needed to pick a side, and right now, they had chosen the wrong damn side.

I gripped the phone, feeling it form an indentation within my palm. I wanted to throw it out the window—or better yet, ram it up Replacement’s hoo-ha so Jeff would find something extra special when he was up there.

Gah!

Ava: Don’t be mad. They’re friends, too.

I didn’t care. They had only met Jeff through me. This was beyond messed up. Carrie “wore the pants” in that relationship. Nothing got past her. Why didn’t she tell Tim no? My stomach churned, and I blinked, staring at Ava’s last text, thinking of what I needed to do to get out of the wedding.

The buzzing in my ears intensified. Then, the worst possible scenario filtered into my brain.

Wait!

Me: Does he get a plus one???

Waiting.

Waiting.

Waiting.

I bit my pinkie nail, my leg bouncing as I held my breath. The dots on my phone blinked, indicating she was typing, and then she stopped again.

Damn it!

Seconds ticked by.

I glanced up, and Brad was still babbling.

Then, one word popped on my phone that made the world around me stop dead, followed by my heart.

Ava: Yes.

All I could see was the one word on my screen as though it were a flashing neon light. All I could hear was the pounding in my ears, loud and deafening. All I could feel was the tightness in my chest, making it difficult to breathe.

No. No. No. This is too soon. I wouldn’t be able to deal with seeing them together.

“Sonia!”

I dropped my phone, and it fell to the ground in a big clatter.

“Is there something more important on your phone than your job here?”

I heard what Brad said but not really.

He gets a plus-one.

He’s bringing my replacement.

Typically, I never cried. I was built like a man. Internally and somewhat externally as well with my lanky, unshapely body. But, this time, I wanted to cry, and it would not happen in front of my boss.

“Sonia?” He took a step toward me.

Immediately, I stood, embarrassed that I had gotten caught on the phone and fuming beyond belief that my friends had betrayed me and, more than that, devastated at the realization that I would see Jeff and his new girlfriend—the Replacement—in almost three weeks, at one of my supposed best friend’s weddings.

“Sorry, I need to use the ladies’ room.” I averted my eyes, taking the iPad with me. Then, I walked stiffly toward the door, not looking back.

Chapter 2

Brad

Meetings went by in a flash, and I had secured two new clients to add to our portfolio. Before I knew it, I was out the door and in my Aston Martin, driving home. Win-win on my part. Like there was any doubt. I was damn good at my job.

Being the VP of acquisition at our printing company, sales and acquisitions were my strong suit. Maybe not numbers, maybe not financials, and not even being tactful in real life, but selling a client on our product or acquiring a new company to merge with ours was where I excelled. It was where I thrived and got my natural high. I could seal the deal and sell practically anything to anybody. I could sell condoms to nuns if I wanted to. Not to be cocky, but it was true.

I left the city skyscrapers behind me, heading home to the suburbs.

The car phone beeped, indicating an incoming call.

“Charles calling,” the automated woman on the receiver announced.

“Big brother!” I smiled. “How is the honeymoon going? And, anyway, what the hell are you doing, calling me from Jamaica?” It was only day four of their almost-month-long honeymoon.

“Hi.” Charles’s voice was rushed and nervous and nothing like my typical older brother. “I just wanted to check on the girls.”

“I’m not home yet. Did you try the house or Annie’s or Sarah’s cell?”

Sarah, my twelve-year-old niece, had had a cell phone at eight. It was what the cool kids did. Annie was the sitter, the hired no-help.

Charles and Becky didn’t want to burden Mason and me, so they’d hired a sitter. The worst sitter. The sitter they’d found via an overpriced and overrated agency. Watching my nieces wasn’t a burden. They couldn’t be a burden if I wanted to do it. My nieces were my joy outside of work, my vacation in the everyday grind of things.

The babysitter. Did I trust her? Nope. Not when the first thing she’d asked me when she came over to watch the girls was if she could have some friends over. I gave her a look. A look that shut her down fast. I ignored her. It had either been that or fire her before she even started.

“Annie’s not picking up. None of them are. I think Sarah’s phone is dead.” Charles’s tone tightened, the wind muffling his voice through the receiver. I could picture him pacing through the sand, the clear blue waters of the ocean his backdrop.

When they’d left, I had guaranteed them everything would be fine and stay under control. My brother deserved some time off, and for fuck’s sake, he was a newlywed.

“I’m pulling through the gates right now. Calm down,” I told him. “I’ll call you when I’m home.”

He would have fun on his damn honeymoon if I could help it. Mason and I’d made a pact to not bother Charles for a single thing regarding the girls, and we’d made Charles promise he would call only once a day if that.

“Don’t worry; everything is fine.” Then, I hung up, waved to Jerry—our security guard—and drove through our gated community.

The large, grassy area and manicured hedges highlighted the beauty and massiveness of our neighborhood. I drove down the long driveway, which widened into a circle that encompassed Brisken Estate.

The first thing I noticed was that Annie the babysitter’s car wasn’t in the front. Instead of parking in the garage, I parked right by the steps of the house and hurried to unlock the door.

“Honey, I’m home.” I punched in the code to the alarm and stepped into the foyer, my eyes flying to the chandelier above us and to the double winding staircase that led to my nieces’ rooms.

Nothing.

No screaming. No laughing. No music. No TV.

Just silence.

Usually, my nieces were bickering or laughing or fighting. But never, ever silent. The babysitter had a schedule, and tonight the schedule meant homework and dinner.

Tiny goose bumps prickled my neck, and unsettling nausea built in my gut.

I plucked my phone from my back pocket, dialing Annie’s number, but the call went straight to voice mail.

“Mary? Sarah?” I rushed to the winding staircase, searching for my little people.

My younger brother’s car was not in the driveway. I called him, and when he picked up, I was breathless, already running upstairs to their rooms.

“Mason?” I pushed open Sarah’s door. Nothing.

“Yeah?”

“You got the girls with you?”

My mind didn’t usually go to the worst possible scenarios, but given that the babysitter that Charles and Becky had hired was absolutely inconsiderate and irresponsible, I had no choice. She didn’t exactly calm my nerves.

“No! They’re not home? Did you try Annie? Sarah’s cell? Are they all not answering?”

I stopped in the middle of Mary’s room and picked up her Ariel princess doll.

“Brad! What’s going on?”

His panicked state was not helping my mood. Shit. Wrong move. I shouldn’t have called the biggest worrier of the family. He worried about everything—what the girls ate, what they were watching on TV, if they were getting too much computer time, even what they wore. Mason was the type to put our nieces in all organic clothing as though anything else would burn their skin.

Honestly, he was worse than their own father.

“I’ll call the school. I’m sure everything is fine.” I tried to calm him down but knew nothing would when it came to my anxiety-ridden brother.

“I’m coming home.”

And, before I had a chance to tell him that there was no need, the phone went dead.

I descended the stairs two at a time and went straight to the fridge, running my finger down the paper with all the emergency numbers and finding the school’s.

I dialed, and it went straight to voice mail, understandable with it being after hours.

The tenseness in my neck reached my temples. There weren’t many things I worried about, but not having any children of my own, my nieces were at the top of that list.

My phone buzzed in my hand. It was Charles, and automatically, I pressed End. I wasn’t going to pick up his call until I had his daughters right beside me so he could talk to them himself. I’d promised him that I had this under control. I had never broken a promise, and I wasn’t going to start now.

I called Mason again. “I’m heading to the school. No one is picking up.”

I was starting to get pissed off. If anything had happened to my nieces, there would be hell to pay. I’d be the devil incarnate himself.

His voice was riddled with worry. “No, I’ll head over. Just stay there. I’m already in the car, and I will be at the school in ten minutes.”

I had just called him. How fast was he going, ninety miles per hour? From Brisken, he was at least forty minutes from the school.

“You’re not going to be any help if you’re dead. Slow down.”

He huffed like I was ridiculous. “Just call me if you hear anything.”

I banged the phone against the counter.

One thing was for sure: I was going to take this babysitter by the tips of her ears and walk her out of my house and out of our lives once I found her.

Thirty minutes later, laughter bubbled through the foyer. Mary’s laughter. It was the one and only noise I wanted to hear. Immediately, my whole body went lax as I rushed toward the joyous sound.

“Uncle Brad.”

My adorable five-year-old niece, Mary, bum-rushed me, and I scooped her up in my arms and inhaled deeply, taking in her baby shampoo scent. She was blonde-haired with ringlets that framed her face. Her cheeks were painted in an array of colors—pinks, yellows, and blues. She cuddled against me, and I, VP of Acquisitions, should have cared that she was getting paint on my five-hundred-dollar button-down shirt, but I didn’t. This girl owned my heart, one of two in the whole world who did.

Annie sauntered in a moment later, followed by a not-so-happy, moody Sarah stomping behind her. Something was going on with Sarah. Becky, her stepmom, had said it was the beginnings of puberty, and I wanted to stay miles away from that.

“Where did you go?” My stare and my irritable tone were directed toward the babysitter.

“Six Flags Great America!” She smiled as though this were a good thing.

The theme park? Yeah, this girl is fired.

“Great. America,” I rolled the words off my tongue like it was a curse word, steady and in movie-like slow motion. I blinked and then stared at her as though she were shit I’d stepped on.

Breathe, Brad.

I didn’t even pretend this time. Pretending was long over. I had pretended the first couple of days when I arrived home from work, and they weren’t bathed. I had pretended that it was okay for them to be up at eleven when I had a late work function, and it was a school night.

But now? I was done.

Sarah was always the voice of reason, but she didn’t help the situation. “I’m the one who said you wouldn’t be okay with this. I’m the one who said it’s a school night, but Mary insisted, and every single person does what Mary says!” she yelled, making me reel back.

“I just wanted to go.” Mary pouted in my arms.

She blinked her long eyelashes at me, and I touched her button nose.

“See?” Sarah pointed. “This is exactly what I’m saying. No one wants to listen to what I have to say.”

Then, she bolted up the stairs, leaving me speechless, wide-eyed, and stunned.

Hormones. Becky said she’s going through changes. At twelve though? Isn’t that too soon?

“Uncle Brad … guess what I am. Can you tell from the paint on my face?”

Mary had two dimples, and when she smiled, she looked like an angel. An angel that never got yelled at. I could already feel my whole mood shifting into Mary Land.

I shook my head, needing to rein things in, so I placed Mary on her feet to deal with the help. “You’re a princess?”

She pouted again. “No.”

“A butterfly,” Annie smirked, sipping some of her Starbucks coffee through a straw, one that she probably charged on the credit card that we gave her to use, specifically for the kids.

The door flew open, and Mason stormed in, hands on his hips and breathless. “They’re not at the …” He stopped mid-step, taking the scene in, his eyes landing first on Annie, me, and then Mary. “Brad, I tried calling you, but you weren’t picking up.”

Mary rushed toward Mason’s side, this time charming him. “Look at me!” As though she were flying through our kitchen, she flapped her hands, using them as pretend wings. “Can you guess what I am?”

He knelt beside her and then kissed the top of her head. “Butterfly.” Then, he clutched her against him, closed his eyes, and released a long, heavy sigh for everyone to hear.

Dramatic much? With Mason, always.

His eyes flipped to mine. “Sarah?”

“Upstairs,” I said. And moody, I thought but didn’t add.

He breathed out again. “Okay. Okay.” He patted down Mary’s hair and kissed her forehead.

“They went to Great America. An hour away.” My slightly enraged smile tightened.

His still and stoic features changed. His eyebrows pulled together, and he did one very slow blink. A Mason blink. The blink that said he wasn’t a happy uncle.

He stood and then addressed the to-be-fired babysitter. “Hi, Annie.”

At least he had manners; I had to give him that.

His gaze moved to my niece, most likely excusing her to yell at the babysitter. “Mary, why don’t you get ready for bed? Did you eat dinner?”

“Yes! Cotton candy.” Her eyes widened, and she jumped up and down in sugar-induced fashion.

Mason stared at me now and then again with a slow blink and the tilt of his head.

Internally, I laughed. This girl was a goner. Fired. Off on her ass. I’d gladly let him do it because he was the calmer and more professional one. I would have just told her to get out and stalked upstairs to change out of my work clothes.

After Mary galloped upstairs, I walked toward the kitchen island and leaned against it, waiting for a show.

“Annie,” Mason began, using his disappointed tone that said I’m better than you, but I won’t make you feel like it, “didn’t you have your phone with you? We tried calling you.”

“Oh, you did?” The straw hung at the side of her mouth as she dug to the bottom of her purse. The annoying slurping sounds of her straw grated on my nerves. “Oh, you did.” She reached for her cell, gripping the phone and showing us fifteen missed calls. She smiled and then shrugged. “Sorry.” She didn’t sound sorry.

Then, the slow blink happened.

I averted my gaze, suppressing the urge to laugh out loud.

“It’s important that you have that cell phone accessible at all times. We were worried sick. And the girls can’t be going to Great America on a weeknight. They’re cranky in the mornings, and they need all the sleep they can get.”

I sat on the barstool, texted Charles that everything was okay with the girls, and rested my chin on my hand, elbow on our center island.

Get this over with, Mason. Fire her ass already.

He continued, “What happened today is not acceptable.” Mason proceeded to spit out statistics, being the numbers guy that he was, about how many people go missing daily and kidnappings, and then he went into the land of homicides.

I leaned in, wishing I had a bag of popcorn. Shit, maybe I could tape this showdown, post it on YouTube, and title it “Repercussions of an Irresponsible Babysitter.”

This was going to be good.

“Trips like Great America and activities out of their normal day-to-day school functions have to be approved by us first, okay?”

Wait.

Did he just say okay? Okay? Not okay. I shot up in my seat. What the hell is he waiting for?

Annie nodded and smiled and continued to slurp her coffee through her straw. For shit’s sake, there was nothing left at the bottom of the cup.

“It’s better if we are informed. The girls have a schedule that we have to adhere to.” Mason pointed to the schedule on the fridge that he set up for the girls. “Especially during the weekdays.”

Where is he going with this?

“Just please be considerate,” Mason said.

Be considerate? How about using common sense? How about don’t be an idiot?

This was not going as planned. What was Mason’s deal? If anything, he was stricter than I was when it came to the girls.

I threw him one irritated look, the annoyance pinching my features. And, when Mason’s shake of his head was directed toward me, I was really royally pissed, and it sent me over the edge.

“We were worried sick.” My tone was sharp, cutting, like a blade through the skin. I emphasized the word sick with such force that Annie flinched. “Their father called, and we couldn’t tell him where they were. How would you feel if you were in that situation? Not knowing where your own kids were, not knowing if they were safe, and being out of the country and feeling helpless to do anything about it,” I slowly spat out. Maybe, by speaking slower, she’d understand me better.

Her calm demeanor faded quickly when I stepped closer, needing her to hear those two words that would end her employment.

“It won’t happen again.” Her voice was soft and repentant, but ask me if I cared.

I didn’t. For some reason, I didn’t believe her because she was irresponsible, and you couldn’t trust the irresponsible, not when it came to little lives.

“Damn straight it won’t because you’re—”

“You need to go home now,” Mason cut me off. “Be here bright and early tomorrow morning.” He framed her shoulders and pushed her toward the door.

What. The. Fuck?

He’d cut me off before I gave her an Apprentice exit, Trump-style.

I stared at his retreating, backstabbing back long and hard as he ushered the idiot out of our house, my nostrils flaring. I wanted to kill him. Damn him. I undid my tie and stormed to the fridge, reached in for a beer, and popped it open with my teeth, talented like that.

“Brad …”

“Don’t fucking Brad me when you let that girl off so damn easy. If you didn’t have the guts to fire her, I would have. I was going to until you cut me off.” I chugged the beer, feeling the cold liquid hit the back of my throat.

“What did you want me to do?” He exhaled a heavy sigh as though this were my fault.

I looked to the ceiling and around the kitchen, and then I opened my arms wide with my beer in one hand. “Hire someone else. Not. That. Hard.”

“We can’t.” His expression was pinched. “I just need until the middle of next week. Don’t you remember I’m flying to Ohio this weekend, and I won’t be back till Wednesday?”

I lifted an eyebrow as if to say, So? I swore. I could speak with facial expressions.

“Becky and Charles will be back at the end of the month. It makes no sense to hire someone new and retrain another babysitter,” Mason said. “It took me two weeks to feel comfortable with Annie after we trained her on the girls’ schedule. If we had to do the same with a new hire, Charles and Becky would be back in town by then.”

Felt comfortable? Yeah, right.

During Annie’s training period, Mason had followed her to school on the very first day that she drove the girls to make sure that she indeed took the girls to school and wasn’t going to sell them to sex traffickers.

“I’ll watch them.” Better me than that poor excuse of a babysitter.

Mason smirked and followed up with a peal of laughter. “You?”

My eyes searched the area. I looked left, then right, and then to the ceiling for an exaggerated effect as if there were someone else in the room. “Yes, me. Is there anyone else here?”

“No offense …” Somehow, I knew whatever was going to come out of his mouth would definitely offend me. “You’re the fun uncle.”

“And? State the obvious, would you? And what the hell is that supposed to mean?” I scratched at my jaw and took my empty beer bottle to the recycling bin. The beer bottle that I had drained. I needed to eat something and cook something for Sarah and Mary because, apparently, they’d only had cotton candy for dinner.

“You can’t even take care of yourself. Remember the puppies?” Mason reminded me.

Dickhead. Will he always bring up the puppies? We were ten damn years old. And someone had left the gate open, and because I’d had the puppies last, I had been the one blamed when it clearly wasn’t my fault.

Mason strolled to the freezer, plucked out some prepackaged chicken breasts, and threw them in the sink. I guessed he had the same line of thinking, knowing the girls hadn’t eaten yet.

“I know I’m a selfish bastard, but when it comes to those girls …” I didn’t have to finish my sentence. Mason knew I would do anything for my nieces.

I guessed he was making chicken strips because he plucked out the breadcrumbs from the pantry. Me, being the cool uncle, got out the ingredients for mac and cheese, one of the few things I knew how to prepare for myself. And let’s get real; kids loved mac and cheese.

“She’s staying on,” Mason argued, using his work tone on me. “And, once I get back from Ohio, I’ll be able to watch the girls more closely.”

I tried hard not to shove him against the stove. This bastard would be the death of me. When he was in this type of mood, it was like trying to reason with a child.

With the set of his firm jaw, I knew there was no way I would win. He’d beat me down with words, and I would just want to throat-punch him because I couldn’t speak as fast as he could.

“Fine,” I grumbled. “But she messes up one more time, and she’s out.”

The smug, small nod of his head had me clenching my fists.

The safety of my nieces was nonnegotiable. “And, if anything happens to them, I’m going to blame you because I wanted her gone. You just remember that.” I pointed to him. “It’ll be your fault.”

When the smile faded from Mason’s face, I felt slightly vindicated. I’d won.

Chapter Three

Sonia

“I’m not going.” I slammed the door to my one-bedroom apartment, holding the phone in my ear and talking to Ava. “It’s not happening.” I adjusted my glasses on my face and cringed. I didn’t want to deal with any of this—my ex, the Replacement, or this stupid wedding.

Jeff had been the love of my life, the one I was supposed to spend the rest of eternity with. Also, the one who had broken my heart. And I was supposed to show up to this wedding and put a smile on my face, pretending to be okay when he was happily in love, and I wasn’t? Yeah. Not doing it.

“You kind of have to go. You’re in the wedding,” Ava reminded me.

“As a reader,” I reminded her right back.

Carrie could get another one. I plopped down on my brown leather couch, feeling the softness of the suede-like material under my knees as I curled into myself.

“We’re only readers because she has five sisters; otherwise, we’d be in the wedding,” Ava added. “We’re kind of like her sisters outside of her family.”

Sisters, my ass, I thought vehemently.

Carrie was a backstabbing, evil wench. I’d never forgive her for this.

“I don’t care.” I knew I was acting like a little child. But no one knew heartbreak like I did.

Jeff had ended it over eight months ago, but the wound was still fresh, the hurt very much present in my everyday life. Everything reminded me of him. His scent still lingered in my apartment, and every hand-holding couple reminded me of his absence in my life. Maybe I could fake illness on the day of the wedding or go on a mission trip to Africa or on a mandatory work trip. That would be perfect.

My forearm covered my eyes, and my glasses pressed against my face. Maybe if I could force myself to feel nothing, but everyone knew that it didn’t work that way. Because, when I closed my eyes, he was there. His blondish-brown hair, his green-as-emerald eyes. His smile and that dimple in his cheek. And, now, he had her. There was no way I could show up, dateless. Might as well paint a red Loser sign on my head.

“I-I can’t,” I rushed out. Because I couldn’t. I couldn’t possibly pretend that him being with another girl didn’t affect me. Why else would I be stalking her on social media?

Apparently, she was an ad exec at Mogul Media. Beautiful, blonde, booby. The three Bs that I was not. Maybe she was a bitch, too. That would make me feel better.

I hadn’t even known she was Jeff’s type. He and I had shared a love of food and Netflix and Harry Potter movies. I was skinny as though I still had to go through puberty and had glasses because I was legally blind without them.

His new girlfriend and I had no similarities. What did he see in her? Is that why he’d dumped me?

I flattened my limp brown hair and chucked my nerdy glasses to the side, my insecurities eating at my insides.

“You have to move on, Sonia.” Ava’s voice was calm and relaxing, but it didn’t do anything to the tightness in my chest, the shortness in my breath.

“Easy for you to say.” My voice shook with heavy, sullen emotion, an emotion I felt every time I thought of him. “He was it. My heart skipped for him. I didn’t walk when I was with him; I skipped. Can you imagine that? Skipping into his arms because you’re in love? That’s the kind of relationship we had.” I choked back tears threatening to escape. I hadn’t cried about Jeff in a long time, yet thinking about seeing him in person with another girl gutted me. I could handle hearing that he’d moved on, but seeing him with another girl, holding her hand, kissing her, dancing with her—things that he had done with me—I wouldn’t be able to handle that.

“I know it’s hard.” Ava’s voice lowered to a soft and soothing tone, one my mother had used to console me after a failed track meet, a bad grade, a bad breakup. “I’ve been through heartbreak before. But, eventually, you have to move on. It’s been six months.”

“Eight,” I corrected her, feeling even more pathetic.

I had counted down the days since I last saw him, the days since our breakup conversation. Every day, I thought the ache would lessen. Time heals all, they said. But, for me, unfortunately, it hadn’t.

“Okay, eight. Which proves my point even more. It’s time for you to move on.”

I pushed myself off the couch and headed to my fridge. I’d eat my misery away in a pint of Baskin Robbins. The good thing about looking like I still had to go through puberty was that I didn’t gain weight, and I could eat whatever I damn well pleased.

“How could Carrie do this? How could she do this to me?” I whined. I tore the ice cream carton open with my teeth. I jammed a spoonful of Jamoca Almond fudge in my mouth. “She’s one of my best friends. She couldn’t even ask me if it was okay to invite him? I mean, she doesn’t even have to ask me because she knows I would have said no.”

I stuffed more ice cream in my mouth. Maybe a brain freeze would hit, and I could stop thinking for a minute.

“This is your own fault, you know,” Ava said.

“I hate you.” I knew Ava was right, but I didn’t want to own up to that fact.

“Well, it is. You wanted Jeff to be friends with everyone. You wanted him to get along with everyone. Now, look. After jamming him in our throats for years, he and Tim got close.”

I pushed at my temple, finally feeling a brain freeze coming on, but it did nothing to all the thoughts running through my brain.

Why did Ava always have to be my voice of reason?

Then, it hit me. I lifted my head from the carton. “Did they double date? Have Tim and Carrie met the new girl?”

Ice filled my veins. That would be the ultimate betrayal and mean the termination of our friendship.

Ava’s silence only confirmed it, and I left the ice cream carton on the kitchen counter to mope again.

“This is grounds for quitting her wedding.” I was being absolutely serious now. Dead serious. I didn’t care that we were weeks away from her wedding and that we had eight years of friendship behind us.

“Sonia …” I could hear the pity in her tone. “Don’t jump to conclusions. I’m not sure if they double dated.”

“Who cares?” I stabbed the spoon into the ice cream. “She’s still invited. After all I’ve done for that little wench. I introduced Carrie to Tim. How could she?” I paced my apartment back and forth and forth and back. It didn’t take me that long to get from one side of the room to the other, given it was only seven hundred square feet from end to end. My bedroom wasn’t even a room, more like a closet, but it was in downtown Chicago, so I was proud of my closet.

“Sonia, you have to pretend you’re okay. For fuck’s sake, save face.”

I could tell she was losing patience with me.

Once again, I found myself on the couch, facedown this time, like I was dead or dying. Maybe it would be better if I were.

“Listen to me.” Her stern, authoritative tone pushed through. “Do you want him to think you are not over him? Do you? Even if you are not, he’s moved on. Pretend that you have, too.”

I shook my head against the cushions, feeling the microfiber against my cheeks. “Oh, yeah, so easy,” I huffed. “So, what do you want me to do? Get the finest guy alive to go with me? Show up to her wedding and pretend he’s my boyfriend and that we’re madly in love and I’ve moved on?” The laugh that roared out of me was like one from a rated-R Halloween movie, one that could raise people from the dead.

“Yes.”

Her response had me shooting up from the couch.

“Yes? Okay, yeah, right.”

She must think I was nuts. No, she was the nuts one. I was merely being sarcastic.

“It’s either that or let him know that you’re still pining over him. He broke your heart, and you’re going to make him regret it. It’s the sweetest type of revenge. Been there. Done that.”

I blinked and peered over at my ice cream melting on the counter. Damn it. That was my only pint.

I vacantly stared hard at the now-mushy puddle that was supposed to be my solace. I felt like my life was mush.

Why is life so unfair?

“Are you listening to me?” Ava’s voice heightened.

You don’t know what you have until it’s gone.

“Fine.” I sighed, resigned. “Say I even consider this plan. Where do I find the finest guy alive? Tinder?” An evil laugh escaped me.

“Hell if I know. Chris has a beer gut the size of Illinois. I’m a personality type of girl. Good-looking guys? I wouldn’t even know where to look.”

A slow migraine crept up from my neck to my temples. “I don’t know.”

I wasn’t sure about this. Any of this. There were so many obstacles to overcome.

1. Find a good-looking man.

2. Be secure enough to approach said good-looking man.

3. Propose this absurd arrangement to this stranger because, hell knows, I know no one who was model fine.

Why will a perfectly good-looking stranger even want to do this?

I can buy you dinner.

Like that would work.

Most grown men could buy their own dinner. If not, then I wouldn’t want to be taking them as my so-called date. It was weird, picking up a grown-ass man from his mother’s home.

“You’re doing this,” she insisted, pulling out all her positivity. “We can make this happen, so commit to the plan. Now, we have to start looking.”

A weariness filled my bones, and the mental fatigue rendered me unresponsive. I was too exhausted to try but even more exhausted to argue.

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Marry Me for Money

The woman was beautiful. She looked like a supermodel ready to walk the runway. The blackest of black eyelashes swept upward, accenting the depths of her emerald eyes. Curls of mahogany sat on top of her head while the apple of her cheeks were highlighted with a slight pink as if the sun had kissed her.

I should have been excited. I should have been anxious.

But as my heartbeat thrashed in my ears, all I felt was dread.

I sat on the stool, staring at the girl in the mirror. I wondered who this girl was. I wondered where the old girl had gone and how I could get her back. The problem was I couldn’t. The lie was so deep, the charade so long that there was nowhere else to go, but to move forward.

It was an out-of-body experience as the chaos of the circus around me was happening. I hardly noticed the woman in front of me as she swished her little brush of pink gloss on my pouty lips.

Everybody was getting ready for the big day.

My big day.

Four photographers were scattered around the room, catching every moment and every detail from the shoes to the invitation to the flowers.

Orchids.

Orchids didn’t give off a scent like every other flower. Too much water would drown them. Not enough sunlight would kill them. They were useless and high maintenance.

So, when the florist had asked me what kind of flowers I would like for my bouquet, I’d said, “Orchids.”

It was the flower I despised the most. It wasn’t because of its lack of beauty or its uselessness, but I didn’t want anything that I would pick for my real day.

The photographers moved to the king-sized bed, and they snapped pictures of the regal designer wedding gown. This was another thing I never would have picked for myself. I remembered my last fitting. I had barely squeezed into the strapless couture dress. I would never choose a dress that I couldn’t walk, dance, or eat in. I hated it, and that was the reason I’d picked it.

My stomach growled from starvation. I had no appetite the night before, and today Kendy, my maid of honor, wouldn’t allow me to eat. It was so unlike her. I guessed it was for my benefit because I could barely fit into my dress. Either way, my stomach was eating itself because it had nothing else to feed off of.

The time went by slowly as if it were dragging on purpose to punish me for living the biggest lie of my life. Everyone always said their wedding day had flown by. This day was killing me, killing me softly and slowly.

All I wanted was for it to be over, but the day had just begun.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. If I can only get through this day…this one day…

I just needed to get through today.

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Marry Me for Money

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The Forever After Series

Marry Me for Money - Forever After Book 1

Love After Marriage - Forever After Book 2

The Scheme - Brian’s book -Forever Love Book 1

Naughty Not Nice - Forever Love Book 2

Stand Alone

Everything Has Changed

The Torn Duet

Torn Between Two - Book 1

Choosing Forever - Book 2

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