by Alta Hensley
“I knew then I would marry you,” he said. “And not because we had been told that we would wed most of our lives, but because I fell in love with you that day.” He turned his head to look at me, and our eyes locked. “Maybe that is sappy as shit, but it’s the fucking truth, and I’m not ashamed to admit it.”
“I knew too. Because I loved you,” I admitted softly, not sure if he even heard my tiny voice.
“And I understand why you had to leave. I hated it. I hated that you didn’t say goodbye. But I understood it. You needed to find yourself”—he ran his hand through his hair—“hell, I had to find myself too. We were kids, and in no way were we prepared for marriage. But it’s different now. We are adults and—”
“Yes, but have we found ourselves? Really? I don’t think I have. I think I’m more confused and lost than I was the day I left this city,” I confessed.
“Who’s to say we can’t find ourselves together?” he asked, determination in his eyes. “I’m not going to lie and tell you that I haven’t been with a lot of women. I have fucked more than I can count. I’m not ashamed of it one bit either. I needed to so I would be ready for you. I know you are the woman I am to marry just like I knew when we stood on this same dock and had our first kiss so many years ago.”
I didn’t like hearing of him being with other women, and the green-eyed monster threatened to take over, but I had to shove the jealousy away. I wasn’t exactly pure and virginal either.
“This just isn’t me. I’m not cut out for everything you need out of a princess. A wife.” I had to be honest, and these were the fears banging against my skull and ringing in my ears.
“Why? Because assholes want to take pictures of us? Because we have to show up at parties and shake hands with people? Is it all really so bad that you have to walk away from us? Away from what we could have?” He took hold of my hand. “I’m not going to be king. I have older brothers for that. So, the spotlight is not going to be all that bad. And the main attention I currently get is being the bad boy prince. But once we are married, and I settle down, a lot of the paparazzi attention is going to die down. I’m not going to lie to you and tell you that I love it all either. I fucking hate it at times. But rather than focusing on the negative, I choose to concentrate on the positive.”
“And the positive is what?” I asked. “Don’t even say money and notoriety because I hate that shit.”
“The positive is you. I concentrate on you.”
His words were like a punch to the gut. Roman truly did care about me. I could see it in the way he looked into my eyes. And when he took hold of my hand and turned me so that we were both facing each other, I could feel the love between us. It had never left. I could put continents between us, but it had never left.
“But if you don’t want to marry me, and if you want to leave on the next plane”—he took a deep breath—“I won’t stop you. I won’t force you into this.”
“Silas said that you own my mother’s house and that—”
“That was to get you here,” he interrupted. “And though it wasn’t right, it was the only way I could think of. But that wasn’t the reason I bought the house. I felt I owed that to you. I didn’t want to see your mother lose everything. Especially when it was a problem that was so easily solved.”
“So if I said no to all this arranged marriage stuff right now, you wouldn’t make my mother leave her house?”
He shook his head. “She’ll never be asked to move, and the monthly stipend will not go away either. She’s been good to my family, and good to me. She’s owed it. There’s a cost to loyalty. A cost I’m prepared to pay.”
I turned, feeling as if a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders and stared back out to the sea. No matter what I chose, my mother would be fine. My choices would affect me only. “I thank you for that. For taking care of her.”
“But I do hope you won’t leave. I hope you will stay and not run away this time.”
“And marry you?” I asked.
“Yes, and marry me.” Roman tugged on my hand that he was still holding. “Come with me. There is something I want to show you.”
I walked beside him, hand in hand, as he led me down a couple of stairs to a dock that housed a bunch of luxurious yachts.
“Where are we going?”
“To my boat.”
“You finally bought a yacht? Are you going to be part of the races?” I asked, though I knew Roman had always wanted his very own when he grew up. He hated asking his father for permission to use his.
“I did, and maybe with you by my side.”
“What did you name it?” I asked as I scanned the names of the boats we approached, wondering which one was his.
“Popped Cherry,” he said with a devilish smirk. “Since I popped your cherry and all.”
I stopped walking and yanked my hand away from his in a huff. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
He began to laugh. The same kind of laugh that started in the depths of his belly and reminded me of our childhood. “I’m kidding! Kidding!” he said with his hands up in surrender. “I thought about it,” he said between his laughter, “but decided on My Cheri instead.”
Right as he answered the question, he turned and pointed to the large white boat bobbing in the harbor behind him. I saw My Cheri written in elegant royal blue script, beckoning me to come see it. “Oh, it’s lovely.” I was drawn to the magnificence of the ship, and started walking toward it, just dying to hop on board. I had always wanted a yacht, and seeing my name on one was… well… the royal treatment.
“Do you like it?”
“Roman, it really is gorgeous,” I said as I still walked toward it, almost in a daze. “May I go on? Will you show it to me?”
“Of course,” he said as he walked up to me and put his arm around my shoulders.
As we boarded the vessel, I could tell that no expense had been spared. It wasn’t garish or over-the-top like some yachts I had been on, but it had excellent craftsmanship. We turned a small corner, and I stopped dead in my tracks. There was a bucket of ice with champagne chilling. Two flutes surrounded by scattered white feathers were next to it. I looked up at Roman to make sure that we hadn’t walked in on someone else’s romantic party.
He smiled and led me to the white leather couch wrapped around the center table near the champagne.
“Why are there feathers?” I asked, not sure why they were cast around. Clearly, Roman was trying to be romantic with the champagne, but the feathers were odd.
“You always said you hated flowers. That they were pretentious. So sprinkling rose petals all around wouldn’t work, and I felt I had to do something so”—he shrugged as he reached for the champagne bottle—“you got feathers. You always take flight like a bird and…”
I giggled. I couldn’t help it. Roman could be so damn irresistible and charming, just as he could be an arrogant asshole. I loved both sides of him. Yeah, I could admit it. I loved Roman.
Roman popped the champagne cork with an ease and grace that only a man who had done it a million times before could do and filled the glasses with the bubbling liquid.
“You had this all planned? How did you know I would be here?” I asked as I took my drink from him.
“I didn’t. I had the harbor on my list. There were about ten other spots where I was going to look for you as well. So there are ten other champagne bottles on ice spread throughout New Orleans. Lots of feathers too.” He took a sip of his drink and casually sat back as he looked at me with a smile. “A guy’s gotta do what a guy’s gotta do.”
“You’re kidding right?” I asked. “Please tell me you are kidding.”
He shrugged. “You’ll never know.”
“Prick,” I teased.
“I can be.” His face grew somber. “I definitely can be.” He leaned forward and placed his glass on the table. “I’m sorry, Cheri. The way I went about getting you here, and the way I acted last night was not fair to you.”
“What
was wrong with last night?” I asked. “I remember us having a good time.”
His face lit up. “That it was. But you do deserve better. I didn’t bring you to New Orleans just so I could fuck you at a high-end club.” He smiled. “Don’t get me wrong, I definitely wanted to fuck you, but that wasn’t the reason I really wanted you to come back to me.”
I raised an eyebrow in curiosity as I sipped from my glass, enjoying seeing this more sensitive side of Roman. It reminded me so much of the boy of years past who had grown to become a man. Warm familiar feelings—other than the passion and the sexual need of last night—came flooding in.
“I wanted you to come back to New Orleans to marry me. You know this. But just because you do know the royal arrangement, and you always have, doesn’t mean you don’t deserve a proper proposal.”
My heart stopped. The pounding started in my head again. My ears rang. I wanted to run. Fast.
No. No. Fight it. Don’t try to escape.
It’s Roman.
Roman lowered himself to one knee and reached for my left hand. “My sweet Cheri, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife? Will you please marry me?”
I sat stunned, not once having expected Roman to ever do such a thing. My already opened mouth opened wider when he pulled out a Tiffany-blue box from his pocket. Opening the lid, he lifted out a beautiful diamond ring in a platinum setting. It wasn’t so big that I would hate the obscenity of it, but instead it was the perfect size. It appeared antique in appearance, and I instantly fell in love with it. Roman knew my style through and through—feathers and all.
I nodded with tears in my eyes. I couldn’t believe I was acting like one of those girls. The type who cry at amorous gestures—but I didn’t give a damn. This was the most romantic moment of my life, and if I wanted to cry, I was going to cry. “Yes, yes! I will marry you,” I said as I allowed him to put the ring on my finger. It fit perfectly, which again I expected from Roman. He always covered all his bases.
I put down my glass, wrapped my arms around his neck, and placed my lips to his. I kissed him differently this time. Not out of lust but out of love. When I pulled away after the most tender of kisses, I said, “Promise me that we won’t have a huge wedding. I can’t take that.”
“I don’t know if I can promise that. Your mother is going to go crazy. It’s her I worry about.”
“If I can control my mother, will you promise me that you won’t let all the planners and organizers step in? Please?”
He smiled and kissed me on the tip of my nose. “I will promise you if you promise me something.”
“Anything!” I agreed, desperate to avoid a full-blown media circus of a wedding.
“No more running. I don’t want to go to bed every night and worry if you’ll be in the bed the next morning.” He gave me a wink. “I happen to like morning sex.”
I playfully shoved him, but then nodded. “Yes, I promise. No more running. Unless…”
His eyebrows rose and his jaw tightened. “Cheri—”
“Unless we run away together. Together.”
“Together,” he repeated.
“Until death do us part.”
“It shall be our royal duty,” he said as he leaned in and kissed me with all the love of the years past, and all the love still to come. “But,” he said, breaking the kiss. “Now that we have had the light part of this story and did what was needed to officially get engaged, it’s time for the dark side too. I told you that training on how to be a proper princess in my world would be required.”
My eyebrow rose, and I pulled away slightly. “Yes. I remember.” My voice quivered as I said the words, revealing my uncertainty. “What exactly are you talking about?”
“I want you to go home to your mother’s and rest up. I will be there at 8:00 pm to pick you up. The first step of becoming my bride begins tonight.”
Chapter Seven
Roman
“Thanks for coming in to meet with me,” I began as all seven of us took our usual seats.
It was out of the ordinary for me to call a meeting at Spiked Roses, since that was mainly Kenneth or Matthew’s department. Out of the seven powerful men who owned the club, they took the lead. They did a good job running the business side of the club, so the rest of us were perfectly fine with taking a back seat. Spiked Roses wasn’t your normal men’s only membership club. There was nothing stuffy or blue blood about the place. Elite, power, wealth, and sinister delights oozed from every crack in the old building draped in baroque design… but with class.
“What’s this about?” Kenneth asked. Leave it to the man to be direct and straight to the point. He was not one for sugar coating anything or easing into a conversation.
“I’m not sure if you all know this, but I’m getting married.”
“What the fuck?” Harley Crow said wide-eyed. Seeing him so surprised, made me smile. It took a lot to rattle the cages of the killer assassin whom all feared. “I didn’t even know you were hooking up with someone.”
“It’s complicated,” I began. “It’s an arranged marriage that has been planned since I was a child.”
“That shit still exists?” Harley asked.
I nodded.
“Do you need our help getting out of it?” Victor Drayton asked. “I know you are royalty, but I’m sure we can step in and figure this out.”
“I want the marriage.” When I saw all the men’s mouths drop, I added, “I know this sounds crazy, but it is how my family does things. It’s our royal way. But besides that, this chick is everything I could want… or have ever wanted. I have known her my entire life, and I knew this day would come. I know I’m going to sound like some sappy shithead, but I’ve been looking forward to the day that we would both be ready.”
“And you are ready?” Victor asked with skepticism in his eyes. I expected that from Victor. He would never make such an impulsive decision and most likely thought I had lost my fucking mind.
“All right,” Kenneth said. “So why are we all here? Going to ask us to be your groomsmen or something?”
“No wedding plans yet,” I said with a smirk. “That will be its own meeting. But I wanted to tell you all in person that I will be leaving for a little bit. Cheri—my fiancée—and I will be going away.”
I swallowed hard and tried to avoid eye contact with my business partner Alec Sheldon who hadn’t said a word since sitting at the table. I knew what I had to say next would cause the man to explode with rage if I didn’t handle this delicately.
“Cheri. Was that the girl with the wild blonde hair who stormed in here last night?” Lennon asked.
“Her attitude matches her wild appearance,” I said with a Cheshire grin I couldn’t contain.
“Fuck man,” Harley said. “Someone looks whipped.”
I was about to tell Harley that he was one to talk since his balls were under a vise grip with his true love, but I knew better. Whipped by a chick or not, Harley was still not a man to challenge or piss off.
“Where are you going?” Matthew asked, getting back on topic and keeping the business moving forward as only Matthew could do with such ease.
I glanced at Alec, drumming up a way to say what I needed to say but knew there was no easy way. “The initiation.”
Alec’s eyes grew wide and he slammed his hands on the table. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“What’s the initiation?” Kenneth asked.
“Tell me this is a joke,” Alec demanded. “You aren’t that stupid.”
I bit back my anger caused by the insult and allowed the man to rage. I understood why. Out of all people, Alec had every excuse for his outburst.
“Can someone please fill us in here?” Kenneth looked at Alec and then at me. “What the fuck are you guys talking about?”
“Roman is getting back in bed with The Iron Colt Brotherhood!” Alec said, sending daggers my way with his eyes. “Do you want the girl to die? Because she will.”
I took a deep breath. “
She’s not going to die. I won’t allow it. Cheri is strong and really smart. She has had to follow so many rules and follow proper etiquette her entire life. She can survive the initiation. Especially when it’s explained why to her.”
“I don’t understand why you would willingly walk into their grips again,” Matthew said, clearly on Alec’s side. I wouldn’t blame each man for thinking the same way as Alec. But it was different for me. I was of royal blood. Rules were not the same. My rules go back centuries. Old, old blood and even older customs.
“I can’t be the first royal to not do the initiation. I know that is hard for you to understand,” I said, looking directly at Alec. “And I know exactly what The Iron Colt Brotherhood is capable of, but whether I like it or not, my bloodline makes up the society. Just as yours does, Alec.” I took another deep breath. “I can’t ignore it. I can’t walk away. I sure as fuck can’t say no to them and what they require. I’m a fucking prince drowning in tradition, in customs. It’s my life and always will be. So yeah, am I thrilled to put Cheri in the hands of the brotherhood? No. But she knows who they are. She knows what they expect. They are her customs and traditions as well.”
“It’s suicide,” Alec said much calmer than before. “And murder if you put her in that situation.”
“I can handle this. She can handle this.” I looked at all the men who had worry washed over each of their faces. “This is my world, gentlemen. I can handle myself in it.” I stood up from the table and straightened my suit jacket. “I’m not sure how long I will be gone. It could be a few weeks or a few months. If you need me in case of an emergency, you can reach me via Silas. He will be the only one aware of our whereabouts.”
“And the man who will tell us where your bodies are buried,” Alec mumbled.
I already knew I wouldn’t be able to convince Alec that participating in any Iron Colt Brotherhood ritual would be a wise decision. But regardless, it was what I had to do. What Cheri had to do. It was our royal duty regardless of the risk.