The Crown Jewels Boxed Set (A Crown Jewels Romantic Comedy Series)

by Melanie Summers

  My heart drops. “This means #IHateTessa is someone I know personally.”

  Chaz nods. “Has to be. I’d never post anything of you on social media, so they can’t have gotten it off the Web.”

  “Shit. Could you have sent the pictures to anyone?”

  “Well, yes, Brooke wanted all the photos of the trip—but it wouldn’t be her, would it?”

  I shake my head. “No, there’s no way it’s her. She’d never do something so cruel. Besides, there’s never been anything between us. You know that.”

  “I don’t know, Arthur—I think she’s always carried a torch for you.”

  “She’s got a boyfriend.”

  Chaz has a swig of whisky. “You’re probably right. And even if she did want you, I can’t see her being this brazen about it.”

  “Or this stupid. I mean, if she got caught, things wouldn’t exactly end up with us together.” I rub the back of my neck, wishing I was sober enough to figure this out. “But I’ll still have to find a way to ask her. I’m going to see her next week. She’ll be in Valcourt for her father’s birthday.”

  “That’ll be a bit awkward, no?”

  “Just a bit. What a fucking mess.” My phone pings, and we both look down at the screen to see that #IHateTessa has just called #WeLoveTessa a bunch of low-brow morons.

  Covering his mouth with his hand, he tries to stifle a laugh, then lets it go. “You…ha ha ha…are in a very public fight with someone you know…ha ha ha…but you’re both hiding behind secret identities.”

  He has a good long laugh while I stare at him, unable to find the humour in it. Deciding to change the topic, I ask, “How’s married life?”

  Chaz’s face falls, and almost instantly he starts to sob uncontrollably. Well, fuck me, this took a quick turn.

  “She’s awful. Just awful. Always watching. Always judging. Always calling me ‘darling.’ ‘Darling, that shirt doesn’t go with those trousers. No more beer, darling, you’re getting a bit of a ‘dad bod.’ Don’t hold the baby like that, darling, you’ll drop him.” He shakes his head. “Do you know how many times I’ve dropped one of our children? Zero! Zero times! Well, that’s not true. It’s twice, actually, but both times he didn’t get hurt.”

  Chaz looks at me with wild eyes. “Don’t get married, Arthur. It’s not worth the sex at the beginning.”

  Vincent, who has accompanied us to the castle but refuses to take part in any of our celebrations on the grounds of maintaining a professional relationship, sidles up to me while Chaz pours his heart out. I catch a whiff of him, then turn just as he’s about to tap me on the shoulder.

  “My apologies, sir. I don’t mean to break up the party, but I’m afraid there is a rather urgent matter that requires your immediate attention.”

  Thank Christ.

  ****

  Well, this is a total shit-show, isn’t it? My bride-to-be, whom I’ve spent the past several months defending, has gone off and created a major scandal—and now I’m going to have to clean it up. If I’m honest, I’m rather pissed. I’m also a little envious they were actually having a wild weekend while I was suffering through the world’s most boring stag do. I need new friends. I left without saying goodbye to Timothy, but not for lack of effort. When I approached his bedroom door, the sounds he was making told me it was better for me to just leave a note. Kyle, who struck out with the waitress, decided to stay behind with Chaz since I’m heading directly to the Prime Minister’s residence, followed by the police station, then straight back home. As soon as I said I needed to leave for Ibiza, Chaz started shaking his head furiously. “No way. There’s no way I can go there without risking a divorce.”

  And that would be bad, because…?

  I manage to sleep on the two-hour drive back to Valcourt, then once on the plane I shower, shave, and drink an entire pot of coffee to help sober me up for when the plane touches down. Whoever said that worked was full of shit, by the way. I’m now wide awake with my head spinning a bit. It’s very early in the morning when I arrive at the Prime Minister’s home, bearing a case of the finest Avonian ice wine from the north country.

  Camera crews, who have obviously been alerted to my plans, wait outside the grounds of his house and surround the limo, taking photos and motioning for me to roll down the window as the gate slowly opens. Once inside, I’m asked to wait in a formal sitting room while the Prime Minister takes his sweet time finishing his breakfast. It’s a little show of power, but not one that bothers me, because I would do the same were I in his position.

  Our meeting is brief, and although it starts out tense, I manage to ease the situation by relating to him as a parent. Even though I don’t have children of my own, I play the whole irritated older brother bit, which works like a charm. We discuss how far apart our two nations are in the trade agreement, and I assure him we’ve found some room to move. By the time he walks me to the door, he’s giving me advice about having a strong hand when it comes to the youngsters and keeping them in line. He walks outside with me, and we stand together, smiling for the cameras. The reporters shout questions about Arabella and Tessa, but I ignore them, saying useless things like, ‘I’m happy to have met with the Prime Minister today,’ and ‘the people of Spain will always hold a special place in my heart.’

  The media circus at the police station is far worse. As I get out of the car, it occurs to me this story is likely going to follow us for decades to come, and my mood starts to sour. I wave to Giles Bigly from ABNC, who’s standing by, ready to get his story. Ollie keeps the reporters at bay while I stride up the steps to the police station. I’m immediately greeted by the Inspector. “I’ll take you back to see the prisoners.”

  Prisoners. You mean my sister, my future queen, and her best friend? “Thank you.”

  Xavier stands guard just outside the cell. His face lights up when he sees me, and I wonder how he can possibly be so full of energy when he’s very likely been standing for over twelve hours straight. He must be on something, no? Like perhaps he mixes uppers with his steroids?

  I find the three women huddled together on a single cot. Nikki is passed out, face down on the pillow, while Tessa stares down at the floor, chewing on her lip, her eye make-up spread all over the tops of her cheeks, and her hair absolutely wild. Arabella, whose eyes are swollen and red, shakes her head and mutters, “Fuckity-fuck.”

  “Good morning, ladies. How’s your hens’ weekend been so far? I trust it’s been relaxing.”

  Arabella and Tessa jump up and start exclaiming their excitement to see me, quickly followed by explanations, apologies, and statements about how this isn’t their fault.

  “Are you furious?” Tessa asks. “I would totally understand if you were furious.”

  “Well, I would say this weekend could have gone a lot better. For starters, I could still be at Didsbury at my own stag do instead of spending the night en route so I could spring you from the hoosegow. Or perhaps, if you had busted up a club in a country with which Avonia is not in the middle of tense trade negotiations, that would have been preferable. Or say, if you hadn’t busted up a club at all…also good. Alternatively, you could have skipped the bit where you put two men in the hospital. That would have been a much more pleasing way to end the weekend.”

  Tessa covers her mouth with one hand. “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry, Arthur. I had no idea things would get so out of hand.”

  “It’s my fault completely,” Arabella says. “I’m the one who was trying to prove I could be just as wild as anyone else.”

  Tessa turns to her. “No, it’s my fault. I’m the one who broke all the glasses.”

  “But that’s just because you’re clumsy.” Arabella turns to me. “She didn’t mean to kick all those glasses off the bar top. I meant to get very drunk and buy booze for the entire nightclub. Have you heard anything at all about how that one-legged man is doing? And Bellford?”

  “Bellford will be fine. Pretty sure the one-legged chap is
going to sue us and win.”

  Tessa reaches through the bars and grips my hand with hers. “I feel just awful. I’ve ruined your weekend and embarrassed you horribly.”

  “Not to mention you’ve embarrassed yourself yet again.” I shake my head. “Honestly, Tessa, it’s like you just invite trouble wherever you go. And it could so easily be avoided if you would just think.”

  As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I regret them. Tessa looks like I’ve just slapped her in the face. Xavier clears his throat. When I look at him, he gestures with his head toward the door, where the Inspector is standing, listening to everything. Bollocks.

  ****

  “I’m Veronica Platt at the ABNC news desk. At the top of the hour, security footage has been released of the now infamous Amnesia night club incident, which ended with Princess Arabella, Tessa Sharpe, and one other companion being arrested by the Spanish police. We’ll have the video for you next, but first, do you know the signs that your hamster may be having a heart attack? It’s trickier to spot than you might think.”

  ****

  The plane ride home is tense, to say the least. Arabella and Nikki shower first. Unfortunately for Tessa, they use up all the water in the tank, leaving her with only some wipes with which to get all the nightclub and jail cell evidence off her. I can tell by the look on her face this hasn’t helped her mood. My sister and Nikki then go straight to sleep in the bed at the back of the plane, leaving Tessa in the main cabin with me and the bodyguards, as well as Vincent and two other assistants, Mary and Stephen, with whom I’m sitting as we try to find areas in the trade agreement we can adjust in Spain’s favour, but every option comes with issues that will negatively affect Avonian businesses. This would be difficult enough were my head not pounding and my heart not aching.

  Whenever I glance over at Tessa, who is sitting alone by the window, she’s staring out at the sky, no expression on her face. As angry as I am, I also want to comfort her. I know she didn’t mean for any of this to happen, and when I think about how harsh I was, my gut aches.

  About an hour into the trip, I can’t take it anymore. I need to go talk to her. I excuse myself and make my way over to her.

  “Mind if I sit with you?” I ask, hoping she’ll say yes.

  She shrugs one shoulder without looking at me, so I lower myself into the seat next to her.

  “I owe you an apology.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “I was wrong to speak to you the way I did.” I place my hand over hers, but she pulls it away and tucks it under her leg. “Tess, please look at me. I’m truly very sorry. Can we just forget about that and move on?”

  “Just forget that you called me stupid in front of your sister and Xavier and some Spanish policeman?” Her voice is devoid of emotion, and she keeps her gaze out the window at the pouring rain.

  “I didn’t mean it that way; I meant—”

  “That you can call me clumsy and foolish, then just say, ‘Sorry, shouldn’t have been a total arse to you, let’s move on?’”

  “Don’t put words in my mouth. Arabella’s the one who called you clumsy.” I suddenly become aware of the silence throughout the rest of the cabin, and I lower my voice. “I don’t understand why this has to be a big fight between us. You made a mess of things. I wasn’t exactly gracious about having to clean it up. I’m apologizing for that. I would think you would understand why I was upset and accept my apology.”

  “Well, you thought wrong, Your Highness. In case you weren’t aware, I’m not one of your employees. You can’t just say whatever the hell you want to me and expect me to smile and take it. If I’m to be your wife, I won’t be lectured like a child.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ollie and Xavier trying to make themselves appear very small in their seats. “Please lower your voice.”

  Tessa’s head snaps back. “Did you seriously just order me to lower my voice right after I told you you can’t lecture me?”

  “You do realize you’re actually lecturing me about lecturing you?”

  My phone rings. It’s the office of the Minister of Finance. Tessa hardens her gaze. “Do not pick that up.”

  Honestly, I had no intention of picking it up until she told me not to, but something about her tone brought out the defiance in me. I lift the phone to my ear. “Peter, I have a feeling I know what this is about.”

  “Just read your changes to the trade agreement. I need to go over them with you.”

  “No problem. I’ve got nothing but time.”

  NINETEEN

  Emergency Meeting Fails

  Tessa

  Text from Mum: Tessa, it’s your mother. Call me as soon as you get back to Avonia. Your father and I are beside ourselves with worry. Oh, and have yourself checked for lice before you come back home. Grace next door said those Spanish jails are famous for lice.

  Text from Noah: I can’t believe you went on your hens’ weekend without inviting Nina. She’s very hurt, although she’s pretending to be glad since you wound up in jail. Your invitation to join her ladies book club has now been officially rescinded (so there is a silver lining to everything). Is Arthur still planning to marry you after causing an international incident? Let me know as soon as possible, because if the wedding’s off I can get really cheap flights to Disney World that week but I have to buy them right away.

  Email from Hazel

  RE: Behind the Scenes Look at Spanish Prison Nightmare

  Dear Tessa,

  Are you all right, dear? If so, please call me as soon as your plane touches down. There has got to be an exclusive for us here.

  Yours,

  Hazel

  Email from Me to Hazel

  RE: Behind the Scenes Look at Spanish Prison Nightmare

  Dear Hazel,

  We weren’t exactly in a Spanish prison, but rather a holding cell in the police station. It was very clean and not uncomfortable, really. The officers were most accommodating and, in fact, offered us water, tea, and breakfast this morning. Although I would love to offer an exclusive to The Weekly Observer on this weekend’s events, I’m afraid it’s more likely that the palace will put out an official statement and no further mention will be made of this weekend publicly.

  Thank you in advance for your understanding on this matter,

  Tessa

  Email from Hazel

  RE: RE: Behind the Scenes Look at Spanish Prison Nightmare

  Phew! So glad to hear that you’re okay and weren’t violated or otherwise abused. Please ensure the Palace Officials that The Weekly Observer will be most cooperative in allowing an advanced read of any article on the matter.

  ****

  Well, this is just perfect. The one time that the king is actually in town is right when I’m not only completely exhausted and extremely hung over, but I’ve also gone and caused an international incident. Arthur (who I may or may not ever speak to again, I’m not sure), Arabella, and I are in the back of the limo heading toward the palace after having dropped Nikki off at her flat. I would’ve given my favourite pair of Jimmy Choos (well, my only pair, really) to stay at Nikki’s so I could pass out on the couch for about forty hours or so. Instead, I’m listening to one side of a very tense conversation between Arthur and the king’s chief adviser, Damien.

  “You will do no such thing.” Pause. “No.” Pause. “Absolutely not. They will not be dressed down.” Pause. “Out of the question.” Pause. “This is nothing like Harry.” Pause. “First of all, they’re not twenty years old—they’re grown women. Second, you’ll note none of them was wearing a Nazi uniform.” Pause. “We’re just about at the palace. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

  Gratitude edges out some of my anger as I listen to him defend us. When he hangs up, I say, “Thank you.”

  Arthur looks at me with disdain. “I’m merely trying to avoid further embarrassment.”

  So, I guess we’re not about to make up after all.


  Sighing, Arthur says, “Here’s what we’re going to do. Tessa, Ben will take you home as soon as he drops us off. Arabella, just go straight to your apartment. I’ll deal with this and let you know how it turns out.”

  “Umm, no,” I say. “I caused the problem. I should bloody well fix it, or no one in that palace will ever respect me again.”

  Arthur shakes his head. “I’m afraid that ship may have sailed.”

  “Arthur!” Arabella says. “That was an unkind thing to say.”

  “Well, excuse me,” he snaps. “But I’m a little out of patience at the moment. You’ve made a mess. The best thing you can do is allow me to manage the situation from here on out.”

  The limo stops in front of the palace, and Arthur pushes the intercom button. “Ben, please take Ms. Sharpe home.”

  I lean over him and say, “No, thank you, Ben. That won’t be necessary.”

  Arthur and I glare at each other, then I say, “I broke it. I’ll fix it.”

  “No, you won’t. I promise you, you will only make it much worse,” he says. “There’s a certain way of handling these situations, and I don’t have the time to school you on it before we walk in there.”

  “No, I won’t?” My voice rises. “Did you just tell me what I was going to do?”

  “Quite the opposite. I told you what you aren’t going to do.”

  “Same thing.”

  “If you think it’s the same, then you really don’t belong in that meeting.”

  Arabella gasps. “How dare you talk to Tessa this way?!”

  He doesn’t even bother to look at her but keeps his eyes on me while he says, “I’ve traveled all the way from the northern tip of Avonia to Ibiza and back today, leaving my friends behind. I’ve groveled to the Prime Minister of Spain. The one thing I’m asking you to do is to stay out of it and let me handle it for you.”