Spring Romance: NINE Happily Ever Afters

by Tessa Bailey

  “So everyone knew about this but me?” I bark. And why the hell didn’t my brothers tell me? They’re still in residence at the palace. Most of my siblings are, though we’re all full-grown. It’s such a large place we have the privacy of our own suites, and the jet takes us off island whenever we want. I bet they’ve been laughing their asses off at my expense for weeks.

  Anna rushes on. “I’ve just been so busy, and I happened to run across Lucas, who told Oscar, who told Adrian. Honestly, they’re just there as fillers, even though they’re just as hot as—ah! Gabriel!” He probably pinched her to remind her to look his way for hotness. “Seriously, you’re all my guests can talk about.”

  I am not participating in your damn auction! I clench my jaw to keep from biting her head off. She is, after all, on her honeymoon. She is my beloved sister-in-law. She is the queen.

  “No,” I say firmly and as politely as possible.

  “What? Hello? Phillip, are you still there? Can you hear me?”

  I lean toward the phone. “Yes, I can hear you.”

  “HELLO? Ffffff…we’re going…tunnel. Fffff. I can’t hear you!” My brother’s deep chuckle carries through the phone loud and clear. “I’ll talk to you when I get back.” She hangs up.

  I jab the button to end the call and finish the scotch in one long swallow. She could definitely hear me. Well, hear this, Anna, queen of Villroy, I refuse to be auctioned off like a piece of meat!

  * * *

  It’s been twenty-four hours since Anna informed me of the bachelor auction, and I remain firm in my refusal despite my brothers’ attempts to convince me to join them, saying it’ll be a blast just like everything with Anna. I shouldn’t feel guilty for letting her down. This whole auction business is frigging ridiculous.

  I stride to the east wing to take a look at the royal fantasy suite Anna created for her guests, even stepping in with her own tool belt. She was not only a beautician back in the US, but also a handywoman for her apartment building. Is there nothing she can’t do? My respect for her won’t change my mind about the auction. I understand why she’s doing this, but there have got to be better options. I’m hoping visiting the royal fantasy suite will jog my brain into finding that option.

  The island is my legacy, after all, where my family has ruled for centuries, our bloodlines dating back to the original tribe of Vikings known as the Wild Ones. My brothers and I loved playing Viking battle when we were kids. Those original Vikings sailed here from an early settlement on the Irish islands, bringing their Irish wives with them. These are my people, this is my island, and—before Anna arrived with her (mostly) fantastic ideas—we were all at a loss as to how to save the economy.

  We were once a major seafood supplier, but the fish populations are on the decline and the fishermen have to sail farther out to sea for less catch. Anna’s plan involves using the fishing industry to produce cosmetic ingredients—fish oil, sponges, sea salt scrubs, mud, and I don’t even know what else. She’s preserving our traditional way of life while bringing us into the next century. The woman is brilliant.

  My idea to boost the economy—turning Villroy into a destination-wedding venue—didn’t go so well. I try not to think about it. Needless to say, the two prestigious magazines in attendance for the inaugural wedding had a field day with the double-booked weddings, one of which consisted of furries. Yes, people who enjoy wearing stuffed animal suits. It was a disastrous event from start to finish, and I’ll never live it down. Luckily, Gabriel now sees it as amusing. At the time I thought he might rip my head off with his bare hands.

  I stop in front of the royal fantasy suite, surprised to find the door open. The fact that Anna neglected to have her friends sign nondisclosures and they’re here early sets off alarm bells. Maybe they’ve leaked the news already. Maybe the adjoining rooms are filled to the gills with women who can’t wait to shout from the rooftops they’ve been with the royal hottie.

  It’s quiet. I step inside the living room of the master suite with a balcony that offers a view of the sea. The suite appears to be empty. Maybe a servant was tidying up in here and forgot to close the door. I continue on, stepping into the master bedroom with a four-poster mahogany bed with a sheer white canopy. The furniture in the suite is all antique mahogany with royal blue accents in the upholstery. Local art hangs on the walls, all of it for sale with a discreet brochure for more art available at the Saturday market by the port. Anna has included as many of the islanders as possible in this new venture.

  I jam a hand through my hair. How can we help the guests feel invested in this project while maintaining the dignity of the princely title? At least my dignity. My brothers are beyond hope.

  “You’re Prince Phillip, the royal hottie!” a woman shrieks, startling me. Her accent is American. Definitely one of Anna’s friends. She must’ve been so eager to meet me she arrived a week ahead of schedule. Anna did say I’m all her friends can talk about. I suppress a groan as she steps out of the en suite bathroom, her green eyes huge.

  I study her, looking for flaws in the man-hungry woman who wants to bid on me. She’s in her twenties, her dirty blond hair up in a ponytail, her skin creamy with a pink flush to her cheeks, pink lips too. She’s petite but curvy, maybe five feet, wearing a light blue bohemian-looking embroidered blouse with tight faded jeans and flats. Damn, not a single flaw. She’s beautiful. With her hair down, she would probably look even sexier. Still, she has ill intentions, and I must nip this in the bud.

  She offers a small wave and flashes a smile that lights up her face. “Hi!”

  I frown. “You’re early.”

  “Anna told me to go straight to the royal fantasy suite as soon as I arrived.” She shakes her head with a smile. “Sorry I went all fangirl when I first saw you. It’s just so weird to see you in real life after seeing so many pictures of you online. You’re even better looking in person.”

  “Thank you,” I bite out.

  “Something wrong?”

  Everything about this situation rubs me the wrong way. I will not be treated like a piece of meat, even by a beautiful woman who thinks I’m better looking in person. Drawing on every ounce of my royal training, I inform her, “The proper address for a woman meeting a prince for the first time is Your Highness, along with a head bow and curtsy.”

  Her green eyes widen, her jaw slack.

  Normally I wouldn’t pull rank, but I can’t let her get too familiar, thinking I’m for sale. “You can forget whatever you’ve been imagining will happen between us. I won’t go on a date with you for any price.”

  Her head jerks back, her brows shooting up. “Excuse me?”

  I cross my arms. “You heard me. I am not for sale.” I jerk my chin toward the door. “Maybe you should just leave if that’s your expectation.”

  Her eyes narrow, and she doesn’t make a single move to leave.

  We have a staredown that goes on uncomfortably long. I can’t be the one to leave. I’ve already pulled rank. She must go.

  Finally, I break the silence, maintaining unblinking eye contact. “You may go now.”

  “I’m not going anywhere. Do you know who I am, Your Highness?” She says Your Highness in a mocking tone with no requisite head bow or curtsy. Incredibly rude.

  “You’re one of Anna’s friends, which is why I know what you’re thinking. You’ve probably been ogling my picture online, creating fantasies of us riding off into the sunset together or some such nonsense—”

  She holds up a palm. “Let me stop you right there. I’m here at the queen’s request and, last time I checked, queen trumps prince, so adios, buckaroo. Don’t let the door hit your royal ass on the way out.” She pulls a tape measure from her back jeans pocket, turns her back to me, and begins measuring various distances in the bedroom—dresser to ceiling, dresser to floor, dresser to bathroom door.

  I stare at her in shock. Have I been dismissed? How insulting. I’m second in line to the throne! Why, just three months ago I almost took Gabriel’
s place as heir when he thought he wouldn’t be allowed to marry Anna, a commoner. Dodged a bullet there. I would’ve done it out of love for my brother, who fell so hard for Anna he was ready to abdicate the throne to have her, but I’m glad to remain the carefree spare. Still, the spare is important. Should anything happen to Gabriel, I will be king, which means I am not to be dismissed!

  She pulls a small notepad and pen from another jeans pocket and scribbles for a minute.

  I clear my throat loudly.

  She glances over her shoulder. “You’re still here?” She tucks the notepad and pen away. “C’mere, make yourself useful and help me measure the length of the room.” She holds out the end of the tape measure to me.

  I turn on my heel and leave, dismissing her.

  I’m barely two steps out the door when I hear her say loudly to herself, “Boy, the royal hottie sure believes the hype. What a disappointment.”

  Another insult. I turn back, ready to blast her. No. She’s not worth even one more minute of my time.

  I head back to the west wing to my suite. I’m glad she’s disappointed, whoever she is. I didn’t even catch her name. Normally I’m warm and friendly, especially with a beautiful woman, but this looming bachelor auction has me on the defensive.

  You know what? This is good. Maybe I’ll disappoint all of Anna’s man-hungry guests and then no one will care that I’m not in the auction. In fact, I’ll text Anna right now. Met one of your guests and I’ve disappointed her so much she has no interest in bidding on me.

  No response from Anna.

  I can’t help hammering home my point. I told you no about the auction, so tell these women to stay away from me.

  By the time I reach my suite, Anna’s alarming reply pops up: That is my friend Ruby. She’s doing me a huge favor with a rush interior design job to make the royal suite magical. What did you do?

  Err…

  My thumbs fly over the keypad. I thought she wanted to bid on me. Don’t worry. I’ll correct the mistake and win her over with my charm.

  Anna: Don’t even think about hooking up with Ruby! She’s not into casual sex and doesn’t have time to fool around.

  I wasn’t thinking that. Though she is beautiful.

  Your rep precedes you. We need her, and I can’t afford to have you screw it up like you do with every other woman.

  Ouch. Duly noted.

  I love you, just keep it in your pants.

  I roll my eyes. Got it. Ruby is forbidden.

  And since when has the forbidden ever been tempting? Ha. I can control myself. No problem.

  Chapter Two

  Ruby

  Arrogant? Check.

  Rude? Check.

  Full of himself? Check times a gazillion.

  What is his problem? Coming in here, where I’m trying to do my job, and telling me to leave? Informing me he wouldn’t go on a date with me for any price? Uh, hello! Did I ask him on a date? The guy so believes the hype he can’t imagine anyone wouldn’t want to go on a date with him. Ooh, I’m the royal hottie. Get over yourself. Like I want to be his flavor of the week. Geez. I’ve spent the last two months recovering from a disastrous long-term relationship, which led to losing my job and moving in with my parents. Not where I want to be at twenty-five years old. A playboy like him is the very last thing I need.

  I’m not saying he’s not gorgeous; he totally is with thick dark brown hair, striking aquamarine blue eyes, high cheekbones with hollows under them, a strong jaw, and full lips. His five-foot-eleven frame is muscular perfection from his wide shoulders to his bulging biceps, barrel chest, narrow hips, and thick muscular legs. Okay, so I’m one of his fangirl followers. I might have memorized his stats and/or ogled his shirtless self on the beach with his current supermodel girlfriend. It was fun to fantasize about the playboy prince. Now that’s all out the window because the reality is he’s an arrogant rude full-of-himself prince. Hmph.

  This interior design job is a golden opportunity and one I don’t take lightly. When Anna called me on Sunday morning to offer me the job, I got myself on the next flight out. She’s reimbursing me for the travel expense in my paycheck too, knowing I’m broke. She’s the real deal, a loyal true friend, and I don’t find it much of a stretch to call her queen. Her mother-in-law stepped down as queen on her husband’s death and is now a princess again.

  Anna has already done a wonderful job choosing the furniture, bedding, and draperies. I’m just adding the final touches. The only issue is there are few local island resources for what I need—lighting, decorative accessories, a new fireplace mantel for the master suite—and I’m hampered in working with the closest place to shop, France, by the fact that I speak zero French. Also, I’m on a nail-biting deadline—only one week until her guests arrive. Wait, what time is it here? I’m so thrown off by the time zones. The guests arrive next Sunday night, and it is now plus six hours from East Coast time…Monday afternoon local time. Great, I actually only have six days.

  Breathe!

  First, I need more art. I grab the art brochure with information on the artists who did the suite’s paintings. I need to track down these people. I head back to my room one floor up from here and call the servants’ quarters for my maid, Maya. We met earlier. She’s close to my age and we got along well. I’ve decided she’ll be my ally in finding everything I need. Heck, for all I know she speaks French. Many on the island are bilingual, though English is the official language. Wouldn’t that be great?

  Maya arrives in a shockingly speedy time, knocking on the open door. Her dark brown hair is in a neat bun, and she wears the servant’s uniform of white shirt and black pants.

  “Come in, Maya. Thanks for coming so quickly.”

  She bobs her head. “What can I get you, ma’am?”

  “By any chance do you speak French?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Do you know anyone who does?”

  “The men who work with the horses and the chef.”

  I consider this. I feel like I’d be taking them away from work that’s important to the palace, and they probably would be zero help with decorating stuff. “Okay, no worries.” I grab the art brochure and hand it to her. “Where can I find these people? I want to buy more local art.”

  She scans the names and looks up at me, regret in her eyes, her lips turned down. “Ma’am, most of the artists on this brochure are also fishermen. They’re already out to sea. A few might appear at the Saturday market.”

  “That’s very late. Anna’s guests arrive on Sunday.”

  She brightens. “Actually, I know a woman who does murals who might be available. She did the local nursery school’s walls with fairy-tale scenes.”

  “Ooh, yes! I could have a central ceiling painting in the master suite living room featuring a fantastical sea scene with mermaids and sea nymphs. And for the bathrooms, a painted starry sky framed to look like a fake skylight right over the whirlpool tub. Do you know someone local who paints canvases that might be available right away? I could use them for the fake skylights.”

  She studies the brochure for a moment. “We could try Jeanne. She paints on all kinds of surfaces.”

  “Great!” My brain starts cranking with the logistics. If I have to, I could skip the bathroom paintings and do something with pinholes of light through a dark fabric for a fake skylight. I suddenly realize Maya is talking.

  I refocus on her. “What’s that?”

  “Do you need me for anything else, ma’am?”

  “Actually, I need you for everything. Could you be my personal island guide and help me all week with the interior decorating in the royal fantasy suite? You could be my assistant.”

  Her hand goes to her throat. “I don’t know anything about interior design, ma’am. I’m here to serve our honored guest.”

  “This is how you can serve me. Please. I can’t do it alone, and I only have six days. I don’t want to disappoint the queen.”

  Her brown eyes widen. “Oh, no, me either. L
et me check if it’s okay and then I’m happy to assist.”

  I throw my arms wide. “Thank you!”

  She blushes and smooths her hair back. “Just a moment, ma’am.” She goes to the phone and has a quick whispered conversation. I hear “Her Majesty, the Queen” thrown in a few times and then she turns to me. “All set! Where should we start?”

  “We’re going to visit with the artists, and then you and I are going shopping at the palace!”

  She gasps. “You can’t shop here. Nothing is for sale.”

  “We’re borrowing. Stick with me and you’ll love the results.”

  “I don’t know, ma’am. Everything has a place.”

  “Do you have an attic here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Fantastic!”

  She shakes her head and then quickly covers with a smile. “As you wish, ma’am.”

  * * *

  The artists’ visits went well. They’re thrilled to be paid for their art. I have a limited budget, but art is always worth the extra. One of them, Clara, is already busy sketching out fantastical sea ideas for the ceiling mural. She’ll arrive at the palace tomorrow and I’ll arrange for scaffolding for her project. Jeanne had the genius idea of painting the starry sky on a paintable acoustic panel, and she had extra panels from a previous project. This will make both a fantastic fake skylight and add to the hushed romantic feel of the luxury bathrooms. Sometimes spacious bathrooms can echo.

  Maya and I have been scouring the dusty attic for hours. It’s huge! The entire length of the east wing and there’s another attic over the west wing. I found an antique tabletop clock, dull brass candlesticks that we’ll get shining in no time, and a vintage 1920s white desktop phone with rotary dial—does it work? Who cares! It looks amazing. I also found a fireplace mantel with chipped paint that’s crazy cool. The top of the mantel is in the shape of a crown with a faded royal crest in the center. The royal crest—a lion wearing a crown with the sea and a fish beneath—is awesome too. I’ll get the paint touched up on it.