Saved by the Prince
By Michelle Pennington
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Epilogue
Copyright © 2019 by Michelle Pennington
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.
Michelle Pennington
P.O. Box 54
Hartford, AR 72764
www.michelle-pennington.com
Publisher’s note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locals is completely coincidental.
If you want more sweet romances, join my newsletter at www.michelle-pennington.com and get the latest on all upcoming releases.
This book is dedicated to:
Isaac, my little prince.
Chapter One
The salty ocean breeze coming through the open windows carried the scent of hot stone and geraniums. It fluttered the curtains, stirred the papers scattered on the big mahogany desk, and ruffled Alexios’s hair. Down in Thissa, the village that clustered along the harbor’s edge, fisherman would be coming in with the morning’s catch, children would be escaping from their chores to swim in the clear, aquamarine waters, and old men would be arguing politics over coffee at every café.
But he was trapped here in his mother’s sitting room.
He clenched his teeth against a sigh of frustration. Ever since the winter spent in New York, he hadn’t been able to get enough of the hot, sunny climate of Cristonia. But the chill that had followed him home from that trip had gone deeper than sunshine could reach.
Today was not improving that particular ailment.
What had begun as a mere formality in the form of a meeting over brunch, had turned into elegantly hostile negotiations by lunchtime. His mother was determined to plan the details of his wedding to Lydia Koettis, the daughter of Cristonia’s prime minister, Alesandro Koettis. The three of them had gotten very little done over the last hour since Lydia and his mother hadn’t been able to agree on anything.
His secretary, Tymon, and his mother’s entire staff were present as well. They all wore patient expressions as they stood ready to make note of any decision reached and set things in motion, but he was sure they were as frustrated as he was.
He looked across the room at his fiancée and tried to find some sign of relenting in her stubborn expression.
“I do not want to be married in June,” she said. “It’s too cliché. And my dress cannot be made in a month.”
His mother kept a tight hold on her temper, as befit a queen, but he could see signs of her struggle in the way she gripped the hem of her short-sleeved jacket. Her voice also held a hint of annoyance as she said, “But, my dear, we have had the wedding scheduled for three months. If you had spoken of your concerns earlier, of course we would have done everything we could to change the date. But as it is…”
“As it is,” Alexios said, jumping in before his mother exerted her considerable will, “it will be difficult. But surely we can make adjustments.” He was definitely willing to move the date. It wasn’t as if he was in a hurry for this particular knot to tighten around him.
He’d always known a marriage like this would one day be his duty. His country was at war with itself, torn between old world traditions and modern ideals—still caught up in the tempestuous instability that came of being a small island nation in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea. In the long history of the world, his kingdom was very young, only having gained its independence after the end of World War II when Germany had been forced to withdraw and Greece had been struggling too much to find its own footing to worry about a political rebellion on an island inhabited by fishermen and seabirds. But the years had brought prosperity, and with it, a fierce fight to maintain their sovereignty.
Strengthening their country through his marriage was just one of the sacrifices that would be asked of him in his lifetime, and he accepted it willingly. Because of that, he’d kept himself aloof from women, knowing that romance would be a dangerous game.
He’d learned too late, however, that it was possible to develop feelings for someone even while trying not to.
Anyone looking at Lydia would think he was crazy for not being enthusiastic about this arranged marriage. She was a classic Greek beauty with delicate features, olive skin, and glossy black hair. More than that, she was a highly finished piece of art in designer clothing. She had a massive following on social media as a style icon, and he had never seen her looking less than perfect.
As the daughter of Cristonia’s Prime Minister, she had connections and, in her own way, held as much power as her father did on the world stage. The optics of their marriage were genius, having the potential to unify the two political factions in his country. She would also be a great help to him in his diplomatic responsibilities as heir to the throne, and she supported several of the same charities he did.
But as much sense as it made, and as inevitable as it was, the whole thing left him feeling cold and reluctant. Yes, this marriage was his fate, but a bitter voice in his head continually reminded him what was missing. Passion. Attraction. Magnetism.
All things he had once held and then let go.
But he couldn’t afford to let the past cloud his judgment.
“When do you want to get married?” his mother asked Lydia, a note of resignation in her voice.
“October.”
Alexios raised his eyebrows and tried to repress the relief flooding through him. “Is there a particular reason for putting it off another six months?”
Lydia nodded and lifted her chin. “I told you—so that my dress can be made.”
Treading very carefully, Alexios considered how to press her further. He could not shake the notion that she was stalling. How he felt about that was a matter best considered another time. “But surely with the budget available to you, such a matter could be taken care of more quickly.”
She shook her head. “I have decided on the designer I want, but my people are still trying to convince her to work with me. She’s very exclusive. I could not possibly press an impossible timeline on her if she should accept me.”
Alexios looked at his mother. He knew very well the thoughts that were going through her mind. She’d been the force that had finally gotten this long-standing marriage agreement moving. She had visions of grandchildren, both to provide an heir for their struggling monarchy and because she worried about him becoming—how had she phrased it?—stagnant.
He would have been happy to wait another six months, even a year before marrying Lydia, but there was little he would not do for his mother, so he shrugged.
Forcing
a smile, he said, “Very well. It seems that the best way forward is to engage the services of this designer. Once we have settled that, we will be able to see what our timeline will be. Who is it?”
“Serenity Wade Couture of New York—”
The words faded as a wave of memories crashed through him—her heart-shaped face as clear in his mind as if he’d seen her yesterday. Her quick smile and careful blue eyes. That way she had of carrying herself, elegance tinged with fairy-tale grace. The tug at the corner of her lips as she’d fought back tears when he’d said goodbye. The worst goodbye he’d ever faced in his life.
“Serenity Wade…” his mother mused aloud, completely unaware of the torture she inflicted on him just by saying the name again. “I think I’ve heard of her.”
“I love her work,” Lydia said, her tone rich with the first spark of enthusiasm Alexios had seen in her all day. “And she’s a huge name in the industry. I don’t want anyone else.”
Alexios met his mother’s eyes. They were all too familiar with how stubborn Lydia could be. But his mother was so determined to move this wedding forward that he knew she would be willing to humor her over this. Which was not good for him.
“I wonder why she will not accept the commission,” the queen mused. “You’re marrying into a royal family. Any designer should want the press they could get from that.” She turned to the staff. “Does anyone have a suggestion for how to pursue this?”
Tymon looked to Alexios, hesitated a moment, and then spoke the words Alexios had been dreading. “His Highness knows Miss Wade. Perhaps he could persuade her.”
Glaring for precisely one second at Tymon, he looked to see his fiancée’s reaction to this. With her bottom lip caught in her teeth, Lydia looked more displeased than delighted. A strange reaction for someone desperate to hire Serenity. It was intriguing enough to prompt him to agree. “I could certainly do so. Though I cannot promise it will help.” In fact, he could almost promise it would ruin Lydia’s chances.
Lydia nodded slowly. “Yes, I understand. I am willing to wait a long time to get her.”
Alexios controlled an impulse to raise his eyebrow. He wasn’t going to complain since it worked in his favor.
His mother rose from the settee and went to Lydia. “We will hope for a quick response then and hope that she will agree. If not, we must think of something else.”
Since no one could remain sitting when the queen stood, even the daughter of the Prime Minister, Lydia stood quickly and dipped into a small curtsy. Manners required her to agree with her queen. “Yes, but we must try to convince her. Surely it will not be too difficult. After all, it’s a royal wedding, and those don’t happen often.”
“Not often enough,” his mother agreed, throwing him a pointed look.
Anxious to end the conversation, Alexios moved forward and offered his arm to escort Lydia out. She accepted it, saying as he pulled her away, “Thank you for everything, Your Majesty.”
“We’ll see you soon, my dear. And hopefully we’ll have good news. Send my best wishes to your father.”
Lydia nodded and opened her mouth as if to say something else, but Alexios succeeded in leading her from the room before she could. They walked in silence down the long corridor. None of the priceless art on the walls or the view of the ocean outside the picture windows had the ability to pull her attention from the floor. She obviously had no interest in looking at him either.
Unable to bear the awkwardness any longer, Alexios asked, “Do you have plans for the rest of the day?”
Her eyes flew to his, startled. “No. Well, that is…I have to go read stories at a school or something. Ugh. So boring. But at least I’ll get some great pics.”
Alex felt his right eyebrow twitch. Yes, she was involved with charities, but she was always focused more on her image than the people she was helping. “I’m sure you will.”
“Oh, and I’m having dinner with my parents this evening.” Her hand on his arm clenched reflexively. “I hope you don’t mind not being invited. It is only a family dinner, not a party or anything.”
Alexios took a deep breath, hoping to draw in extra patience as well as oxygen. “Certainly not. I was merely making conversation and hoping that you would have something fun to do tonight. I am having dinner with my parents as well.” Then, because he couldn’t help but investigate his growing suspicion, he said, “And since we will soon be spending most evenings having dinner with each other, it is nothing to be worried about.” He pushed open the door that led to the courtyard surrounding the entrance to the private quarters of the royal palace.
Just as he had expected, her mouth dipped into a frown, though she forced it back into a smile almost immediately. “I’m glad you feel that way.”
Lydia’s driver had already pulled her car up to the door. As Alexios helped her into her seat, he took a deep breath and forced himself to say, “I do. Though it occurs to me that perhaps we should…take advantage of this delay in our wedding to get more comfortable with our new relationship. What do you say?”
She straightened her skirt as she settled into her seat and then looked up at him and sighed. “I suppose we should.”
He nodded and straightened, closing the door. She rolled the window down, however, and asked, “Do you really know Serenity Wade well enough to convince her to design my dress?”
Now he was the one needing to fight a sudden frown. “We know each other well, yes, but in all honesty, she’d be more inclined to agree if we didn’t.”
Lydia’s brows pinched together as she opened her mouth to speak, but he stepped back and motioned for the driver to move forward before she could inquire further. He waved to her as she watched him through the window. As the car rolled out of the gates, his shoulders dropped and a harsh sigh escaped his mouth.
He wasn’t surprised to hear Tymon clear his throat politely behind him. “Shall I contact Miss Wade, sir, or will you?”
“Blast your helpfulness, Tymon. I suppose I shall have to do it. Sending it through my secretary would only offend her more.”
“Yes, but it did occur to me that she hasn’t responded to any of your previous attempts at communication. And being asked to design a dress for your bride is…”
“Insulting? I quite agree. I suppose it’s precisely the excuse she needs to never think of me again. Perhaps it’s exactly the closure we both need.”
Though he groaned at the thought of her hating him more than she already did.
Chapter Two
Serenity’s design studio went dim early in the evening because the buildings across the street quickly blocked out the sun as it sank lower in the sky. But that was okay with her. There was something warm and homey about working by lamplight. As she sat sketching an evening dress in the halo of golden light, she tried to focus on all the good things she had going on. The recent success of her brand, the incredible team she had gathered to work for her, and the fact that she was living her dream. Surely there was no reason to feel tight and achy from stress-induced tension.
Her team had survived another New York Fashion Week, but the next one loomed large on the horizon only five months away. They still had so much work to do. The whole process of completing designs, editing the collection, and preparing for the show was enough to fray anyone’s nerves, but as the head designer, Serenity also needed to be working on the fall/winter collection. No matter what her team was working on, she always had to be a few steps ahead.
She touched the gold key on the chain around her neck, her fingers running over the flat, worn metal. Without even looking at it, she whispered the words of the motto engraved on it. “No regrets.” At least the work kept her focused on the future instead of the past. She’d risen above a lot of things in her life, but her newest hurt nagged at her like a wound that had scabbed over but not healed.
Why could she not move on from him?
The faint thump of army boots on the tile floor broke the beginning of another painful reverie. Dropping her
felt-tip marker, she turned around to smile at her assistant designer, Jade. “I hope that bag from Charlie’s Deli is something for me.”
Jade gave her a half-smile and caught her lip piercing between her teeth. “Of course it is. You’d never eat dinner if it weren’t for me.”
Serenity accepted the bag and dug through it. The aroma of crusty sourdough and Italian salami revived her appetite. She set the wrapped sandwich on her work table and opened the bag of chips, but paused. “Oh, I forgot to tell you—we got some more samples in. I didn’t even peek yet because I didn’t want you to freak out like last time.”
Jade shook her head, the slight movement made more extreme by the long, auburn dreads that sprang out around her head. “I didn’t freak out. But you have to admit, opening a sample box is better than Christmas morning.”
“Agreed. Go ahead and open it.”
Jade took a step toward the box as if she couldn’t help it but then stopped short and handed Serenity a long, heavy envelope. “See what fabric does to me? I forgot to give this to you. Don’t look now, but it’s postmarked from a certain island nation and was sent overnight. He paid a lot of money to get this into your hands today.”
Serenity’s breathing hitched. With extreme reluctance, she took it. “That’s a little harder to ignore than an email or text message.”
Jade looked her squarely in the eyes. “I don’t think you should ignore it.” Then she walked over to the sample box as if she hadn’t just pushed Serenity to the edge of an emotional cliff and left her staring at the drop off.
Serenity sighed and sat down, knowing she needed more support than her legs could give her. She looked at the envelope, examining the unfamiliar stamps and the postmark from Cristonia. She traced her name, handwritten in ink, with an unsteady finger. Had he been the one to write it or had he passed it off to one of his staff? She thought he had probably done it himself, which meant his fingers had held this same envelope just yesterday.
Saved by the Prince Page 1