by Piper Rayne
“Stop saying had. We still have it,” I mumble as we reach at the train station.
“I’m sure it was real. You two were cute together, but she’s not princess material. She would never fit in.”
“I’m not looking for a princess, but if I were, Sierra would make a great princess. She’s caring and compassionate and she did a lot for you, so I suggest you fall off your high horse.”
She rolls her eyes. “I was merely suggesting—”
I raise my hand. “I don’t need your suggestions. You fucked this up for me and I’m still pissed off, so I’d advise you to keep quiet until we’re back in our own countries. And in case I wasn’t clear, I’m not marrying you. No matter what.”
“I don’t want to marry you.”
“Good.”
She huffs.
Lucky for me, the train comes. I’m still somewhat of a gentleman and let Adelaide board first. The conductor is more than willing to help her with all her bags.
As we pull away from the station and I watch the Cliffton Heights sign pass by the window, I close my eyes, not wanting to say goodbye.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Sierra
* * *
“Maybe I should take the story, Jack,” Kay says after I tell them that the princess has already been found and she’s probably halfway home by now. “I mean, how good of a job was she doing? The princess was found in Cliffton Heights, in her friend’s tattoo parlor.”
All eyes shift to me. Between the fact Adrian is on his way to New York City without me and now this, I’m done. Add on the fact that I’ve been avoiding my dad since he’s been back from his trip and I want to go home and bury my head under my covers and cry.
The buzzer on the phone rings and Jack presses the button. “Hey, Mick.”
“There’s a Dylan Phillips here to see Sierra.”
Jack’s eyes find me across the table.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “Tell him I’m in a meeting.”
Mick sighs. “Yeah, I tried that. He’s not accepting that answer.”
There’s muffled noise and sounds of a struggle for a few seconds.
“Give it to me,” Dylan’s strained voice says. “Sierra, get your ass out here. We need to talk now!”
“Dylan, go home,” I call.
More muffled noise, but I hear Dylan asking Mick where the conference room is, to which Mick says he’s cute and all but he’s not giving up that info.
“I’m not going home. You are not going to throw this away. You’re happy. For the first time since I’ve known you, you’re really happy. Do not pull this bullshit now. Own your feelings, take the risk, show him how much you care.”
“Who is this guy? Dalai Lama?” Kay asks.
I narrow my eyes at her for being so ridiculous right now.
Jack holds up his hands. “She’s in a meeting and doesn’t want to talk.”
But the conference room door opens and in walks Dylan, stalking toward me. “Let’s go. You’re going to be happy whether you want to or not.”
He comes over and grabs my upper arm. I try to pull out of his grasp, but he keeps grabbing it back.
“Why is this any of your business?” I argue.
“Because I’m your friend and I love you.” He pulls me toward the door but stops before exiting. “Sierra will be taking at least a week’s vacation. She apologizes for the short notice and all, but she’s going to go chase down the love of her life.”
Then we’re out before I can say anything.
“He’s not the love of my life and I’m going to be fired after this stunt of yours,” I say.
“You can report the news in Sandsal if you have to. Surely after he figures out how to fix this arranged marriage thing, he can figure out a way to let women have jobs.”
“Women have jobs over there.” I pull my arm from his grasp. “I have to grab my purse.”
“Fine.”
He waits like a bodyguard outside my cubicle while I grab my stuff. I even take my personal items because let’s face it, I’m probably going to get a call later tonight that says I’m fired.
We walk out of the station and into a waiting taxi.
“Rian packed your bags. You’re on the next train into the city.” Dylan leans forward and instructs the driver to go to the train station.
“Dylan,” I sigh.
He turns in my direction and grabs my hand. “You have to jump this time. You have to. I wish I could do it for you, but this is all you. He’s going to catch you. I’m sure of it.”
The tears I’ve been holding back since Adrian’s call well up in my eyes. Am I that transparent? “But what if—”
We pull up to the train station as he says, “No negativity.”
“But when we get there… Adelaide said people will hate him and me too. And it’s his family. How can he possibly choose me over his family?”
He wipes one of my tears with the pad of his thumb. “You’re enough.”
I release a ragged breath. The vehicle comes to a stop, and when I look out the window, I see the station.
Dylan gets out of the taxi and takes my luggage from the driver. “Your passport is in the first pocket. Now go get your boy.”
I take my luggage, not feeling nearly as confident as Dylan about how this will all turn out.
“Go, and if he doesn’t catch you, I will.”
I smile. I have the best friends in the whole wide world.
The train whistle sounds, and we both look to see it pulling into the station.
I step forward and kiss his cheek. “Thanks, Dylan.”
“No problem.”
I run up the steps with my luggage hitting every step. The conductor takes it from my hands, and I wave to Dylan at the curb. My stomach fills with a light, fluttering feeling. Am I really going to put myself out there?
I guess I am.
I’ve never been more terrified in my entire life.
Lugging a suitcase along the streets of New York City sucks. It’s tipped on its side more than a few times. But when a bellhop takes my luggage and I walk into the same lobby I did weeks prior, I’m more excited than I am worried.
I tell the lady at the desk I’m here to see Athos Dumas and show her my license.
“Our bellhop will show you up.” She raises her hand.
The bellhop who has my suitcase leads me to the same elevator the John Cena lookalike used before. We end up in the same long hallway on the walk to his room. The bellhop knocks on the door. The door opens and I hold my breath. But it’s Jean on the other side.
“Miss Sanders?” he asks.
“Yes. Is Adrian in?”
“You do mean Prince Adrian, I assume?” There’s a coolness coming off him that wasn’t there the night of our date.
“Yes.”
“Hold on.” Instead of asking me in, he shuts the door.
I’m once again doubting my decision to be here.
I smile at the bellhop and put my hand in my purse. “I can just pay you.”
“I have to make sure you get in,” he mumbles, his smile filled with doubt about whether that will actually happen.
“Right.” I rock back on my heels, thankful I’m at least wearing my work clothes.
It feels as if a decade passes while I debate whether anyone is actually going to come to the door. The bellhop and I exchange another set of smiles.
“He knew I was coming.”
The bellhop nods.
Then I hear movement behind the door. Thank God. The door springs open, and Adrian is there, wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt, looking all kinds of yummy.
“You came?” He steps through the doorway, picking me up and swinging me into the foyer.
Ha, bellhop. Told you.
“I came.”
He lowers me to the floor and his hands hold my face. “Thank you.” His lips capture mine.
The sound of someone clearing their throat interrupts us. “In private, sir,” Jean says, handing money to the b
ellhop and taking my bag.
Adrian’s hands slide down my body, grabbing my ass to pick me up, and I wrap my legs around his waist. “I must show you the bedroom now. You didn’t get a full tour last time.”
“Great idea.”
We laugh all the way to his bedroom. He deposits me on the bed, and I slide up as he crawls over me, his lips unable to stop kissing me.
“I didn’t think you’d show up.”
“Dylan convinced me,” I say.
“What did he say?” He kisses my lips then my jaw and my neck, his fingers making quick work of my blouse.
“Exactly what I needed to hear.”
He peeks up at me. “He’s a smart man. I’ll have to thank him.”
“Let’s not go too far.”
He laughs, unbuttoning my slacks. “Oh, we’re going all the way tonight.”
“That’s not what I meant. I was talking about Dylan.”
He climbs up my body, grabbing the back of his T-shirt and pulling it off his body. “I don’t want to talk about Dylan anymore.”
Adrian’s lips capture mine and his tongue slides into my mouth.
How can I have missed the weight of his body when I just had him last night?
His hands skim across my skin and he finishes undressing me, his gaze soaking me in as if he thought he’d lost me.
I help him pull down his sweatpants and his dick pops out, eager to greet me. “Nice. No boxers, huh?”
“I wanted to be prepared if you showed up.” He smiles, and I grab his face, pulling it down to mine.
For the rest of the night, there’s not a lot of talk, though we do make a lot of noise.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Sierra
* * *
Princess Adelaide’s bodyguard was at the airport to escort her back home on her own flight. I wasn’t sad to see her go. The flight to Europe was long and though we didn’t join the mile high club, the private plane was definitely a perk.
This country is exactly as I expected. Almost like the fairy tales my mom would read me as a little girl. Rolling green hills, an overabundance of flower beds, and a big giant mansion in the middle of nowhere. We drive through the gold gates with a big M in a cursive script in the middle and Adrian squeezes my hand.
I feel like I know now what Cinderella must have been feeling when she went to the palace for the dance. Inadequate. I’m a nobody and here I am, interjecting myself into their lives.
Seconds after the car pulls to a stop, the door on my side opens and a man’s shocked face appears. He rears back for a moment but quickly regains his composure and offers me his hand to step down from the black SUV.
“Ma’am.” He slightly bows.
“Thank you.”
“Ned, this is Sierra Sanders,” Adrian says, approaching another man to get our luggage.
“Please, sir, allow us,” he says.
Adrian laughs and clamps him on the shoulder. “Sorry, I’ve been in the States too long.” Then he hugs Ned, who looks as if he’s not used to receiving physical affection from Adrian—ever.
Adrian grabs my hand, leading me up the steps to the giant front doors. Doors so tall you wonder how the hinges hold it up.
The minute we walk in, a willowy brunette wearing a conservative dress and flats runs down the stairs, takes Adrian by the arm, and leads us into a study on the right. “You didn’t tell me you were bringing her.” Her eyes meet mine.
“Felicia, this is Sierra. Sierra, this is my older sister.” Adrian’s all smiles, but from Felicia’s reaction, this doesn’t feel like the time to be happy.
Felicia smiles at me. “Hello. Nice to meet you.”
Were they all taught to be overly polite?
She turns her attention back to her brother. “Adrian.”
“I don’t care. I told you I’m not marrying Adelaide.”
“Princess Adelaide,” she corrects. “You need to talk to Mom and Dad.”
My stomach clenches when I think about meeting the king and queen.
The study door opens and a boy who resembles Adrian runs right into his arms. Adrian picks him up in giant bear hug. The boy’s eyes are squeezed shut as though he’s afraid to open them for fear he’s dreaming.
“Rowan,” Adrian says, and I hear the relief in his voice.
“I missed you so much,” the little boy says.
Adrian lowers him back to the floor and the boy looks at me quizzically. “Who is she?”
“Rowan, manners,” Felicia scolds.
“Sorry. Who is your friend, Adrian?”
“Better,” Felicia says.
“This is Sierra Sanders.” Adrian puts his arm around my waist, and I catch Felicia’s slight eye roll.
Rowan steps up to hug me, but Felicia puts her hand on his chest. Rowan blows out his breath and nods. Then he does a sort of half bow. “Nice to meet you, Miss Sanders.”
“Get up, Rowan. What the hell are you making him do?” Adrian asks his sister.
“Training him to be a king,” she says blankly.
A chill washes across the room, and Adrian’s arm drops from my waist. “Hey, Ro, go show Sierra your room so I can talk to Felicia for a second.”
“Okay.” Rowan steps up and turns like a trained honor guard, holding out his arm for me.
“God, look what you’ve done to him,” Adrian says.
I slide my arm through his, but once we exit the study, Rowan drops the act and grabs my hand. “Come on.”
We walk up the winding staircase, and when we hit the top, he freezes, throwing his body against the wall. He signals for me to do the same, so I play along. At least I thought we were playing until I hear yelling.
“You cannot blame him. You know he never wanted this life,” a woman says.
Rowan puts his finger to his lips.
“You’re the one who allowed him to go there and stay for two months. Of course he found a common girl he wants to marry.”
“Don’t you pin this on me. Maybe if you weren’t screwing someone on your desk, he wouldn’t have fled the country!”
“Here we go again. I apologized for that. I never wanted Felicia to find me. I didn’t purposely leave the door open,” the man says.
“You’ve never been good at being discreet.”
“Sorry I don’t have a trainer who only wants me for one thing, like you.”
Rowan does a somersault past a door as if he’s a member of the SWAT team and I almost laugh until I hear footsteps and I freeze.
“Don’t you try to put me down. At least my guy can keep his mouth shut—unlike the women you choose, who think they’ll replace me.”
“I’m done. You figure this out. Just get her out of here before things get more complicated. He needs to marry Princess Adelaide.” The man who sounds a lot like Adrian walks out and comes face-to-face with the woman he wants out.
He stands there for a moment, his eyes scouring me with a look of disgust. I want to wither under his assessment, but I somehow stay standing.
“Dad, this is Sierra, Adrian’s friend.” Rowan comes back as if he never heard his parents fighting.
His dad ruffles his hair. “I know. I saw them arrive. Where is your brother?”
“He’s with Felicia in the study,” Rowan says.
His dad walks down the hallway without even a hello or a handshake. I guess I know where I stand with him.
“Hello, Sierra,” a sweeter voice says from behind me.
I turn to find an older version of Felicia.
Rowan hugs her around the hips. “Mommy.”
She pats his back, her eyes solely on me. “What are you doing with Sierra, Rowan?”
“Adrian said for me to show her my room.”
She bends to his level. “That’s nice. How about you go work on your German lessons so I can have a quick word with Sierra? Then I’ll send her down.”
“Ja, Mutter.”
She smiles at her son. “Rowan?”
“Yes?”
“Good job.” She ruffles his hair like his dad did, and he runs down the hall. The queen stands and holds out her arm, motioning to the room she came from. “Come in, please.”
I enter the room expecting it to be a bedroom, but it’s a sitting area with floor-to-ceiling bookcases filled tightly with books.
“Please have a seat,” she says, shutting the door.
“Thank you.”
“Tea or something to drink?” she asks.
“No, I’m good, thank you.”
She sits in the chair across from me, crossing her ankles and leaning her legs in one direction. Exactly like Princess Adelaide did until she figured out the luxury of a couch, DVR, and delivery food service.
“So you’re the woman he’s chosen,” she asks, as though she expects me to answer. “You’re very pretty.”
“Thank you.” I yank at the hem of my dress Rian packed for me. Even though it hits me at the knees, it suddenly feels too short.
“I can see what he sees in you.”
I nod.
“I’m sorry you heard the king and me fighting.”
“It’s okay.”
“Do your parents fight?” she asks, which I find to be a weird question.
“My mother passed when I was ten.”
A look of sadness falls over her perfectly painted-on face. “I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.”
I want to throw up at how polite this conversation is. I want to lean back, cross my legs, and tell her that I understand that she doesn’t like me, but her son does so, how does she plan on handling it? But I won’t do that because it would embarrass Adrian and I need to make sure this goes as smoothly as possible.
“How did she pass?”
“In the Iraq War.”
Her hand covers her heart. “Oh, she was a soldier?”
I nod.
“I see. Well, maybe you didn’t see it growing up, but sometimes parents fight. It doesn’t mean anything.” There’s a sort of cool politeness rolling off her now.
I should tell her that her son told me everything and she can stop the charade. Right now, I’m wondering if I should tell him that she cheated as well.
A knock sounds on the door and I’m thankful for any interruption.