Tempting the Prince (Sexy Misadventures of Royals)

by Christi Barth

  Christian liked the sound of that. “Our secret.”

  “Yes. I’ll clarify: aside from the story of the amazing sex, Kelsey and I do share everything. I know how your father’s ghosted all of you.”

  “He’s not a ghost. He’s still alive.”

  “Sorry, it’s an American dating thing. Ghosting is when you stop talking to someone without any explanation. You just disappear from their lives.”

  “Then that’s a perfect description. We’ve tried to hide it, to compensate, but…” Christian lifted his hands, then let them drop into his lap.

  “People noticed,” she murmured, patting his thigh.

  The wrong people, at least.

  Hell, who was he kidding? “Apparently everyone. I was upset and running it off on the stairs because I just broke out of a secret meeting of the Privy Council where they asked me to kick my father off the throne.” Christian tapped his chest. “They want me to be king.”

  Mallory’s hands flew to cover her mouth. Her eyelids, covered in a shimmery brown powder, widened to near comical proportions. “Wow.”

  “Exactly.”

  She curled her legs under her to lean closer. “Can you do that? Is it even possible?”

  “Yes. Not the old-fashioned way with beheading, of course.” Sadly, Christian knew every possible way to do it. A few weeks ago, Sir Kai had sent him a report on the specifics in an email neither of them had mentioned since. “It’d be tricky, though. The first option would be to talk to him.”

  Mallory grimaced. “Which is awkward on so many levels. Firstly, because he’s not talking to you.”

  Right. Mallory got it. Why couldn’t the Privy Council see how difficult it’d be? “As you say. That’d be a big hurdle right there.”

  She picked up his hand and stretched out two fingers, tapping the tips with her own. “Secondly, because you don’t want to come off as a power-hungry despot.”

  Her touch, as they talked through this, made all the difference. It slowed the swirl of emotion and allowed Christian to focus on each small point, rather than the overreaching enormity of everything entailed by the Privy Council’s request.

  “Correct. The last thing in the world I want to do is snatch the crown from my still-living father’s head. What if he takes it that way, though? What if he thinks I’m tired of waiting, like the Prince of Wales? It’s not true, but hell, what if?”

  “Ugh.” After a big eye roll, she continued. “That old guy should definitely not be your role model. He cheated on his wife. I know it’s a massive sidebar, but come on. Have some integrity.”

  God, she was adorable. An unexpected laugh rumbled up his throat. “Agreed.”

  “Let’s scratch that one off the list. You and your dad are close, right? He knows you’re not like that.”

  “We were close. Until he ghosted me.”

  Was he pouting? Hell, yeah. Because it was hard.

  Because it hurt to suddenly be cut out of his father’s life, even if everyone else was, too. Christian leaned his head back against the uneven stone and closed his eyes.

  “And third, because he’s your dad, you don’t want to insult him or hurt him by saying he’s not capable.”

  “That’s the worst, most awkward of all the levels.” Christian lolled his head sideways to look at Mallory. She had her lower lip between her teeth, the picture of concentration. On his problem. How’d he get so lucky to have her in his corner?

  Arm raised, she mimed erasing a chalkboard. “Put all of that to the side.”

  “Easier said than done.”

  “This is just an exercise. I’m not actually asking you to turn off your feelings. Although, as a member of the male gender, don’t you have that on/off button installed somewhere?”

  One corner of his mouth tilted. “That’s cold.”

  “Yes, but I got a smirk out of you, so that’s good. Now, here’s the ten-thousand-dollar question—is your dad still truly capable of ruling?”

  Christian drove his fingers through his hair, then pressed the heels of his palms to his temples. “I don’t know, Mallory. That’s not me trying to cover for him. It’s the honest truth. I can say he clearly hasn’t been capable of it for a few months now. Can he pull himself out of it? And even if he does, will our people still trust him?” Christian heaved a sigh. It was pointless to keep denying it. “Probably not.”

  They sat in silence for a few minutes. A helicopter buzzed by. Christian looked over the other edge this time. First to the sea, then across to the mountains.

  His country.

  His realm.

  His people. All waiting, whether they realized it or not, on him to make the hardest decision of his life.

  Finally, Mallory reached up to take his hand. Her tone was kind, but firm. Definite. “Which means, in the best interest of Moncriano, you should get him to abdicate.”

  “Yes.” Damn it, she’d made him say it out loud. For the first time. There was no taking that back. Through gritted teeth, he said, “I do not want this.”

  “Welcome to the club.” She waved at the area of her gunshot scars. “This isn’t the life I planned.”

  Guilt over that gnawed at him, as usual. It was, however, a topic for a different day. Mallory’s reminder did help put things in perspective. For all of his teeth-gnashing, at least he wasn’t lying in a hospital bed. Although that really ought to be such a low bar that it didn’t count.

  “Two wrongs don’t make a right. Or do they not teach that saying in America?”

  “They do. But the one I was thinking of is misery loves company. While it isn’t quite the same, the rug was pulled out from under what I had planned for the next decade, too.” She tucked a long, flyaway chunk of hair behind her ear, showing off dainty twists of silver-and-yellow crystals. “I’m going along with it. Making the best of it.”

  The woman was so resilient. He admired it. “You mean you’re not going to bitch about living in a palace with maid service like Kelsey does?”

  Her laughter echoed off the stone turret surrounding them. “I absolutely will not. That’s just lovely. I will say that I understand, to some extent, the turmoil you’re going through. It frankly sucks. I’m very sorry that this is the way it’s all unfolding. But I do get it. And you can vent to me as much as you want. No judgment. Only sympathy.”

  There were less than a handful of people in his life that Christian could vent to. The offer was exactly what he needed. Along with the laughter. The touching. The no-nonsense approach to the problem.

  Basically, everything about Mallory was exactly what he needed. Which was a painful sting of realization since they couldn’t be together long term. But today, now, her presence was the medicine he needed. And nobody could stop him from drinking her in.

  “Thank you. Don’t worry. I won’t abuse it. I can only take so much feeling sorry for myself.”

  “When you hit that point, we can throw darts again. Unless…” Mallory rolled up his cuff. The bandage was long gone, but there was a bright-red puncture wound still healing on his arm. “Are you scared to play with me? Worried I’ll earn the bonus points for impaling the prince again?”

  “Nothing to worry about. If you get me, all this decision-making falls on Genevieve’s shoulders. I call that a win.” Christian leaned over, scooped her up, and settled her across his lap. “Talking to you made this all more bearable. Thank you. In fact, I’m going to thank you quite a bit now.” He shoved up the sleeve to her blouse and began to nibble her arm.

  “Christian. Wait.” Mallory looped her arms behind his neck and tilted her forehead against his. “What are you going to do about your dad?”

  “Something drastic.” Because if he had to start this process, he’d do it on his timetable. His way. The council would have to wait. His father deserved one more chance.

  And his idea was so off-the-wall, it
just might jolt his father back.

  Chapter Seven

  There were days when Mallory honestly had no idea how she got to this new normal. Alice in Wonderland fell down the rabbit hole into her adventures, right? Or was it from eating a psychedelic-laced piece of cake at the Mad Hatter’s tea party? Was she still in an anesthesia-induced surgical coma and imagining these new adventures?

  Discovering her sister wasn’t her sister and was, in fact, a princess was jolt enough. Being appointed nobility herself was another hard left out of reality. Sex with a real-life Prince Charming—well, that was pure fantasy.

  But today she was crammed in an oversize SUV with the entire royal family. After a short hop on the luxurious royal plane to Innsbruck, they were now officially on a road trip.

  WTH?

  From the driver’s seat, Marko, Kelsey’s main guard, spoke up. “Before we embark on this journey, I’d like to ask one more time that you consider splitting up between the two vehicles. It is not strategic to have the king and all three immediate successors to the throne in the same transport.”

  Mallory rolled her eyes at Christian, sharing the back row with her. They’d heard variations on this complaint from all of their guards individually, as well as from Elias venting far more vociferously—and far less professionally—about the alleged stupidity of the plan to Kelsey and Christian over breakfast.

  “We all flew here together,” Kelsey piped up from the row she shared with Elias.

  “Which I also recommended against, Your Highness. It is not too late to rearrange the seating.”

  “Start the car, Marko,” Christian ordered. He looked super casual in jeans and a blue flannel shirt, sleeves rolled up, open over a tee. Lumberjack chic. It showed off his broad chest and forearms. It made Mallory want to unbuckle and straddle him. Or, at the very least, slide a hand in between those two shirts to feel the taut ripples of his washboard abs. “We’re on a family trip. Can’t have family time if we’re not all together.”

  In a cool, why must I explain something so simple tone, Genevieve said, “Nobody knows we’re here. Nobody knows where we’re going. Ergo, we’re perfectly safe.”

  “We shall do our best to make sure you stay that way.” Clara was Genevieve’s bodyguard, in the front with Marko. The two vehicles behind them held all the other bodyguards and the luggage.

  Mallory understood their caution. The president and vice president didn’t ride together on Air Force One. Even if no bad guys were able to track them and attack, a run-of-the-mill traffic accident could wipe out the House of Villani.

  But Christian had been adamant.

  Yesterday had been a flurry of activity. Once they’d left their cozy make-out spot in the tower on Saturday, he’d started issuing orders. He’d pulled this trip together in a day. A slew of lesser-titled relatives had been called into service to fill all the scheduled engagements. And impossibly fast, they’d been on their way.

  Mallory had tried to back out. It was a family road trip, after all. But the Villanis seemed determined to count her as an official family member. Which was kind and well and good, except…she did not feel like family to the man sitting next to her.

  No, she was starkly aware that they were not blood-related in any way. Which was a relief, because they kept accidentally kissing each other. Having meaningful conversations with each other. In fact, if Mallory had to put a label on it, she’d say she was falling hard and fast for the prince.

  Against all common sense.

  Despite the inarguable ways in which they couldn’t possibly be together, and that he was not only destined, but actively looking, for a royal bride.

  In Christian’s case, marriage was an overture to popping out an heir and a spare. Which, due to her being shot on the steps of his Parliament building, was probably no longer in Mallory’s skill set. She was just waiting for the final post-op appointment to deliver the official verdict the doctors had already unofficially given her.

  She hadn’t told anyone. Not even Kelsey.

  At first, it had been because the doctors couldn’t definitively say one way or the other. Only that conceiving and carrying a child would be unlikely, at best.

  After it sank in, Mallory still didn’t tell anyone. That topic was either a conversation stopper or an open-the-floodgates deal. She was still wrapping her head around it. And waiting for enough months to pass and healing to finish so that they could make the final determination on her odds for fertility.

  But as the months ticked by, the doctors became more positive about the diagnosis—just holding off to officially trample her hopes and dreams of motherhood for good.

  The last thing she needed was other people’s opinions. Or their pity. Or half-assed recommendations for special tree-bark tea that would cure everything.

  Or to be at all thinking about it in the middle of the royal road trip!

  “In America, we play the license plate game to kick off family road trips. What do you do in Moncriano?” Kelsey asked.

  “You know, I haven’t the faintest idea,” Genny responded, with a bit of a laugh.

  “Well, what did you do on your other trips?” Kelsey was nothing if not persistent. Or, more accurately, stubborn. And she’d been thrilled by the idea of this trip and the chance it provided to score some solid family time. She was practically vibrating with excitement, at the same charged-up setting as when she’d done four espresso shots to drive their U-Haul straight through to Manhattan.

  Twisting around in her seat next to King Julian to look back at Kelsey, Genny shook her head and said, “We haven’t taken any.”

  “What? Come on. There are stories upon stories on entertainment news about the glamorous trips of the royals. Jetting off here, yachting there, skiing everywhere.”

  Slowly, the king said, “This is our first family trip in twenty-four years. The last one was when you were kidnapped. For security reasons, we haven’t done it since.”

  Holy crap.

  No wonder all the guards were so antsy.

  And yet Christian’s eyes were as bright and wide as if he’d just won a pot with a straight flush. Because his father was not just in the car with them, but talking. Interacting. Participating.

  Mallory wanted to keep that happy light in his eyes. Christian was so often weighed down by the double load of responsibility he carried, topped off with the worrying uncertainty about his father. So even though she’d spoken perhaps ten words to King Julian since first meeting him back in May—and those had been on the day she was shot—she jumped feet-first into the uncomfortable silence.

  “This is terrific. We get to start fresh. Brand-new traditions. This road trip just went from great to epic.”

  “No pressure or anything,” quipped Genevieve.

  But Christian shot her a warm look of thanks. So warm she could’ve toasted a Pop-Tart on it.

  “I like your spirit, Mallory. We’ve let the past throw its shadow over us for too long,” the king said, giving a squeeze to his daughter’s shoulder.

  Kelsey swiveled around to smile at her, too. “That’s the beauty of having Mallory and me along. We don’t have a past, as far as this family is concerned. Everything is new and shiny. Same with Theo. Why didn’t he come?”

  Genevieve whipped around so fast that her long blond ponytail snapped against the driver’s headrest. “Your grumpy, unromantic brother declared that there was only room for one nauseatingly in-love couple in the car.”

  Unromantic? Christian? The man who’d kissed her under the stars in a garden? That couldn’t be right.

  Could it?

  Elias waved off her comment. “Christian’s not anti-romance. He just doesn’t believe in it for himself. It’s a small but distinct difference.”

  Was that better or worse?

  Had it all been a ploy? The compliments, the emotional burden-sharing? A game to seduce the
newest face at court?

  No. Mallory wasn’t an insecure teen. And she knew how much Christian risked at being caught with her. That was just unsettled nerves tweaking at her brain. Because it was difficult to share a seat with someone you’d been…intimate with while surrounded by his family.

  His family and sort of hers. A, ah, blended family that knew nothing about what they’d done together. Naked and together.

  Yeah, today was only going to get weirder, she could tell.

  “Christian? Is that true?” the king asked sharply. “You don’t expect love to lash you to a lifelong partner?”

  It was a little like being in an old black-and-white movie, listening to King Julian talk. His speech was an odd mixture of formality, normalcy, and what Mallory chalked up to his European-ness.

  “Papa. That’s not the hand I’ve been dealt. You know that.”

  “I loved your mother. I love her to this day. Serena was an exceptional woman. I get a jolt every time I see something of her in one of you.”

  Oh, that was lovely. But when Mallory glanced at Christian, his clenched jaw and stony visage suggested he didn’t appreciate his dad’s trip down memory lane.

  “That’s because you got to choose. Out of some miracle, Mama made it to the short list of appropriate royal brides for you. My current list? Not so much populated with winners. They’ve scraped the top, bottom, and sides of the nobility barrel looking for candidates. There’s no surprise perfect woman that’ll drop in my lap.”

  The king hitched around, putting an arm along the top of the seat. He latched his violet gaze onto the spitting image of him in the back seat. “You get to choose, son. Never forget that. Others may advise, cajole, insist. But it is ultimately only up to you.”

  “And you, Papa. The king must approve, remember?”

  Silence fell again.

  Mallory noted that it hadn’t taken long to clear the city and be rolling through the Austrian countryside. Austria! Even if the highway was all she’d see, it was beautiful. Thick pines sloped sharply upward. Only hints of the white cliff face peeked through. Those impressive mountains rose on each side of the road. Coming from Michigan, Mallory had never seen mountains, aside from the drive through some hills in western New York. Certainly nothing this dramatic and majestic.