The Royals Series

by Bay, Louise

  I reached across my desk to wipe the tiny bit of mustard from the corner of his lip with my thumb. He grabbed my hand and took my thumb in his mouth.

  “Like I said, I can’t keep my hands, mouth, dick off you.”

  I tilted my head. “I’m not complaining.” I couldn’t imagine a time when I wouldn’t want him to touch me.

  We stared at each other for a couple of long seconds, smiling.

  “Open it,” he said, releasing my hands and passing me the package he’d brought with him. I took it and turned it in my hands. It was sealed tightly with a hundred miles of tape. I finally pried off the packaging to reveal a blue-velvet jewelry box with worn edges, as if it had been well loved. I glanced at Ryder, who was staring at the box. As I picked it up a small cream envelope fell away from the bottom.

  I pulled out the card.

  Dearest Scarlett,

  I gave this necklace to the woman I’d grown to love on our first anniversary.

  I hope you’ll wear it as a reminder that love can flourish in the most unexpected places.

  Congratulations on your marriage. I wish you many happy years together.

  Yours sincerely,

  The Duke of Fairfax (Your grandfather-in-law)

  “A wedding gift from Grandfather?” Ryder asked as I put the card back in the envelope.

  A gift that came with a huge hint that my marriage might turn into something more than a business arrangement. That it could turn into love.

  Life didn’t work like that, did it? It may have for the duke, but not for me.

  I released my held breath and nodded as I swept my hand over the velvet box. The hinge creaked as I opened it. A delicate, gold chain adorned with large raindrops of amethyst and diamonds sat on a bed of cream satin.

  “It’s beautiful.” I stroked my fingers over one of the tear-shaped stones.

  “It was a favorite of my grandmother’s.”

  I glanced up to find Ryder staring openly at the necklace.

  “I can’t accept this. It’s got such sentimental value to your family, Ryder.” I pushed the velvet box toward him.

  He fiddled with the clasp, then said, “Of course you can accept it. You must. My grandfather likes you a great deal, and he obviously wants you to have it.”

  I couldn’t show him the card. I didn’t want to make things difficult between us or lead him to believe I didn’t understand what we were to each other. We were simply making the best out of a situation that had been forced upon us. The sex was convenient. Ryder was thoughtful and polite—just as any decent guy should be given the circumstances.

  What we weren’t, and never would be, was in love.

  That wasn’t part of our arrangement. And I had to keep telling myself that.

  “Let me put it on you,” Ryder said, reaching for the necklace.

  I pulled my hair to one side as he moved in behind me. “I feel like I shouldn’t. It doesn’t belong to me.” The cool stones hit just below my collarbone.

  “It does belong to you, though. You’re the next Duchess of Fairfax.”

  I giggled. “You can’t say that.

  “Why not? It will be your title.” He pulled out my chair so I faced him. “It suits you, brings out the violet flecks in your eyes.”

  I tried not to grin. “I have violet flecks?” I took the hand he extended and let him pull me into his arms.

  “Only if you look very closely,” he said, pressing his body against mine. “And believe me, I do.”

  I linked my arms around his neck as he stared into my eyes, then collapsed into laughter.

  “You can’t laugh. I’m being romantic,” he said.

  “Aww, I’m sorry. It’s just you’re very sweet. No one you do business with would ever guess. But I’ll make it up to you tonight. I’ll cook.” It would be fun to poke about in his kitchen.

  He winced. “I have a dinner.”

  It shouldn’t have bothered me, but for some reason it did. He hadn’t mentioned a dinner. I let go of his neck.

  “Sorry, it’s a meeting with a company John forgot to tell me about.”

  Relief fluttered in my stomach and I smiled. “No problem. Cecily has asked me to go around to her and her husband’s place for dinner on Saturday. Want to come?”

  Ryder pushed his hands through his hair as he leaned on the table. “Sorry, I can’t. I have an awards thing. It’s been in the diary for months.”

  A public business event I wasn’t invited to? I began to gather up our lunch cartons. A last-minute thing that John had forgotten to tell him about was one thing, but a big business event that had been arranged for months? Why hadn’t he mentioned it?

  “Oh. Okay. I just thought I’d ask,” I said, sealing the salad container and putting it into the paper bag it came in.

  “It’s at their house?” he asked. “The dinner with Cecily?”

  “Yes. We just made our numbers this last month so we’re celebrating.”

  He nodded. “Oh, that’s good.”

  “Yes, it’s not a formal thing.” I wanted him to say he wanted to make it or ask me to rearrange it to a time when he could celebrate with us but he didn’t. He didn’t say anything at all. I dumped the remains of our lunch in the trash. “I better go. I have a meeting.” I started to walk toward the door of the boardroom.

  “Don’t forget this,” he said.

  I turned and he handed me the blue velvet jewelry box. “Thanks.”

  “Hey,” he said, backing me against the door, his hands braced on either side of my head. “I’m sorry about dinner, but I won’t be late. Wait up for me?”

  He had no need to be sorry. It was nice of him to apologize. He didn’t owe me anything. But did I want to wait up for him? The sex was amazing, but it was pulling me deeper. I wanted to be with him tonight, and every night. The realization hit me like a punch in the face. What was I playing at?

  I smiled and nodded, knowing that I would be tucked up in bed, trying my best to sleep when he returned. I needed to create some distance between us.

  Because more than that? I wanted him to change the rules.

  I wanted more.

  * * *

  “Good morning,” I said as I walked into the kitchen to find Ryder sitting on one of the white stools at the breakfast bar. The Wall Street Journal was folded on the counter next to him and a bowl of what looked like fruit and yogurt sat half eaten.

  “Good morning. Sleep well?” he asked, his tone neutral and not as if we’d not seen each other for the longest time since we left for England.

  I’d heard Ryder call my name through my closed bedroom door when he’d returned the night before, but I hadn’t responded.

  “Sure,” I replied, which was a total lie. I hadn’t slept at all. I’d lain awake all night, wondering if I’d made a huge mistake. Not in marrying Ryder and saving Cecily Fragrance from financial ruin, but by not being more cautious in keeping things . . . separate between Ryder and me. Sleeping with him over and over had confused things. Liking it was worse. Wanting anything from him—like for him to want to celebrate my successes with me—was as far as my feelings for Ryder were going to go. The creeping affection I felt for him, the way I wanted to tell him every little thing that happened to me while we were apart, it had to stop. It all had to stop.

  At least the night of no sleep and the constant churning of my thoughts had given me a plan.

  “You got a busy day?” he asked.

  I glanced up as I poured my coffee to find him staring at me through narrowed eyes. Had he always been so devastatingly handsome?

  That would be a yes.

  I nodded. “I really do.”

  “Okay,” he said, drawing out the vowels. “You want to eat out tonight? There’s a great Mexican place on the corner that’s really—”

  “Actually, I’m going to head back to my place. I need to pick up a few things.” I needed some space. To regroup. Draw a line in the sand.

  “You want me to come? I can help,” he said. />
  I eyed him over my coffee cup. “That’s okay. I can manage. And if it gets too late, I might stay over there anyway.” I turned and poured the remains of my drink down the sink and put my mug in the dishwasher.

  “Scarlett,” Ryder said. It wasn’t a question, and I didn’t know him well enough to know whether it was going to turn into one.

  “I have to run. Like I said, busy day.” I closed the dishwasher with a click and headed back to my bedroom. I shouldn’t have bothered with coffee.

  He grabbed my wrist as I walked by, forcing me to halt and turn to him. “Did I do something?” he asked.

  I was being a bitch. He hadn’t done anything apart from be gorgeous and generous and kind and funny. But it was just too much. “Of course not.” I forced my lips into a smile. “I’m just tired. I’ll let you know if I decide to stay at my place.”

  Slowly, he released my arm. Part of me wished he hadn’t. If he’d tried to kiss me, I would have fallen into the pull between us and any hope of keeping my feelings shored up would be gone.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Ryder

  “Can you hold my calls and make sure I’m not disturbed for thirty minutes?” I called to my assistant. I probably should have walked the four paces it would have taken to get to her desk on the other side of my office door, but no doubt after five years working for me, she was used to my impatience. She just got up and closed my door, which was exactly what I’d hoped she’d do.

  I exhaled and leaned back in my chair. I needed a break from my day. I’d had meetings one after another. I should be staying later in the office. But I’d been wanting to get my fill of Scarlett. I’d had little chance to think about my wife’s mood this morning, but every time someone had left my office or there was a pause in the conversation, that was where my mind wandered. I smiled as her beautiful face drifted into my thoughts, but my good mood didn’t last long as I remembered our interaction this morning—it had been short and cold. I’d been disappointed not to have found her in my bed last night when I’d returned from dinner.

  Worse, the client I’d taken out had been a waste of time. There to stroke his ego more than to entertain my offer. So all in all, the evening had been dull, but then most things were when compared with a night in bed with my Scarlett. I’d been looking forward to seeing her when I got home. We hadn’t spent much time apart other than during working hours, and I felt her absence more than I’d expected to. I wanted to know how her day had been, and I wanted to see what she looked like wearing that purple and gold necklace and nothing else. Except maybe heels. I’d planned to have her pose for me, to snap a picture of the vision she’d make. In the snatches of time I’d had during the course of the day, I’d set up the shots in my imagination. One of her facing away from me, coyly looking over her shoulder. One sitting on the chair in my bedroom, one leg draped over the arm, revealing her mesmerizing pussy.

  But I’d raced back from midtown to find the apartment quiet and Scarlett’s bedroom door closed. I figured she’d taken the chance to catch up on her sleep; I just didn’t get why she’d used the guest room.

  It didn’t make sense. We’d slept in the same bed for weeks. Why would anything change now? I picked up my cell and dialed her number, smiling as I realized she was at the top of my recently called list.

  No answer.

  She’d been cold at breakfast. It had been the first time since she and I had flown to England that we hadn’t fucked in the morning. I’d half expected to take her on the kitchen counter, but had to settle for jacking off in the shower.

  Had she received some bad news I didn’t know about?

  I tried her number again. Voicemail. I stared at the phone, trying to figure out what to do. If she was really planning on staying over in her apartment, that would be another night I wouldn’t see her. Perhaps I should surprise her and turn up with takeout. But when I’d offered to help her with her things, she’d seemed pretty adamant she didn’t want me there.

  My mobile began to vibrate in my hand and my stomach dropped with relief, but as I looked at the screen, it was the very last person I wanted to hear from.

  Frederick.

  “Hi, Fred. How are you?” I sounded bored even to myself. Why was he calling me? I’d only seen him a couple of days ago.

  “Ryder. I tried your office line but they told me you were in a meeting.”

  It was as if he were constantly trying to catch me out in a lie. “Just finished. What can I help you with?” For a split second I thought he might be going to tell me he was going to challenge my marriage, but he’d never do that over the phone. He’d dispatch his lawyer for that sort of thing.

  “You can buy your cousin a drink. I’m in town and thought we could catch up for dinner.”

  In town? He hadn’t mentioned being in New York when I’d seen him in England. And as far as I knew, he’d only ever come to the US once, back when he was at university.

  “You’re in Manhattan?” I asked. He was also arrogant enough to assume I’d just drop whatever plans I had for the evening.

  “That’s right,” he replied, as if it wasn’t odd at all. “Just in a cab from JFK. Staying at the Mandarin Oriental, but I’m not in the mood for anything too much. I thought maybe Scarlett could whip us up a stew or something.”

  I laughed out loud. His assumption that Scarlett would cook spoke volumes about what he thought of women. “I’m not sure Scarlett is a stew kind of woman, but I can make a mean grilled cheese sandwich.”

  His response wasn’t immediate. “Well, whatever you were planning to have for dinner, will it stretch to three?”

  “Scarlett and I haven’t made any plans.”

  “No plans for dinner?” he asked. He seemed surprised. Like it was a big deal. Maybe he was here just to see if things between Scarlett and me on home territory seemed suspicious.

  “I told her to have a big lunch so we didn’t have to waste time eating when we could be in bed.” That would shut the little prick up.

  “I’ll be at yours at eight. Grilled cheese, whatever that is, is fine,” he replied and hung up the phone.

  Shit. This was the last thing I needed. Uncomfortable, I stood and began to pace as I dialed Scarlett.

  Still voicemail. After the beep, I left a message, telling her that Frederick had arrived unexpectedly and asking if she could go to her apartment another night. I had no idea whether she’d call me back, check her messages, or change her plans. I needed a backup plan—a story to tell Frederick in case she just didn’t show.

  * * *

  I glanced at my watch. It was five minutes to eight and I’d still not heard a word from Scarlett. Perhaps she’d just been stuck in meetings all day. I tried to remember if she’d said anything about a big project at work that would mean she was out of contact, but she hadn’t said anything at lunch yesterday and I’d barely seen her since.

  I dialled her phone one last time. Voicemail. Shit. I would just have to tell Frederick she’d been caught up at work and hope he’d buy it.

  I glanced around the apartment, trying to see it through my cousin’s eyes. Would he see anything out of the ordinary? Could anyone tell that we weren’t a real couple from just being in this place?

  Right on time, the buzzer went. If I found Scarlett on the other side of that door, I’d happily give up my day job and go volunteer at a homeless shelter. I glanced up at the ceiling in a final plea to whoever was up there as I pressed the intercom.

  “Mr. Westbury, your guest Mr. Westbury has arrived.”

  Looked like I was keeping that day job.

  “Send him up,” I replied.

  I headed to the door, ready to show him in. Fuck. Scarlett’s room. What if he went in there and realized she’d slept in there last night? I turned right down the hallway and opened the door to Scarlett’s room. The bed was made and there were toiletries on the dressing table. Quickly, I scooped up the jars and bottles and put them into a suitcase that was lying next to the bed. I didn’t have
time to ask myself what it was doing there. As I zipped it shut, there was a knock at the door. I swung open a closet, slid the case inside and slammed the door shut.

  I quickly scanned the room. It was almost as if Scarlett had disappeared. There was nothing of her left in this room. I felt a pinch in my gut. Where is she?

  As Frederick knocked a third time, I opened the door. “Hey,” I said, smiling as if I were pleased to see him.

  “I finally made it to the Big Apple. Cabbie was bloody rude, I have to say.”

  I swept my arm toward the living space. “That’s New York for you. You get used to it. Can I get you a drink?”

  He took in the apartment as if he were shopping for real estate, scanning every wall and ceiling. “I’ll have a gin and tonic. Nice place, Ryder. Where’s the lovely Scarlett?”

  I headed over to the kitchen and pulled out two tumblers. “She has a big thing on at work. Sorry, if we’d known you were coming we could have rearranged things.”

  “Oh,” he said. “She won’t be back at all?”

  “Well, I hope at some point.” I chuckled. He wasn’t about to be recruited by the CIA for his sleuthing skills. “She does live here, after all.” I lifted up my cell. “She’s going to keep me posted. I know she’d want to see you while you’re here. Did you bring Victoria?”

  “No, I’m here on business.”

  Business? Frederick took an income from the estate and lived off Victoria’s trust fund. Unless his business was to discredit my marriage, I couldn’t imagine what he’d be doing here. I glanced at my phone again. Why wouldn’t she just call?

  After I poured our drinks I stalked over to the couches where Frederick was making himself at home. “How’s the hotel?” I asked.

  “Fine. Nice views. So, what’s for dinner?” he asked.

  “I thought we’d go out. No one cooks in New York City.”