Would Be King

by Kim Karr

  “How did you know?”

  She points to Carly. “I overheard her talking to you. And I’m glad you found something to wear. I really am so sorry about earlier.”

  Blinking, it slowly dawns on me that this woman must be the one I’m supposed to be meeting with this morning. “Monica James?” I ask, still trying to process everything.

  “Yes, that’s me.”

  I shake her hand. “Nice to meet you, and don’t worry about the blouse. I got it on clearance last summer.”

  Her laugh is infectious and the gorgeous jewelry she’s wearing jingles as her body vibrates with the sound of it. “Isn’t that always the best way to shop? Of course, don’t tell anyone else around here that.”

  Feeling like I met a kindred spirit, I lean in and whisper. “No, I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  After we have another laugh, she tells me to follow her. And I do. In her office, she tells me to sit. And I do. She tells me to hold on. And I do. She can’t seem to find the papers. Everything feels so mechanical-like as the pictures of Max with all those woman come to mind.

  Prince Maximus, I correct myself.

  Prince.

  Maximus.

  My nerves are gnawed to the tips as I wait patiently. However, when I hear his voice in the hall. That strong, masculine voice, my cool vanishes and I start to hyperventilate. “I’m sorry,” I tell Monica, and jump to my feet, “but I have to leave. I’m not feeling well.”

  “Oh, no,” she says. “There’s definitely something going—”

  Her words fade as the room spins. I try to catch my breath but can’t seem to find it. Moving as best I can, I make it as far as the door when I collide into a hard chest.

  His hard chest.

  Looking up at his chiseled features and icy blue eyes, my heart beats so hard it hurts. When he gives me his world-stopping grin, something happens. A trigger of sorts and fury replaces the blood flowing in my veins.

  I stare a bit. Narrow my gaze. Then all-out glare at the face of Prince Maximus, the bad boy womanizer with a notorious reputation who, right now, I hate.

  He gazes down at me with a confused expression. Unexpectedly letting out a growl deep in my throat, I manage a, “Excuse me,” and sidestep him.

  It’s either that or claw his eyes out.

  Fleeing through the stark white reception area with dabs of hot pink and its chic furniture with clean, simple lines, I have to hold in my screams for fear they will paint the place red.

  Reaching the elevator without falling into the seams of the marble floor is a miracle. I’m frantically pressing the L button when a big hand stops the doors from closing.

  Like God making his entrance, the Prince himself steps into the car. “Where are you going?”

  My blood turns hot, agitation making my toes curl in my Jimmy Choos. I glare at him and say nothing as the irritation I’m feeling begins to mount.

  “We need to talk, Gigi,” he tells me, hitting the G button.

  A ball of tangled lightning is in my stomach as the elevator doors start to close. “I don’t think we do,” I tell him and then take a step to waltz right out.

  Gripping me by the elbow, he keeps me inside. “Gigi, there’s something you need to know about me.”

  The doors close and it’s just him and me, alone. “Don’t bother, I already know.”

  His own irritation comes out in a huff. “I’m not referring to this game you’re playing.”

  “Game?” I hiss.

  “Yeah. The one where we’re in an alternate universe and don’t know each other.”

  Struck with a boldness to let him know I’ve discovered his coverup, I take a step forward. “I’m playing a game? I don’t think so. Let me ask you something, Max. Did you just forget you have a title before your name? Or wait? Are you playing some kind of sick game of enny-meany-miney-moe and I’m it?”

  He steps closer and takes my chin in his hand. “Listen to me, will you? I’m trying to explain.”

  Jerking back, I’m shaking my head and even consider covering my ears, but that would be way too juvenile.

  His feet move closer and my nerves are lighting up like a Christmas tree. “I wanted to tell you who I was, but you don’t understand. People act differently when they know who I am.”

  I press my lips together. “You mean women act differently.”

  “Yes, women. But with you, it isn’t like that. It’s only about us, and I—”

  As the elevator descends, I throw my hands in the air. “Let me guess—you liked the game.”

  He inhales sharply. “No, I liked the feeling of being with you.”

  Closing my eyes, I let out a sigh. “Yes, well, I guess I was easy. But that’s over now. And I’m not sure I can work for you anymore, Prince Maximus.”

  “See, there it is. And just what I wanted to avoid.”

  Opening my eyes, I find my fury coming back with a vengeance. I grab him by the tie and pull him closer. “There’s what?”

  “That wall. The one that people feel separates me from them when it absolutely does not.”

  “You mean the class system, and it absolutely does. You’re delusional if you think it doesn’t.”

  “So before you knew I was a Prince, working for me wasn’t an issue. Now that you know I hold an aristocratic position, though, it’s intimidating, and you’re unnerved by that, so you’re going to run out on your job.”

  My knuckles are turning white from how hard I’m gripping his tie. “You think I don’t want to work for you because you’re royalty?”

  The muscle in his jaw twitches and his eyes flash. “Yes, I do.”

  The elevator stops moving, and I drop my hold on his crisp blue tie. “I don’t care who you are! I don’t want to work for you because you lied to me.”

  He steps away from me, then comes up close, extremely close. “I didn’t lie. I just didn’t tell you. It’s not the same thing.”

  I laugh in his face, my knees feeling weaker and weaker. “Are you sure about that?”

  He’s frowning and yet his pull is stronger than ever and his stare bluer than I’ve ever seen. “Yes, I am.”

  My breathing feels short and fast. I try to find some air. “Well, I think you’re kidding yourself if you really believe that. To you I’m just another in a long line. I saw the pictures of you with all those women.”

  The doors open. “And?”

  People rush by me as they board, and as I step out, I whisper to him over my shoulder, “I’m not like them.”

  “I know that,” he tells me and then gets lost in the crowd.

  Walking fast, I whirl through the turnstile and out into the sunshine where I feel like I can finally breathe.

  My heart still racing, I can’t decide if I should give everything up and walk away or storm back upstairs and start working.

  What a mass of confusion I am.

  Quite abruptly, I’m being backed into the building, the heels of my boots tripping me. I stumble against the brick, and Max is on me, pinning me here.

  Now, I can’t breathe.

  I really can’t.

  His eyes are intense, and I can only stare up at him, panting, expecting, wanting what I know I can’t have.

  Our gazes lock, our hot breaths the only sound between us. My breasts heave against his chest as he presses into me. His hands smoothing lightly down my sides and goose bumps erupting along the slight curves of my chest as I melt into him. And then his hands stop at my hips, his fingers curling into the fabric of my shorts. “Did you hear me?”

  My heart is doing cartwheels where his body is touching mine, and I want to tell him all is forgiven, but he’s a royal and I’m an ordinary girl and I already know what that means—it means my heart won’t be doing cartwheels when he’s done with me, more likely it will be close to flatlining. “Listen, Max, Prince Maximus, whatever I’m supposed to call you.”

  “Max will do.”

  I try to press into the wall to give myself space, but it is hopeless.
“Well, Max, I might have confused you when I jumped into bed so quickly with you, but I’m not the kind of girl you love and leave. I’m the kind of girl you hold close and keep forever.”

  His voice is gruff, deeper than usual, and the sudden smile on his lips confuses me even more. “I know the kind of girl you are, sunshine. Remember, that’s why I hired you.”

  I bite my lower lip, uncertain of what to say. “I’m not a toy for you to play with and discard when you’re done.”

  He looks at me with regret in his eyes. “I would never do that to you.”

  “I just want to make that clear.”

  When he starts to speak, my eyes drift to his luscious mouth. “And you have. Now, go back upstairs and sign your employment paperwork, so you can start working at your dream job.”

  Dream job.

  Is it?

  Or is it just a job in a city I don’t care for, where this man happens to be? There goes that hopeless romantic in me wanting me to take risks I shouldn’t.

  Feeling off balance, uncertain, a bit lost, I shrug, contemplating what I should do. That earnest stare of his is too keen and knowing to hold for long. Tearing my attention free of it, I look down to the ground and think long and hard.

  Stay, and work side by side with him.

  Or go. Walk away from him and Bombshell right this minute and never look back. The thought spears my chest like an arrow piercing the center of my heart.

  “I’m not worth giving up what you worked so hard for, Gigi.”

  His words strike a chord in me. “You’re right,” I offer. “You’re not. I think I will take the job, after all.”

  He leans back, his eyes wary as they tangle with mine. I can see the torment in them, and my entire body tenses. “That’s the right choice,” he tells me, and then pivots around and I feel a loss I know I shouldn’t. He’s walking away, leaving me here, and I can’t feel the ground beneath my feet. “And Gigi,” he says over his shoulder.

  I find his stare and feel crushed beneath it. “Yes.”

  His fine textured voice runs like a feather up my spine. “Six weeks. Six weeks until you’re mine again,” he tells me, almost as if warning me, and then he’s gone.

  But that’s a lie, too.

  And we both know it.

  It’s okay though because it bides me some time. I have six weeks to build an armor of steel and learn to repel his dashing charm.

  Ours isn’t a fairytale. We can’t have a happily ever after. Vespa Isles Royals have rules about who they marry, and not being allowed to marry an ordinary girl is one of them.

  See the problem?

  Even if I can get over the fact that he didn’t tell me about his status because he liked the idea of me not knowing, there’s absolutely no way this prince can ever truly be mine even if things did work out between us.

  Not in the real world, anyway.

  HOMECOMING

  The minute her cab pulls up to the curb, I rush to the door.

  All week I’ve been dying for Ava to get back. Since I signed the NDA, I can’t talk to anyone else about my situation except her. Technically, not even her, but she’s already in the know, so I feel it’s safe.

  She also understands my predicament and sympathizes with me, which I find a huge comfort.

  As soon as I see her turn the corner, I screech. “Oh, my God, Ava, you chopped your hair.”

  She swings her dark shoulder-length bob from side-to-side. Ava has always been gorgeous but now she’s chic. A little taller than me and willow-like, she attracts men like a magnet.

  Her beautiful dark hair with varying shades of brown and her emerald-green eyes that twinkle with adventure are always the first thing men see. Add to that a personality everyone falls for as soon as she says hello, and you have a bombshell. Pun intended.

  “I needed a change,” she explains as she stomps up the steps toward where I’m holding our apartment door open.

  “Well, I love it. And I’m so glad you’re home. I’ve missed you,” I tell her, throwing my arms around her as soon as she reaches me.

  “I’ve missed you, too.” She hugs me back tightly. “You’re never going to believe this?”

  “What?”

  “My sister Rachel and Adrien’s cousin, Truman are exclusive.”

  “The Prince, Truman?”

  Letting go of her hold, she stands back, her hand going to push my hair behind my ear “The very one. I think they’re going to get married.”

  “Really, I thought royals couldn’t marry commoners. Not that I’m not one,” I tell her with a slight laugh.

  “That rule only applies if you are to rule. Truman will never rule now that King Rutherford has a child on the way.

  “Well then, that’s terrific.”

  “Hey, are you okay? You look like you haven’t been sleeping well.”

  “I’m fine. Or I will be now that you’re back. Tell me about your trip. How is your sister? And the Queen?”

  “Fine. Everyone is fine. It’s you I’m worried about.”

  “No need to be. Things are the way they should be,” I tell her, taking her bag and wheeling it inside with a burst of laughter. Pieces of clothing are sticking out through the seams of the luggage as if they just can’t wait to escape. So, Ava.

  Her look tells me she doesn’t believe me, and I have to turn away because she’s way too good at reading me. Truth is I haven’t seen Max, in or out of work, since Monday. His office is down the opposite end of the corridor than mine, and we haven’t so much as crossed paths at the water cooler.

  By the time Ava and I drag the rest of her suitcases from the lobby into the living room, the decadent aroma of beef stroganoff fills the air. “Oh my God, Gigi, that smells delicious. Is it your mother’s recipe?” Ava asks me.

  An old Russian concoction left behind in my father’s recipe box that I want to believe was my mother’s, but it could have just as easily been Martha Stewart’s for all I know. “Yes, it is,” I tell her because I want to believe it is. “I know it’s your favorite. Now, go get settled and I’ll finish getting dinner ready.”

  She pulls a black garment bag from under her arm. “I’ll just take a quick shower and be out in a jiffy.”

  “That works,” I tell her as I watch her carefully fold the plastic over the sofa cushion. Curious, I ask, “What’s that?”

  “Oh. Let me show you.” She unzips the case and pulls out the most beautiful emerald-green satin dress I’ve ever seen. It has a sleek silhouette with delicate gold beading in a belt-like design around the waist and along the bottom line.

  “Oh, my God, that’s fabulous. Who designed it?”

  Ava is grinning. “This young unknown designer I stumbled upon in Alexandria. Her name is Kate Snow and I am in love with all of her designs. I bought this because I just could not. I mean look at it. It’s stunning. Right?”

  “It so is.”

  “I want to help her get her designs in front of buyers for Bloomingdales.”

  “Do you know them?”

  “No, but I was thinking with your new position, you might be able to give them a jingle.”

  My smirk is hard to hide. “Sure, of course I will,” I tell her and head toward the kitchen.

  Zipping it away, she lays the dress back down. “Excellent. I’ll be back.”

  Passing the overloaded suitcases that probably all want to cry mutiny, I shake my head. Ava is too much. I have to bite back my laughter as I watch her hoist a black garbage bag full of clothes over her shoulder, like Santa Claus carrying his sack and disappear through the bedroom door.

  Twenty minutes later, I look up from the stove and grin. “Perfect timing. I just strained the noodles.”

  “You are too good to me.” Ava perches herself on the bar stool across the island from where I’m cooking and rests her arms on the countertop. “So, how did work go yesterday?”

  I stop mixing the sauce into the noodles and turn the temperature off before laying the spoon to the side. “Same as the
previous four days.”

  She wrinkles her nose and makes a face. “Still no sign of him?”

  Taking a deep breath, I open the cupboard and take out two bowls. “Not so much as a single stolen glance, and it’s killing me.”

  Ava leans forward. “The good news is the tabloids haven’t been reporting on him either, so he must be laying low. Probably just working. You know.”

  Dishing up a plate, I place it on the counter in front of her. “Yeah, maybe. I suppose that’s it. Enough about me, what about you?” What’s going on with that guy you met last week?”

  Her lips turn downward. “Nothing. He’s the council to the King and Queen and therefore really busy. We’ve been texting, but not much more. He lives in Alexandria, and I live here, so I doubt our conversations will amount to anything.”

  I sigh. I really wanted things to work out for her. Her last relationship was a complete disaster. The guy she fell in lust with spent most of his time gaming. What she didn’t know was that he was screwing his female roommate.

  A cheater just like Troy.

  Pushing my dish beside her, I wipe my hands and grab the bottle of white wine I opened while cooking. “Well, you’ll meet someone.”

  She shrugs and holds out the glass I set at her place. “I need to find a job before I worry about my love life.”

  Pouring the liquid into her glass, I pour mine full to the brim and then circle the island to take a seat beside her. “I might be able to help you with that.”

  With a forkful of food halfway to her mouth, she sets the utensil back down. “I’m not joining Tinder, so don’t even offer to set up my profile again.”

  Acting all casual, I fan out my napkin and set in on my lap. “I wasn’t referring to your love life. I mean the job part.”

  Her eyes go wide.

  Taking a sip of wine, I smile at her. “I’m sure it’s not exactly what you’re looking for, but I need an assistant at Bombshell and since the company is new, I’m sure it will grow. More positions will be added in no time. If you get your foot in the door now—”

  She cuts me off. “Are you kidding me? You don’t have to sell me on Bombshell. I’d take the coffee girl job if it was offered to me, but do you think Max will find it awkward since I worked with his ex?”