by Vivian Wood
“Royal life. It’s dry and boring. Suffocating.”
Tennessee let out a loud guffaw. “Oh you have been gone for awhile. There is nothing boring about Prince Roman. Nothing at all.”
I looked around. “Because of this place? Am I supposed to want to marry him simply because he owns a club? That is supposed to fuel my bohemian soul?”
“Not just this place,” he said. “Though Spiked Roses does add flavor to the man.” He paused and studied my eyes for a few seconds. “You’ll see. You’ve been gone a long time, sugar pop. A lot has happened. That boy you played with as a child is now a man. A man who is in line to be a king. That royal path you think is so boring… it’s not. It truly is not.”
“What do you mean by that?”
He shook his head. “I’m not touching that, sugar pop. I know how to keep my tight little ass nice and safe.”
I chuckled. “What? Since I’ve been gone, Prince Roman became someone to be afraid of? Come on. Safe from what?”
“Not my circus, girl. You ask Prince Charming about his dark shadows. Not my story to tell.”
I rolled my eyes at Tennessee’s dramatics but decided to move on. “So how did you end up here? When I left for Costa Rica, you had found yourself a sugar daddy and were flying around the world.”
“Oh that was a few sugar daddies ago.” He stiffened his spine and lifted his chin. “And I decided it was high time I became some other person’s sugar daddy. It was my turn to earn my own money. And keeping the ladies here in line pays good. Pays better than pretending I found wrinkly balls sexy.”
I laughed as I instantly remembered how much I loved this eccentric, and brutally honest man. There were parts about my past that I definitely missed.
“Have you seen my mother lately?” I asked.
He nodded. “I saw her at a cocktail party about a month ago. She’s the same. The perfect, elegant butterfly who knows how to work a room. That woman is at every classy engagement in town. I wish to be her when I grow up—diamond bracelets and all.”
“Yeah,” I said, looking down at my feet. I wondered if anyone knew that it was Roman fronting her the money to be the socialite she was known as.
A loud crash of glasses shattering behind the bar caught Tennessee’s attention. “Well, duty calls. But, sugar pop, if you even dare start planning that wedding without me, I will never forgive you for it.”
I smiled warmly. “You can do it all. You can even be the bride.”
He leaned in and kissed me on each cheek. “I would make a mighty fine blushing bride if I do say so myself.”
Roman
My dick was hard, and I hadn’t even opened my eyes yet. Last night was only a small sampling of what I knew was to come, and that I would have Cheri like this—naked, begging, desperate for my touch for the rest of our lives. I would make damn sure of it. I knew she didn’t want the royal life married to me out of obligation, and there was a part of me that hated myself for forcing her to be part of a life she couldn’t stand and had escaped from. But I could not lose her again. She was my everything, and after last night, I knew without a doubt we would be together forever.
As I opened my eyes, I could see the sunlight peeking through the drawn curtains announcing it was time to start the day. I already knew Silas had a lot in store for us today to begin this pomp and circumstance.
But first, I needed to have Cheri wrapped around my cock.
Rolling over to sample the sweet taste of her essence again, I was stunned to find her side of the bed empty. Was I really surprised? This was Cheri. She ran. I knew this.
“Fuck!” I said out loud, not that anyone could hear me.
I hopped out of bed and walked over to where I had shed my pants the night before and quickly pulled them over my hips. Operating without coffee, I tried to assess the situation. Where could she have gone? Why would she have left again without saying goodbye? Were the feelings going on between us only one-sided? Could I have been reading her all wrong?
The knock on the door had me releasing the breath I hadn’t realized I had been holding. Maybe Cheri had left to find some coffee for us. Bless the woman.
I walked over to the door and opened to Silas… not Cheri.
“Fuck,” I mumbled as I walked back into the room with Silas close behind.
“I’ve been greeted many ways, sir, but that one is certainly a new one for me.”
I bent down, reached for my shirt, and pulled it over my head. “You weren’t who I was hoping to see on the other side of the door.
Silas glanced over my shoulder at the messy, yet empty bed and raised his eyebrows. “Where is Cheri?”
“Not here.” I sat on the edge of the bed and began putting on my shoes. I needed to get out of the room and try to track her down.
“Sir, we have a very busy schedule today. I have tipped off the paparazzi of where you will be at noon. You are to be sipping cocktails at Café Blue while cuddling and kissing Cheri!” Silas bent down, picked up my jacket off the floor, and attempted to shake out the wrinkles. “Today is when the rumors are to begin. And then there is tonight. They will be expecting you both.”
I looked up at the old advisor and glared. “I know, Silas. Don’t you think I know this?”
I’d fucking come on too strong and scared her away. Fuck.
“Do you not know where she is?” Worry replaced the annoyance on his face.
“I have no idea, but I’m hoping I can visit our old spots we loved to go to when we were young, and she’ll be at one of them.”
“Sir, allow me to call security and—”
“I got this,” I interrupted. “The last thing Cheri needs right now is to be hounded by men in suits. She’s already a flight risk, but do make damn sure she hasn’t booked a flight out of here.” I looked over my shoulder. “Did you follow through with the other plans?”
“Yes, sir. Everything is taken care of.”
“Good.”
I grabbed my wallet and keys and headed toward the door, knowing that the change in plans was damn near causing Silas to stroke out. He hated when things didn’t go as planned. Hell… so did I.
I couldn’t get out of Spiked Roses fast enough. I needed to find Cheri before her mind got the best of her. I knew she was scared. And I knew a big part of that was me. I was playing as if I was the biggest bad boy drinking my bourbon. The poor girl probably thought I was the biggest dick. And I was one. Cheri deserved better than me telling her I didn’t really care about marriage but rather just fucking. Hell, the woman deserved caviar, champagne, a ten-carat diamond ring and none of the alpha bullshit I threw at her.
Why the fuck was it so hard with this woman? I felt off my game around her. I never had this problem with women, but with Cheri, I felt as if I had to be more, someone better.
Despite what I’d told Silas, I did have an idea where she would go. A couple, in fact. But my first spot was going to be the New Orleans Yacht Club. That had been the place of our first kiss, and always a favorite spot of ours. Cheri loved the yachts. She used to say that she pictured herself in one and sailing around the world reading books as the setting sun dipped behind the large expanse of open water. My Cheri had always been a romantic dreamer. Though even in our youth, she’d dreamed of escape, and all the extravagant boats were like an answer to her dreams.
Chapter Six
Cheri
Lake Pontchartrain possessed a level of blue today that I hadn’t remembered seeing as a child. It truly was a magnificent sight. I maybe hadn’t seen every ocean or lake, but the life I had lived growing up had afforded me the luxuries of travel around the world, and New Orleans was one of my most favorite places. Which when thinking back about my upbringing, and the words of Tennessee, I realized I really did live a life many would only dream of. So why did I feel the strong need to escape? Why, the moment I recovered from the most amazing sex of my life, did I instantly plan my getaway? Was it Roman?
No.
It was Prince Roman. I
didn’t want to be with a prince, and I most certainly didn’t want to marry one. I didn’t want to be a fucking princess. I just wanted to sit in some café writing poetry. I wanted no one to know my name, yet still have the money to sip espresso in cafés in Prague and other bohemian destinations.
I snorted as I crossed my arms against my chest. I sounded like an entitled, spoiled brat. I had the opportunities in life that many would love to have. I was lucky… and yet, for some reason I didn’t feel lucky. Why?
With just a quick look around at all the yachts docked at the harbor, I knew it was very likely that I knew many of the owners of these boats. I knew people who made more money while they drank their morning coffee than I ever would winning some poetry prize, and for some reason, I had always felt their wealth was something to despise. Why was having money a bad thing? Why did I put those rich people in a box labeled bad persons? Were these people—though extremely wealthy—any worse than the barista at the coffee shop serving the coffee? Some were awful people. But I knew poor people just as awful. Why did I judge all the people of my past so harshly? There really was no reason.
“I knew you’d be here,” I heard as footsteps approached the pier I was standing on. I didn’t need to turn around to know it was Roman.
“It’s always been one of my favorite places,” I said, staring at the seagulls flocking over the surface of the gentle waves. The fishy aroma of the lake filled my nostrils, the humid air wafted against my face, and I did feel a sense of home.
“Why did you leave?” he asked, always getting straight to the point. He walked up to where I leaned against the railing and did the same.
“I needed to get out of there.”
“Obviously. But why?”
That was a question I couldn’t exactly answer. “I don’t know. I just needed to.”
“You owe me a better explanation than that.”
“Why? Because we fucked last night?” I asked.
“No,” he snapped before he took a deep breath to calm down. “Because this is you and me we are talking about. Last night was fun, and I plan to do that to you over and over again, but there is more than just a night of fucking between us and you know this.”
Not wanting to fight, and knowing Roman was right, I nodded. “Yes, you are owed a better answer. I just wish I knew what it was. I have no idea why I am so resistant to this life.”
“Is it me?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No. Actually, you are the only thing about this entire situation that seems right. But even you aren’t strong enough to make me not want to run. Something inside of me is screaming for me to flee right now.”
Roman didn’t say anything for several minutes. The awkward silence had me racking my brain for something more to say. I didn’t want to hurt him. Far from it. But I feared I had.
“Roman… I’m sorry—”
“Do you remember our first kiss here?” he asked, cutting me off.
“Yes.” It was a moment I would never be able to forget. I don’t think any woman forgets her first kiss, but mine had truly been magical. We’d both been so timid and uncertain, but the minute our lips had connected, I’d known it was right. Everything had been so, so right.
“I knew then I would marry you,” he said. “And not because we had been told that we would wed most of our lives, but because I fell in love with you that day.” He turned his head to look at me, and our eyes locked. “Maybe that is sappy as shit, but it’s the fucking truth, and I’m not ashamed to admit it.”
“I knew too. Because I loved you,” I admitted softly, not sure if he even heard my tiny voice.
“And I understand why you had to leave. I hated it. I hated that you didn’t say goodbye. But I understood it. You needed to find yourself”—he ran his hand through his hair—“hell, I had to find myself too. We were kids, and in no way were we prepared for marriage. But it’s different now. We are adults and—”
“Yes, but have we found ourselves? Really? I don’t think I have. I think I’m more confused and lost than I was the day I left this city,” I confessed.
“Who’s to say we can’t find ourselves together?” he asked, determination in his eyes. “I’m not going to lie and tell you that I haven’t been with a lot of women. I have fucked more than I can count. I’m not ashamed of it one bit either. I needed to so I would be ready for you. I know you are the woman I am to marry just like I knew when we stood on this same dock and had our first kiss so many years ago.”
I didn’t like hearing of him being with other women, and the green-eyed monster threatened to take over, but I had to shove the jealousy away. I wasn’t exactly pure and virginal either.
“This just isn’t me. I’m not cut out for everything you need out of a princess. A wife.” I had to be honest, and these were the fears banging against my skull and ringing in my ears.
“Why? Because assholes want to take pictures of us? Because we have to show up at parties and shake hands with people? Is it all really so bad that you have to walk away from us? Away from what we could have?” He took hold of my hand. “I’m not going to be king. I have older brothers for that. So, the spotlight is not going to be all that bad. And the main attention I currently get is being the bad boy prince. But once we are married, and I settle down, a lot of the paparazzi attention is going to die down. I’m not going to lie to you and tell you that I love it all either. I fucking hate it at times. But rather than focusing on the negative, I choose to concentrate on the positive.”
“And the positive is what?” I asked. “Don’t even say money and notoriety because I hate that shit.”
“The positive is you. I concentrate on you.”
His words were like a punch to the gut. Roman truly did care about me. I could see it in the way he looked into my eyes. And when he took hold of my hand and turned me so that we were both facing each other, I could feel the love between us. It had never left. I could put continents between us, but it had never left.
“But if you don’t want to marry me, and if you want to leave on the next plane”—he took a deep breath—“I won’t stop you. I won’t force you into this.”
“Silas said that you own my mother’s house and that—”
“That was to get you here,” he interrupted. “And though it wasn’t right, it was the only way I could think of. But that wasn’t the reason I bought the house. I felt I owed that to you. I didn’t want to see your mother lose everything. Especially when it was a problem that was so easily solved.”
“So if I said no to all this arranged marriage stuff right now, you wouldn’t make my mother leave her house?”
He shook his head. “She’ll never be asked to move, and the monthly stipend will not go away either. She’s been good to my family, and good to me. She’s owed it. There’s a cost to loyalty. A cost I’m prepared to pay.”
I turned, feeling as if a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders and stared back out to the sea. No matter what I chose, my mother would be fine. My choices would affect me only. “I thank you for that. For taking care of her.”
“But I do hope you won’t leave. I hope you will stay and not run away this time.”
“And marry you?” I asked.
“Yes, and marry me.” Roman tugged on my hand that he was still holding. “Come with me. There is something I want to show you.”
I walked beside him, hand in hand, as he led me down a couple of stairs to a dock that housed a bunch of luxurious yachts.
“Where are we going?”
“To my boat.”
“You finally bought a yacht? Are you going to be part of the races?” I asked, though I knew Roman had always wanted his very own when he grew up. He hated asking his father for permission to use his.
“I did, and maybe with you by my side.”
“What did you name it?” I asked as I scanned the names of the boats we approached, wondering which one was his.
“Popped Cherry,” he said with a devilish smirk. “Since I po
pped your cherry and all.”
I stopped walking and yanked my hand away from his in a huff. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
He began to laugh. The same kind of laugh that started in the depths of his belly and reminded me of our childhood. “I’m kidding! Kidding!” he said with his hands up in surrender. “I thought about it,” he said between his laughter, “but decided on My Cheri instead.”
Right as he answered the question, he turned and pointed to the large white boat bobbing in the harbor behind him. I saw My Cheri written in elegant royal blue script, beckoning me to come see it. “Oh, it’s lovely.” I was drawn to the magnificence of the ship, and started walking toward it, just dying to hop on board. I had always wanted a yacht, and seeing my name on one was… well… the royal treatment.
“Do you like it?”
“Roman, it really is gorgeous,” I said as I still walked toward it, almost in a daze. “May I go on? Will you show it to me?”
“Of course,” he said as he walked up to me and put his arm around my shoulders.
As we boarded the vessel, I could tell that no expense had been spared. It wasn’t garish or over-the-top like some yachts I had been on, but it had excellent craftsmanship. We turned a small corner, and I stopped dead in my tracks. There was a bucket of ice with champagne chilling. Two flutes surrounded by scattered white feathers were next to it. I looked up at Roman to make sure that we hadn’t walked in on someone else’s romantic party.
He smiled and led me to the white leather couch wrapped around the center table near the champagne.
“Why are there feathers?” I asked, not sure why they were cast around. Clearly, Roman was trying to be romantic with the champagne, but the feathers were odd.
“You always said you hated flowers. That they were pretentious. So sprinkling rose petals all around wouldn’t work, and I felt I had to do something so”—he shrugged as he reached for the champagne bottle—“you got feathers. You always take flight like a bird and…”