Tangled Games (Dating Games)

by T. K. Leigh

  “I should probably tell you,” I begin once I have a plate of my own, “I’m kind of a big deal around here.”

  “Is that so?” She places the cloth napkin over her lap.

  “I can see why you wouldn’t know, considering you’re not from here.”

  “And why are you a big deal?”

  “Truthfully, it’s rare that I lead with this information. Not because I’m trying to hide who I am,” I add quickly. “I simply don’t want it to cloud someone’s opinion of me. Most of my relationships have been…superficial. People only tend to spend time with me because of who I am. To this day, I can count on one hand the number of authentic people in my life.” I narrow my gaze on her. “The number of people who know the real me.”

  She averts her eyes, a hint of remorse tugging on her expression.

  “But something tells me you don’t have a superficial bone in your body,” I continue, pulling her attention back to me. “That despite who I am, you’ll decide whether I’m worth your time based on my merits. Nothing else.”

  “I’d like to think I’m not one-dimensional enough to only want to be with someone because of any alleged clout they may have. Trust me. I was raised by one of the most superficial women out there. The last thing I want is to turn into my mother.”

  “Fair enough.” I straighten, inhaling a deep breath. My stomach flutters, hands growing clammy.

  Why am I nervous? She already knows the truth. But I’m desperate for this to go right. Desperate for today to be the first page in this new chapter. Not the end of a story cut too short.

  “Here goes nothing.” I take a deep breath and lift my eyes to meet Nora’s. “I’m a prince.”

  Silence fills the air between us. I barely even register the background noises of the city around us, my confession lingering. Much like it did when I told her the first time.

  And just like that first time all those months ago, she makes light of my admission.

  “Is that just some cheesy pickup line? If so, you’ve got your work cut out for you, buddy, because I’ve heard better.”

  I throw my head back and laugh. “Trust me, gorgeous. I wish it were just some cheesy pickup line. But it’s true. My name is Gabriel Anderson Joseph Xavier Wellingston, and I’m next in line to the throne here in the beautiful country of Belmont.”

  “Is that right?”

  “‘Fraid so.”

  “Then tell me, Prince Gabriel….” She edges closer, the gentle breeze wafting her perfume toward me.

  It reminds me of the miles we drove together in a Jeep Wrangler with the top down. For weeks after our adventure ended in heartache, I smelled her everywhere. I thought it was the penance I was forced to pay for my sins. That I’d forever be tormented by my brief slice of heaven while I roamed the depths of hell.

  “Why is a prince talking to a girl in a sidewalk café? I imagine you must have no shortage of women vying for your attention.”

  “That’s certainly true. And I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention that quite a few people in my inner circle already have a strong opinion on who I should…associate with.”

  “Associate with?”

  “Date. And eventually marry.”

  “You make it sound like a professional connection. Not a romantic one.”

  “In my world, that’s all a marriage is. A strategic decision.”

  “But that’s not what you want.” It’s more a statement than a question.

  “No.”

  “Then what do you want?”

  “Love,” I answer without a moment’s hesitation. “And not some promise or assurance that I may eventually learn to love someone. I want the real thing. That butterfly-inducing, heart-racing, soul-fulfilling love most people think only exists in fairy tales. Which is why I had to come over here and talk to you. Because the second I looked up and saw you, I…” I trail off, words feeling grossly inadequate to relay how I felt the first time I noticed her.

  And how I felt when I saw her walk into this café with Esme moments ago. We may not be the strangers we once were, but my feelings are the same. The way my heart aches for her is the same.

  “Yes?” She leans closer, desperate for my next words.

  “I couldn’t shake the feeling that you were put in my life for a reason. And despite what happens, I knew I’d always regret it if I didn’t…”

  “Didn’t what?” Her breath dances on my lips, taunting and teasing, making my mouth salivate with an unquenched thirst.

  As much as I want to kiss her, I can’t rush this. I need to sweep her off her feet. Need to give her the fairy tale she deserves.

  But as Prince Gabriel this time.

  “Ask you out.” I abruptly pull back.

  She blinks repeatedly, mouth slightly agape. Then she smooths a hand down her shirt, adjusting her composure. “Ask me…out?”

  “People do go on dates where you’re from, correct?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Then, Nora from America, would you do me the honor of accompanying me to dinner tomorrow night?”

  “Dinner?”

  “Yes. Dinner.”

  “How will that work?”

  “I’ll pick you up and—”

  “I get that.” Her voice drops to barely a whisper. “But what about any prior engagements? Mine and yours.”

  “Consider them canceled.”

  “Canceled?”

  I smirk. “I managed to get your afternoon meeting canceled, did I not? As well as mine. I’ll simply do the same tomorrow.”

  “You planned this?” Her tone isn’t accusatory. More appreciative with a touch of awe.

  “I did.” I clutch her hand, running my thumb over her diamond ring. “We may not be able to be as spontaneous as we were in New York, considering every move we make here has to be properly planned. But I wanted to make this seem as…authentic as possible.”

  Her smile slowly builds, lighting up her entire expression. A glow I haven’t seen in too long washes over her. “Thank you,” she squeaks out. “That means a lot.”

  “It’s the least I could do.”

  I hold her gaze for a moment, then clear my throat, falling back into my Prince Gabriel persona. “So what do you say? Can I take you on a date? Get to know you better? Allow you to get to know Prince Gabriel?”

  “I’d really like that.” A weight seems to lift off her, allowing me a glimpse of the carefree girl I once made scale a fence so we could check out an abandoned drive-in along Route 66, despite the ‘No Trespassing’ signs.

  “I’d really like that, too. I promise to do everything to make it a first date you’ll never forget.” I slide my chair back and stand, buttoning my jacket. “I’ll pick you up at seven.” Grabbing her hand, I bring it up to my lips, savoring the feeling of her smooth skin. “Until then, gorgeous, I’ll be counting down the minutes.” I reluctantly release my hold on her and turn, one of the protection officers jumping up from a nearby table and following.

  As I approach the sidewalk, a dark SUV pulls up, the officer opening my door for me. I’m about to get in, but hesitate, meeting Creed’s gaze behind the wheel.

  “Give me one minute.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  A man on a mission, I stride back toward Nora’s table, ignoring my sister as she sits beside her.

  Nora shoots her wide eyes toward mine. “Did you forget something?”

  “Yes.”

  She glances around the table. “What? I don’t—”

  “This.”

  In one swift move, I pull her up from her chair and yank her body against mine. Not giving her a moment to protest, I dig my free hand into her hair and lower my mouth toward hers.

  “Anderson,” she says quickly, placing her hand on my chest, stopping me.

  I search her face, petrified I’ll see the same woman who left me alone in the garden last night. Instead, a sly smile greets me.

  “What about the rules forbidding public displays of affection?” she teases. “From wh
ere I’m standing, we are most certainly in public right now.” She gestures subtly with her head.

  I look where she indicates and see an interested group of onlookers. It’s not a huge mob, but people are taking pictures. I have no doubt our location has already been leaked on social media.

  All sense of reason tells me to retreat, to remember the rules and my place. But why should I have to hide my love for this woman? Because some prude centuries ago thought it improper to show the world what love looks like? I’m done with that.

  Eyes narrowing, I tighten my grip. “Fuck the rules,” I growl, my lips covering hers.

  She’s uncertain at first, seemingly at war with how to respond, what kind of backlash she’ll face. I respond by holding her tighter. My tongue swipes against her mouth, begging her to kiss me back.

  That’s all it takes for her to relax, parting her lips for me. At that first taste, she moans, running her fingers through my hair and tugging at it.

  Cheers and whistles echo around us, but neither one of us seems to care. All we do care about is this moment. Of not permitting anyone else to dictate how we should love each other. Of no longer hiding our love from the public.

  I pull away and stare at her in awe, my skin tingling. This time, it’s not from the MS but from the effect this woman has on me. I want to drag her home and lose myself in her for the rest of the night. But as much as I want her right now, especially after the dry spell of the past several weeks, her needs are my priority. Before I can make love to her as Anderson again, I need her to figure out where Prince Gabriel fits into her life. It’s the only way this will work.

  I rest my forehead on hers, our heavy breaths echoing around us. I lick my lips, the taste of Nora still on them.

  “Seven o’clock tomorrow,” I tell her.

  “Seven o’clock tomorrow.”

  “Good.” I release her, about to retreat once more, but stop. I curve into the crook of her neck. “And do me a favor.”

  “What’s that?”

  I drop my voice. “Don’t wear any panties.”

  I allow my request to sink in, then meet her stunned expression. Leaving a chaste kiss on her cheek, I head toward the waiting SUV, waving to a few onlookers who call my name.

  “Did it work?” Creed asks as he pulls away.

  “Only time will tell,” I answer, taking one last look at the café, Nora still in a state of shock. “But if I were a betting man, I’d be all in.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Nora

  “Why am I so nervous about this?” I glance at Esme as she expertly applies some liner around my lips.

  As I stare at the drawers upon drawers filled with more makeup than most people think necessary to own in a lifetime, I can’t help but be impressed. I always considered myself fairly experienced with hair and makeup, but my skills are no match for hers. After all the people who worked on me for the official engagement announcement, not to mention a stylist who helps me pick out my wardrobe and get ready every day, I assumed she also had someone to do it for her.

  Instead, she told me she learned how so she could have time to herself before being put on display. To most, it would seem a crazy notion, since so many women look forward to being pampered at the salon, myself included.

  But that was before I had a taste of this life. Of always having people do everything for me, right down to helping me dress…and undress. As if I’m a child, not an adult capable of taking care of myself.

  Now, her expertise has allowed me to escape the estate to get ready for my date with Anderson. Or, more appropriately, Prince Gabriel.

  “I think it’s cute. He’s nervous, too.” She winks, stepping back and spinning me so I face the mirror.

  I felt completely out of my element when choosing what to wear, unsure where he planned to take me. He didn’t give me much direction, aside from not wearing any panties. I debated whether to go with something casual, but considering he’s taking me out as Prince Gabriel, I opted for something a bit more formal. It’s not at the level of the dress I wore for the official announcement, but it’s still sophisticated, yet something not in my “approved” wardrobe. Something I brought with me from New York.

  I’m fairly certain the sleek, curve-hugging black dress would break all protocol rules. From the off-the-shoulders neckline that makes my cleavage appear even more pronounced, to the slit running up my thigh, to the leopard print strappy heels that show off my bright red toenails, it is most definitely not royal family approved.

  But like Anderson…Prince Gabriel said last night… Fuck the rules.

  When a chiming cuts through, my pulse skyrockets, butterflies flittering in my stomach.

  “Sounds like your date’s here,” Esme teases in a sing-song voice, spinning from me. I follow her out of the dressing room, down the hallway, and toward the stairs leading to the foyer.

  Hand on the railing, I do my best to keep myself from tripping over my own feet, something that’s been known to happen. With every step I take, more and more of Anderson’s tall frame appears, starting with his dark shoes, up to his perfectly tailored tan pants, then his matching suit jacket. I expect the look to be finished with a crisp, white button-down shirt and coordinating tie, similar to what he typically wears. Instead, he’s sporting a V-neck, black t-shirt, his chest muscles prominent against the material.

  Like he wore during our time together on Route 66.

  It’s a reminder that, despite his public persona as Prince Gabriel, underneath all the glitz and glamor is the man I fell in love with.

  When our eyes meet, I can’t look away. Just like I couldn’t when I heard a deep, accented voice tell me to rub Lincoln’s nose for good luck as I stared at the bronze bust outside the final resting place of the sixteenth president.

  Lips parted, he barely blinks as he drinks me in. He starts at my feet, my toes grateful to finally see the light of day after being covered up these past several weeks. His gaze only grows more heated as it travels up my legs, jaw tightening. When his eyes return to mine, they’re no longer a mixture of every shade of blue, but a dark midnight, raw hunger swirling within.

  “Goddamn, am I a lucky bastard,” he hisses under his breath.

  “And don’t you forget it,” I respond with a nervous laugh.

  “Never.”

  His stare lingers on me in a way that makes me think he’s about to pin me up against the wall and kiss me, much like he did the first night we slept together. But he doesn’t. There’s time for that later, though.

  He clears his throat, briefly looking away. “I know most men bring flowers on a first date, but I’m not most men.”

  “You don’t say.”

  He flashes a brilliant smile, the white of his teeth bright against his tanned complexion. “So while I don’t have any real flowers for you, I do have something I hope you’ll find just as acceptable.” He reaches into his jacket and produces a small, black velvet box.

  “Anders…,” I begin.

  “Gabriel,” he reminds me.

  “Of course.” I nod, playing along. “Gabriel.”

  At one time, the name felt foreign on my tongue, the man in front of me not resembling a Gabriel. But in this moment, I actually see the crown prince and future king. But that’s not all I see. Mixed within the pieces of the man who will one day rule this country, I still see bits of Anderson. More than I have recently.

  “You didn’t have to get me anything,” I admonish, as I always do whenever he spoils me with something he just couldn’t resist buying.

  “I know. But I still wanted to do something for you. A token of my appreciation.” He extends the box toward me.

  When I pop it open, my hand flies to my chest. All the air is ripped from my lungs as I stare at what I can only assume to be Prince Gabriel’s version of buying flowers for his date. Technically, they are flowers. But instead of something that will wither and die in a few days, it’s something I can keep forever — a pair of earrings in the shape of a f
lower.

  “That’s a yellow diamond in the center with five pear-shaped diamonds around it. Total weight of each is about a carat.”

  “They’re gorgeous.”

  “I bet they’ll be even more gorgeous on you. May I?” He extends his hand again. I nod, passing him the box before quickly removing the simple diamond studs I’d been wearing. He takes them from me and drops them into the inside pocket of his suit jacket. Then he steers me toward the large mirror in the foyer of Esme’s townhouse.

  There’s something inherently intimate about watching our reflection as Anderson secures the earrings to each ear. Once he’s finished, he stands back to appreciate them, his hands on my shoulders.

  I cover one of his hands with mine, squeezing. “Thank you.”

  “Anything for you, gorgeous.” He holds my gaze in the mirror for a beat, then releases me. “What do you say we get this date started?” He offers me his elbow.

  I face him and hook my arm through his. “I’d love to.”

  “Have fun, kids!” Esme calls after us as we walk toward the door.

  I stop abruptly. I’d forgotten she stood just a few feet away. That always seems to happen whenever I’m around Anderson. And now Prince Gabriel, too.

  Excusing myself, I rush to Esme and hug her. “Thank you.”

  “I only did your hair and makeup.”

  I pull back and shake my head. “No. You did a lot more than that.”

  She holds me at arm’s length, squeezing my biceps. “You both deserve to be happy. If you’d both just get out of your own way every once in a while. Now go. Enjoy your fairy tale. And come midnight, neither one of you better turn into a bloody pumpkin, or you’ll have me to answer to.”

  “We won’t. Promise.” I give her one last hug, then allow Anderson to lead me down her front steps and into the back seat of the idling SUV.

  Once I’m situated and Creed pulls away, that same nervous energy returns, a heat caressing my skin. As I steal a glance at Anderson, I know exactly what’s causing it. His eyes flame as his gaze rakes over me, exploring, craving. The hair on the back of my nape stands on end, my pulse picking up with each longing stare.