Royal Disgrace (Cake Love Book 5)

by Elizabeth Lynx

  ROYAL DISGRACE

  By Elizabeth Lynx

  Cake Love book 5

  DEDICATION

  To Tom.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  ROYAL DISGRACE

  DEDICATION

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  STORIES by ELIZABETH LYNX

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  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  EPILOGUE

  STORIES by ELIZABETH LYNX

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  STORIES by ELIZABETH LYNX

  Newest Releases

  Royal Disgrace, book 5 of Cake Love, standalone

  Price of Fame

  Idol, book 1 Price of Fame, standalone novella

  Star, book 2 Price of Fame, standalone novella

  Mogul, book 3 Price of Fame, standalone novella

  Lost & Found

  Dirty Secret, prequel, standalone

  Cabin Fever, book 1 Lost & Found, standalone

  Living Hell, book 2 Lost & Found, standalone

  Multi-Author

  Happy New You

  Cake Love Series - standalone

  Rules of Payne, book 1, standalone

  The Attraction File, book 2, standalone

  One Wild Ride, book 3, standalone

  The Spy Ring, book 4, standalone

  Cake Love: Boxed Set, Books 1-4

  Him Her Them Series

  Her Night with Him

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  Royal Disgrace

  A future prince walks into her diner, pretending to be a pauper. Will one kiss cause all her dreams to come true?

  Imagine for a moment being dumped by your boyfriend via paper airplane that hits you in the face. And, only minutes later, discover you’re being fired from a job you’ve had for years.

  Sounds terrible, right? That’s my day, and it’s only Tuesday. Most of my life has been crappy like that but I refuse to let it get me down.

  Hi, I’m Grace and I plan on following my dream no matter what gets in my way. What’s my dream? I think it’s opening an 80s themed diner. That’s what my good friend told me since I love all things 80s and diner food. It makes sense, so why not?

  The only obstacle I’ve come across is tall, with dark hair, an accent that will warm your, uh, heart, and desperate for a job at my diner.

  I really wish I didn’t have to fire him.

  My formal title is Nicolas Aster Rowley Chillingham, current Duke of Iornlea and future Prince of Northern Cambria. After the holiday ceremonies and come the new year, I will officially be crowned Prince of Cambria. I’m desperate to get out of becoming a prince so I devise a plan to pretend to be an average guy looking for a job at a diner.

  No one in Cambria will find me in the tiny restaurant in Chicago. I plan on returning to my home one day, but when I’m ready. The only problem is the owner. The more time I spend getting to know her, the more I wonder if I ever want to go back.

  ONE

  Grace

  Better Off Dead

  Everyone was staring, but I didn’t care. The elevator was packed and sweat circles were forming under my arms, but nothing would bring me down. The smile on my face—no matter how much it hurt my cheeks—would remain plastered on my face.

  Positivity, Grace.

  That was my new motto. Positive. Focused. Be the best I could be.

  My life, up until that point, was like a bag of old, smelly socks. There wasn’t a person alive or dead who was excited about socks, especially if they’re used.

  I pushed through the elevator to the first floor of the Mimir building on Michigan Avenue in Chicago and moved toward my desk.

  That’s when it hit me.

  Something pointy poked my cheek, causing my grin to falter. Looking down, I noticed a paper airplane. When I glanced around, I saw a few people moving farther down the hallway. They were too far away to make out.

  I shrugged and picked it up. There was writing on the paper so I unfolded the airplane.

  Dear Grace,

  It’s been real. You’re cute in a pixie sort of way, but I want a woman I can bring home to Mom. I know my mom’s been dead for ten years, but you get what I mean . . .

  What I’m saying is, it’s over. You’re a tough cookie. It may take you a while to get over me but I’m sure when you do, you’ll find your Prince Charming. Or, at least a guy named Prince.

  Wouldn’t that be cool? Dating a guy named Prince—

  I stopped reading. Why continue? The guy who wrote it was an idiot.

  Just got dumped via paper airplane. My life had officially reached a new low.

  I crumpled up the break-up letter and took a cleansing breath. It didn’t help. The strong desire to punch Calvin in his ball sack remained.

  Shaking my head, I said to myself, “No, Grace. Positivity. Don’t let the bag of dicks masquerading as a man ruin your day.”

  Morgana warned me not to go out with him, but he was cute. Like a cross between a sun-bleached surfer and a hobbit. You had to have seen him to understand.

  I tossed the ball into the trash. Pulling open the side drawer of my sleek white desk, my fingers slid over the smooth leather of the book inside. Another group of people scurried around my reception desk after the elevator opened, and I grabbed my journal. Opening to the dating section, I scanned down the list and found Calvin.

  Five weeks. I marked that next to his name. It was longer than Sam by two weeks but not as long as Trey.

  Treacherous Trey. The guy who used me to steal information from Mimir almost two years ago.

  “Oh no. I see you have the book out.” Morgana’s warm voice came from behind me.

  Making sure I had the smile secured on my face, I swiveled my desk chair to find Mimir’s Vice President of Sales and Marketing had opened her arms. Her frown was another crack in my positivity mask.

  She felt sorry for me. I was tired of being a hapless joke of a human being. When I watched The Breakfast Club last night for the hundredth time, I was struck with an idea. Watching Ally Sheedy’s character—Allison—be transformed from a grungy nobody to a beautiful butterfly all from her hair being swept back and less eye makeup, struck me.

  I could transform, too. Not on the outside, because that was superficial, but on the inside. If I could react to the world as if everything was great, then maybe it would happen. That had always been my problem—I let the hardships and the heartaches get me down.

  No more.

  Even though I didn’t want Morgana’s pity hug, I stood and let her embrace me.

  “Calvin?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

  I nodded into her shoulder and sighed. The hug felt good. It wasn’t a pity hug, just one friend being nice to another.

  “Poor Grace,” she said.

  I gritted my teeth.

  So what if I made poor choices in men? That was the old Grace.

  The new Grace had confidence and money. Lots of money.

  Oh, did I forget to mention that I was a billionaire? I guess it’s still
hard to get used to that fact. I’ve only known I had money for a year and a half.

  My twin brother and I met for the first time as my natural mother tried to kill a lot of people. It was scary and weird and like something right out of a soap opera.

  I grew up in the foster care system, never knowing my real parents or that I had any siblings. But then I met Alex and my mom, Emma.

  She turned out to be psycho, and he was the sweetest guy who ever lived. Total opposites.

  Not only had I met my real family, but I found out they had money. Boatloads of it. More than boatloads . . . Supertanker loads of money. My brother, Alex, actually owned Haute Tower in downtown Chicago. As in, the entire building. Do you know anyone who owned old skyscraper buildings in the downtown areas of big cities? I did. And I was related to him.

  It was crazy but as I discovered, everything about the Hawthornes was surreal.

  Though I never wanted to take his money—because it’s not like I was raised as a Hawthorne—he insisted.

  Now, when people called me poor Grace, they didn’t mean financially, they meant emotionally.

  Which, now that I was pondering it, somehow made it worse.

  Stay positive.

  I shrugged out of her embrace. “It’s okay. It’s not like we dated long.”

  Morgana was beautiful with long red hair and the perfect hourglass figure. I overheard her husband, Henrik, once mention she was like a real-life Jessica Rabbit. And as jealous at the time as I was, I knew he was right.

  But Morgana was sweet and goofy, and it was impossible to hate her for catching the attention of the guy I had a crush on from the moment I started working at Mimir, years ago.

  He used to be the VP of Sales and Marketing. She got his job and his proposal of marriage. And all I got was a Clark Griswold from the Christmas Vacation movie holiday card from them.

  But I couldn’t complain . . . it was the thought that counted. And since I loved 80s movies, it meant a lot that they remembered that little tidbit about me.

  “That’s the spirit.” She reached over and patted me on the shoulder. “Listen, Grace, I wanted to ask you something.”

  “What do you need?”

  I tried my best to keep the smile going but the more the morning wore on, the harder it was to maintain.

  It was one little break-up airplane; it wasn’t the end of the world. That would be losing my friends and everyone I knew. Just about all the people I cared for centered around Mimir. I met Henrik and Morgana here. My brother was married to Morgana’s best friend. Then there’s the former HR Manager Evaleen, and her husband Edgar, who happened to be head of IT here. They helped me out of some sticky situations.

  In a way, Mimir was my home away from home.

  “About your job here at Mimir?”

  Perhaps Morgana wanted to promote me. The positive attitude was paying off already.

  “What about it?”

  Morgana tapped her red-heeled shoe on the black-tiled floor of the first-floor reception as her eyes danced around the room.

  “Understand, Grace, this came from Mr. Mimir. We had a meeting first thing this morning where he laid out the plans. I thought you should know first since you’ve been with the company for so long. Give you a chance at something else if you wanted.”

  She gave me an encouraging smile, and I felt it in my bones. I was moving up in the company. Maybe she’d recommend me for the Executive Program. Fingers crossed.

  “I don’t understand . . .”

  Morgana glanced around and then stepped closer to me. “Mr. Mimir is redesigning the whole concept of the company. He calls it a twenty-first century take to business. Everything open concept. No one will have assigned desks or offices. Even the execs will lose their offices.” She made a face as if trying to force down a rather stale piece of cake.

  “So, I’m losing my reception desk?” I turned my head to look at it and shrugged.

  It was nice, but I wasn’t married to it. Perhaps that was a good thing. I felt isolated away from everyone. Maybe if we all mingled during the day, I wouldn’t be considered such an outcast.

  “More than that. Mimir will no longer have a receptionist. He’s making your job redundant.”

  Redundant. I was superfluous. I tried to speak but nothing came out. Most of my good memories from my adulthood happened here in the Mimir building. And a lot of bad memories like being passed over and over for being Henrik Payne’s assistant. That wasn’t fun. And then Trey and now Craig.

  Maybe I had more bad memories than good, like that one time I saw the pictures of the dead body that fell out of a folder in the office kitchen. I couldn’t eat sausage for a long time after that and I lived in Chicago. You can’t turn around in this city without being offered sausage by a waiter or a homeless guy.

  “Come here.” Morgana wrapped her arm around my back and guided me toward the window that looked out over Michigan Avenue. It was late spring, and the weather was unusually warm for May. I noticed a few people strolling in short-sleeve shirts.

  I couldn’t stop staring at them. They appeared happy and normal while I felt like a superfluous turd.

  She waved at the black leather bench. “Sit.”

  I did as she said and tried another cleansing breath. Still didn’t help.

  My grin was on a sharp downward curve. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop its decline.

  “I want to punch someone,” I said a little louder than I meant.

  A few people stopped walking and turned to stare at me.

  Laughter erupted from Morgana and it sounded like a seal being clubbed to death. “Oh, Grace. You’re so funny.” She turned her head to the people still gawking and continued, “Isn’t Grace the funniest person ever?”

  They were no longer concerned about me. I was no longer concerned about me, either.

  “Morgana, you okay?”

  The people continued on and Morgana’s smile faded.

  “Yup, totally fine. Just a bit tired, that’s all.”

  “Okay. Thanks for giving me the heads-up about the change to the company. Maybe I should get back to my desk . . .” My voice faded as my stomach began to churn.

  Just the thought of doing more for this company made me sick. I had been loyal to Mimir for almost five years and with a snap of a finger, the boss-man obliterated my job.

  “It’s not like you’re hurting for money, Grace. Don’t you have any dreams? Maybe this is your chance to go after them. Do something you love. This could be a sign. Giving you a chance to follow your dreams.”

  I nodded because she was right. I felt it in my gut. Being a receptionist was something I didn’t think too much about, I just did it. And now that it was being taken away, I realized how little I actually cared.

  So what if I had considered this place a second home? I could still see my friends outside of work.

  “The problem is, I don’t know what I want to do. I turned twenty-eight this year, and I still have no idea what I want to be when I grow up.”

  Morgana grabbed my hands, her hazel eyes glistening with excitement as she stared into mine. “I have been waiting to use what I learned at the executive training program for years.” She took a deep breath and said, “Grace, what do you love? Do you have any hobbies or things you’re obsessed with? For example, I love cake. What do you love?”

  To say Morgana loved cake was like saying the Pope loved church. Morgana was a cake stalker.

  I bit my lip and concentrated. Most of my life was about survival, I never had time for hobbies.

  “I watch a lot of eighties movies.” I shrugged. That sounded lame. At least if I loved cake like Morgana, I could consider working at a bakery.

  “Okay, I can work with that. What else? There has to be more.”

  More? Not only did my very short-term boyfriend break up with me and I was losing my job, but I was discovering how pathetic I was as a human being. Why couldn’t I take up piano or learn Mandarin in my free time?

&nbs
p; No, I watched cheesy 80s movies and could say all the lines to every John Hughes movie ever made.

  “How about food? Anything you love about food or places you like to go to eat?” Morgana asked with desperation in her voice.

  I felt bad. She was trying to help, but I was utterly pitiful.

  “I like diners. On the weekend, I eat breakfast at my local diner.”

  She nodded and narrowed her eyes and then nodded some more. “Hmmm,” she murmured before nodding once again.

  Morgana finally froze with a gasp. “I got it!”

  TWO

  Nico

  Back To The Future

  Two Months Later . . .

  “You need to be erect. Like a stiff rod,” my father said, forming a fist in front of his chest.

  He stared through the floor-to-ceiling window facing the east gardens. We had all gathered in his private living room, one of the more intimate rooms of the castle. The decor was simple compared to the public rooms.

  The walls were white with small oil paintings and thick, pale blue, velvet curtains. In the center, near the fireplace, was the blue silk sofa and padded armchairs where my mother currently sat.

  It was meant to evoke comfort and family. But every time my father called me into the room, I felt anything but relaxed.

  I saw my sister out of the corner of my eye roll her lips together.

  “Nicolas, are you listening?” He lowered his hand and turned from the window.

  “Yes, Father. Erection. Stiff rod. Got it.” To my surprise, I didn’t succumb to laughter. I kept the stoic face I learned to wear around my father.

  “Nicolas,” my mother’s soft smile crinkled her sparkling blue eyes as she gazed up from the sofa, “I know you’d rather be out with your friends, but this is important.”