Royal Disgrace (Cake Love Book 5)

by Elizabeth Lynx

  My parents still thought of me as a teenager, despite a decade having passed since I was one. To them, I would always be that spoiled little royal who did what he wanted when he wanted. At one time in my life that was very much true, but I changed and they couldn’t see it. Too wrapped up in affairs of state and pleasing the Cambria people to concern themselves with their flesh and blood I suppose.

  They may be head of the Royal House of Chillingham, but they were still my parents—I wondered if they forgot that once I grew out of diapers. Passing me off to nannies to take care of their son. Too enamored with being a prince and princess.

  “Perhaps there’s a new gossip site I can star in. Only the night and a bottle of bourbon will tell,” I said with a curl of my lips.

  My father groaned as my mother sighed in disappointment. I had to play the part—live up to their beliefs that their son was a disappointment.

  “Nico.” My sister thinned her lips.

  My sister took great interest in my life. She knew me. The only way she could get away with her very real wild antics was if Mother, Father, and the Cambria public were distracted with me.

  Cali played her part as the perfect royal. She never did anything wrong as far as everyone could tell. Little did they know she was far from perfect.

  She was idolized by the people. They nicknamed her the Royal Rose as one of her middle names was Rosabel.

  My nickname wasn’t so pleasant.

  “What’s the Royal Disgrace got planned for tonight?” My sister’s eyes twinkled with mischief. She was all about distraction. She gladly turned the attention onto me so she could go have fun with one of her boyfriends. They all thought they had a chance at becoming a future Prince of Cambria.

  Those poor fools had no idea she was using them.

  “How is Nicolas going to ever understand his future role as Prince of Cambria if his sister uses that disgusting nickname, Caliana?” my father said with spit flying out of his mouth.

  His usual firm but even-tempered mood was saltier this evening.

  “Why are we here, Father? I’m almost thirty years old. I don’t need to practice how to stand before a crowd anymore. I’ve been doing that since I can remember.”

  “Yes, you are almost thirty. Let’s talk about that, shall we?”

  Damn. I should have never brought up my age.

  “Let’s not,” I added with a chuckle, though no one was laughing with me.

  “I think we should. It’s about time you consider marriage, Nicolas.” My mother stood from the couch and walked over and stood beside Father. “Find a woman who will take your breath away and then your heart.” She gazed up at my father with love in her eyes.

  Of all the women I dated, not one had caused me to look at them in that way. I wondered if I’d ever be lucky enough to stumble heart first into love as deep as my parents. Most of the women I dated just wanted a notch on their dating belt from landing a duke and future prince. Some fell in love with the idea of becoming a princess while barely lusting after me.

  They used me. So, I used them back. And when I was bored or they wanted more, I let them go. Call me a romantic fool but I wanted what my parents had. Their relationship was the idealized fairy tale that was almost too good to be true. And in a way it was, but only for me.

  I was almost thirty so if I hadn’t found it by now, I doubt I ever would.

  From the age of fifteen it had been drilled into my head that I must marry by thirty years of age. Why thirty, though?

  Because five hundred years ago, the Principality of Cambria was seized from France by the Habsburg family to become part of the Habsburg Empire. New laws were created and heirs needed to be secured. It was put into law that all future princes of Cambria must marry by thirty years of age or Cambria dissolves. Since it was the twenty-first century, that meant that France would gain its long-lost land back.

  The age requirement had more to do with health reasons as most people didn’t live very long back then. Yet, no one thought to change the law with the advent of modern medicine and understanding of hygiene. Not even my father.

  “Come December twenty-sixth, you’ll be thirty,” my father added.

  “I’m well aware of my birthday, Father.” I stood a little taller and clasped my hands behind my back.

  My mother turned to my father and took his hand. “We need to tell him, Frederic.”

  “You’re right. I had hoped to wait until after their trip abroad, but I suppose I was just delaying the inevitable.”

  My eyes slid to my sister to see if she had any idea what my parents were talking about. She frowned and proceeded to shrug in response.

  “Come January first, I will be abdicating the throne.” My father stared past me at something in the distance.

  The room suddenly felt claustrophobic. I wanted to leave. Run. Get as far from the family and castle as possible.

  My sister must have noticed my expression as I felt her soft touch on my arm.

  “Nico. Listen,” was all she said.

  I nodded. One of the reasons my father and I butted heads so much was because we were too similar. Neither of us listened to each other. He expected me to perform menial duties like attending flower shows and polo matches. And I thought he meant what he said when he spoke about caring for his people.

  I wanted to work on solutions for the poor and create incentives to attract the leaders in medicine. But that wasn’t important in his eyes.

  “You can abdicate?”

  He nodded and was about to say something but cleared his throat again. Turning, he walked back to face the window.

  “There’s a law from a hundred and fifty years ago which states if the current crowned head of Cambria is no longer fit to rule as decided by the legislative council or has ruled for at least forty years, he may step aside to allow his son to be crowned.”

  I blinked as what was happening crystallized in my head. I would take over as prince. The head of Cambria.

  “Why? Why would you stop being prince?”

  My mother turned her head to my father. We watched and waited but the longer he took to respond, the worse I felt.

  “Your mother and I want to see the world.”

  I glanced around the room, half expecting Tiber, my private secretary and good friend, to jump through the door and explain this was all a prank. Though, the man rarely smiled. I’d be more surprised that he was pulling off a joke instead of my parents traveling.

  “You’re telling me you want to travel?”

  I turned my attention to my mother. Her smile crooked as she held my gaze. She nodded and said, “Yes. See the sights.”

  My father finally turned and came to my mother’s side. They exchanged a glance, meaningful but it lingered a little too long for me to believe I was being told everything.

  “And? Travel and?” I took a step closer.

  No way was my father, who would rather die than end five hundred years of tradition, giving up his crown because he desired to see the world.

  “Just that. You see, Nicolas, your mother and I have spent our whole lives preparing for or living the roles as monarchs. We want to spend our last years on this planet living like regular people, not the heads of state.”

  “So, you’re saying you want to retire and see the sights like some middle-class couple on holiday?”

  My father sighed. “It sounds so ridiculous when you put it like that.”

  “Yes, it does sound ridiculous. You are shirking your responsibilities and throwing them at me with very little notice.”

  He gritted his teeth and stepped forward, pointing his finger in my direction. “I am not shirking my duty. Maybe it’s time you grew up and understood your role in this family. Maybe I’m doing this more for you than for me. You needed a wake-up call.”

  My mouth fell open. Was he serious? The man knew almost nothing about me and yet, he’s ready to give up his title because he believed it would be good for me.

  I knew my dad could be pompous
, but this was unbelievable.

  “What exactly do I need a wake-up call from, Father?”

  “Your wild ways. Drinking and God knows what else you get up to when you don’t show up to scheduled events.”

  I turned from him and stormed out the door. Making my way through the hallways to my private quarters, I found my desk chair and fell into a leather-padded seat.

  How could he do that? Act as if he was retiring from a corporate job, expecting me to hand over a gold watch as a gift and wave goodbye with a smile.

  This was a job you died doing. He drilled that into my head more times than I could count.

  Now I was to wear a crown all because my parents wanted to caravan around Europe.

  There was a knock at my door.

  I assumed my father sent for Tiber to check on me.

  “Tiber, come in.”

  The door opened and my sister popped her head in. “Sorry to disappoint you, but you get a short brunette woman instead of an unusually tall male.”

  I smirked. Cali was right—Tiber was abnormally tall.

  “Come in. I’m guessing they sent you.” I swiveled in my chair to face the door.

  My sister strolled across the room toward the middle of the room and sat on the heather gray loveseat.

  “No. When I left, they were arguing. Mother wanted to give you time to cool off while Dad wanted to call everything off. Much to my surprise, Mom was the one who told him to hold his ground.”

  That was strange. Mother was the softy, not Dad.

  “What should I do, Cali? I can’t do what Dad does. I am far from ready to be Prince of Cambria. They want me to get married and take over as prince all within six months? That’s absurd, even for them.”

  My sister was quiet. We both were. It meant her responsibilities would increase as well. She’d take over for Mother.

  Which was the last thing my sister wanted.

  “We’re both to tour the British Isles and Canada in August and September. Then we move to the States in October and November before we return here. I’m sure we can think of something in those four months.”

  “Maybe I could defect.”

  My sister laughed. “You aren’t Russian, and this isn’t the 1980s.”

  “Build a time machine and go back to warn my father not to retire the crown.”

  “What’s with all the weird ideas?”

  I stood and threw my hands up. “I’m stressed. My brain isn’t working right, that’s why you have to help me.”

  My sister left the chair and came over, throwing her arms around me. It felt good knowing my sister understood. She cared about me even if my parents were being selfish.

  “Like I said, we’ll think of something,” Cali said as she pulled back, her gaze full of certainty.

  My heart clung to that hope. Wishing she was right, even if my brain said otherwise.

  THREE

  Grace

  Diner

  Three months later . . .

  “Have you ever waited tables before?” Alex asked, leaning back in the red booth.

  “Push It” by Salt-N-Pepa was playing from a mini jukebox sitting on the table by the wall. I stared at the lanky teenager in surprise at his song selection. Not a song I would pick for an interview but I was suspecting he wasn’t very self-aware as his eyes kept drifting to his phone next to the sugar packet holder.

  “Uh, does helping my mom with plates on Thanksgiving count?”

  My head fell forward and hit the linoleum table as I groaned. This was more difficult than I expected. Opening and running a diner took a lot of work, but Morgana was right—making my dream a reality was exhilarating.

  Even if I only realized it this past May that my dream was to open an 80s-themed diner, it didn’t make it any less amazing. I had always wanted to work hard to help people, and opening and running a diner wasn’t easy.

  I loved collaborating with Aria, Alex’s wife. She was an artist and jumped at the chance to help design my diner.

  Alex took over hiring and managing from time to time when I needed a break. While my friend and former HR manager at Mimir, Evaleen, helped me with the paperwork and permits I required. That woman got things done.

  But interviewing staff was painful. I had hired four people as waitstaff and three fry cooks. Unfortunately, one quit this past week and I still hadn’t hired anyone to help keep the place clean.

  I was beginning to realize that hiring and holding onto staff was my greatest problem as a business owner.

  Despite loving the cute little restaurant, I was discovering that the staff only saw it as a job and a way to make money. I couldn’t blame them. This wasn’t their dream, but I hadn’t expected their lack of enthusiasm to affect me so much.

  We opened a month ago in the perfect location, halfway between the Fullerton red line L-stop and Lincoln Park. And the fact that Totally Diner was near a university with all those hungry students was the cherry on my small business sundae.

  “No, it doesn’t, Tom.” My brother slid his eyes toward me. He expected me to land the final blow.

  “I think that’s all we need,” I said and slid out of the red vinyl booth, but Tom stopped me before my feet hit the black-and-white tiled floor.

  He reached for my arm. “Hey, so when do I start? I need to tell my mom my new schedule.”

  I learned a lot about running a business in a very short period. Not only that, but I discovered something about myself, too. I didn’t hesitate when someone needed to hear the harsh truth.

  “You don’t. I need someone who knows what they’re doing. Setting a table at a family meal isn’t experience. Go find a part-time position at a craft shop in the mall for your first job. That’s easy work. Then come back when you want hard work.” I didn’t wait for a response before I turned toward the kitchen.

  I pushed back the black double doors that led to the back and passed the kitchen on my left and the bathrooms on my right before I stopped at the cozy room that was my office at the end of the hall.

  It contained one small desk, two office chairs, and a shelving unit that looked like it belonged in an auto garage instead of a diner.

  Flopping back in the chair behind my desk, I groaned as did my stomach. The clock over my door said it was already two o’clock.

  “Crap, I forgot to eat again,” I mumbled.

  “That must explain your prickly goodbye to the guy we interviewed,” Alex said as he ducked through the door and took up what empty space was left in the room.

  “Totally Diner is short staffed but I’m not desperate. That guy would lose me customers if I let him work here.”

  “That was the last candidate. We’re back to square one. Liza already agreed to work Saturday and Sunday, even though she specified she needed Sundays off because of her son. I’ve been helping too, but—”

  I held up my hands. “I know, Alex. I’m so thankful for your help . . . for everyone’s help. But I’m not about to hire just anyone. If I did that, I’d have to go through this every month. They wouldn’t last. You know working a busy diner is tough.”

  It was times like this that I wished my dream involved reading all day or binge-watching shows. Did that type of job exist? I should have spent more time researching types of jobs instead of how to run a diner.

  He sighed and nodded. “I know. I can ask Jagger if any of his students need a job. Though they might not have much experience, either.”

  I groaned and raised my hands into the air. “My kingdom for a qualified waiter with experience.”

  “Can we get a little help out here? A group of people just came and sat at table eight and I still haven’t had a lunch break,” Liza said slightly winded while she stood in the doorway.

  “Rock, paper, scissors?” Alex asked, looking at me expectantly.

  “Fine.” I rolled my eyes as I got up.

  We both shook our fist as we played the kids’ game which was fast becoming a useful decision-making tactic. I kept my fist as I stopped, know
ing Alex preferred scissors. But he was on to me.

  “Paper,” I said with a grumble.

  Alex’s pale blue eyes lit up. “Looks like you’re waiting on table eight.”

  I didn’t have time to change into a costume, so I grabbed a mesh, 80s style headband and hoped the customers didn’t care. Once the band was in place, I made my way back toward the front and threw on an apron with a pen and pad of paper already tucked inside the pocket.

  Rubbing my neck to work out the kink that had been present for the last two months, I moved toward table eight, picking up three menus as I went.

  “Sorry for the delay. Here are your menus. Can I get you started with our Rick Astley Banana Cherry Milkshake? I promise, you’re never gonna give it up once you tried it.”

  I was embarrassed to say that last line and kept my eyes focused on the paper and pen in my hand. Alex came up with it and swore it would kill.

  It never did.

  “Oh, that’s sounds good. I’ll have that,” an enthusiastic female voice said in an accent I couldn’t quite place.

  I glanced up and heat crawled up my neck. There were two men and a woman sitting in the booth. None of them looked like they went to DePaul University; instead, they looked like they stepped right off the runway.

  My God, they were beautiful. The kind of attractive that made you do a triple take. Especially the man who sat across from the woman.

  His hair was thick, brown, and looked so silky I wanted to reach over and run my fingers through it. I gripped the pen tightly between my fingers to stop myself.

  He tilted his head toward me and those pouty lips curved into a smile. A grin so devastating I gasped. He must have heard me because the smile disappeared, and his gorgeous green eyes danced around the room as if searching for an escape.

  Forcing myself to lower my eyes to the pad in my hand, I had trouble remembering what the woman said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that. Did you say you wanted the milkshake?”

  “Yes, and my brother here will have the same.”

  This time when I looked up, I kept my eyes on the table. Staring at those beautiful people caused memory lapse, and I needed to focus on work. The woman reached across the table and clasped the hand of the most handsome man I have ever seen.