Royal Disgrace (Cake Love Book 5)

by Elizabeth Lynx

  “Easy. I know what I’m doing. Which is what I wish to speak to you about. Could you come back into my office for a moment, Nico?”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed as he nodded. He knew I wasn’t happy that he was here, interfering with my diner. Yet he showed up anyway. I had to find out why.

  “Your waitress will be over shortly.” I smiled at the couple.

  Making my way to the back, I glanced over my shoulder to make sure Nico was following. He was and for some reason, he had a huge grin on his face. He may be handsome and desperate for this job, but the guy was definitely a little odd.

  Once we were in my office, I sat at my desk. He glanced around but there was nowhere to sit. The chair that we had in my office was now being used in the front at one of the tables. A chair broke last night and we needed a temporary one until the new replacement I ordered arrived. And the only extra chair we had was in my office.

  Nico stood with his hands behind his back. He must be former military with his impeccable stance.

  “Look, Nico, you seem like a nice guy. But my brother didn’t think you were qualified for the job and I trust his opinion,” I said with a firm but pleasant tone. I wanted him to understand that pretending to be an employee wouldn’t be tolerated.

  “He never gave me a chance. Never asked one question about my qualifications or anything I would assume would be asked in an interview. I know because I went back to the residence and searched job interview questions. If anything, you should be questioning your brother. He failed to administer a proper interview. I’m sure it’s a law in this country that interviews should be conducted in a certain manner.”

  I blinked and stared and tried my best to make sense of the words that came out of his mouth. “W-Where are you from?”

  English must be his second language.

  He frowned as his eyes danced around the room. It took so long for him to speak that I thought he wasn’t going to answer.

  “What, uh . . . why should that matter?”

  I held up a finger. “For starters, if you aren’t from this country or have a work visa, I wouldn’t be allowed to hire you. But what’s tipping me off, besides your accent, is that you referred to where you live as a residence instead of a house or apartment. And you think there’s a law in this country about how interviews should be conducted.”

  He swallowed again and I watched his perfectly shaved neck ripple from the action.

  “You got me. I am not from here.” He chuckled and sighed. “I’m from a small principality in Europe called Cambria.”

  “That’s fine, but have you become a United States citizen or do you have a work visa?”

  He stared straight ahead and shook his head. “No.”

  “Then I’m sorry, Nico, but I can’t legally hire you. There’s no way I would put my diner at risk of being raided. I do everything by the book here, even if it’s difficult sometimes.”

  He mumbled something about his father.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Sorry. I guess I hadn’t thought about that when I said I could be a waiter.”

  I felt bad for the guy. For some reason, he desperately wanted to be a waiter at this diner. He seemed like the perfect person for the job due to his eagerness alone. But Nico wasn’t legal.

  I got up to show him out. Once I squeezed past him, as he was almost as big as my brother, to open the door, he said, “Wait. I have an idea.”

  Ugh. This guy needed to leave so I could get back to work.

  “What idea is that?” I opened the door anyway because I was five seconds away from walking down the hall without him.

  “I could volunteer . . . Work for free.”

  Did he just say free?

  I turned and lifted my head to stare up at him. Nico was tall. If I ever kissed him—which I wouldn’t—but if I ever did, I might have to use a stool to reach his lips.

  That was a thought I would contemplate at home with my vibrator.

  “You mean like be an intern?”

  “Does intern mean work for free?”

  “Nowadays, yes it does.”

  He nodded and took a step closer. My head was completely back, straining my neck, as I peered up at him.

  “That’s what I mean. Intern. I wish to be an intern, Miss. Jensen-Hawthorne.”

  I studied him for a moment. “But why?”

  Taking a step back, my eyes swept his body. That suit was nice and obviously custom made. This guy must have money and I couldn’t help but notice the woman he was with wore a blouse I saw a model wearing on the cover of Vogue.

  Was this some sort of spoiled rich kids bet? See if they could slum it with the everyday people? I grew up with people who would do anything for money, most of it illegal. However, there wasn’t a person I knew who’d work for free unless they had to.

  Nico didn’t appear to need to work anywhere or for anyone, ever.

  “I’m, uh . . .” his eyes flickered around again which only made me more suspicious, “I just love waiting tables.”

  Taking a much bigger step back, we were now outside my office as he followed.

  “What the fuck is this? You love waiting tables? That is the biggest load of horse shit I have ever heard in my life. Nico, why are you here? Why are you stalking my diner? I wasn’t born yesterday. You don’t need a job. Stop lying to me, or I will call the police and have you banned from this place forever.”

  His eyes widened and he bit his bottom lip. “All right. The truth . . . Look, I can’t let anyone know but I want freedom. I need to get away from my family and from Cambria. They think I’m doing something else and this is my chance to break free from them. I don’t want to go back to Cambria.”

  I gasped. Were the people of Cambria not free? Did he wish to defect?

  I nodded without even realizing it. “Yes, of course, I’ll help you.” I lowered my voice and looked back toward the double doors. No one was there. I guided him back into my office and shut the door and locked it behind me.

  “Now, no one will disturb us.”

  SIX

  Nico

  Moscow on the Hudson

  “You’ll need to strip.” Grace nibbled her lower lip as she closed the door to her office.

  That’s what I had been waiting for—that sexy nibble.

  The room was cramped, and I hadn’t discovered until now how hot it was in the small space. I pulled at the collar of my shirt and considered removing my suit jacket. We were alone, so no one would notice my relaxed attire.

  “Excuse me? Strip?”

  She either meant for me to remove all my clothing or to do that while dancing. Either way, I was happy she was as attracted to me as I was to her. Not only would I get to see what it was like to hold down a job like most people in the world, but I’d get to kiss this beautiful woman, too. And a lot more.

  While I was naïve when it came to things like employment and working as a servant, I didn’t think being naked was a requirement.

  “Take your clothes off . . .” she mumbled as she walked around me to a small wardrobe in the corner of the room.

  “Ms. Jensen-Hawthorne, while I do not believe this is a requirement of employment, volunteer or otherwise, as my sister said yesterday, when in Rome—”

  She held up a black outfit on a wire hanger. “Here you go. We only have two costumes that could fit someone as tall as you. You could either be Jake Ryan from Sixteen Candles . . . which would work perfectly because you look almost exactly like him.” Her cheeks flushed an adorable pink. “But you’d have to provide the jeans. And since you aren’t wearing any at the moment, we have to go with option two. Dread Pirate Roberts from The Princess Bride.”

  My stomach twisted in a way that I wondered if I might have to make a quick stop at a doctor’s office.

  “Princess? What’s this about a princess?”

  Cali. Had she contacted Grace? If that had occurred, I’d make sure my sister live her remaining days on this planet in misery. Was she conspiring with my
parents to find me a bride by my thirtieth birthday?

  Was Grace taking pity on me all a ruse to lure me back to Cambria?

  Shrugging, she said, “You know, the movie, The Princess Bride. Of course, I read the book. But the movie’s good, too.”

  It took a moment for her words to click. I had noticed the servers wearing what looked like dated clothing.

  “Everyone wears a costume?”

  “Yes.” She nodded and pointed back toward the wardrobe. “The women can either be a Heather from Heathers or wear Winona Ryder’s red wedding dress from Beetlejuice. If I have to wait tables, I wear Allison’s outfit from The Breakfast Club.”

  She pulled that one out and it appeared to be an oversized sweater and skirt.

  “That makes sense.”

  I had no idea what I was talking about. I had never heard of these movies she referenced. Not that I was allowed to watch many movies. My father made sure I viewed only art films and documentaries. Even when I was a child, I was forbidden to watch anything but nature films. For fun, I could read books. He was less restrictive with what I read.

  It seemed I had a lot to learn but I wouldn’t let Grace know that. She might reconsider letting me volunteer here.

  “It’s an eighties diner. Hence why it’s called Totally Diner.”

  I was lost but that didn’t stop me from nodding. “I see. Yes. You have a point.” I rubbed my chin as I nodded.

  She put back the frumpy sweater and skirt as she stepped toward me with the black princess pirate costume.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, Nico, but has anyone ever told you that there’s something different about you?”

  “Yes, they have. But when the women say it, they are usually undressing for me.” I smirked.

  Grace’s beautiful brown eyes widened. That was inappropriate. Normally, I was reserved and knew how to act in front of people. Perhaps it’s my newfound freedom or something about Grace that held my freedom in her hand. But the strong royal filter that sifted what came out of my mouth was no longer in place.

  Her eyes flickered to the floor and I could tell from the way she sunk back that I had made her uncomfortable. I chided myself for acting like a teenage boy. All bravado at the wrong time.

  “I’m doing you a favor. You came to me for this job. Well, not really a job, just an unpaid internship, but still. And now you’re flirting with me? Is this some sort of joke?”

  “No.” I frowned. “Oh, no, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound vulgar. Please accept my apology.”

  She squinted her gaze again. “Who the hell says vulgar anymore? This is what I’m talking about when I say you seem different, Nico. Did you learn English by watching Downton Abbey? Is that why you showed up dressed like you’re from a hundred years ago?” She pointed at my vest.

  I gazed down at my suit. What was wrong with my clothing? Didn’t people wear their best for their employer? I took note of Grace’s clothing. She wore jeans and a flannel blouse. Her ebony locks pulled back into a slightly disheveled ponytail. While I hoped that wasn’t her best clothing, there was a sexiness to her appearance. Perhaps it was the fitted cut of the blouse or how the jeans hugged her hips. My eyes kept drifting down and hovered over those details.

  “I didn’t realize you wore costumes here when I showed up today. And what you’re wearing right now? Is that from an eighties movie also?”

  I swallowed. My sight stuck on one of the buttons of her flannel top. It was just above her breasts and it appeared to be struggling to stay closed.

  “My outfit? No. I’m not waiting tables today. If I was, I’d change. But while we’re on the topic of waiting tables, how good are you?”

  She leaned back against the desk, placing the pirate outfit beside her. Of all the lies I told her, that would be the biggest. But the tiny bit of freedom I had was addictive. And I needed more.

  “Superior.”

  Her right eyebrow rose and that intrigued me. She didn’t believe me. No one had questioned me before.

  “References?”

  “I believe there’s a book about service written by Edmund Fitz—”

  “Not book references.” She stood and looked me up and down. “I assume any place you worked for is back in Camden.”

  “It’s Cambria. The Principality of Cambria.”

  “Right. Cambria. So, you haven’t worked anywhere in the United States or, more specifically, in the state of Illinois?”

  I shook my head. “My former employer is most certainly in Cambria.” My smile grew and with it, the tilt of her head.

  “That bad, huh?”

  “What?” I asked.

  “You seem happy that the place you used to work at is across an ocean. I am assuming they wouldn’t give you a good recommendation.”

  I had to fix this and fast.

  “That’s where you are wrong, Ms. Jensen-Hawthorne. They would call my good name out from the square.”

  Her mouth fell open. Was it something I said? It must have tipped her off that I was royalty. She was staring at me like the Cambria people do when I visited the shelters on Sundays.

  “Call out from the square? Are you sure you didn’t learn English from Downton Abbey?”

  “It’s an expression. Perhaps you do not say it here in America?”

  She rolled her lips under her teeth as she shook her head. “No, no, we do not.”

  After a moment, Grace stood from the desk and pushed the costume into my arms. Despite the suit I wore, the heat from her hand warmed my chest. I wanted more but I settled on the small, shielded touch.

  “I tell you what, Nico, I’ll let you start here on clean-up. That’s clearing and wiping down tables, mopping, and cleaning the kitchen when we close at ten. On the weekends we’re open until midnight. You think you can handle that?”

  My heart beat a little faster and my grin was all she needed.

  “You can start today. But I will need someone to contact to vouch for you. Depending on what they say, you can come back in two days or this will be your last day.”

  I opened my mouth to respond with my sister’s name.

  “And not a relative. I feel that should be a given, but you’d be surprised how many people use their parents or siblings as a reference. One guy actually used his kid.”

  Mental note . . . don’t use Cali as a reference.

  “How silly.” I laughed.

  Reaching into my pocket, I removed Tiber’s card. It had only his email on it. I hoped it wasn’t a problem that the reference I was giving her worked for me.

  But she didn’t need to know that.

  “Here’s a card. I have worked with him many times. His name is Tiber Harmsen. He’s in, uh . . . public relations.”

  She took the card from me and studied it. “The same Tiber who was here yesterday?” Her brow pinched as she held it up.

  “Oh, no. A different one. Tiber’s a fairly common name where I’m from,” I lied, but did it with a perfected royal smirk.

  “Great.” She moved over to the other side of her desk and sat.

  I held up the costume and glanced around. “Am I supposed to change in here?”

  “There’s a changing room across the hall. Once you’re done, go out and ask Alex what needs cleaning.” She opened her laptop and began to type.

  I did as she said after I found the changing room. The costume felt odd and rather thin. I worried I was revealing too much of myself in the thing.

  When I found Alex in the kitchen, he was far from jubilant to discover that his sister had hired me. For some reason that made me happy. The guy didn’t like me very much, and the feeling was mutual.

  “Table five needs clearing. Here.” He shoved a large gray plastic container at me with a damp rag inside.

  I was discovering that having Alex on my bad side wasn’t a good thing. Even if he didn’t own the place, he had the power to make me do all the terrible tasks.

  Mental note number two . . . be a little nicer to Alex.

&
nbsp; After asking one of the waitresses, Liza, which one was table five, I got to work. It wasn’t pleasant cleaning up food that other people had eaten. I started to question why I had to work here of all the places in the city when I heard a familiar voice from behind.

  “Please tell me you’re my brother Nico’s doppelgänger.”

  I stood and dropped the wet rag. It made a squishing sound that caused us both to frown.

  “Cali. What are you doing here?”

  “Looking for you. I can only tell the press that you have the flu for so long before there are rumors that you’re dying. Mother called.”

  Sighing, I sat in the booth and as Cali sat on the other side, I pushed the gray container filled with dirty plates to the side.

  “Oh no. What did you tell her?”

  She waved her hand and giggled. “That’s not why I’m here.”

  I knew my sister. Her flutter of laughter was a confession of guilt. I just had to find out what she was guilty of.

  “I already know you’re here looking for me. What I want to know is what you told Mother?”

  Twirling a strand of golden-brown hair around her finger, she confessed, “I explained you had found your princess. That you were wooing her in secret.”

  A combination of shock and fear caused my eyes to widen so far that I worried my eyeballs could have possibly fallen from my head.

  “But that isn’t true. Why would you say that?”

  She was quiet for a moment and I feared she wouldn’t speak. But as I was about to ask again, she said, “Because you need to come back. Without you around making appearances, I have to take your place. I’m not the showman like you are.”

  I took a long look at my sister. Whatever doubts I had about this job or my plan of getting a job like everyone else evaporated in that moment. I loved my sister, but she was a spoiled brat. She got whatever she wanted and rarely had to lift a finger for it. I was the one with the responsibilities to one day rule, to set a good example, and to make appearances as the future prince.

  She only had to give the appearance that she was sweet and innocent, and she’d get her hearts’ desire.