Paris and the Prince: A BWWM Billionaire Romance (Royal Weddings Book 1)

by Mia Caldwell

  Alex walked back in to the bedroom, confused, and opened the closet to see that Paris' backpack was gone. All of the clothes he had gotten for her were still there, but her backpack was gone. He was just about to rush for his phone when he saw a shoe box sitting on the bed. Alex gently lifted the top off to find a pair of high heels studded with hundreds of perfect diamonds. On top was a note in Paris' handwriting, and a glittering diamond engagement ring.

  Thanks for the memories. We’ll always have Paris. -P

  Alex dropped the note on the floor and ran for the front door of the house, grabbing his car keys from the box next to the door as he made his way for the garage...

  24

  The fireplace in Orlando’s cabin crackled and burned, lighting up the otherwise dark living room of the small house. Orlando had built the cabin from the ground up two years earlier when he'd gotten tired of being on the road all the time and living out of a suitcase. It had taken him almost a year to build, but it had been worth it to have a home that was all his. Virginia was a nice little state, and with a job in a small restaurant behind the bar and playing shows on weekends, Orlando had settled into a comfortable routine that fit his moods. What didn't make him happy was seeing his sister, wrapped in a blanket, sitting in his armchair and staring through the fire like it wasn't there, like she wasn't there.

  Orlando brought Paris a cup of tea and set it down in front of her, fully expecting that she wouldn't touch it, just as she hadn't touched the other five cups of tea he'd brought her.

  “Paris, honey, you need to eat, drink... something. At the very least, get out of that dress. You can borrow a shirt and some sweats. You're just, a little over-dressed for the occasion.”

  Paris didn't even crack a smile. She just curled up into a tighter ball and pulled the blanket up over her head.

  “Paris, listen. I don't know what happened, beyond what I've seen on TV. Thank God I live in the middle of nowhere, or I’m sure I’d have reporters stacked up on my porch two feet high, just like Atlanta did. I don't know what you're feeling right now, but I'm here for you. I'll help you any way I can, you know that. But don't shut me out. I know you’d rather talk to Mama, but she’s got to finish out her contract and the shows she’s gotta do. She’ll be here as soon as she can, I swear.”

  Paris pulled the blanket back down from her head and looked at her brother with eyes full of sadness. He always tried to protect her.

  “I made such a mess of things, ‘Lando. I made such a huge mistake.”

  Orlando sat on the couch and reached over to the chair, taking his sister’s hand in his.

  “Falling in love is never a mistake, P. You followed your heart. Whatever happens now, you just have to remember that you never did anything wrong.”

  Paris reached over and picked up the cup of tea off the coffee table, taking a long slow slip before she smiled up at her brother.

  “It doesn't feel that way, but I do appreciate you saying it.”

  * * *

  When Alex had bolted from the party, he headed straight for the airport, knowing in his heart that whatever had happened had sent Paris back to America. He'd run up to the ticket agent's desk, begging for information, but it was late, there was only one agent on duty, and she didn't recognize him. She assumed he was some sort of crazy stalker, and having had a few of those herself, refused to give Alex any sort of passenger information.

  Frustrated, Alex tried to call the palace, but no one, not even the assistants, were answering their phones. All he could do was go back to the castle and hope one of the people in security could help him.

  Alex arrived back at the palace, miserable, his tux jacket thrown in the back of his car, his bow tie hanging dejectedly from his neck. The party was still in full swing, and Alex rushed in to the ballroom to find his mother and father, intending to find out what had driven Paris away. But as soon as he walked through the ballroom doors, he saw exactly what must have sent Paris running from him.

  Whitney was standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by people, as she laughed and flirted with anyone who was willing to be still and listen to her droning on and on about herself. When she saw Alex in the doorway, she waved with an exaggerated toothy grin plastered on her face and blew him a kiss, a kiss that made Alex's stomach churn. He saw the satisfaction lurking behind her eyes, and he felt in his gut that his suspicions were right.

  When he broke eye contact with Whitney to find his parents, he caught his mother's uncomfortable grimace, which was followed by a shrug, to indicate she had no idea what was going on either. Alex's first instinct was to bolt, but before he could leave the room, Whitney was by his side, holding his hands, pulling him into the middle of the dance floor.

  Even the feel of his hands on Whitney's waist made him feel nauseous, but she was leading and spinning them around the dance floor like a couple in love. Only when he was sure that no one could hear him over the music, he whispered through gritted teeth, “What did you do to Paris, you witch?”

  Whitney threw her head back and laughed as if Alex had just told the most brilliant joke.

  “I simply told her that this was no place for little American nobodies, and that you would do your duty in the end.”

  Alex twirled Whitney so hard, she almost spun away into the crowd, but she laughed it off and rushed back into his arms.

  “You know full well that the only thing I feel for you is contempt. Why would you do such a horrible thing? We don't care about each other. Your life could be your own again. Why do you even care?”

  Whitney leaned forward and kissed Alex on the cheek, causing him to visibly recoil. He knew it would be a reaction obvious to onlookers, but he couldn't control himself. When Whitney spoke, she hissed every word like a snake.

  “Because, Alexander. She took what's mine. And whether or not I want it, it's mine. And it shall stay mine, no matter what little games you play with your American tramp.”

  With that, Alex shoved Whitney away from him. The band stopped playing in shock and the room went silent, as no one had ever seen the Prince engage in such an overtly dramatic display. His face was as calm and cool as ever, but his eyes were flaming with a rage that had been building up for some time. When Alex reached down and grabbed Whitney's hand, she honestly had no idea what he was going to do.

  She was shocked when all he did was drag her up to the Royal table, pick up a glass of champagne, and clink it gently with one of the silver knives. As he started to speak, every citizen of Kara's Vale that was in attendance was on the edge of their seat.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, loyal subjects, my dearest family, I hate to draw attention away from my brother on this most wonderful of occasions. But my fiancée Whitney and I have an announcement, and we'd like you all to be the first to know.”

  Whitney smiled out into the crowd like the cat that got the cream, well and truly convinced she'd managed to sway Alex to her side, and that he would finally agree to set a date. The King's head dropped down into his hands as he prepared himself for a scene, what kind of scene was the question, but a scene nonetheless. Joseph and Matthias were both already laughing behind their coats, as their mother smacked at them to stop.

  “I couldn't even begin to imagine being happier to announce that Whitney Bishop-St.Claire of Estia and I are… calling off our engagement. For good, forever, and without even the slightest chance of reconciliation. I have met a woman so good, so kind, and so wonderful, that she has made me realize how truly unpleasant the Princess standing next to me actually is, and as such I choose to take my chances with snubbing centuries of royal tradition, and I will marry for love. While Whitney has attempted to drive away the woman that I love with lies and deceit of the most immature kind, nothing can stop me from finding her, bringing her back here, and making her my wife. So if you'll excuse me, I have a flight to catch.”

  The whole room erupted into shocked murmurs and gasps as Alex bolted from the room. Whitney continued to stand there, dumbstruck, with a fake pl
astic smile on her face. Joseph, unable to control himself even in the most awkward of situations, jumped over the table and sidled up to Whitney, to whom he loudly asked,

  “So... should I go ahead and call you a car to take your royal arse elsewhere?”

  25

  It was a busy night at the Beauty & Hook, the restaurant and bar where Orlando had been working for the last two years. Filled with all the local young people who had never left their little town, Paris had agreed to help Orlando behind the bar for the night, just to get out of the cabin.

  She'd only been there for a day, but a day of wallowing was more than she was used to, so the distraction was a nice switch. Since Paris was behind the bar, Orlando was using the opportunity to play some of his music on the small stage in the corner. As always, Orlando’s bluesy voice livened the atmosphere to the point that people were dancing next to their tables.

  Paris loved serving drinks and talking to people, but she couldn't help but feel distracted. She'd already contacted her school to explain, partially, the situation. They were expecting her back in a week to resume classes, and they promised her that she wouldn't lose any credits if she picked right back up where she had left off. She was excited to get back into a routine, but it felt like every movement she took, every word she said, was clad in the mist of Alex's memory.

  Midnight approached in the Beauty & Hook, and more of the locals were piling in to hear Orlando play, and lavish in the craft beers that the bar specialized in—a weekend two-for-one special. The bar was so packed, Paris couldn't even see her brother on the other side—just a swarming crowd of hipsters getting drunk and dancing.

  Paris felt her legs starting to ache from being on her feet so long, and getting no break. She limped over to the manager, Scott, and motioned at him that she wanted to go outside. But instead of saying yes, Scott started shouting something at her. Paris couldn't make out a thing he was saying over the noise, so she shouted back at him.

  “I can't hear a THING you're saying, Scott! I'm going to take a break! I'll be right back!”

  As she turned around, Scott grabbed her arm and stopped her from leaving. She scowled at his hand on her arm and raised her eyebrows at him. Scott scrunched up his face in an exasperated frown and leaned as close to her ear as he could get.

  Even though Paris could tell he was shouting, she barely heard him say, “There is someone here to see you! At the end of the bar! He's been waiting a while!”

  Paris pulled back, confused. No one knew her here but her family. Who would be here to see her? She inched toward the other end of the bar, confused, and deeply apprehensive about what might await her. Part of her was worried it was some sort of security guard, come all the way from Dalvana to reclaim the designer dress. She'd happily give it back, but she'd lived in it for almost two days, so she was pretty sure they wouldn't want it anyway.

  She was halfway down the bar when a hand reached out and grabbed her.

  “Yo! Can I get the Strawberry Basil Gimlet with a splash of organic grapefruit?”

  Paris didn't appreciate being deterred from her mission, but the tourists from out of town didn't appreciate when they were kept waiting. Paris smiled politely and set about mixing his drink, and muddling the strawberry, basil, and grapefruit together.

  She couldn't help but roll her eyes, wondering, Doesn't anyone just drink regular ole’ beer anymore?

  She was just mixing the drink together in the glass when a voice from across the bar, a voice that filled her stomach with affection and fear, a voice with a very familiar accent that hit her across the chest like a snowball thrown by a errant child on a winter day, shouted out, “Does no one in this country just drink beer?”

  Paris almost dropped the glass when she looked up and saw Alex smiling back at her, his eyes full of light and love. She knew her own pupils had gone wide in alarm, there was no hiding it, and her mouth fell open like a trout.

  She walked like a zombie to the guy who had ordered the drink and slid it across the bar to his waiting hand. He handed her back a twenty dollar bill, which left Paris with a dollar tip. She turned up her face in a bitter half smile and muttered, “Thanks a lot.”

  Knowing she couldn't avoid him forever, she walked over to where Alex had settled himself at the bar and found him reading the drink menu.

  Her heart clenched, and her breath caught in her throat as she approached him.

  “Hi.”

  “Hi.”

  The awkward silence between them was not alleviated by the cacophony of the bar. Alex spoke first, finding it hard to think of what to say.

  “Did that man just pay nineteen dollars for a drink? Nineteen AMERICAN dollars? And more importantly, did he only tip you a dollar after all that clever work you did making it?”

  Paris shrugged.

  “It’s become a hipster bar. Out of towners come slumming it, “ironically.” It happens more than you'd think. We charge them a “pain in the ass” tax. The more they pay, the less they tip. Anyway, I'm guessing you weren't just in the neighborhood and decided to stop by for a drink?”

  Alex set the menu down. His face got serious as he leaned across the bar.

  “Is there somewhere we can go to talk? It's terribly loud in here.”

  Paris nodded, and gestured to Scott that she was going outside. Then she pointed to the door, indicating to Alex to meet her in front of the bar. She grabbed her coat from underneath the register and made her way through the kitchen to the back door that led out to the parking lot. Once she was outside in the cold night air, she felt her defenses rising. Alex may have come all this way, but it didn't change what had happened in Dalvana. It didn't change the text messages to Whitney.

  When Paris rounded the corner, she saw Alex leaning against the stone wall outside the bar. He seemed to be prepared for the cold mountain air; he had on jeans and heavy black boots, a silk black dress shirt paired with a black silk tie, and over his grey suit jacket was a black over-coat, with the collar turned up to protect his face from the biting wind. As his hair ruffled in the breeze and he blew into his hands to keep warm, he could have been any handsome North East transplant, new to the area to start up a business, or a visiting investor looking for new business ventures. Unless you really looked at him, you would never have known he was a prince, and next in line to be king of an entire country.

  Paris walked up to Alex, pulling her brother’s over-sized ski jacket tighter around her, as if that were enough to keep out not the cold, but her feelings. As Alex looked up and smiled at her, she had to admit, the coat wasn't going to do anything.

  “I have to admit, I'm surprised to see you here. If you wanted the dress back, you could have just called. I sent it to the dry cleaners, but it’s probably never going to look new again. I’m sorry about that.”

  Alex furrowed his brow.

  “Dress? What dress?” He shook his head. “I don’t give a damn about any dress. That's not why I'm here, Paris. I'm here for you.”

  Paris kicked at the dirt of the parking lot.

  “Why? It seems perfectly clear that we had no future. I was dumb to let myself think—even for a few moments—that anything might be possible. I realize now that that I... threw myself at you. I was silly—I know that I mean nothing to you. It was—”

  Her voice caught in her throat, and she raised the back of her hand to her mouth to muffle a sob that escaped.

  Alex dropped his head and thought to himself, Damn you, Whitney. Damn you.

  “Paris, whatever Whitney said to you, whatever Whitney convinced you of, it wasn't real. She’s a born liar. Paris, please believe me. You mean everything to me. Everything.”

  Paris sniffled.

  “They were text messages, Alex. I saw them. You said you loved her. That I was—that you were going to get rid of me. You have terrible spelling by the way.”

  Alex hesitated and then let out a low chuckle, and then he laughed, deep and loud, so loud it echoed across the parking lot. “Is that what convince
d you? A few text messages?”

  “Paris, I never once, in all the years I knew Whitney Bishop-St.Claire, told her I loved her. But more importantly, I was a Language and Literature major at University. My spelling is impeccable. Whitney, on the other hand, wouldn't be able to spell her own name if she hadn't had a tutor for that specific purpose. Her family has been inbreeding for so many generations, she is practically a poodle.”

  Now it was Paris' turn to laugh through her tears. She choked back her words.

  “I’ve been an idiot, haven’t I?”

  “A beautiful, ravishing, tempting, delightful idiot that I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

  Paris nodded, looking down at her feet, questioning herself—why had she really run away? She could have confronted Alex about the text messages on Dalvana. The truth was—the truth was that she had been scared. Scared of being happy, of losing herself and her goals—but most of all, scared that Whitney was right. She was a little nothing, nobody—it was silly for her to believe she could ever be anything else. And so, Whitney had only confirmed what she secretly believed.

  “Well? How many more times do I have to ask you?”

  Alex reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, delicate box. He opened it and nestled inside was the diamond ring she’d given back to him. “Now, for what I hope will be the last time. Paris Martell, will you marry me?”

  She didn't know why, if it were anyone else she never would have just taken his words at face value, but because it was Alex, she believed him. She saw the love shining in his eyes, and for once in her life she started to believe that fairy tales might just come true after all.

  She believed him and she closed the distance between and jumped into Alex's arms. When he kissed her, she felt all of his love for her in the kiss, and she knew that whatever happened from this moment forward, they could weather any storm together.

  Alex pulled away, and kissed her softly on the forehead.