by Peak, Renna
“Ask Clara.” He crosses to the porch as if he has every right to be here. I’ve seen that look in his eyes before—when he was in a boardroom and determined to get his way. “I’m her fiancé. And I’m here to take her home.”
Royal Escape #2
This book is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, locations or incidents are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events, or locations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2018 by Ember Casey and Renna Peak
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
First Edition: June, 2018
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Nicholas
Clara goes limp at the sight of the man standing in my driveway, and instead of her helping me stand, my arm tightens around her, and I’m very much the one helping her to remain upright.
She and the man who has barged onto my property glare at each other, making me forget for a moment about the pain jolting up my leg.
“This is ridiculous, Clara. Even for you,” the man says.
She lifts a brow. “Even for me? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“The histrionics. This needs to end.” He takes a few steps toward the porch. “I’m taking you home. Our wedding is next month—”
“I’m very much in love,” she says through a forced smile. “Nick and I… It was love at first sight. Seriously. Right, Nick?” She turns to me, giving me the slightest nod as she pulls me more tightly against her. “I’ve found what I was looking for. What I didn’t realize I was missing.”
The man takes a few more steps toward us. “You expect me to believe you’ve fallen in love with…him? In two weeks?” He shakes his head. “With some dumbfuck of a cowboy? What are you? In high school?”
Her grip tightens around me again, but she says nothing.
“We’re leaving, Clara. You’re getting in the car now.”
“Apologies.” I’ve no idea what I’m doing, or why I would choose to play along with this game. Clara and I have shared little more than a kiss. And though it was one of the more intriguing kisses I’ve shared with a woman, it was still only a kiss.
“Apologies,” I say again, taking a tentative step forward. Pain sears through my leg. The damn thing is definitely broken. “I don’t believe we’ve had a proper introduction—”
“I will end you.” His lip curls into a snarl. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with, asshole.”
I lift a brow. Clearly, he has no idea who he is dealing with, either.
“I’m Adam Bennett.” He cocks his head, clearly waiting for me to react.
“Nick Smith,” I say, carefully trying to cover my accent.
“Did you hear what I said, dumbass? I’m Adam Bennett.”
“I’ve no issues with my hearing, as far as I’m aware.” I turn to look at Clara, but she’s still frozen in place, the color drained from her face.
“Are you fucking kidding me? I have to spell it out for you cowboy?” He shakes his head. “Bennett.” He draws the word out slowly, as though I might not understand otherwise.
“Forgive me, is that supposed to impress me?” I turn to look at Clara again, but she doesn’t look back at me.
“Of the New York Bennetts, dipshit. You let my wife go, or I will take you for every single thing you own.”
“I highly doubt that.” I slide my arm around Clara’s waist again, suddenly feeling quite possessive. “And I don’t believe she’s your wife yet. In fact, I believe you just said your wedding wasn’t scheduled until this weekend. And clearly, that isn’t going to happen.”
“You have no idea who you’re dealing with—”
“As you’ve said. Though, I do suppose you have no idea who you are dealing with, either.”
He chuckles. “I have resources you couldn’t even dream about. Not even in your wildest imagination.”
“Forgive me, but I’ve never heard of your family. And I can assure you that whatever it is you’re threatening would be matched equally by my family. In fact, I’ve no doubt of it.”
“Who the fuck are you?” His eyebrows draw together, and I realize I’ve slipped out of my carefully crafted role of ignorant cowboy.
Even Clara is looking up at me with a confused expression.
I pull her tightly against me. “Leave us.”
The man laughs. “Leave you? You think you’re some kind of royalty or something?”
“In fact, I do.” I clench my jaw tightly. This isn’t exactly how I wanted this information to come out—and perhaps neither of them will believe it, anyway. But something inside me wants to protect the woman at my side. Perhaps it was the kiss we shared, or perhaps it is merely the fact that she’s been so desperate to leave this man, she was willing to take on a role she was ill-equipped to perform.
He laughs again. “Go fuck yourself, Nick Smith. Come on, Clara.” He extends his hand. “We’re leaving.”
“I…don’t think so.” She places her hand over mine at her waist. “I’m fine right here.”
“Where the fuck is your ring?” He stares at her hand. “Where the fuck is your ring?”
“Well, like you just said, it’s my ring. It doesn’t really matter where it is, does it?”
“You fucking asshole!” He turns his glare to me. “You stole her ring? Why? So you could afford this shithole of a house?”
I open my mouth to respond, but Clara cuts in first. “It’s not a shithole. It’s my home. And I think Nick asked you to leave.”
“Nick is a fucking idiot. Even you must see that, Clara. And I don’t believe for one single second that you’re in love with him.”
“Really?” She smiles—and it would seem I’ve come to know this smile well. It’s the one that says ‘I love a challenge.’
She turns to me, and pulls my face down to hers, kissing me squarely on the lips. It’s little more than a peck really, but it stirs something inside me—something I wasn’t quite expecting.
I slide my arms around her again, pulling her against my body as I deepen the kiss. It hasn’t been long at all, but I can’t believe how much I’ve missed the taste of her.
It’s only a moment before I feel something pulling at my collar, and I’m yanked away from Clara. And it’s only another second before Adam’s fist lands on my jaw.
Clara
I knew I was going to have to talk to Adam eventually, but this was not the way I expected any of this to happen. Not at all. I guess I assumed that one day, a week or a month or a year from now, I’d finally get the courage to talk to him again, that I’d call him up and explain why I had to do this. That I’d wish him well and give both of us the closure we needed.
I certainly didn’t expect to kiss another man in front of him to prove that my decision to leave him was final. And I absolutely didn’t expect for that kiss to make me fluttery all over in a way Adam’s kisses never did.
Adam always did like to point out that I can be crazy and impulsive at the most inconvenient times. I guess he was right.
I should have known better. And there’s nothing I can do when Nick is jerked away from me. Or when Adam punches him right in the face.
“Stop it!” I shout, grabbing Adam’s arm before he can swing at Nick again. “It’s not his fault.”
But Adam isn’t the only one I should be worried about. While I’m trying to drag him away, Nick returns the pu
nch, hitting my former fiancé in the stomach.
Adam doubles over, jerking out of my grip. And before I shout at them to stop again, Nick lunges at Adam, throwing both of them off the porch.
“Stop, you idiots!” I yell at them, hurrying down the steps. What the hell is Nick thinking? His ankle’s already sprained—what if he makes it worse? And what gave Adam the right to start throwing punches in the first place?
Well, you did kiss Nick right in front of him, I think, my face getting hot. Rubbing his face in it was probably not the best idea you’ve ever had. What did you think was going to happen?
But I don’t want to dwell on the fact that I might be the biggest idiot of all. Right now, I have a fight to break up.
Nick is practically on top of Adam, but Adam’s putting up a good fight. His fist connects with Nick’s side, and Nick grunts in pain. A moment later, Adam has him pinned in the mud, at least until Nick’s knuckles connect with his ear and he manages to gain the upper hand again.
They’re going to kill each other if I don’t do something. I’m not much of a fighter, but I started this mess. I need to end it.
I dive toward them, gripping each of them by one of their shoulders, but they’re so intent on each other that I don’t think they even notice me. Nick twists, trying to drive his knee into Adam’s side, and Adam responds by swinging at Nick again. The only problem is that I’m in the way this time, and instead of getting Nick, his fist connects with my ribs. Right where Prince kicked me a few days ago.
I fall back with a grunt, the pain knocking all the air out of me. For a moment, at the edge of my vision, I think I see Nick glance over at me, his eyes wide with shock and realization, but before he can say anything Adam hits him again, and then he’s forced to take another defensive swing.
Idiot men, I think, sliding away from them on my butt. I could be on fire and they’d still insist on killing each other.
My hand comes down on something hard, and I realize it’s the head of the garden hose.
Maybe this will cool them off.
I scramble to my feet, chest still throbbing, and run over to the side of the porch and switch on the hose. Then I run back to the fight, switch the nozzle to the highest setting, and point it at the pair of idiots.
That gets their attention immediately. They both shout and jerk away from each other, but I keep it pointed at them, spraying first one and then the other, daring them to try something again. The two of them climb to their feet—Nick much more gingerly than Adam—and turn toward me, panting.
I release the nozzle, letting the stream of water die away. Both men are soaked, their clothes clinging to their bodies, and they’re streaked with dirt and mud all over.
“What the hell is wrong with the two of you?” I demand.
Adam’s eyes flash. “This is absurd, Clara. We’re going back to New York. I didn’t come all this way to leave you in the hands of some filthy farmer.”
He starts toward me, his eyes so intent that I’m pretty sure he’s prepared to throw me over his shoulder and carry me kicking and screaming to his car if he has to. But I hold up the hose, pointing it right at him, and he hesitates.
“If you think a little water is going to stop me, you’re crazier than I thought,” he says. “You’re better than this, Clara. Come home. Your parents are worried about you. I’m worried about you. This isn’t like you. Whatever’s going on, whatever you’re afraid of, we can talk about it. We can work through it. Don’t throw away your life like this.”
“I’m not throwing it away,” I insist.
Adam starts to say something else, but then he realizes Nick has come up behind him, looming just over his shoulder.
“Kindly leave my property,” Nick says, his voice hard and furious. “Or I’ll have the authorities remove you.”
Adam’s jaw stiffens, but he turns his face toward me again. His eyes soften slightly.
“Please, Clara,” he says gently. “I just want to talk. We owe each other that much, don’t we?”
He’s right on that account, at least. I owed him better than simply running away with no explanation. He is—was—my fiancé. And I took the coward’s way out. I owe him the truth.
“You will leave,” Nick says, his voice somehow even harder than before. “Now.”
Adam glances back at him, then at me again. He seems to realize that we’re not going to have a real conversation here. Not now, anyway.
“I’m going to take a room in town,” he says. “When you’re ready, Clara, come and find me.” He hesitates, then continues. “If this man is holding you against your will—”
“He’s not,” I say quickly.
Adam goes on. “If you need any help at all, I will get you out of this. I promise.” He doesn’t look at Nick, which is probably good—Nick looks about three seconds away from crushing his skull in. “I want to work through this. Whatever’s happened—whatever you’ve done—I forgive you. I just want you to come home.”
He doesn’t give me a chance to answer. Without another glance at Nick, he turns and marches back to his car, limping slightly. Right before he climbs in, he glances at me again. “I’ll be in town,” he tells me once more. “I’ll be waiting to hear from you, Clara.” And then, “I love you.”
He climbs in and starts the engine. Neither Nick nor I says a word to each other as he turns his car around and heads back up the driveway to the road.
Only when the sound of his engine has completely faded does Nick turn to me. He remains silent, but his eyes say more than enough.
I tug at my shirt, straightening it.
“We should get you inside and changed,” I say. “I can’t imagine the doctor will appreciate you dripping all over his waiting room.”
“What’s going on, Clara?” he says. His voice is quiet but still hard. “Why was that man here?”
“You heard him,” I say. “He wants me to go back to New York. But don’t worry, I won’t abandon my job.”
His face darkens. “You know what I mean. Why was he here?”
“I thought we agreed we didn’t have to talk about our pasts?” I say. “What’s done is done.”
“That hardly seemed ‘done’ to me.”
“Well it’s done to me.” I lift my chin. “I’m here now. Exactly where I want to be. I’m not going anywhere with Adam, and that’s all you need to know.” I cross my arms. “You didn’t have to fight him. What about your ankle?”
“My ankle is fine,” he says. He takes a tender step toward me, as if to prove it, but he can’t hide that grimace of pain on his face.
“We’re getting you to the doctor as soon as you’re changed,” I tell him. “I don’t want to hear any arguments.”
He frowns, and he looks like he’s about to argue, but instead he says, “Did he hurt you?”
“I told you I don’t want to talk about my past,” I tell him.
But he shakes his head. “When he accidentally punched you. Are you all right?”
Honestly, I’d almost forgotten about that. But now that he’s mentioned it, I’m aware of the throbbing in my chest.
“I’ll live,” I tell him. “It’s just a bruise, nothing more.”
His frown deepens. “Let me see it. Lift up your shirt.”
“I’ll do no such thing.” I march over to him and offer him my shoulder to lean on. “We’ve only kissed. That doesn’t mean I’m going to strip for you, even if you ask nicely.”
His expression doesn’t change, but I’m pretty sure his cheeks get a shade pinker.
“That is not what I was asking and you’re well aware of it,” he says. But he doesn’t protest as I help him back up the porch steps. I think he is limping worse than before, but it might just be my imagination.
“We can talk about that later,” I tell him. “Our first priority is getting you to the doctor. And I won’t take no for an answer. I’m more stubborn than you are, Nick.”
He grumbles something under his breath, and in spite of everythin
g, I want to laugh.
I help him up the stairs and into his room. After refusing to lift my shirt for him, I can’t exactly offer to help him change—that will just give him an opening to ask me again. So instead I leave him at the closet and return to the door.
“Let me know if you need any help,” I say. “I’ll just be in my room.” I pause with my hand on the door frame. “And Nick?”
“Hm?” He glances over from his closet.
“Thank you,” I tell him quietly. “For standing up for me. You didn’t have to. We’ve only known each other a couple of weeks. You don’t owe me anything. But… Thank you.”
I can see the questions in his eyes—about Adam, about me, about everything—and I wonder if he’s thinking about our kiss, too. It was only a kiss, but I feel like it shifted something between us. We’re no longer just an employer and employee anymore. I don’t know what we are, but that’s a question for another day.
Whatever questions he has, he seems to know he won’t get any answers right now.
“You’re welcome,” he says, clearing his throat. Then he adds, “And thank you, Clara, for not abandoning our business arrangement. It was very professional of you.”
I fight back a smile. I shouldn’t be surprised he’s gone back to formality again.
But he called you Clara, I realize. Not Ms. Weaver. That’s something.
“Anytime,” I tell him, letting my grin slip out as I leave him to change.
Nicholas
My jaw aches from the punch I took, but not nearly as much as my ankle.
What just happened? I’ve been in a few brawls in my life, though the last time I took a punch was when I was defending the woman who would become my brother Andrew’s wife.
My life in Montovia seems so far away, as though it happened a million years ago. And though it might have been wise to tell the man who claims to be Clara’s fiancé, my status as royalty needs to remain a secret forever, no matter the circumstances.