The Princess I Hate to Love: A Steamy Romantic Comedy

by Iris Morland

  Everything seemed to be going smoothly. Our relationship was progressing; the threats of scandal that had plagued us seemed to have disappeared.

  I became complacent. I became naive.

  Because when you lived your entire life in the public eye, you might have a break from the spotlight. It always ends, however. The claws of gossip, of speculation, inevitably disrupted the peace—eventually.

  After dinner one evening, when Niamh and I had already returned to our chamber and were discussing whether we wanted to stroll the gardens, Laurent called the phone next to my bedside.

  Niamh’s clothes remained in her dressing room in her chamber, and she was currently changing into something more suitable for a walk. When the phone began to ring, I had the eerie feeling that it wasn’t to wish me a good night’s rest.

  Laurent, for once, didn’t mince words. “Your Highness, forgive the intrusion. The princess’s father wishes to see you.”

  “When?”

  “Now, sir. He’s here, wanting an audience.”

  I gripped the receiver, listening for the sound of my wife coming into my bedroom. I hoped the cats would distract her until I finished speaking with Laurent.

  “He wishes to see me? Are you certain?”

  “Quite. He was adamant that he speaks to you, without Her Highness knowing. He says if you don’t come to speak with him, he’ll, quote, ‘leak every damn thing on the Internet.’”

  I swore. And I swore again when I heard the creak of the adjoining door open. Laurent told me where Connor Gallagher was lying in wait the moment before Niamh came into the bedroom.

  She saw my expression and frowned. “What is it?”

  I forced myself to smile, although I was certain it was strained. I rose and kissed her forehead. “I have a matter that I need to attend to. I’m sorry I won’t be able to take that walk with you tonight.”

  “What matter?” Niamh’s eyes narrowed. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “It’s nothing.” When she looked more annoyed, I added, “It’s actually rather stupid. Apparently, Laurent agreed that I’d be interviewed tomorrow, but he’d neglected to provide me with the questions.”

  “So you’re having to prepare right now? At nine o’clock p.m.? It can probably wait until morning.”

  “Afraid not. The interview is early in the morning.”

  Niamh remained skeptical, but then one of the kittens barreled through the partially shut door and started climbing up one of the window curtains. Soon enough, the two others were copying their sibling.

  “Crap, I’ll get them—” Niamh hurried to the window and began plucking kittens from curtains like you’d pick apples from a tree, albeit apples with needle-sharp claws that yelled in protest.

  I headed to the north entrance of the palace, where the public would normally enter when given a tour. It was generally not in use by the royal family; instead, it functioned more like a museum. I had no idea how Connor Gallagher had managed to get inside. It wasn’t as though you could simply walk up the entrance and meander inside without security stopping you.

  Laurent found me outside the room that contained my father-in-law. “Your Highness, I must apologize. One of the security guards contacted me about him, saying that he was Her Highness’s father. He wouldn’t leave until I agreed to tell you he was here. If you wish, we can have him thrown out.”

  “No, that isn’t necessary. If he has something to say to me, he can say it.” Besides, I knew that he’d make good on this threat to reveal my secret if I didn’t. He held all of the power. Apparently, all of the money in the world wouldn’t keep Connor Gallagher from demanding more.

  “I will stand outside if you should need me, sir.” Laurent stood at attention near the doorway. Not far away were two security guards, who bowed when they saw me.

  Connor was lounging on a velvet settee when I entered the parlor. It was a small room, at least by the palace’s standards, and I had a feeling Laurent had chosen this one because it wasn’t a room that would receive guests. Connor wasn’t a guest; he was an intruder.

  Connor was thinner and more haggard than when I’d seen him last. Despite the new lines around his mouth and eyes, his expression remained surprisingly bland.

  He didn’t stand when he saw me enter. He merely sat up and laughed when I sat stiffly in a chair across from him.

  “I’d get up and bow, but my bones hurt today,” said Connor.

  “In the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t particularly matter.”

  “Ah, you’re practical. That’s uncommon in rich people like yourself. Pretty sure if your servant realized I wasn’t calling you ‘Your Majesty,’ he’d have a stroke.”

  “He would, only because I’m called ‘Your Highness.’”

  Connor laughed. “Touché.” He leaned against the back of the settee. “I think we’d be friends, in another lifetime.”

  “Doubtful. I don’t keep friends who use their own daughter for their advantage.”

  He smiled, but there was no joy in it. “Then let’s not waste any more of my time or yours. You have money; I want money. You give me money, or I tell everyone who you are. Pretty simple.”

  I had to restrain myself from punching him in the throat. He was so calm, so amused, that I saw red across my vision. Not just because he was threatening me, but because he’d use his own daughter like this. It was despicable.

  “What if I told you that I don’t care if you tell the world about my parentage?” I folded my hands, forcing calm into my voice. “Then what?”

  “I’d say you were a bad fucking liar. You look like you’re about to spew. Green about the gills, princeling. Then again, you wouldn’t be a prince much longer afterward.”

  I wondered if Connor was all bluster. If and when he released this story, he wouldn’t have any leverage over me. He’d be giving away the one card he held in his hand.

  “I married your daughter, one of the heirs, for that sole reason. And if she were already pregnant…” I let the possibility dangle between us.

  Niamh, of course, wasn’t pregnant. I didn’t know if she’d ever agree to produce an heir. But Connor didn’t know that.

  Connor’s expression turned dark. “Then if you don’t care about yourself, then maybe you’d want to keep your wife safe. There are photos, you know, photos of your wife, that could also be released.”

  I froze. Connor had been the one threatening to release those topless photos of Niamh. Her own father. I felt sick. Rage like I’d never felt surged through my veins.

  In an instant, I was grabbing Connor by the shirt collar, shaking him as he tried desperately to pry my hands away.

  “You would threaten your own daughter, your flesh and blood, like this?” I shook him one last time and then thrust him away from me. “You’re disgusting. You don’t deserve to even kiss Niamh’s feet.”

  Connor was coughing, his face still blue. I heard furious knocking in the door and Laurent’s voice, “Are you all right, Your Highness? Sir!”

  I quickly assured Laurent I was fine before locking the door in his distressed face. Returning to Connor, I waited for him to catch his breath. The only reason I didn’t kill him right then and there was because poor Laurent didn’t deserve to have to clean up Connor’s cowardly, vile remains.

  “You surprise me,” said Connor, his voice hoarse. “Didn’t expect a pretty rich boy like yourself to have such fight in him.”

  “We’re both full of surprises tonight,” I said scathingly.

  “You must really care about my daughter? I didn’t think you would. Thought you were more like me. Couldn’t blame you if you were. Everybody has to get what they’re due in this world. I want money; you want your throne. It just so happens that Niamh is the key to both of us getting those things.”

  I stilled, torn between beating this man into a pulp or throwing him out of a window. Mostly, I hated that he’d dared to compare us, as if I were on his level.

  I might’ve forced Niamh’s han
d; I might’ve created this situation. But was I just like Connor Gallagher, truly only caring about myself, no matter who got hurt?

  Connor chuckled. “Hit a mark? Don’t despair, dearest son-in-law. There are worse fates than having ambition.”

  “Ambition is one thing—destroying your own daughter’s reputation for it is another. Don’t act as though we’re similar people.”

  Connor shrugged. “I didn’t come here to chitchat. I came here for my money.” He leaned forward, resolve in his hardened face. “Either you pay up or everything gets released. The photos, the story. All of it. Your life, Niamh’s, and your parents’ lives come crashing down. All you have to do is a write me a check for ten million Euro. A small price to pay, yes?”

  “You’re insane.”

  I turned to go, no longer interested in bargaining with the devil. I’d pay him ten million Euro, and then he’d ask for twenty million more.

  “You have two weeks,” said Connor at my retreating figure. “Two weeks, or I pull the trigger.”

  I didn’t even look at him as I replied, “Security will escort you out. If you show your face here again, I’ll have you arrested for trespassing.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The press office in the palace was moving faster than I’d ever seen it. Along with the coterie of lawyers the palace had on hand, everyone was working tirelessly to stop Connor Gallagher from making good on his threats.

  Despite his threats, there wasn’t enough to arrest him, considering he didn’t threaten my life or anyone else’s. Threatening to release information, or photos that we had no proof he’d taken, wasn’t enough for the police. And he hadn’t trespassed on palace grounds when he’d been admitted after demanding to see me.

  And where was Connor Gallagher, while not lurking about the palace? No one knew. He was a slippery figure, to say the least. We had private detectives searching Saint Henri, trying to find anyone who’d seen an Irishman of middling height and build. It wasn’t as though there were masses of Irishman here in Salasia. He should stick out like a sore thumb.

  Yet as far as I knew, Connor was smart enough to lay low for the next two weeks.

  “Can’t we just have someone kill him?” I said, only half-jokingly, to Laurent a few mornings after my conversation with Connor.

  Laurent didn’t bat an eyelash. “Unfortunately, the monarchy hasn’t been able to execute criminals in over a century.”

  “Shame. Niamh’s idea about guillotines wasn’t entirely insane, now that I think of it.”

  Of course, I had no interest in killing my father-in-law. This wasn’t some spy novel; this was an old man, presumably one who was dying, who wanted to die with enough money that he’d never have to worry about his bills being paid again.

  “What’s the point of wanting ten million if you’re dying?” I’d wondered aloud to Laurent earlier. “No amount of money is going to keep death from knocking.”

  “Perhaps there is no reason beyond wanting to prove a point. That he can make the monarchy that had hurt his mother bend to his will,” Laurent had replied.

  It made sense. Princess Mary, Connor’s mother, had been disowned by the family when she’d married Sean Gallagher. The story had been such a stain on the royal family that I’d never heard of it until I’d had the misfortune of meeting Connor Gallagher.

  Then again, I wouldn’t have met Niamh, either. Could I really regret everything that had happened since then? That my life had been completely upended beyond anything I could’ve imagined?

  I might’ve said yes before I’d married Niamh. Now, I didn’t think I could.

  After receiving an update on the legal and PR teams’ progress, I returned to the east wing, where Niamh was currently having lessons. She’d been suspicious ever since I’d had the meeting with her father. I’d wanted to tell her everything, and it had taken everything inside me not to spill the entire story to her.

  But the other part of me wanted to take care of this myself. I didn’t want her to worry. I’d created this mess by involving her; I’d fix it without causing her more stress. I wanted to protect her from this world I’d forced her to join, even if she might be angry with me later when, or even if, she discovered the truth.

  Celia, Niamh’s maid, approached me with a worried expression. “Oh, Your Highness, the cats—” She sighed deeply. “They are not staying here forever, yes?”

  “Have they gotten into something else?”

  “Oh, they are so naughty! They have chewed on purses, shoes, even climbed up some of Her Highness’s gowns! They are terrors yet madam does not seem to think so!”

  “Then perhaps we need to create a space just for them,” I mused. “A cat room. Can you ask Claudine about putting that together?”

  “If that means I can get them out of madam’s dressing room, of course. I will put it together myself if I have to!”

  Celia hurried off, talking to herself under her breath about devil cats that would dare to ruin expensive purses and gowns.

  I didn’t blame her for her frustration; her job was to care for Niamh and Niamh’s things. Having a trio of kittens making your job harder, despite how cute they were, would be immensely frustrating.

  A week later, Claudine, Celia, and a number of other servants created a cat room that seemed straight out of a fairy tale: cat trees that looked like actual trees, perches that were shaped like toadstools, and beds that were shaped like flowers. There were more toys than any four cats could ever play with, along with wall paths that meant the cats could get as high as their feline hearts desired.

  And very conveniently, the room was right next door to Niamh’s chambers, so she didn’t have to go far for feline company.

  “Did you put this together?” Niamh whirled on me.

  “I can’t take the credit. Celia was behind it, along with Claudine. I believe the motivation was more to remove the cats from your dressing room than pleasing the cats themselves.”

  Niamh laughed. “Poor Celia. I had no idea she was that desperate to get the cats out of my room.” Niamh crouched down where Enzo and Tesla were currently wrestling. Tesla kicked Enzo in the face, which made Enzo yowl in protest.

  “You might not take any credit, but you did come around to liking the cats.” Niamh rose and smiled at me. “Admit it: they’re cute.”

  At the moment, Mercedes was trying to get onto my shoulder from a nearby cat tree, her claws sinking into my skin. “I admit nothing.”

  “You love them. You can’t bear to be parted from them.” Niamh flung her arms around me. “You’ve become a cat person. Admit it.”

  Mercedes finally jumped onto my shoulder. I winced as her claws dug in farther. Petting her, I replied, “I’m a cat person if it means making you smile.”

  Niamh’s smile widened. I would’ve kissed her, but then we’d have a kitten falling onto my wife’s face, which I didn’t think either would’ve appreciated. Instead, Niamh stood on her tiptoes and kissed me.

  “Thank you. This is amazing.” She gave me one last loud smacking kiss. “We’ll fill this entire palace with cats in no time.”

  “Four is plenty.”

  “We could easily take on four more. Another litter. We could even foster some cats, too.”

  I placed Mercedes on a nearby perch and took Niamh’s hands. “No. More. Cats.”

  “How can you put a limit on how many cats you have?”

  “Easy. Four is my limit. The end.”

  She waved a hand. “You say that now,” she said breezily. She went to a window, where Celia had made certain a bird feeder was hung nearby. Two sparrows were eating at the feeder while Portia watched with a rapidly thumping tail. I wondered if the sparrows had any idea how close to death they were, that only a pane of glass was keeping them safe right then.

  Niamh scratched Portia behind her ears before beckoning me over. She wouldn’t look me in the eye, and she seemed suddenly nervous.

  “You keep giving me all of these things,” she began. “The car, no
w the cat room.”

  “The cat room was more for Celia, if I were being honest.”

  “That being said, you’ve been showing me in a lot of ways that you care about me.” Niamh looked up at me through her lashes. “At least, I think you care. You could just be bribing me to keep me happy.”

  I didn’t know how to reply to that. Luckily, Niamh kept talking.

  “Everything that’s happened, us together, the gestures…”

  She was now petting Portia to the point that Portia’s ears were going back in annoyance. When Niamh didn’t take the hint, Portia gave her a light smack and then hopped onto a platform above our heads with as much of a huff as a cat could give off.

  “Um, yeah. What was I saying?”

  I said gently, “With everything that’s happened…”

  “Yes, I mean, with everything that’s happened. I just was thinking…” Niamh took in a deep breath. Then exhaled. Finally, she blurted, “I think I’m in love with you.”

  The only sounds were the sounds of the kittens playing, along with Portia’s tail lightly hitting the windowpane above us. Most of all, I could hear my heart pounding in my ears.

  “Niamh,” I said. “Look at me.”

  She slowly turned her gaze up toward mine.

  “I’m in love with you, too.”

  And then before she could start babbling, I kissed her. She laughed, a joyous sound, a sound that sent me into a tailspin of joy. I hadn’t realized that I loved her until she said the words aloud. Now, though, it was like everything had suddenly clicked into place.

  “Oh, thank God,” said Niamh, panting a little. “I wasn’t sure you felt the same.”

  “I didn’t know until this moment.”

  “Well, I’ll try to take that as a compliment, I guess.”

  I pinched her chin gently. “It is a compliment. I’m a prince, and I love you.”

  “A prince loves me! Oh me, oh my, what a fairy tale!”