London Royal (London Royal Duet Book 1)

by Nana Malone

  I nodded slowly. "This isn't going to be easy, is it?"

  She laughed. "No, not easy at all. But you're going to take your time. Have a little fun. I mean, after all, isn't that why you're in London?"

  I nodded. "Yeah, you would be right about that."

  Abbie…

  As luck would have it, the earlier sunshine was a fluke. The skies darkened to a blackened gray, and fat raindrops pelted my arms and battered my umbrella. “Damn it.” Sucking in a resolute breath, I marched forward. A little rain wasn’t going to ruin my day. I’d come to London knowing the weather pattern. It was just one more thing I’d have to get used to.

  Quickly, I checked Faith’s scrawled directions to Sophie’s boyfriend’s place. 1257 Camberwell Road. I glanced at the numbers on the row houses on my right. 1232, 1234—at least I was moving in the right direction, though I needed to cross the street.

  With rain pelting the sleeves of my thick sweater even harder, I trotted to the edge of the sidewalk and checked for oncoming cars. Just as I was about to step onto the road, I heard a revving motor.

  From behind, someone shouted, “Look out!”

  In one smooth snap of icy talons, fear gripped my spine as strong arms jerked me backward with enough force to knock the wind out of me.

  My head swam. In an automatic reply to being grabbed, my body went numb, and my oxygen would only come in short stabbing bursts as my hands flew up in an attempt to protect my face. But then, the tiny voice inside screamed, You are not helpless. It was just the motivation I needed.

  I fought the stranger’s hold and struggled, immediately losing my footing. In the split second my brain registered my downward trajectory, I squealed and tucked my camera into my sweater to protect it as I fell. The arms tightened around me again and turned both our bodies. Nausea swelled as I tried to free myself from the grip of strong hands.

  My would-be attacker and I landed ass-first in a grimy puddle with a thud hard enough to make my teeth rattle. I blinked rapidly, my brain trying to register what had happened as a Mini Cooper whizzed by. The driver shouted epithets in my direction.

  Unable to calm the panic as adrenaline flooded my veins, I continued to try to free myself and fought for control.

  “You’re okay. I’ve got you. Stop struggling. I didn’t just save your life so I could hurt you. Just relax for one second and breathe.”

  The masculine voice crooned low and soft in my ear, working its magic on me inch by inch. In those endless seconds, my brain registered that the strong hands that held me weren’t squeezing too tight. They weren’t manhandling me. They weren’t striking me. In fact, they were only tight enough to have pulled me back. These hands had caused me no harm. Unlike Easton’s.

  I was safe.

  Through the thunder of my heart, I heard the splish and splash of heavy raindrops on the pavement and my downed umbrella. My own ragged breathing filtered in next, along with the harsh breathing of my puddle partner.

  I yanked my camera out of my sweater and carefully examined it. No cracks to the lens or anything. Thank God. I didn’t have the money to replace it.

  With one arm, I tried to leverage myself up, but I slipped and landed back on my savior’s lap… hard.

  I whipped my head around to face him, and he stared at me. Raindrops clung to his dark, sooty lashes. His wavy hair was plastered to his head. I tried to make my mouth move, but nothing happened, almost as if the command had gotten lost in the cataloguing of his features.

  Wide gray eyes that smoldered. Midnight black hair. Full lips that looked like they were on the verge of smiling. Straight Roman nose, and a square jaw. He was beautiful. I wanted him on a canvas, just like he was now, his brow lightly furrowed and his eyes concerned. There was something so familiar about him.

  “Are you all right?”

  I blinked, tried to form the words, and failed. Then I tried again. “Um, yeah. I think so. Th-thank you.”

  A blond guy stood nearby, holding an umbrella over the two of us. Finally Gray Eyes stood, pulling me with him. His hand was firm and warm, despite the chilly rain. “You have to make sure to look both ways okay?”

  Again, my brain stuttered as the whiskey-smooth texture of his voice rolled over me. I could listen to him talk forever. Quickly, I tugged my hand free of his. “Um. I—uh.” Mortified, I covered my face. “Yeah. Thanks. I'll be careful.”

  He studied me with a quizzical expression then whispered, “Okay. Cheers.”

  After quickly checking my camera for damage again, I stepped to the curb once more. Careful to look both ways–twice–I crossed the street to the opposing row houses. As I muttered the numbers to myself, tension slowly ebbed out of me.

  I stopped in front of the address Faith had texted. Before I could even knock, Sophie yanked the door open with a squeal.

  “Oh, my god, oh my god, oh my god. You’re actually here. I can’t believe it. Yay!”

  The hugging came next. I held my camera away from my body as Sophie wrapped her arms around me and attempted to squeeze the air out of my lungs. Sophie was a big-time hugger. Me, not so much.

  “Hey, Sophie, you think you could actually let me in? The back of my pants are soaked.”

  “Oh, of course. Sorry, babes. I was just so excited.” She stopped trying to administer the reverse Heimlich maneuver and dragged me through an elegantly lit foyer with recessed lights and a slate floor. “What happened to you anyway? You look like hell.”

  A gilded mirror hung in the hallway, and I groaned when I saw my reflection. My braided twist had come undone, and my make-up was now streaked and smudged, giving me the appearance of a wet, bedraggled Koala.

  I followed Sophie into the ultra-modern kitchen and tried not to gape. The cabinets were red lacquer and the backsplash was red, orange, and gold glass tile. All the appliances were high-end stainless steel, and the countertops were white marble. This was where Sophie lived? Faith's digs in Chiswick were nice, but this was opulent. “I had a run in with a Mini Cooper and a puddle. Do you have a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt I can borrow? I must look like a drowned rat.”

  A low voice came from behind me. “I don’t know. You look well fit to me.”

  I jumped and whirled around. I made a quick assessment of him just like I did with all men and filed him into the preliminary category of not-a-threat.

  I studied him closer, unsure of what to make of the auburn-haired guy leaning against the counter. He was cute in a quirky way. With his shaggy hair and animated green eyes, I could see how his disarming smile made him even cuter. He had several tattoos on his forearms and one peeking out from the top of his T-shirt. Fantastic. His whole aura screamed trouble. But there was something inherently kind about his eyes.

  Sophie giggled. “Jasper, behave, would you? This is my friend Abbie from Uni.”

  Jasper uncoiled his lanky frame and strode over. I wasn't so sure about being in his personal space, but nevertheless, I extended a hand to shake, but instead, he bowed and kissed my knuckles. Yeah. Charming as fuck. And he knew it. I tugged my hand back. “Nice to meet you, Jasper.”

  “I promise you, love, the pleasure is all mine.”

  I turned to Sophie. “And you know Jasper how?”

  “Oh, he's Max’s flatmate,” Sophie replied.

  “Yeah, my room's just at the top of those stairs if you need or want anything.” He waggled his eyebrows.

  I sputtered and laughed. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

  He nodded with unabashed good humor. “I've been told that before.”

  Faith came from a hallway at the other end of the kitchen and hip-checked Jasper. “Leave her alone, Jas. She’s a friend of ours and isn’t ready for your flirtation assault.”

  Jasper rolled his eyes. “Okay, fair enough.” He stood directly in front of me, forcing me to take an automatic step back before looking up at him. “But if you come to me, all bets are off.” He winked before turning on his heel and jogging up the stairs to his bedroom.


  I couldn’t help the exasperated chuckle. “Is he for real?”

  Both Faith and Sophie shrugged.

  “Yeah, that's Jasper,” Sophie said.

  Faith’s phone rang. “You two go ahead. I’ll catch up. It’s Liam.”

  Sophie tugged me through an expansive living room into the back hallway that sported two additional bedrooms. “Sophie, this is incredible. Looks expensive.”

  “Oh this?” She extended her hand and indicated the living room. “This is all Max. I’m just the girlfriend.”

  Faith had been vague about the details when I had pressed for information about Sophie's man. Maybe if I was lucky, I could meet the mystery guy. “What does he do for a living, and where can I get one of him?”

  My friend laughed. “Well, he's a model.”

  My jaw dropped. “Of course he is.” Sophie lived one of those fabulous lifestyles you could only read about in Us Weekly.

  Quickly, I donned the spare set of jeans and the T-shirt Sophie handed me. I immediately regretted the T-shirt, which had slashes through the sides and was almost completely backless. Sophie usually experimented with designs on her own clothes. “Um, thanks, maybe you have a sweater too?” I asked hopefully.

  “Somewhere in the kitchen. I think I left my jumper that goes with those jeans. We'll go look.” She continued happily chatting about Max. “Yeah, the modeling jobs pay nicely because he works often, but in addition, he renovates houses and sells them. And he rents out the spare rooms in this place. It’s got five bedrooms and a pretty nice garden.”

  I chewed my lip. That explained a lot.

  Sophie shrugged and continued, “You know, he’s a bit of a hustler.”

  “Oh, okay.” That was a little vague. But shit, he wasn’t my man, so I wouldn’t complain as long as Sophie was happy.

  Although my overactive imagination kept picturing the beautiful living room tossed and destroyed because of a drug raid. In my mind’s eye I could just see the collaged photo, half as it was now and half as it would be after the raid with the mysterious Max sitting in the center of it all. Though somehow as I pictured Max, I interchanged him with the knight in shining armor who’d just saved my life.

  Sophie shrugged. “You can call him a bit of an entrepreneur.”

  Right. “Well, this place is amazing.”

  “Thanks. We like it.”

  We heard the front door open downstairs, and Sophie grinned. “That’ll be him now.”

  I turned toward the heavy footsteps and stared.

  “You must be Abbie. I'm Max.”

  I did my best to drag my eyes away from the tall specimen of man that strolled up the stairs from the kitchen with a confident swagger. His dirty blond hair dusted his collar and drifted into his face in thick layers. Wow. I knew women who would kill for hair like that.

  His green eyes were lively and mischievous and framed by thick lashes. A strong angular jaw and high cheekbones completed the beautiful picture. The only thing that took away from the image of perfection was the bump on the bridge of his nose, but it made him more mysterious. “Nice to meet you.”

  Instead of taking my proffered hand, he enveloped me in a hug that stunned me for a second. Great, another hugger. As quick as it flared, I batted down the irrational fear. I’d really have to remind Sophie that I didn’t like to be touched.

  He pressed a quick peck to both of my cheeks. “Welcome to London. You're all Sophie’s talked about.”

  “Thank you. I’m excited to be here.”

  Max pulled Sophie against his side as he asked, “You’re coming out with us tonight, right?”

  I glanced at Sophie for a little help. “What’s happening tonight?”

  “Jasper’s DJing. You have to come. You can meet Lex and the rest of the gang. Say you’ll come,” Sophie pleaded.

  I hedged. I wanted to get started on some photos and explore a little. But it was also my first night out in London. And it wasn’t like I was set up for night shots yet, anyway. I was still waiting on my sister to ship some of my equipment. “Not too late, right? I have work I need to start on in the morning.”

  Sophie rolled her eyes. “You were always so studious. Sure fine. But we're not taking no for an answer.”

  When was the last time I'd gone out on a school night? When was the last time I'd been spontaneous? I couldn’t remember. I'd locked myself in so tight I'd forgotten to breathe and have a little fun.

  Thanks to Easton.

  I slammed that thought away into a lock box. It was time to embrace my new life and the new me. The new me who went out on a school night. “Okay, but what the hell am I going to wear?”

  6

  Lex…

  What the fuck was that?

  That girl. I could still feel her soft hand in mine. The zap of electricity. My hand twitched at the phantom feeling.

  She’d looked so small and vulnerable with the rain clinging to her long, slim braids.

  When her dark almond-shaped gaze had met mine, I felt like I’d been poleaxed. The white jumper she’d been wearing made her ebony skin gleam.

  For more than a moment I’d been rendered deaf and dumb. Luckily I’d eventually found my voice and managed to ask if she was okay. I’d probably sounded like a git.

  And I knew I really shouldn't be trying to figure out wherever she was going exactly, but I couldn't help it. I angled my head down to the back a little bit. If Nick noticed, I'd just pretend I was making sure she was okay.

  Yeah, because that sounds in character.

  Where the hell was she?

  You're never going to find out because she's a stranger on the street.

  I met lots of girls every day. So why is this one different?

  You usually don't meet women who you have to rescue. You meet women who want to bone you.

  Yeah, good point.

  But I didn't get the impression the girl generally needed rescuing. The way she'd protected that camera, like she would have done anything to keep it safe, did I feel that way about anything?

  Besides your brother?

  When I turned my attention back to my conversation with Nick, he was studying me. "What's wrong with you?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "I don't know. You were staring at that bird. Do you know her?"

  "No.” It was true. I didn't know her. I would very much like to know her. All about her, actually. Her ins and outs, what she smelled like.

  Okay, that was bordering on creepy.

  No, just making sure she's okay.

  He frowned at me as if to tell me he didn't believe me. Which was fine. "What?"

  "I don't know. You're acting weird. Anyway, like I was saying, are you feeling good about the Toshino deal?"

  I nodded. "Yeah, it's a good deal and it's a shit ton of money."

  "That kind of money will break us both free of our fathers."

  I nodded. "Yeah. We can really do what we want."

  Nick shrugged. "Not that I don't already, but at least this way I don't have to do the old man's bidding."

  While we both had the whole daddy-issue thing in common, Nick's daddy issues were a whole other kettle of fish. His father owned all kinds of night clubs in the city. In all parts of the greater London area, actually. And some up north as well. But the rumors of how he'd gotten there tended to leave a bad taste in the mouth.

  Nick wanted nothing to do with him. When it came to partying and such, sure, Nick was more than happy to party on the old man's dime, but if it came down to actually working for him, he had zero interest. He had more interest in venture capital stuff with me than anything of his father's. Plus, I knew for a fact that after his mother died when Nick was ten, he didn't trust the old man one bit. He'd been shipped off to boarding school then, which was where we met. And a part of him had always thought maybe his dad had something to do with it, considering he'd moved in his mistress just a month after his mother’s death.

  "I mean, it's a fantastic deal. It could give us what we want. The
re can't be anything bad about it. We've already done the due diligence. It's time to enjoy it, I guess."

  He nodded slowly. "You think your dad is going to try and stop it?"

  "In a few days, it’ll be too late. And then I'll talk to him and he can slink away with his tail between his legs."

  "Man, I thought I hated my dad."

  I shrugged. "Hate is too strong of a word. I just don't care about him.” Years ago, when I needed a father, someone to come and rescue me, I had gone to him. I begged him, frightened, to come and stop what was going on at my mother's house, but he told me I was making it up. My own father. He could have stopped everything. But no, he hadn’t come, and my mother had remained blissfully unaware. For years I'd harbored anger against her too. How could she not have known?

  How could she not see? Only later did I realize that my stepfather had kept her on a Xanax and Ambien cocktail to soothe her nerves. She hadn't known. She hadn't been alert enough to save us.

  So much of my fury was directed at the old man. He had been alert. He could have saved us, but he'd chosen not to. So nowadays when he asked shit from me, my ready response was, 'Go fuck yourself.'

  "I mean, there's still time. Your birthday is not for a few days yet. I know your father is not an idiot."

  I shook my head. "No, he's not an idiot. But we've kept this deal under wraps. We got this. Nothing is going to be announced until after my birthday, so it's fine. And once it's all signed, sealed and delivered, I'll be happy to be the one to tell him. Matter of fact, I can't wait."