London Royal (London Royal Duet Book 1)

by Nana Malone

  Nick nodded. "I hear you. We can have a big party when it's all done."

  "You know, I think I'm probably done with parties for a bit."

  He smirked. "I still can't believe fucking Jean Claude tried to kidnap you."

  "The bloke is such a fucking wanker.”

  "So, he's trying to keep you ready for what, the apocalypse?"

  I rolled my eyes. "The royal apocalypse, which is such bullshit. There's no chance in hell my mother sits on that throne."

  He was quiet for a moment, and he reached into his coat to pull out a cigarette and a lighter. He offered me one, and I begged off. It didn't matter how many times I had told him. He couldn't seem to remember that I didn't smoke. He lit it, blowing the smoke out from under his umbrella into the misting rain. "But like, legitimately, you could be a prince."

  "Technically, I have a title. But it doesn't mean anything because we're not allowed to go to Nomea. So why use it? Nomea has a king. I'm not it."

  Nick laughed. "But you could be it. Imagine, running a whole country. That's the real business."

  "It's not real, mate. None of it is real. Jean Claude has just been with my family for a long time. He's one of those true-believer types. He thinks it's absolutely going to happen. And that when it does, my mother needs to be ready."

  "I mean, though, what if he's right? What if you could become a prince?"

  That would be a nightmare. "I prefer to believe in reality and what's in front of me. Not what could be. Besides, I don't even know if my mother wants to be queen. It's just kind of this thing that a certain group of people expects from her. I don't think anyone has ever asked her if that's what she wants."

  He frowned. "If she doesn't, who takes over?"

  "I don't know. If something did happen to my cousin, uncle, whatever he is, she's next in line. And if she steps down, it could be Xander, or they could skip from that all together and head for my Uncle Timothy’s line. He lives in the Caribbean, the Winston Isles."

  "Oh right, the billionaire."

  I laughed. "That man has got more money than God."

  Nick grinned. "That man is my fucking idol."

  "I mean, Nick, how much more do you want? You go where you want. Vacation when you want. The women are all around us all the time. What more could you actually desire?"

  Nick grinned. "I don't fucking know, but I know that if I was a billionaire, I'd have it."

  I laughed. Unlike me, Nick wasn't the least bit bored. Yeah, he wanted freedom and vengeance for his mother in a way, which is why he was doing what we were doing. But beyond that, he couldn't see the bigger picture. He didn't want anything else. He just wanted his lifestyle without the strings. I worried about him a little. Because if you don't have a goal or any purpose, what was the fucking point?

  We crossed over toward Vauxhaul Station. One of Nick's dad’s offices was around the corner. He was supposed to pick something up for him, so we’d parked over at Max’s before we’d come to run the errand. As Nick went in, I couldn't help but glance back toward where I'd seen that girl.

  There was so much more to life. So much more to do and see. And I wanted it all. But to get it, I was going to need to break free first.

  Abbie…

  "Would you hold still?"

  I never listened to Sophie. I squirmed in her arms. "I don't need lashes."

  "Everyone needs lashes, Abbie."

  I shook my head. "No, I don't. I don't care if you dress me up like a clown."

  Sophie pretended to be shocked by gasping and placing a hand on her chest. "Oh, my God, are you insulting how I dressed you?"

  I really wasn't. She had me in a pair of leather leggings so tight they made my skinny jeans look loose and a low, backless top that showed off my assets. To help hold up my boobs, she put on some pasty type things that lifted them without the aid of a bra. Not that my boobs were particularly big, but if I ran out there without a bra on, everyone would see how done my chickens really were.

  "Look, I don't mind how you dress me. And I don't know what I look like, so I don't know how bad my makeup is. But I'm pretty sure I don't need lashes."

  She grabbed my chin. "Hold still before I beat you within an inch of your life."

  I couldn't help but laugh at the familiar insulting threat. Growing up Ghanaian, it was common to have your parents often threaten you with corporal punishment. It rarely ever happened.

  "Listen, you beat me, and then who will you dress up?"

  Faith tsked from the bed. "Hey, no foreign languages. I only speak Irish."

  I turned and raised my brow. "I'm not sure Irish is the language you mean. You mean Gaelic?"

  She shook her head. "No, I'm fluent with swear words."

  We all snorted a laugh.

  I finally acquiesced, and Sophie put lashes on me. Because I knew if I didn't give in, she’d just try and tackle me and do it by force. It would be a lot easier if I just let her do it.

  She stepped back and studied me. “Hmmm. Suddenly I’m feeling red.” She stalked over to the closet and dragged out a slinky red dress. “Put this on.”

  “I don’t suppose I have a choice?”

  She merely shook her head, so I did as I was told.

  While I changed for the umpteenth time, Faith flipped her magazine on the bed. "Abbie, how's class?"

  "You know, I'm actually excited. I think it's going to be awesome."

  "And is the prof as hot as we've seen in pictures?"

  I groaned. "Hotter."

  Sophie chewed on her bottom lip. "What's this about a hot professor?” Her full concentration was on my lashes.

  "Just that Faith's obsessed with my new photography professor."

  "Well, if he's hot enough to obsess over, maybe you should bring him around."

  "What, I'm going to walk up to him and be like, 'Hey, want to come and meet my friends?' That's crazy."

  She frowned. "Well, I mean, hasn't he noticed you're hot? We're talking about boning him, right?"

  "What is wrong with you two? I will not be shagging my professor. Who are these girls that shag their professors?"

  They both just shrugged at me. As if I was the one who needed to get with the times.

  I rolled my eyes.

  Sophie smacked me for that. "I told you, sit still."

  "Ugh, fine."

  She got lost in her own little world for a moment. As she worked on the other eye, Sophie broached the subject. "So, Easton? You’re done with him, right?"

  "Yeah, I'm done with him.” I swallowed the churning bile that wanted to make an appearance. Dr. Kaufman was right. I blamed myself. And I hadn't been in love with him for a long time. So it was time to do things that were good for me. Fun for me.

  "I mean, I've always hated him, but you knew that. What prompted you to pull the trigger?"

  As great as my friends were, it was hard enough to admit to Dr. Kaufman everything that I had been through. I didn't want to go through it with these guys. Inside, I was still trying to make sense of it all. How I'd ended up in that position. Not that it was my fault. She'd helped me see that. But I did tend to make some decisions that weren't in my best interest, and I needed to fix that. I needed to break that cycle of decision-making. "Well, I guess it's been brewing for a while. I've known for way too long that he wasn't the right guy for me. But it's kind of easier to go along to get along, you know?"

  Sophie nodded. "You always deserved better than him. You know that, right?"

  I sniffed. "Yeah, well, I know that now. And then him hiding my acceptance letter and shredding my passport… That was some next-level crazy. So, I'm here right now."

  She shook her head. "I still can't fucking believe he shredded your passport. Who does that?"

  From the bed, Faith offered, "Someone crazy?"

  "Someone controlling," I added.

  Sophie sighed. "Can I ask you something, Abbie?"

  "Sure.” My stomach flipped and knotted upon itself. Not knowing what to expect.

 
"I mean, is that why you pulled away from us a little? I'm not saying that you did it on purpose, or whatever. And we weren't upset, but we did notice. Especially after college. We didn't get to see you hardly ever. And all of our conversations were usually cut short by Easton or by you hurrying to do something for him."

  A fresh wash of shame splashed on me, just when I thought I'd had enough. There it was, willing to add more. "He didn't like it. He didn't like when I had any other friends, actually. He wanted to isolate me, and it’s horrible that I let him. But I'm planning to fix all that. You guys are my best friends. I never should have let anyone come between us."

  She sat back and smiled. "No way was he going to come between us, because when we did see each other, it was just like old times. I just wanted to see you more. And I got the impression you had to earn the time with us."

  How right she was. "Well, that's all over now. I'm here, and we are going to enjoy every moment of it. I'm recapturing my early 20s."

  Both of them laughed. Sophie dusted some powder on my nose and then sat back to admire her work. "You look fantastic."

  I turned to blink at Faith. "Do I look like a clown?"

  Faith stared at me. "No, you look fucking amazing. Sophie, do me next."

  Sophie laughed. "Come on. Come sit your pale ass on this chair and let me see if I can give you some color."

  As Faith bounced into the seat I’d just vacated, I stopped in front of the mirror. Jesus Christ, Sophie had given me a vibrant smoky eye with a really pretty gleam. The lashes on my eyes absolutely stood out. Easton really didn't like how I did my makeup, it was never good enough. Never sophisticated enough. I preferred the no-makeup makeup look. He said every politician's significant other should look like she at least tried, so I needed to practice. He also had a lot to say about color and the type of women who wore red lipstick.

  But this vibrant pop of color helped me take back my life.

  I turned to my friends then. "You guys are absolutely right. No way in hell should I have let him stand between us. Tonight, we party. We have a lot of lost time to make up for.”

  7

  Abbie…

  Apparently, I had never been clubbing properly.

  The girls and I headed out with Max and some of the other models to the swank Mayfair neighborhood with its elegant row houses and gorgeous parks. The club had a name I couldn’t pronounce and a line out the door that wrapped around the block. And that was the line for women.

  Staring mulishly at my borrowed heels, I'd wondered why the hell I’d let Sophie dress me. There was no way I could endure that line in the four-inch stunners. They were beautiful with their red, black, and gold-braided straps, but I’d be ready to cut my feet off at the ankle before I even made it midway through the line.

  Then again, when your friend was an up and coming designer, you let her do things like dress you, even at the cost of your comfort. With the flirty red salsa dress, I knew I looked hot. Especially since the damn thing was backless. But the shoes were going to be a problem. I could just picture it. There would be Instagram photos of me running around a London club barefoot, a la Britney Spears pre-conservatorship. I shuddered.

  As it turned out, I needn’t have worried about the line. Apparently since Jasper was the headliner and Max and one of the other guys were members of the club, all seven of us walked right in as if we owned the place. This kind of clubbing I could get used to.

  Inside, the club was mostly empty. As if the throngs waiting outside had been nothing but an illusion. I leaned over to Sophie. “If there's no one in here, why the hell do they have everyone waiting outside?”

  Sophie laughed. “Image, darling. Only about a quarter of those people will get in because they have the cash to bribe the bouncers. And don’t forget, most of those people are coming for the larger club. This area is more exclusive and private.”

  “But what's the point? Wouldn’t they make more money if they just let everyone in?”

  Faith and Sophie smiled at me like I was the village idiot. Finally, Faith said, “Honey, this club has members that pay a pretty penny to keep the riffraff out. Besides, it's a hot spot for OK magazine darlings and the royals. The princes have partied here, so have the princesses and lesser aristocracy. Princess Alicia was spotted here last week. You can’t let the general public in with them. It would be pandemonium.”

  I blinked. “And Jasper’s DJing here? He must be really good.”

  Sophie shrugged. “He is. He creates beats for some local UK artists too. He’s starting to get big.” My friend assessed me shrewdly. “You’re starting to pay more attention to him now, huh?”

  A quick laugh burst out of my lungs. “No. He’s lovely, but I don’t buy the flirtation for a minute. I won’t be spending any time in his, er, DJ booth.”

  Sophie cackled. “Don’t let him hear you say that. You’ll only become even more of a challenge.”

  “Oh, fantastic.”

  Faith joined us with three shots in her hands. “Okay, ladies, drink up. These are courtesy of Max and the boys at the bar.”

  I stared at the purple liquid. “What is this?”

  Both of them laughed, and Faith just said, “I don’t think you want to know.” Raising her glass to the two of us, she added, “To Abbie. Welcome to London. And to the three of us, together again!”

  “To us,” I muttered before tossing back the violet liquid. Surprisingly, it went down smooth and tasted remarkably like grape juice. It wasn’t until several seconds later that a warming sensation started in my belly then slowly spread to my extremities, making me instantly relaxed and a little numb. “Jesus, Faith, what was that?”

  “They call it a Post Orgasm. Makes you feel loose, huh?”

  “Loose is one word for it.” I couldn’t feel my fingertips.

  Sophie grabbed the glasses and deposited them with a barback who moved through the crowd. “Come on, girls, it’s time to dance.”

  Now dancing, I could do.

  As we hit the center of the dance floor closest to the DJ booth, I closed my eyes and let the music take over my limbs. Jasper mixed some unfamiliar drum and bass beats along with some mild electronica and infused them into dancehall, rock, and popular rap songs.

  The only problem was three women dancing together tended to attract attention… unwanted attention.

  It wasn’t long before guys started to join us, first dancing on the periphery then eventually sidling up close. Faith and Sophie welcomed the attention. I tried to focus on the music and ignore them. The first guy to slide up behind me had my body stiffening. Immediately, I stepped forward, spun around, and ended up on the other side of our little circle.

  The next guy tried a frontal approach. Luckily, I could see him coming and waved him off. Maybe it was time to find Max and the other guys and sit down.

  I waved at Jasper, and he frowned but nodded his acknowledgement. Sophie and Faith were too occupied to notice I’d slunk off the dance floor. On the edges where it was darkest, I paused and searched for where the guys had gone.

  “I figured I’d try something different and ask you to dance.”

  I whirled around and let out a small squeak of alarm. The muscles in my lower belly quivered, and my breath caught. My savior from earlier stood in front of me, looking like a cross between an angel of mercy and the devil incarnate. “We have to stop meeting like this,” I mumbled.

  A smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Well, there’s no rain at the moment, so we should be safe. I trust we were able to save your camera?”

  Heat flooded my cheeks. “Yes. Thank you. Honestly that could have been ugly today. I’m indebted.”

  “How about a dance, and we’ll call it even?”

  A dance? With him? Pressed up against… “I, uh…”

  “Now, I’m not as good as you are, so you’ll need to take it easy on me.” He outstretched his hand and waited for me to take it. He didn’t press or push, just stood there… waiting.

  Jasper didn’t
help me when he switched the track to a dancehall reggae song with a grooving beat.

  Butterflies fluttered low in my belly. When was the last time I’d had butterflies? Unfortunately, with those butterflies also came fear. The fact was I didn’t know this guy. But, if he’d wanted to hurt you, he could have already. It’s just a dance.

  I glanced down at his hand and placed my palm in his. Determined not to be nervous, I smiled up at him. “Hardly seems fair. You saved my life, and all you get is this dance.”

  He drew me close, but not too close, keeping his hands at my waist. He waited patiently until I looped my arms around his neck. “It’s well worth it to me.” The low rumble in his chest as he spoke sent shivers coursing through my body.

  As it turned out, he didn’t need any help dancing. He moved us easily in time to the seductive beat. I didn’t dare look around because I knew what I’d find—couples pressed so close that we might as well be naked and in bed. Dirty dancing was a requisite of dancehall music, but my partner kept a marginally safe distance between us, figuratively if not literally, because with every down swing of the bass, our hips rocked into each other.

  I swallowed hard, but then forced my gaze up to meet his. As soon as our eyes met, my heart rate kicked. His slate gray eyes, framed by dark lashes, stayed on mine. Nervously, I licked my lips. He stilled for just a second, causing me to lose my footing and bringing me flush against his body.

  I froze, muscles tight. Touching wasn’t something I was used to or allowed easily. But with him, I didn’t want to be anywhere else. He smelled of mint and something crisp and woodsy, like he’d spent the afternoon outside on the water. I released my strangled breath and let my body relax into his. I felt, rather than heard, the low rumble in his throat as his chest vibrated against mine. His warmth enveloped me, and I could tune out everything but him. As if it were only the two of us on the edge of the dance floor.

  There, in the dark, in the arms of a relative stranger, I felt safe.