Highness (The Lonely Heart Series)

by Latrivia S. Nelson

  So far, no reports had been credible. Rumors were circulating around the globe, but none could produce pictures or proof. And the royals were about as helpful as tits on a bull, with their simple statement saying that the Prince needed time to reorganize his life.

  Reorganize?

  Really?

  And what was the rest of the world supposed to do while the Prince figured what his next steps would be? Whole industries depended on knowing every single move, including RQL.

  Hannibal was only a step away from producing his very first fully fabricated story just to keep the powers that be off his tail, but he knew that even that would only sate the wolves for only a short period of time. The world needed photos; they needed a story!

  He had been up nearly 24 hours on Red Bull, 5 hour energy drinks, coffee and cupcakes, a combination that did not bode well for his wide and very unsettling gut tucked into black jogging pants and covered by large Lakers jersey. Cookie wrappers, old canned cokes and pizza boxes lined his office as he had refused to leave the confines of his work space as he relentlessly toiled over the phone.

  His boss had told him that at 10 o’clock this morning; he’d receive a personal visit to find out what new developments had transpired. Normally, such a visit would not have created such havoc for him. He had been dubbed the golden child of RQL because of his gritty stories on the prince and his ability when no one else could to get the dirt on a man who had been historically the easiest royal to be tracked and ridiculed. However, now the visit would surely be ball busting.

  As he glanced at the clock for the hundredth time, sweat beads began to form on his balding red head. It was exactly 10 o’clock on the dot. Immediately, the tension in his back rose up his spine and exploded into a headache.

  “Hannibal,” his editor said, blowing into his office and slamming the latest newspapers from around the globe on the glass table. “What have you got for me?” The words were like sharp knives inside of his head.

  Hannibal turned from his computer monitor reluctantly, feeling emasculated. “Nothing yet, boss.” He looked up at Chief Editor Anna McGregor with hesitation, afraid to make eye contact.

  While she was a beautiful woman by the societal definition, she was also a fire-breathing dragon from hell that lived and died by the number of online and physical subscriptions, and point of sale magazines RQL sold.

  Glaring red daggers back at him; she placed her long red manicured claws on the desk and bent closer. “Do you know why I hired you?” she asked, blonde hair spilling over her shoulders.

  “Because of my good looks,” Hannibal said with a crooked yellow smile.

  Clicking her nails against the glass, she sucked in a deep breath. “You wish. I hired you because you can get the dirt on anyone, not just anyone, royalty. In fact, I’ve damn near given you an entire page in a time when in the world of publishing, that is pretty much an impossible notion.” Her hunches rose. “But what am I paying you for lately? No comment from the soon-to-be-king and photos of the boring brother going to dinners doesn’t sell copies of RQL.”

  “I’ve looked everywhere. Michael is missing,” Hannibal explained.

  Anna stood and rolled her neck. “Well, find him…if you want to stay employed,” she said, raising a brow. Turning on her red back high heels, she stomped out of the office just as she had come, full of fury. “Or I can always hire someone who can. You’ve got one week to come up with something that will sell magazines.”

  “I hate that woman,” Hannibal said out loud, when he was certain that she was out of earshot. “How am I supposed to find missing royalty?”

  Then the idea hit him.

  She didn’t say find him per se. She said to sell magazines.

  Looking down at his notes, he came up with the perfect story. “WHERE IS MICHAEL?” If the bad boy of royalty wanted to hide, he’d make him work for it. A nationwide manhunt purporting that he was right here in the states and giving a reward would create a whole new story and give him all the leads that he’d need to actually find the man.

  ***

  LouAnn arrived at dawn to begin her day with Hope. Letting herself in with the key that Bree had given her, she made her way quietly in the house and slowly tiptoed down the corridor to the kitchen. As soon as she flicked on the light to the kitchen, she nearly jumped out of her skin. Surprisingly, Hope was there sitting quietly with a cup of tea.

  “Oh my goodness,” LouAnn said, grabbing her heart. “You gave me a start.”

  “Sorry,” Hope said with a smile. “I sort of don’t need the light right now.”

  “Logically,” LouAnn said, setting down her lunch bag on the counter. “Why are you up so early?”

  “Bree just left not too long ago. I didn’t want to miss saying goodbye.” She picked up the coffee mug and sniffed the lavender tea. “I’m hoping this will put me back to bed, but it’s not likely. When I get up, I tend to be up for the rest of the day.”

  “Me too,” LouAnn said, looking around the kitchen. “Want some breakfast?”

  “Not really hungry,” Hope answered. “But I woke up with a bit of good news. I’m seeing more than just a little light. I saw shadows.”

  “Progress.” LouAnn came to sit down by her. “I was talking to Bree yesterday about some things that need to be taken care of around the house. I’m thinking that you might need a handyman.”

  “Lay the list on me,” Hope said, ready to hear the bad news.

  “Well, the barn door needs to be replaced from a storm that passed through while you were at the hospital, the yard needs to be edged really bad, the gutters need to be cleaned, and evidently your roof has a few shingles that came off.”

  Hope huffed. “Those are things that I don’t think we can handle on our own.”

  LouAnn chuckled. “I’m no good with a hammer.”

  “Me either. Okay, we’ll get someone in here as soon as we can. I’ll make that my priority.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to handle it?” LouAnn offered.

  “You’re sweet, but no. You’re doing enough.”

  “Well, what’s on the menu today?” LouAnn asked.

  “Laundry.” Hope hated laundry more than she hated paying taxes, but it was a necessary evil. She cast a hopeful smile. “And then, I was hoping that you might help me take a walk. I normally run a few miles a day and being in the house has really been taking its toll on me. I think more endorphins might help my mood and help stunt my growing ass.”

  LouAnn laughed. “The story of my life, girl. Sounds good to me. Since I’ll only be here every day until five, I’ll get started separating clothes and linen ASAP and then we can take a walk before it gets too hot outside.”

  “Thanks, LouAnn,” Hope said appreciatively.

  ***

  At eight o’clock in the morning, Michael woke from his peaceful slumber. Somewhere in between reading the many articles on Hope’s up and coming career and viewing her website, he had finally fallen asleep in the middle of the night. Only when he did, he dreamed of her. She was standing under an oak tree in a yellow sundress smiling at him with the sun at her back and the wind in her hair. That was all that he remembered, but that was more than enough.

  With the laptop stuck under his left side digging into his ribs, he cracked his eyes open and looked out of the window.

  Shit, it was finally morning.

  Jumping up, he knocked the Apple MacBook Air onto the floor and nearly stepped on it as he ran into the bathroom to shower.

  A normally sluggish demeanor had all but dissipated in him at the prospect of seeing Hope again. He had a new mission in mind, and it wasn’t to find a job as much as it was to get closer to the woman in his dreams. She was more amazing than he had first thought. She loved art, so did he. She didn’t mind being different, neither did he. And she could not judge him on his looks, status, thus his short comings. It was a great feeling. For once, he had a clean slate.

  Now, the question was what to do with it.


  After a quick shower and a change into running clothes, he zipped into the kitchen to grab a shake. Geoff was waiting at the table, fully dressed in his normal khakis and plaid button down. Pushing a pot of coffee across the table, he sent a text and looked up at Michael.

  “You seem to be in a very chipper mood,” Geoff said, checking out his running clothes. “Getting back into the swing of things?”

  “I’m going for a run,” Michael said, turning on the blender. He leaned against the counter and crossed his long legs over each other. “What time does the mail run?”

  “The mail?” Geoff frowned. “Are you expecting something?”

  “No,” Michael said, looking at his watch. “I’m going to pick up some.”

  Without explanation, Geoff knew what Michael’s intentions were. Moving the conversation right along, he pulled his coffee mug up to his mouth. “Look behind you, I took the liberty of looking up some possible job openings for you. I figured that the American saying could prove to be true for you, so I wanted to get in front of it.”

  “American saying?” Michael asked.

  “An idle mind is the devil’s workshop.” Geoff smirked.

  “Oh, but my mind is not idle,” Michael said, looking behind him and grabbing the paper. “I assume this came from our friends down the street.”

  “You assumed right,” Geoff answered. “Also, someone will be following you on your run. Please try to understand that you are still the Prince of England.”

  “Really?” Michael said, pouring the protein shake into a container as he read the list of jobs. “There’s nothing sexy on here at all.”

  “There is nothing sexy in Hernando that won’t get you caught.”

  “It’s sort of exciting really. I feel like one of our specialists on a mission.”

  Geoff couldn’t agree. “I feel like I’m in the twilight zone.” There was no lie in his voice, no inflection.

  Michael huffed. His friend simply didn’t know how to have fun.

  ***

  Michael had to admit there was something absolutely breathtaking about running the roads of Hernando. So many trees, bushes, land, horses and cows. He’d never been so immersed in the country land before. With his headphones on, he maneuvered over the hills and down the rambling roads for several miles, all with his men trailing closely behind him in a Yukon Denali, passed every once in a while by someone who refused to go below the limit. He rather missed his team of MI6 and their more personal attention. If he had not been undercover, he would have insisted that they take a run with him, but obviously considering what he was trying to do; one would have noticed men running nearly in cadence together.

  After a brisk five-miler, he headed back down his road covered in sweat, but determined to do one final thing before the day went on. As he passed Hope’s house, he stopped abruptly and went over to the mailbox.

  His men slowed behind him. “What’s he doing?” Benjamin, one of the men in his MI6 detail asked.

  “Looks like he’s checking the neighbor’s mail,” Bradley, the passenger in the Yukon said astounded.

  “Well, why would he be doing that?” he asked in his British accent.

  “Shall I step out and ask his highness?” Bradley said snidely.

  “It’s illegal to touch anyone else’s mailbox,” Benjamin reminded.

  Bradley simply shook his head. There was no reason to respond, it would only fall on deaf ears.

  Luckily for Michael, the postman had already run, thus enabling his plan to move forward. Taking Hope’s mail in his hand, he turned and saluted his men, then ran up the gravel driveway to the door.

  “I think he fancies the neighbor,” Benjamin said, pulling off before they were noticed.

  “Well, we need to get some ears and eyes on that house if he plans on being there,” Bradley huffed, calling up to Geoff. “Be advised. ETA 5 minutes. We need to debrief on Brown Bear’s run and the neighbor.”

  “Copy,” Geoff responded over the radio.

  ***

  Michael could feel his heart beating out of his chest as he moved up the steps of Hope’s home to her door. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the doorbell buzzer and stepped back. He hoped that she was up, prayed that she wasn’t busy. After a few moments, he saw a silhouette behind the sheer covered door.

  LouAnn opened the front door cautiously in a pair of Care bear smocks and Ugg shoes. Smiling curiously at Michael, she pushed open the screen door for him. He was a sight for sore eyes. Twice in two days.

  “Hello,” she said, putting her hand on her hip.

  Michael smiled. “Good morning. Is Hope available?” He passed her into the house.

  LouAnn looked back behind her to find Hope walking toward the sound of Michael’s voice from the hallway.

  “Are you available, Hope?” LouAnn asked playfully.

  Hope tried not to smile as brightly as she wanted. “I think so,” she answered.

  “Hi,” Hope said, twisting her fingers together.

  “Good morning,” he said, thinking that she looked like Christmas morning in her black yoga pants and her pink form-fitting t-shirt. He couldn’t help but notice that she only had socks on.

  Just then LouAnn’s phone went off in the front pocket of her smock. “Hold on one second,” she said, pulling the phone out and looking at it. “This is my grandson’s school.”

  Stepping away from Michael and Hope, she left them to talk for a moment. As soon as she did, all the air in the room seem to be sucked out and both of them found themselves fumbling.

  “What brings you to my doorstep this morning?” Hope asked.

  Michael stepped closer to her and took her hand. Pulling the envelopes into her hand, he bent and whispered into her ear. “You’ve got mail.”

  “Thank you,” Hope giggled. She liked him being close, but she tried hard not to put her hand on his chest again, this time, although something about him drew her near.

  LouAnn walked back into the room and huffed. “I’m so sorry. Hunter is sick, and his mother works in Germantown. I need to go and get him.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Hope answered. “Go get your grandson.”

  “Are you sure?” LouAnn asked even though she was relieved. “What about your walk?”

  Michael immediately seized the opportunity. “I’d love to take you,” he said, quickly. He hated himself for sounding too eager. “I haven’t gone on my run yet,” he explained a little less spastic.

  LouAnn looked at the man drenched in sweat, obviously from a seriously exhausting workout, and raised a brow. “Are you sure it won’t be putting you out?” she asked, turning up her lips at him. If only Hope could see how big of a lie he was telling at the moment, she might find him more adorable than he already was.

  “It would be my pleasure,” Michael answered with a smug smile. “I was just going to work out myself. So, it will be no imposition at all.” He looked down at Hope with a determined gaze.

  LouAnn shook her head. It didn’t take a genius to see where this was going. “Well, aren’t we fortunate?” she said, putting her hands on her hips. With a huff, she digressed. “Alright, I’ll leave you kids to it. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “Take your time,” Hope answered, reaching for Michael’s hand. She caressed the smooth ridges of his fingers. “Follow me to the den,” she ordered.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Michael said, winking devilishly back at LouAnn.

  “Be good, young man,” LouAnn warned as she headed out the front door.

  “Alone at last,” Hope joked.

  Michael didn’t laugh. It was exactly what he had in mind the entire time. “So where’d you like to walk today?” he asked as he looked around.

  “The park would be nice.” Hope smirked. “Are you sure that you won’t be too put out?”

  “No, why would you ask?”

  Hope stopped walking and turned to him. Reaching out, she touched his chest. Her fingers trailed in the heat of his body and the dampness of his shirt. “I
can smell your sweat,” she answered with a grin. “Didn’t know if you had one more workout in you.”

  He looked down into her beautiful face again and fought his urge to kiss her full mouth. “Damn, I’m caught,” he said ruefully hiding the lust boiling under his surface. “Guess I should have freshened up first. I hope my fragrance isn’t too offensive.”

  “Not at all. I like sweat on a man,” Hope said, shaking her head. “I thought it was cute.” She removed her hand, but not before patting his chest.

  “Do you?” Michael ran a hand through his hair. “Well, aren’t you clever?” Or am I just an idiot, he asked himself inwardly.

  “Not clever just more in tune with my other senses.”

  “All of them?” Michael asked suggestively.

  “Yes, all of them.” Hope started to walk with him again.

  “How do you walk around without bumping into anything?”

  “I’m a clean freak. I keep most of the house in perfect condition, all except my work room.”

  “Where is that? What do you work on?”

  “Nothing at the moment.” She avoided the questions.

  Michael had never been so far into Hope’s home before. Even when he came to the front door this morning with her mail, he only half-way expected to get into the foyer. But now, he was here – an opportunity that he could only attribute to a mix of preparation and luck.

  Something about being here with her was like being a teenager again. Excitement coursed through his veins like a boy about to experience his first kiss. Bliss. Pure unadulterated bliss.

  “Your home is beautiful,” he said, loving how cozy and warm it was. And it wasn’t just small talk. He could smell candles burning all around him. The air was crisp and clean like fresh linen. Wilted flowers bent over crystal vases. The smell of cleaning products danced in the air with bleach and fabric softener. It was homey and perfectly decorated, like the American romantic comedies that he was forced to watch when he was with Thalia.