Lucky Prince_A Fake Fiance, Real Royal Wedding Romance

by Eva Luxe

  There’s one thing you really don’t expect your best man to say on such an occasion, though, and that would be what Kevin just told me.

  “I fucked your fiancée.”

  Of course, he didn’t say it exactly like that. He was more hesitant and self-preserving about it. The prick.

  What he actually said was: “Gregory, pal, I’ve been thinking a lot about whether or not to tell you this, buddy. People have advised me not to. But it’s been eating me alive and I figured it’s better to tell you now rather than later. Julie and I slept together.”

  “What the fuck?” I’d exploded.

  I would’ve hit him on the head if there weren’t so many people around. That’s probably why he timed his little confession to be in public, even if the occasion was my rehearsal dinner ball.

  “You slept with her? How could you? And when?”

  He gave me a deer in the headlights look, as if he wasn’t anticipating follow-up questions to his bombshell announcement.

  “Which question should I answer first?” he finally asked.

  “You’re so fucking unbelievable,” I said.

  “I don’t know how it happened,” he sputtered. “You know how it is. We were all on that trip for your singles’ tour around the States…”

  “No, I don’t know how it is,” I’d told him. And then I said, “Wait, back up. That’s when it happened? Way back then? And that’s where it happened?”

  “Well,” he’d stammered, and from the way he was responding, it dawned on me that I’d been asking the wrong question. Maybe I should have asked where didn’t it happen.

  “So, ever since then?” I glare at Kevin and he nods. “She never told me that after she hooked up with me she also hooked up with you, but then she stayed with me and had a really good weekend with me? Fuck!”

  “I guess,” Kevin answered, looking down at the floor like the pussy that he is. “I mean, it didn’t exactly stop right then…”

  “What?!” I exploded all over again. “How long did it last?”

  “Well, you know I had to come here on royal business a couple months ago…”

  “Are you fucking kidding me? You’ve seen her more recently than I have?”

  “Yeah,” he continued. “And then we got here a few days ago, you hit the sack early, so…”

  “What the fuck!”

  Now he could stop telling me the answers to my questions, I thought. Apparently, I didn’t really want to know all of that.

  “I had motion sickness from the plane!” I protested. “I had to go lie down.”

  “Yeah, well, I guess she was kinda bored…”

  “You are the worst friend I’ve ever had,” I told him. “I can’t believe you agreed to be my best man when you are fucking my fiancée. She seems almost as much your fiancée as mine by this point!”

  “Well, that’s the thing,” Kevin said, sheepishly. “I wasn’t even quite sure that you’d… you know, like, care? Remember when we shared that girl on our backpacking trip throughout Europe?”

  “That was completely different,” I told him. “We were nineteen fucking years old. We were never going to see that girl again.”

  “Well, that’s all I thought that this is going to be, too,” he said. “It’s not like you’re the type to settle down so I was even planning to tell you about it and all of a sudden you’re like, “Oh, she’s the one, she’s my new princess!’ and I was like, thinking, ‘well, now I sure can’t fucking tell him.’”

  “Well you sure kept doing it,” I told him. “You didn’t feel that bad, you didn’t have much of a guilty conscience… to just, like, fucking stop.”

  “True,” he said, wringing his hands. “But, still, I mean, you know… This is all just some fake thing. It’s not like you really love her anything.”

  That’s when I looked in his eyes and did my best to refrain from punching him, or crying. But the truth of the matter is: Kevin was right. I didn’t love her. I’ve never loved anyone. I was just doing this to make my family happy. I guess she was just doing it to be a princess. As I’d already said, who wouldn’t?

  I suppose I got caught up in trying to prove to my mom that I had made the right choice in someone to marry, when clearly, I hadn’t. This is probably a good thing this didn’t last.

  Except, what am I going to do about tomorrow? My mom will be so hurt if I don’t go through with this plan to make our family look good for the rest of the Kingdom.

  After that unpleasant exchange, I went and found Julie and had an even worse argument with her. She seemed to think it was all fun and games, and that she was free to do whatever she wanted until we were officially and royally hitched.

  “Fuck that,” I’d told her. “When did we ever say that? How do I know you wouldn’t keep running around after we had gotten married?”

  “What are you saying, Gregory?” she’d asked me, tears welling in her eyes, starting to beg me. “I was going to give up my whole life for you. My career. To move to the middle of nowhere to be your wife…”

  “Yeah, well it’s not the middle of nowhere,” I’d told her. “For the tenth time, it’s off the coast of Latvia and Estonia, in the Baltic Sea. And you are so full of promises of what you were going to give up for me, but you’re also full of shit, because you couldn’t even give up not fucking my best man. Get out of here before I tell everyone in here what you did to me.”

  That worked. She clearly cared what people thought, just like my mom, but not enough to not screw around on me. She’d left and I was standing there alone like an idiot but I didn’t even care because I was glad she was gone.

  George, one of my other groomsmen, took me to the lobby bar to buy me a shot, but I was still in a blind rage. I told him I wanted to be alone and he left me. That was a few minutes ago, and I’m still feeling angry. I also need to figure out what I’m going to do.

  So here I am by myself, having another drink in a secluded bar, never wanting to go back to see all of those people again. I especially don’t want to have to see my mom right now and tell her she was right.

  I sip my whiskey sour while I think about what to do. I can’t let down my mom, my poor sick dad, and the whole royal family tree. Possibly the whole fucking country, as small and obscure as it may be.

  I need to figure something out, some way to fix things. I sit my drink down and order another one because I know that sooner or later I’ll have to go back and face reality and I might as well do it with some liquid courage.

  I decide I have to go through with things anyway. No one even knows what my fiancée looks like. Tonight was a fucking costume party. She’s never been to my country and we were very careful to keep pictures of us from being splattered all over the tabloids when we were together. I agreed to it as part of the deal with my mom. And I hate the damn paparazzi anyway.

  So, I just have to find a girl. A replacement bride. A pretend princess.

  I’m sure that just like Julie wanted to, almost any girl would jump at the chance to be a princess, even if it was a fake princess of sorts. That’s what Julie would’ve been anyway.

  I just need to find a girl. Any girl will do.

  And as the waitress returns with my next drink, one of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever seen climbs down the stairs in a funky dress that looks half dirty and half sparkling gorgeous, and she runs right into me.

  That’s my girl, I think to myself, and I revise my earlier plan in my head. Not just any girl will do. It’s clear to me now.

  Looking at her hourglass shaped figure and her gorgeous blue eyes, I know that it has to be this girl. She’s going to be my fake bride. My princess. I just have to convince her to stand in at my royal wedding, which is set to occur in under twenty-four hours.

  Chapter 10

  Gregory

  “Are… are you okay?” the gorgeous stranger in the funky dress asks, looking into my eyes. Half of her face is hidden behind a black mask, which just makes her blue eyes stand out sharply. “Did something h
appen?”

  I’m taken aback at first, thinking, how does she know something happened.

  And then I remember I’m the fucking Prince of Ambrosia, who is the guest of honor at this party, and everyone probably saw me fighting with the other guest of honor, my fiancée. Make that ex-fiancée.

  Of course this girl knows who I am. Of course she’s asking if something happened, since I’m at a bar alone instead of on the dance floor with my fiancée at our fucking rehearsal dinner party.

  This girl immediately puts a hand over her beautiful full lips and says “Oh, I mean, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. It’s just…”

  “You didn’t expect to find me here, in this state,” I finish for her and then I reach out and take her hand.

  It’s a bold move but it feels right so I just go with it and she doesn’t seem to mind.

  “Exactly,” she says. “I thought you’d be in there with your…”

  At this point she pulls her hand away from mine, as if remembering the purpose of tonight’s gathering.

  “My ex-fiancée?” I ask her, unable to resist a smile.

  What just went down was a shit show, but seeing this stranger’s pretty face makes everything feel better. I guess I feel a bit relieved, like I’m out of the trap that I was just in.

  I don’t know what my plan will be from here – my mother will obviously be expecting Julie to come back to Ambrosia with me soon – but I’ll fucking figure it out. I feel that having this gorgeous creature’s bright smile flashing at me right now makes everything okay.

  “Ex-fiancée?” she asks, her face crunching up into a look that says get out of here. “Since when?”

  She probably thinks I’m some douchebag trying to cheat on my fiancée for one last night of freedom before my wedding. That might have been the old me— I used to be a douchebag player— but unlike Julie, once I’d gotten engaged I’d intended to honor my commitments, and I had. Too bad— or maybe not, I think, as I look at this stranger’s impressive cleavage— she couldn’t do the same.

  “Since our very public fight which I’m sure you and everybody else in there witnessed,” I tell her. “It’s over. Whatever we had, and I guess it wasn’t very much, is gone for good.”

  “I don’t understand,” she says, and I signal the bartender to bring another whiskey sour.

  “Join me for a drink,” I offer. “I’ll explain everything.”

  She hesitates and I realize she was probably on her way to the bathroom. Why else would anyone be wandering around here instead of at the party? I feel stupid.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I’m sure if you have business to attend to, you could always go and then come back…”

  Fuck. How awkward. How do you tell a girl she can go piss and then come back to hear the story about what your evil fiancée did to you on the night of your wedding rehearsal party?

  But she laughs and we sit down in a booth. She’s obviously expecting me to sit down across from her but I sit down beside her, my leg almost touching hers.

  “It’s okay,” she says. “I was just wondering what time it is.”

  “Ten thirty,” I tell her. “You came out here to look for a clock?”

  “No,” she laughs, and I love the way her soft chuckle sounds. “You were right the first time. I was on my way to the restroom but I think it was just to get out of that place for a while. I mean—” There’s her hand to her lips again, a gesture that I’m really digging because it’s so damn cute, and also sexy because it’s where I wish I was— “I didn’t mean that to sound that way at all. I really liked your event celebrating your… Former engagement…”

  At this, we both laugh, because it’s fucking hilarious.

  “It’s just that I’m not the most social person,” she continues. “and sometimes I need to just go wander around by myself for a while.”

  I look to my side to meet her eyes, and wink.

  “I know exactly what you mean.”

  I take her hand under the table and the bartender brings her a whiskey sour.

  “I’ve never had one of these before,” she says, laughing.

  Something in the way she says it lets me know there’s a lot of things she hasn’t done before. And I want to be the one to change that.

  “Well, if you don’t like it I’m happy to help you drink it or I’ll order you something else, whatever you’d like,” I tell her. “But I figured the least I could do since I’m unburdening myself upon a beautiful, unsuspecting girl like you, is to order you a drink.”

  I squeeze her hand and she squeezes mine back so I take the liberty of placing my hand on her thigh. Her leg jumps a little bit, but in a good way, like she’s happy and antsy for something else to happen, and so am I.

  “So, when you said that she and you never really had anything…” she continues, taking a sip of her drink. She pauses and a smile crosses her face. “This is good.”

  “I know about a lot of good things,” I tell her.

  She takes another sip and then says, “So, is this like an arranged marriage gone bad?”

  She shakes her head and then adds, “I didn’t even know if those things were allowed to go bad. But I guess they naturally might. I don’t know how any of this works.”

  “Me neither,” I tell her. “This was a kind of fake arranged marriage, yeah, you could put it that way. But I had some choice in the matter of who I picked, not really when though. So, I figured why not pick the one who’s the life of the party? But now I see I should’ve gone for someone more like me. A bit more private than that. Someone who wants simpler things.”

  “Simpler things?” She chuckles, nearly spitting out her drink. It’s so damn adorable. “You’re a prince.”

  “I know,” I blush, because it was a stupid thing for me to say. I hold her chin by its little dimple in the middle and move it up so that her eyes look into mine. “But just because I’m a prince doesn’t mean I don’t want certain things.”

  “What kind of things?” she asks.

  “This,” I say, and our lips so are so close that I can almost catch her breath with mine.

  “This what?” she presses.

  “Oh, a girl that I really want to be with instead of one that I have to marry,” I tell her.

  “So why do you have to marry her?” she asks.

  Without moving my face, I signal to the bartender to order two more drinks.

  “In case you’re wondering,” I tell her, in a near whisper, because I’d heard it was a real problem in America, and everyone was always asking me how I was getting home whenever I went out and had drinks, “I’m staying at the hotel, so I don’t have to drive anywhere. And, I don’t even know how to drive anyway since I’m a Prince and someone always gives me a ride.”

  “Okay,” she says, laughing. “Glad to hear you’re not drinking and driving.”

  The bartender silently brings us our drink, making sure to act invisible and as if he’s not paying us any attention. Our gaze is almost broken but it’s back again so I take the opportunity to kiss her, finally.

  Her lips taste like costume store makeup and smell like that too but there’s another scent underneath: natural and fresh, like maybe somehow she ran through snow to get here, or rode in on a horse and carriage, even though that would be impossible.

  I swallow her tongue, hungrily, forcefully, as my hand moves just under her skirt to feel the soft skin of her leg.

  “Whoa!” she says, laughing and taking my hand.

  But she doesn’t make me move it. She holds it right in between her two thighs as if trying to decide how much further we should go. I have a feeling that explaining my story to her might help her make up her mind.

  I tell her about the deal my mom and I have and about my father’s condition. What started off as sexy turns sad real fucking quick.

  “I’m so sorry,” she says, taking both of my hands in hers, although one is under the light fabric of her dress.

  “My dad fairly recently passed aw
ay,” she tells me. “And my mom did quite a while ago.”

  Oh, shit. I don’t even know what to say to that, but it seems to be okay. She seems to understand that I’m not saying anything because there are no words that would be good enough.

  We sit in heavy silence for little while until she asks, “So, what was the fight about. How come she’s your ex fiancée?”

  Oh yeah, right. I forgot to tell her the information that will seal the deal.

  “She slept with my best man,” I tell her, putting it out there just like that and thinking, how could any girl hear this and not want to help me out?

  But she’s not just any girl and I really want her to be the one to help me out, so I’m hoping that dropping that little bombshell works.

  “Oh, wowza,” she says, whistling and slumping back into the headrest part of the booth. We sit quietly for a few moments.

  “I’m sorry,” she finally says.

  “Don’t be,” I tell her. “I’m beginning to think it was for the best. Already. Just like that. I know it sounds hard to believe…”

  “No,” she says, vigorously shaking her head. “It actually doesn’t.”

  I take this opportunity to put my hand a little further up her dress. Now it’s dangerously close to that sweet pussy of hers, that I just want to caress like I’m caressing her hand and her leg right now.

  “He actually thought that I might not care,” I tell her, but then I stop, realizing what that says about me.

  I’ve never had a committed relationship in my life, so no wonder Kevin thought it might not be a big deal. And I can see his point. But my pride would never let me be with somebody who would embarrass me like that. Even if it was only an arranged marriage, I never wanted it to be so much of a farce that she could just be off gallivanting with anybody else.

  I shake my head, determined not to focus on the past any longer when everything I need for the here and now is right in front of me. I decide to kiss her again before I move in for the kill with the question I need to ask her. I lean in close and let my tongue explore her mouth again.

  She must be feeling the alcohol now because she wraps her hands around my neck and pulls me in closer to her. Or maybe it’s just that she has a lot of sympathy for my story.