Something in the Heir (It's Reigning Men, #1)

by Jenny Gardiner

  “I think I can figure it out.” Adrian rolled his eyes.

  “Once you’re in a taxi, I’d suggest you figure out a way out of town. You’ve got two phones on you: your official palace one, and your own private one that I lined up for you. You’d better hand over the palace version or else they’ll find you in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

  “‘Two shakes of a lamb’s tail’? Sometimes I wonder if you should’ve been a nanny to small children.”

  “Please. I’ve got my hands full enough being your de facto governess.” He raised his eyebrows and pointed to his friend. “This is the most important thing: stay in touch with me. I am ultimately responsible for your well-being, so you owe it to me to stay in touch. You can call, you can text. Whatever you do, keep me apprised of where you are going and whom you are with. And most importantly, be wise about who you fraternize with.”

  “Fraternize? I’m going to find myself, not find a hook-up. Trust me, the last thing I need is a woman in my life. Particularly an American one who lives thousands of miles away from me and hasn’t a drop of royal blood in her. Wouldn’t my mother just love that?"

  “Might be better if she at least has less liquor on her blood than Serena. Oh, I nearly forgot perhaps the most important thing. Just in case.” He reached into yet another pocket. “Whatever you do, take these. We can’t afford to have unwanted princelings popping up in the States nine months henceforth, you know.” He tucked a wad of condoms into Adrian’s palm.

  Adrian rolled his eyes. “Unnecessary optimist.”

  “I wouldn’t be much of a friend if I didn’t wish for you to get laid, now would I? Now, go, before I change my mind about your brilliant escape plan.”

  Chapter Three

  Night had long since fallen by the time Emma left the building. The breathtaking grandeur of the Library and the Capitol dome set against the darkening cobalt sky was something she never tired of. That, combined with twinkling Christmas lights from charming nearby rowhouses on Capitol Hill, made the view so beautiful that she decided to lean against a tree and just take in the scenery for a few minutes, enjoying the simple beauty of the moment.

  She pondered what it was that had her so agitated about her work these days. After all, what better setting to work in? And what fascinating subjects, barring such exciting shoots as the morticians association annual meeting, which was coming up in a few weeks. Maybe it was just that feeling of wanting something more in life, maybe even someone to share it with. Though, ugh, so far sharing with someone hadn’t exactly worked out, what with her last three boyfriends backfiring so spectacularly. Thank goodness Caro hadn’t even brought up Gordon, bless his heart, who insisted he wasn’t gay even after she found out he and his boyfriend had shared her bed when she was out of town last year.

  Emma blew a tuft of hair out of her face, heaved a sigh, and pushed herself away from the tree.

  She rifled in her purse for her keys, as she had a long walk to her car and liked to keep her keys at the ready just in case she needed to poke a mugger in the eyes—or further south—unexpectedly. While she shook her purse trying to unearth the things, a hand closed over her mouth and an arm around her waist.

  She gasped, ready to scream her lungs out, when a familiar accented voice whispered in her ear. “Peas, peas, be quiet. It’s me, Adrian. Whatever you do, don’t scream. Please, don’t scream.”

  Her heart raced like a hummingbird’s. The only thing keeping her from fainting in fear was the recognition of that voice and her stupid comment being thrown back at her from earlier in the evening. But why? What? Huh?

  “I’m so sorry. Believe me I’m not going to hurt you at all. I need you to turn around very quietly, please. I need your help desperately,” the voice whispered, his breath so close to her ear she could feel her hair shifting with each word he spoke.

  “Just turn around casually and pretend I’m a friend who surprised you, in case anyone’s watching.”

  She knew no one was watching. She’d walked out a back exit to a virtually empty street just moments beforehand, save the occasional taxi cab speeding past. Her breath came fast, even as she told herself surely she was safe. It was only the prince. The prince? The prince! What would someone like him need from her? And why was he standing out on the street, alone, begging for her help?

  She turned around and his hand slipped away from her mouth, though he then moved it down to clasp his other behind her back, securing her body close to his. If these were other circumstances and she wasn’t being accosted by the guy, she’d almost think he was about to kiss her. Which wouldn’t have been so objectionable, were she not still feeling a bit terrified.

  “Would you mind telling me what the hell you are doing, your highness?” She put extra emphasis on the word, just to be sure he knew she was pissed. “You’re lucky I didn’t kick you in the family jewels. Considering your family, that might have been considerable.” She laughed nervously at her own bad joke.

  He rolled his eyes. He’d heard that family jewels joke about, oh, a bazillion times over the years. He did, after all, attend boarding school with a plenty of rambunctious and completely idiotic boys.

  “Please forgive me, I’m so sorry. I said those words because I knew you’d immediately recognize me and not turn and spray mace in my eyes or something. Or kick me in a delicate location. Future Monaforte generations thank you for that, by the way. But truly, I’m so glad it’s you I encountered out here.”

  Under what life circumstances would a handsome, wealthy, and famous young prince be glad to see her? She glanced around, expecting to have cameras filming this for some reality series, waiting for her to say something even more stupid than peas to greet you, slur, or whatever boneheaded thing lifted off of her tongue at that fatefully humiliating moment. Definitely need to consider brushing up on conversational skills, lady.

  “And you’re glad it’s me because?”

  “God, it’s a long, long story. It has to do with Serena and my mother and I can’t tell you everything now, but you need to know I have all of a few precious minutes in which to slip away before they send the hounds out after me, and I very much need your help.”

  “Hounds? And here I thought they were goons, those two apes lurking around you this evening.”

  He laughed quietly. “Yes, apes indeed. That’s what my life comes down to, being followed around by a wall of human flesh to ensure I don’t break the boundaries at all.”

  If she were a therapist, right about now she’d suggest he pull up a couch while she handed him a box of tissues. This story sounded like it could get good.

  “So you want out, then?” she asked.

  “That would be an understatement. I need to get away for a few days. I’ve got to figure things out, decide what I should do next, before the rest of my life is handed to me on a silver platter, like it or not.”

  “And I suppose this Serena chick has something to do with the silver platter?”

  “You could say so, yes, this Serena chick has a lot to do with it. Only make that a tarnished silver platter, in her case.” He sighed. “As you can imagine, it’s not so easy to be a public figure and attempt to find privacy. And right now, I very much need privacy. I know we don’t know each other—”

  “Now that’s the understatement of the night,” Emma said. “Except for maybe that rockin’ witty comment I blurted out earlier with the peas.”

  He laughed. “Oh, that was a good one. Believe it or not, people often say the stupidest things in front of me. Not that what you said was stupid. Okay, actually it was sort of stupid.” He paused, and gave her a wink. “But people invariably become befuddled in front of royalty for some mysterious reason. They refuse to realize that we are human beings too, we eat the same way, we put our pants on the same way, we just happen to be—”

  “Privileged?”

  “Yes, privileged. I freely admit that. But enough of this now. I need to get somewhere, anywhere. I really don’t care where. Just as long as I can
get away and get some time to think. Any chance you’d be willing to help a stranger in need?” He batted his eyelashes at her, as if that would work on her hardened heart.

  “Men,” she said with a huff, rolling her eyes. “Honestly, the minute you want something you turn on the charm, and we’re supposed to drop our pants for you?”

  Adrian squinted his eyes in confusion. “I’m not asking you to—”

  “I know, I know. Just an expression. My point is, dammit, I was just going to go home and relax and drink wine and soak in a hot bath and not think. And now not only am I going to have to think, but I’m going to have to do it for two of us.”

  He looked at her, lower lip pouting out, eyes wide like a sad beagle.

  “Oh, all right. Then let’s get a move on. We’ve got to hoof it a few blocks if you want to get to my car before anyone recognizes where you are.”

  “I owe you, Miss—”

  “Emma. Emma Davison. And no, you don’t owe my anything. Consider it a humanitarian gesture for a new friend. Er, prince.” She reached out to shake his hand, something she knew he hadn’t experienced often with the rabble. He extended his arm toward her, and they clasped hands for a moment, the warmth of flesh on flesh standing out against the cold night air. His fingers on hers were giving her flashbacks to their earlier meeting. And not in a good way. In a way that spelled trouble for a girl who was avoiding heartbreaker types.

  “Emma, I’m most peas to greet you, yet again,” he said, bowing with an exaggerated flourish, extending his arm out to the side. “And please, call me Adrian.”

  “Time to blow this popsicle stand,” she said, handing him her camera bag. She reached down and pulled off her shoes, taking a heel in each hand. “If we’re going to make any good time, these have to go. But you are going to so owe me a foot massage for this, buddy.” And she wondered in what world would she have ever have expected to tell some royal whatnot that he needed to service her. How was that for role reversal?

  She grabbed his hand and they began to run, and he ran as if his life depended on it, would even have taken the lead if only he knew where they were headed. But somehow he knew he was in capable hands with this snarky, barefooted American photographer.

  Chapter Four

  When Emma and Adrian arrived at her antiquated Volvo diesel, she threw her bag in the back and urged him into the car quickly.

  “You ride shotgun, but you’d better duck down low, at least until we get out of the city,” she said.

  “Shotgun?” Adrian knit his eyebrows in confusion.

  “Of course a prince wouldn’t know what riding shotgun is, let alone ride there,” she said as she pulled on her seatbelt. “You’re probably used to sprawling out in the back of stretch limousines. Or is it horse-drawn carriages? Is that what you get around town in?”

  “Actually I prefer one of those massive gilded pumpkins with solid gold wheels. Led by horses that turn into mice at midnight.”

  “Yeah, I suppose I’d ride in one of those if I had to, but I’m not a big fan of pumpkin pie, and I’m afraid that smell might get to me. But then again, probably beats the smell of weed you get in some of our local cabs.”

  He laughed. “I’m afraid I’m out of my league with that one. The closest I’ve come is the overwhelming scent of incense they love to douse us with at high church functions we have to attend.”

  “Incense,” Emma said, plugging her nose with her fingers. “I had a roommate in college who burned patchouli incense all the time. I’d take a rotting pumpkin carriage smell over that any day. For that matter, I’d take the combo weed-infested cab with rotting pumpkin odor before volunteering to inhale the scent of patchouli ever again.”

  Adrian looked at her as if she was speaking Portuguese.

  “You haven’t a clue what I’m talking about, do you?” she said. “I can tell this is going to be interesting, bridging the cultural gap between royalty and commoner.”

  “I could think of worse ways to fill the time. For that matter, I could think of even better ones.”

  Emma shook her head. She was so not going to go there. But then again, maybe she could. After all, he was awfully handsome. And he kissed her hand. That was pretty darned charming. No question about it, Richard never kissed her hand. Only thing he seemed to kiss was her ass, when he was caught betraying her.

  “I tell you what,” she said. “Let’s deal with getting you someplace safe and undetected, and then we’ll worry about exploring some sort of cultural norm.

  “In the meantime, let me extend a blanket apology for anything rude or crass or thoroughly idiotic I might be about to say. I appear to have only two settings when it comes to royal conversation: total bonehead or complete smartass. My mother always told me I could never woo royalty with this mouth. If only she knew how right she was. Forgive me, in advance?” She scrunched her brows together, flashing him a woeful, starving refugee look.

  Emma pulled out of her space and onto the road, taking a quick glance around in case anyone was paying much attention to them, and pushed Adrian’s head down lower for good measure.

  “No need for an apology,” Adrian said. “I suppose I deserve your ire. After all, I did attempt to kidnap you.”

  “It was hardly a kidnapping,” Emma said. ”More like a hijacking.”

  “Semantics. Thank God I found you standing out there. I have no idea what my next move would’ve been otherwise. I just knew I had to get out fast.”

  “Fleeing a burning building, were you?”

  Adrian rolled his eyes. “More like running away from a fate worse than death.”

  “Ooooh, that does sound serious. So not being threatened by the rack, or beheading, or poisoning, or any of those normal ways royals meet their deaths, then?”

  Emma merged onto the highway, following the signs toward Northern Virginia.

  “Ha, ha. You're a funny girl,” he said. “No, nothing quite so dramatic. It’s just that I have a very imperious mother.”

  “Fitting, being that she’s imperial.”

  “Yes, that. Well my mother’s best friend, Sarah, has a daughter named Serena. And the two of them have conspired to force Serena on me as if I’m a sire on one of my mother’s stud farms or something.”

  “I hate it when that happens.”

  “Don’t we all?” He laughed. “So my mother let it be known that she expects me to marry Serena and won’t take no for an answer.”

  “Surely she’s not all that bad,” Emma said. “I mean she’s your mom’s BFF’s daughter! Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree and all.”

  “Believe me she’s bad. First of all she’s manipulative. And sneaky. And dishonest. And never to be trusted. And she’s a complete lush. Plus I don’t doubt she’s warmed more beds than your average house cat. Imagine if I were to marry her, would that ever be fodder for tabloids.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Indeed. So you see why I could never marry her. Not only do I not love her, I don’t even like her. She’s downright vile.”

  “I bet she eats puppies for breakfast, too,” Emma said with a wink. “So then what’s your plan?”

  “Plan?” Adrian shrugged. “I haven’t got one. Seems this is my plan.”

  “Running away from home?”

  “You’re being just like Darcy, making it sound so childish.”

  “Really? Good. Cause I meant to make it sound childish.”

  “I see what you mean about that smartass tendency.”

  “Sorry. I’m trying to curb it in deference to your title.”

  “No, no. Not in the least. I wouldn’t want you to be someone you’re not on my behalf. You go right on about your business. I’ll adapt.”

  “You can adapt? Did you ever think maybe you could get used to Serena, then? Surely she’s not so bad?”

  “Oh, she’s worse than bad all right.”

  “Bad enough they have a wanted sign with her face on it at the post office?” She glanced over her shoulder and switched lanes.
>
  “I’ve seen those movies, I know what you’re talking about. And no, she’s not an armed robber or a terrorist. Though, actually, she is a terrorist now that I think about it. She’s terrorizing me!”

  “So you just decided to sneak out of a cocktail party with several hundred prominent guests, thinking no one would notice you missing? What about your security detail? I’d think they’re going to be in just a little bit of trouble once word is out that their charge has skipped town.”

  “Yes, but Darcy is going to deal with all of that.”

  “Darcy?”

  “You know, Darcy. I believe you met the man.”

  “Ah, you mean the blonde one? The guy Caroline was drooling over?”

  “Caroline?”

  “My friend. I believe you met the woman,” she said, getting a little dig back at him. “She helps out at my photo shoots. Well, at photo shoots when there will be cool people attending.”

  “So I’m cool?” he gave himself an exaggerated pat on the back.

  “The guests.”

  “Then I’m not cool?”

  “Jury’s still out on that verdict.”

  “So, she was the redhead?”

  “Guess you weren’t paying attention.”

  ”I was too busy trying to decipher what it was you were trying to say to me. That whole peas thing confused me terribly.” He smiled.

  “Ha-ha. So funny I forgot to laugh. But getting back to business here. So you tell Darcy you need to get away, and he buys it?”

  “Pretty much. He’s my best friend. We’ve known each other our whole lives, practically. He’s got my best interest at heart.”

  Emma swerved slightly as she moved into the right lane of the highway. This royal chitchat was distracting to a driver.

  “And your ‘best interest’ is to set you free in the wilds of Washington, D.C., and hope it all works out fine?” She put on her blinker and took the next exit off the highway. “Do you have any idea where you could’ve ended up if you’d taken a wrong turn in your wanderings? Does drive-by shooting ring a bell?”