Rich Boy: A Royal Landlord Romance (Blue Collar Bachelors Book 5)

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Rich Boy: A Royal Landlord Romance (Blue Collar Bachelors Book 5) Page 23

by Cassie-Ann L. Miller


  I hope you’re not in love with me, Sadie. Especially not the way I’m in love with you because I don’t deserve that depth of love. Please don’t waste your heart on me. The last woman who loved me ended up crushed under the weight of my selfishness and bad decisions.

  Charlene was sweet and kind and she gave me more trust than I ever deserved. I should have never touched her. I shouldn’t have encouraged her to fall for me. I should have stayed away. But she was my best friend’s sister and she came around even though she would have been better off keeping her distance.

  My stomach trembles as I try to anticipate what he’ll say next.

  It was a cold, snowy February night that changed everything.

  The three of us snuck off to a party at a cabin near the coast, about two hours away from the palace. It was a wild one with lots of drinking and craziness. I was too drunk to even make it to the car without skidding halfway down the driveway on my arse. But I insisted I was okay to drive. Charlene was hesitant, I could tell. But she trusted me. So much. Meanwhile, her brother Stan was pretty much in a walking coma. I couldn’t tell whether the bloke was coming or going. So the three of us piled into the car with me at the wheel.

  We didn’t get that far before I started veering off the road. Charlene freaked out. I think it was the one time in her life she actually stood up to me. She was yelling at me from the backseat, insisting that I pull over so she could drive. I was so fucked up that it didn’t even occur to me that she was even less capable of handling the road conditions than I was. Yes, she was sober but she wasn’t a skilled driver. She only had her learner’s permit. The roads were way too slippery. She did her best to get us back safely. But she didn’t make it.

  My lungs contract painfully when I read that.

  Literally, right outside of the palace’s gates, she skidded off the road with her brother sleeping soundly in the front passenger’s seat. She wrapped the car around the trunk of a carob tree. She died instantly. Her brother lost all use of his legs. Meanwhile, I was safe and sound in the backseat. Not even a scratch on me. I ruined two young, innocent lives…and I came away without a scratch.

  I can’t even begin to describe the guilt I felt, Sadie. I wanted someone to hurt me. To toss me under the jail and never let me out. But of course, you don’t always get what you want. Even when you’re heir to the throne.

  Now tears are running down my face, dripping onto my chest.

  The Palace swept the whole thing under the rug. Non-disclosure agreements were drawn up and forced upon the grieving family. Employees who witnessed the crash were threatened into silence. So were the medical workers who came to our aid. My friends were ruined and I was shielded from facing any sort of responsibility at all.

  It’s been eating at me, Sadie. I watered my pain with alcohol for far too long. Until I met you. And being near you made me want to change, to be better. I thank you for that but I also want to be sure that you move on, that you forget about me, that you find a man who’s good and who truly loves you in all the ways I wish I could. You deserve nothing less than that, darling.

  I’m blubbering into the hem of my T-shirt, trying to control my sobs so Nat doesn’t come bursting into the room to check on me.

  Now, I’m going to be King. I’m going to serve my country and find all the ways I can to atone for my sins. And, I’m going to keep the memory of you with me for the rest of my life. This is goodbye, my love.

  I’ll think of you every day,

  X.

  By the time I’m done reading the letter, I’m in shambles. My heart has been reduced to dust. The enormity of the burden Xavier’s been carrying is so overwhelming. The thought of him facing that guilt alone kills me.

  On shaky knees I rise from the bed and go find my best friend sitting patiently in the living room. “Nat…” I whisper between sniffles.

  She rises, her eyes full of alarm as she approaches me. “What did it say? What did Xavier’s letter say?”

  37

  sadie

  I force on a smile as best I can right before I step into my father’s hospital room. He has enough to worry about with the current state of his health. I don’t need him worrying about me, too.

  Yes, my heart is shattered—for myself, for Xavier—but I can’t put that stress on anyone else. Especially my father.

  The past few days have been brutal, though. Discovering the pain that my beautiful Xavier has kept buried inside of him for all these years, it’s killing me. Because he’s wrong. He’s wrong to think that he doesn’t deserve love. What happened to Charlene was an accident. It wasn’t his fault. He shouldn’t have to shoulder that guilt for the rest of his life. He deserves his own forgiveness. I want so badly to tell him that. To put his broken pieces back together. But I can’t.

  I have no way to reach him. Not a phone number or an email address. And how do you reach out to a monarch, anyway. It’s not like I can just find his contact information in the phonebook. Aside from the faint smell of his cologne on my sheets and the memories forever burned into my mind, it’s as if Prince Xavier of Ridgeland was never in my life at all.

  Shrugging off my melancholy, I grin when my father looks up from the computer on his lap. “Hi dad,” I say as I go over and press a kiss to his bearded cheek.

  “Hi Seashell.” His voice is a little scratchy and his face is gaunt like always but aside from that, he looks good. There’s a new light in his eyes. That gives me a glimmer of hope.

  “Did you have a good day?” I ask, setting my backpack at my feet and lowering into the chair by his bed.

  A nurse comes into the room. She gives me a smile in greeting but generally tries to lay low as she bustles around the room, doing her best not to be a distraction.

  Exuberance lights my father’s face at my question. “I had a great day!”

  “Do tell,” I say. I’m eager for at least one little piece of good news because lately my life has been one pile of shit on top of another.

  “Well for starters, I got some good writing done,” he tells me. “A really powerful love scene. A little spanking. Light on the kink. Because that's what my readership wants, y'know. Very tasteful. Classy."

  Oh, god. Why did I even ask?

  "Okay, okay, dad. Enough." I hold up my hand to stop him from further traumatizing me.

  He laughs and a little cough comes sputtering out, too. "Don't worry. I won't ask you to critique it. I've got a new beta reader.” His eyes catch the nurse’s and he winks. The woman throws me a quick guilty glance and her cheeks turn rose pink.

  Are you serious?

  I eye her with a lifted brow and she quickly scurries from the room. And now, dad is pissed. “Why’d you do that? Why’d you have to go and scare her away?"

  I shake my head, trying to pry loose the disturbing thoughts currently assaulting my brain cells. “You and the nurse, daddy? That is so inappropriate, I don't even know where to start."

  “You’re a damn prude,” he scolds, stifling a laugh at my expense. Then thankfully he changes the subject. “Anyway, there was other good news today.”

  “Really?” I lean back in the chair, pulling all my hair over one shoulder and distractedly raking my fingers through the tangles as we speak.

  “Dr. Gallo says that her clinical study just received a shit-ton of unexpected money…They have funding to continue their research for the device.” His eyes glitter with excitement. “I’m gonna get to try out the device, Sadie!”

  My heart bounces in my chest. "That’s incredible dad."

  His body tremors on a breath of relief. "I’m really hopeful, Sadie. I think this clinical trial is the answer I’ve been waiting for."

  I don’t know why, but I just have this feeling. My gut tells me there’s more to the story. "Did Dr. Gallo mention where the funding came from?"

  Dad shrugs. "Yeah, she mentioned it was some foundation. She told me the name." He taps around on his keyboard and then turns the screen to me. "The Rochdale Estate Medical Research
Fund. Seems like it’s a pretty new charity from some place called Ridgeland. You ever heard of it?"

  A smile breaks out across my face just as tears blur my eyes. Xavier’s gorgeous face beams up at me from the website’s home page. Stubborn jerk. Is he gonna set up a new charity every time I find myself in some sort of trouble? I told him time and again I didn't need him to save me, that I could fix my problems on my own.

  But I couldn’t fix this.

  I needed his help and he was there for me without me even having to ask him. And I’m so grateful that he stuck his nose in...He probably just saved my father’s life.

  God—I love that man. Even though he’s telling me not to. Even though he’s saying he doesn’t deserve it. It’s impossible for me not to love him. My guilt-ridden prince. The knight in shining armor I never knew I needed.

  I know for sure I’ll never get over him.

  I’ve got to find a way to get to him. I need to see him. To speak to him. To hold him.

  That night when I get home, I break my rule. I pull out my phone and open my Google app. Fingers shaking with nerves and excitement, I type his name in and hit ‘Enter’.

  The giddy smile drops from my face when I see the headline that all the European tabloid sites are blasting.

  A Royal Wedding for Ridgeland: Princess Xavier Announces Upcoming Nuptials

  The picture beneath the headline speaks a thousand words. It’s Xavier and a bubbly blonde, both beaming, her hand resting on his chest as she proudly shows off a mammoth of a diamond ring.

  38

  xavier

  The wedding planner stands at the front of the room stiff and lifeless like a mannequin who pulled a prison break from a Karl Lagerfeld showroom. “And I was thinking that we could seat Baron Warchester here.” The tall, thin fortysomething woman in the sharp trousers says as she cracks her pointer stick against the whiteboard at the front of the room. She moves the pointer stick to another location. “We could seat Bishop Endelton here.” She shifts the pointer again. “And then we could put the prime minister right here…As far as I can tell, it’s the only way we’ll get through the ceremony without inciting the next Ridgish civil war.” She pauses and her blue gaze moves to Yolanda. When her eyes meet my harsh stare, her head drops meekly and she does a small curtsy. “But it is your wedding so of course you get the final say, Your Highness.”

  A team of assistants flurries around the room, sticking up fabric samples on the walls and setting out silverware options on a corner table and scribbling notes onto writing pads. All this movement is giving me vertigo.

  Next to me Yolanda sighs happily with a dismissive wave of her hand. “You seat them wherever you like. As long as Mother is seated on the left-hand side of the chapel, of course. She specifically asked that the cameras focus on the right side of her face because ever since that botched botulinum treatment, it’s become increasingly difficult for her to emote through facial expression.”

  The wedding planner nods in agreement and makes a note on her tablet. “Yes, we need to make sure the cameras get a good shot of her crying. The newspapers will love it. Her daughter is about to become the Queen of Ridgeland, after all.”

  Yolanda loops her arm through mine and rests her cheek on my shoulder, giving my bicep an excited squeeze. I just want to hurl.

  Am I really supposed to marry this woman? I’m supposed to spend my life with her? She’s annoying as hell. But according to Ridgish tradition, I need a bride to take the throne. Yolanda’s not opposed to playing that role even if it’s just a marriage of convenience. She’s attracted to the power even more than she’s attracted to my cock. As far as I’m concerned, it doesn’t really matter who the hell is walking down the aisle toward me on my wedding day. Because I can’t have Sadie.

  She’s the one I really want but I love her too much to drag her into this life. I’m not fit for the throne. This is going to be a disaster. I’m going to fuck this up so bad. The way I fuck everything up. And when it all implodes, I don’t want her to get crushed under the rubble. That’s why it’s best to leave her alone. Even though it’s killing me.

  The wedding planner gives me a frightful tentative glance. "Speaking of emoting, am I going to have a hard time getting a smile out of you for the photos, Your Highness? The nation will be dying for happy, beaming, exuberant snaps of the royal newly weds.

  Yolanda jerks a shoulder indifferently. "Oh never mind him and his frowny pants." She leans close to me and whispers in my ear. "I'll spend the night before the wedding making sure you have lots of naughty memories to smile at during the ceremony." Under the table, her fingers skitter down the length of my deflated cock. Woman—this is not freaking foreplay!

  She doesn’t flinch at all when I lurch away violently.

  Her attention goes back to the wedding planner. “I want to talk about the candles. I know that the chapel is usually adorned with votive candles but I was thinking we could swap them out for pillars. What do you say?”

  I slump forward, propping up my chin on my forearms lying on the table in front of me. I tune the women out.

  My eyes are fixed on the measure of brandy sitting within arm’s reach. I want to drink it so, so bad. I’d give anything just to be numb to all of this. I just want to escape. I don’t want to fight this battle against my urges anymore.

  Because here I am, planning a wedding to a woman I can’t stand when the one person I love is on the other side of the Atlantic.

  Sadie…

  I should have kissed her. Why didn’t I fucking kiss her that night before I left? What if I never see her again?

  My throat closes up at the thought. I won’t ever get over her.

  Sadie Nichols has character. I knew that from the moment she stormed through the front door, tackling me like a football player who'd sniffed jet fuel. She was the opposite of all the cookie-cutter boot-licking brown-nosing toadies who live just to please me. She was a breath of fresh air when all I was used to was the foul stench of constantly being around bullshit.

  I think I’m losing my mind. I’m having a hard time breathing. I stick my thumb under the knot of my tie and grunting, I yank it roughly away from my throat.

  Yolanda elbows me subtly in the ribs and out of the corner of my eye, I see her giving the wedding planner a tight smile. “Yes, sweetheart. Tell us what you think. Should we go for sweet pea sprigs or lily of the valley in the bouquets?” She bats her eyes with faux adoration as she waits for my response.

  Okay, enough of this.

  The thick carpeting muffles the grate of my chair as I push it back and stand. “I need some air.” I grab the crystal decanter of liquor from the table and tuck it under my arm.

  Yolanda’s eyes go wide with embarrassment and her cheeks flush as she throws a subtle glance at the wedding planner. “But Xavier, we’re just about to—”

  “I’m sure you can handle it without me,” I say uninterestedly as I jog toward the door, unable to get out of that place fast enough.

  Out in the corridors, palace staff bustle about, making preparations for the quickly approaching royal wedding. With purposeful movements, I push through the madness back to my bachelor pad in the south wing. I brush past Thomas’s desk without even sparing him a glance.

  The little man raises a dainty finger in the air. “Your Highness, if I may have moment of y—”

  “Not now, Thomas,” I say in irritation as I bound toward the staircase leading up to my private swimming pool two storeys above. At this point, I just want to get drunk. I want to guzzle this alcohol, strip down to my bare arse and jump into the pool. To see if I’ll sink or swim.

  But a husky, familiar voice rings out, stopping me dead in my tracks. “There’s really no fun in drinking alone, Your Highness. In fact, it’s kind of sad and pathetic.”

  I spin around slowly, blinking in disbelief at the long-limbed, shaggy-haired body slouched in the wheelchair now parked in the middle of the hall. My Adam’s apple bounces roughly as I swallow. “Stanley…
I—is that you?” A rush of adrenaline moves through me.

  He rolls his eyes behind his glasses. “Of course it’s me, you tosser. Have you been seeing ghosts lately?”

  I descend the stairs, closing the space between us. My voice shakes. “No. At least not in broad daylight.”

  The guilt is almost unbearable as I stand there, looking down at my former friend. He used to be big. He’d always been a touch too fond of pudding.

  Now, as we’re here staring at each other, I see a broken man, not only physically. His spirit is broken. I can see it in his eyes. And it kills me, knowing that I’m the cause of it.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  His knobby shoulders heave beneath the wool of his knit sweater vest. “We need to talk, Xavier. It’s about damn time.” His voice is heavy with resignation.

  Nodding slowly, I dip both hands into the pockets of my trousers. “I agree.”

  39

  xavier

  A few minutes later, we’re sitting by the pool. With nothing but a small glass table with a simple brunch spread sitting between us.

  Stan looks pale. He hasn’t been getting out much and from the way he’s devouring his porridge, boiled eggs and toast, I have to wonder when was the last time he was offered a decent meal.

  He picks up an olive and shoves it into his mouth then makes an unpleasant face. “What is this rubbish? Did the palace’s food budget get slashed?” Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he looks up and catches me staring. “And aren’t you going to eat? Started your pre-wedding slim-down regime early, did you?”

  I look away quickly. “Not hungry,” I say with a little headshake. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of that bottle of brandy and a different kind of hunger surges in me. I want a drink so damn bad.

  He drops his fork to his plate with an unceremonious clang and heaves a long exhale. He watches me with hard eyes. “Look—I could say that I’m here to congratulate you on your upcoming wedding and coronation. I could pretend that I’m really happy for you. But the truth is, I’m pissed.” His words have the effect of a punch to the chest. I recoil physically. “I’m angry, Xavier. I’ve been angry for years.”

 

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