Love Me I'm Your Princess: A Sweet Romantic Comedy (Love Me Romcom Series Book 3)

by Laura Burton

  I hum in thought. “So, are you going to pretend to be me? My parents won’t be back, but I don’t think you can fool Alejandro,” I wonder aloud.

  Prim’s face lights up again at the sound of his name and all of my reservations come flooding back.

  “I’ll pretend to be you… But I’ll let Alejandro in on our little secret,” she says, grinning from ear to ear.

  I puff a strand of hair away from my eyes as I think about it. Do I like the idea of Alejandro and Prim spending a month together? I picture them exploring the city, going on long strolls around the Roman forum... Taking tandem bike rides in the park, making a wish as they toss a coin in the Trevi fountain.

  No. I hate the idea. I’ll come back to find they’ve eloped.

  At least, that’s what would happen to an ordinary woman. But Prim is a princess. She has duties to fulfill. I’m sure the King and Queen wouldn’t be too happy with her dating a sugar daddy in Italy.

  “You promise to keep things platonic between you and Alejandro, right?” I say, giving her a hard look. Prim feigns shock with a gasp. “Of course.”

  Her answer is hardly convincing. But as I lean to the side and narrow my eyes at the large lady staring intently in our direction, I mentally shake myself. There’s no way Prim’s assistant will let her do something foolish like fall in love––or let her heart get broken.

  “Fine.” I turn back to Prim, who is practically vibrating with excitement and beaming at me again. “When do you––I mean, I––have to go back?”

  “Tonight.”

  I stifle a gasp. “That doesn’t give us much time to get ready. I mean, you need to tell me everything if I’ve got any hope of pulling this off.”

  Prim nods excitedly. “Don’t worry, I wrote up a detailed file for you to study, it’s in my dressing table.”

  A flurry of excitement rises to my chest.

  This is really happening.

  We spend the rest of the day walking around Vatican City as I tell Prim everything about my life.

  Turns out there isn’t that much to tell her.

  Sometimes the fridge gets jammed and I have to kick the door to get it to open. And every Tuesday night, Mr. Rollins next door hosts a game night with his friends. The loud thump-thump-thump of the bass keeps me from sleeping, so I keep packs of ear plugs in the second drawer of my nightstand.

  I figure Alejandro will cover everything regarding the ice cream parlor. So, that leaves my parents. Mom calls me every couple of days. But she never calls the landline, so that shouldn’t be a problem.

  “Don’t you have any friends I should know about?” Prim asks me, as she writes on a postcard. I can never understand what’s so special about getting mail with the Vatican postage stamp on it, but tourists like to send letters from Vatican City.

  Prim’s question feels like a jab, even though I know she didn’t mean for it to come across that way. I rub my chest lightly as if she just punched my heart.

  “I have lots of acquaintances, I guess,” I mutter, watching as a group of school kids follow their teacher toward St. Peter’s Basilica. Three girls chatter to each other, flicking their hair and laughing. I’ve never been part of a clique. In high school, everyone sat in their groups. The drama kids, the cheerleaders, the preppy girls, the emos and the mathletics squad… Then there was me. I was one of the odd-balls who floated around. Friendly with everyone––somewhat avoiding ridicule––but never really becoming friends with anyone.

  And I liked it that way.

  I’d come home to my parents’ house and life was just the three of us.

  Is that so bad?

  “No. No friends,” I say, finally. “What about you? Who lives with you at the palace?”

  Prim gives me an odd look and her eyes glaze over. When she doesn’t answer, I don’t press her on it. I figure that means she either has too many to count, or she’s just as much of a loner as I am.

  It’s dark when we get back to my apartment. I glimpse two men standing across the street and looking in our direction as I open the door.

  “Do you mind if my assistant joins us?” Prim asks, hopeful. I nod as I push the door open and walk through. A few moments later, the swift shuffle of heavy footsteps alerts me to a large woman, so tall she has to duck as she walks inside.

  “Violet, this is Jo.”

  I curtsey, as if on autopilot. The woman’s deep-set eyes narrow at me, and her brows lift. I guess it’s the first time anyone has curtseyed to her. I’m not even sure why I did it. Prim stifles a laugh with her hand then closes the door. “Jo, Violet and I are going to switch places. Now, I don’t want the security to know. Do you have my bag?”

  Jo eases a bag off her shoulder and passes it over without so much as a word. “Great, thanks Jo.” Prim turns to me, holding it out.

  “Here. Get changed into my clothes. And when you leave, make this signal with your hand.”

  “What about Jo? Won’t the security be suspicious?”

  “Leave that to me,” Jo says, finally breaking her silence with a deep rumbling voice. I gulp and nod to her, then a flurry of nervousness takes over.

  I leave Prim and Jo in the living room while I run to my bedroom and change. I give the room one last look, patting the doorway as I take in the fact I’m not going to be back for a month.

  I return to the living room to find Prim sitting alone. “Where’s Jo?” I ask, looking around. I have visions of the woman setting up CCTV to keep an eye on Prim at all times. The thought brings a smile. I have no need to worry about Alejandro getting too close. She’ll never let that happen.

  “She’s talking to my security,” Prim says, snapping me out of my head. She jumps up and eyes me closely. “This is extraordinarily… surreal.”

  I glance at the mirror on the wall and gasp. Standing in Prim’s silk blouse and tartan skirt, with my hair tied back, we look absolutely identical. Except for the few flyaway hairs resting on my cheeks. I smooth them back and straighten my skirt.

  “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I think aloud, my heart racing. “I’m no good at lying.”

  Prim smoothes out the collar of my blouse and pulls out a bottle of perfume from her purse. “You’re doing me a great service,” she says softly, spraying the musty perfume over my neck.

  “Our parents. Do they know about me?” I ask, biting my lip. “Won’t they notice that I’m not you?”

  Prim’s smile fades and she tilts her head to the side. “They’re very traditional in their ways. And so our relationship is… Formal.” She looks away, batting her eyelashes. “I promise you, there is nothing you can do to raise their suspicion.”

  I can’t help but pick up on the hurt in her voice. And before I can even think about it, I’m pulling my sister in for a hug.

  “I wish we could spend more time together, I’ve always wanted a sister,” she says as we break apart.

  “After this month, we’re going to tell our parents the truth, right?”

  Prim nods under my hard stare. “Absolutely.”

  “So, we’ll be able to spend a lot more time together,” I add. She nods again.

  “Just one month. Then we will tell them together.”

  The door opens and Jo walks in, her boots thudding on the wooden floorboards. “It’s time to go,” she announces gruffly. Prim and I look at each other again, and share one last hug.

  “You have my number, so call me. Anytime,” Prim whispers. This time it’s my turn to be the nodding dog. “See you in four weeks,” I whisper back.

  I resist the urge to look back as I make for the front door. From now on, I’m not Violet Rossi. I’m Primrose Courtier, the second. I roll my shoulders back and hold my head up high. As the door closes behind me, I hold up my hand, crossing my fingers like Prim showed me. A couple of men approach me from my right. I lock eyes with them and as they reach me, they give a slight bow.

  “Are you ready to leave, Princess?”

  I swallow the bundle of nerves sitting in my th
roat.

  “I do believe my stay in Rome has come to an end and it is time for me to go home,” I say softly, imitating Prim. The two men bow again and motion for me to walk with them. I follow them to a black car idling by the side of the road, resisting the urge to grin.

  Finally, all my hours of binge-watching Downton Abbey are coming to some use.

  Chapter 4

  A short, quiet car journey, followed by a trip in a private plane takes us to what I can only guess is Andonna - this mysterious country I have never heard of before. It’s impossibly dark outside and I do my best to keep my poker face on, so as not to give away the fact I am completely freaking out on the inside.

  A man helps me down the steps and I’m glad for his firm grip, because the narrow heels under my feet do little to keep me upright. Prim’s shoes are so delicate; I wouldn’t be surprised to find they’re made of glass.

  I step onto firm ground and long to throw myself on it and kiss the tarmac. Little do these people know, I hate to fly. The turbulence had my stomach doing flips.

  But instead of throwing myself down, I straighten my posture and follow the line of men down a narrow path lined with tall, evergreen trees.

  A soft glow up ahead is our only source of light, and everyone walks like shadows around me.

  Finally, we reach a black iron gate and it opens with a squeal. The security steps aside and I walk through, stopping briefly to watch them shut the gate again. The click of a lock echoes in my ears and I am suddenly reminded of Prim’s words.

  “I’m like a bird trapped in a very pretty cage.”

  Is this the cage? I look up ahead to take in the large old building lit up like a Christmas tree. Every one of the narrow windows is an amber glow in the night.

  It’s pretty. And big. But I wouldn’t call this a palace. It looks more like a large country manor.

  A cough reminds me to keep walking and I focus on the woman standing a few meters ahead of me, waiting by an open door.

  “Good evening, Miss Primrose,” the woman says with a curtsey as I approach. I bend my knee to curtsey back but hold myself half-way down, horrified at what I’ve done. Princesses don’t curtsey, right? Why the heck do I keep doing it?

  The woman’s wide eyes beam at me like two moons as I scramble to think of a way to save the situation.

  “Oh dear,” I say in a formal voice. “I do believe the cold night air has made my knees weak.”

  I straighten my leg and bend over to rub my knee in an overly exaggerated manner. Thankfully, no one remarks on my questionable acting skills.

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Princess,” the woman says, concerned. She takes my arm gingerly and helps me inside. I limp along, keeping up the act, and glance back to see that the security guards did not come in with me.

  “Let’s get you to your room,” the woman says. I glance at her and wonder who she is. She’s a mature woman, with long gray hair tied up in a tight bun. Her smart black dress is plain, but in the absence of a name tag, I have no idea if she’s the cook, a maid or the housekeeper. One thing’s for certain, she’s not the Queen.

  Whoever she is, she’s more than just another member of staff. The warmth in her voice and the way her eyes sparkle at me tell me that much.

  “I’ll draw you a nice hot bath for you to soak your knees,” she says as she opens a door. I hobble inside––wondering how long is appropriate to keep up the facade. Then I look around the lavish bedroom, which looks to be the same size as my apartment, and try not to gasp.

  “Home, sweet home,” I say, brightly, trying to cover up the tiny squeal that escapes my lips. Then I look furtively at the woman, wondering if my joke is out of character.

  Thankfully, if she is suspicious of me, she doesn’t show it. Instead, she carefully takes my bag, props it up against a dresser and marches off through an archway to the right. I pull the door shut and take a moment to look around, happy to be alone.

  A large four poster bed sits in the middle of the room, white lace drapes hang from the mahogany posts and there must be twenty pillows on the bed. If I didn’t expect the woman to come back at any moment, I’d run and jump onto the bed, just to send the pillows flying in all directions.

  A free-standing mirror rests in a corner of the room and I glimpse my reflection. At a glance, I could almost fool myself into thinking I’m Prim.

  But on closer inspection, my posture gives me away. My shoulders are too rounded, so I arch my back and lift my head again. I have no idea how a human being can walk around this upright, all the time. It makes my lower back ache.

  Suddenly, a little door flap opens with a bang and a small white bichon frise bounds into the room. It’s been groomed to look like a little white bear, and it takes all of my resolve not to burst out with laughter.

  “Well, hello there…” I say, squatting down as the dog reaches me. I eye the silver tag on its collar. “...Teddy.” What a fitting name.

  Teddy sniffs me excitedly, his fluffy tail wagging so fast, it turns into a little white blur. I tilt my head and watch the dog alternate between sniffing my clothes and then my legs. Then he makes three distinct yaps and jumps away from me.

  Prim didn’t tell me she had a dog.

  I try to shoosh it. “It’s me, Teddy,” I whisper, trying to do my best impression of Prim. But the dog cocks its head to the side and hops on the spot, its tail wagging even faster. He’s not buying the act.

  He makes three more yaps and I realize there’s only one thing left to do.

  “Hey there,” I whisper in my normal voice. “Hey, Teddy. It’s nice to finally meet you.” I tickle his ears and I’m not sure if it’s the tickling or the fact I’ve revealed my true colors, but he plops down and splays himself out on his back, all his paws twitching.

  “Your bath is ready. Are you hungry, Miss Primrose? I can have the cook make your favorite soup.”

  I jump to my feet and swivel on the spot to look at the woman who has now returned with a white fluffy towel draped over her plump arm. Her eyes scan me and I swallow hard, realizing that I hobbled into the room just moments earlier and now I’m jumping. Jumping!

  Is it too late to grab my knees and make a howl of pain? Yes.

  “I am rather partial to soup before bed, yes please…” I know I should end with her name. Or title. Or something. I don’t know how long I will be able to get away with saying “Hey you.”

  But the woman bobs and leaves the room before the silence grows anymore awkward. As the door clicks shut, I collapse on the bed with a sigh.

  Teddy scrambles up and claws at one of the pillows. Then he turns around in circles before he settles down and rests his snout on my leg.

  “Well, we’ve made it this far,” I say, stroking his back. I pull my phone out and tap out a quick text to Prim.

  You didn’t tell me about Teddy. Thankfully, we’ve made friends. Please tell me there aren’t any other surprises. –– V

  I stare at the three dots that show up underneath my message and hold my breath. But after a few minutes they disappear and I exhale, deflated by her lack of a response.

  Then I remember she mentioned a file in her dresser. I amble over and look through the drawers. In the bottom one, a white file labeled, “Upcoming schedule,” catches my eye. Figuring this must be it, I pull it out and flip through the pages.

  “Wow,” I say through a breath. Prim has been thorough. There’s a map of the palace grounds, and three main buildings. An itinerary for every day of the month, and little notes everywhere.

  My exclamation prompts Teddy to jump down from the bed and come over for a sniff. He whines. I give him a tickle under the chin. “Can you smell Prim?” I ask.

  On the next page is a picture that makes my heart stop beating. At least, that’s what it feels like.

  “King and Queen Courtier,” I whisper, stroking the picture with my index finger. So, this is what my biological parents look like?

  They both look so regal, with picture-perfect smiles plante
d on their pale faces. The Queen has the same red hair as Prim and I, but her eyes are brown. The King has very little hair left atop his head, his sideburns are blonde, and his eyes are a dazzling emerald green.

  Seeing my biological parents leaves me feeling surprisingly numb. I thought I’d cry, or gasp, or…. something. Anything other than what I’m doing now; sitting on the floor, hardly blinking and stroking the picture like it’s one of a lost puppy.

  Then the faces of my parents––the people who adopted me––flash before my eyes and my heart squeezes.

  I flick quickly through the pages and land on a section titled ‘Staff’.

  A line of portraits stares back at me, looking a lot like a page from my yearbook. I immediately recognize the woman who I met tonight. Her name is “Mae,” and she’s the housekeeper. Then I flip to the schedule for tomorrow and my heart squeezes again.

  “Breakfast with the King and Queen.”

  Tomorrow I’m going to meet my biological parents. I’ll never get to sleep now.

  Chapter 5

  Surprisingly, I did sleep. But not until I had taken the most luxurious bubble bath, slipped into a pair of silky soft pajamas, and devoured a bowl of sweet potato soup. The heat of the paprika calmed all my jitters, and I finished off my food therapy with a steaming mug of chamomile tea.

  After brushing my teeth, I was barely able to move my limbs across the huge bedroom and throw myself into bed.

  I sighed the deepest sigh of my life as I slid into the covers. Teddy chased his tail for a minute and then collapsed somewhere near my feet. I was glad for the company. Once I turned the light out, my head hit the softest pillow in the world and I slept like a log.

  Until the curtains rolled back and I was rudely awakened by the sudden burst of sunlight and a shrill bell.

  Blinking into the light, I could just make out a line of maids standing at the foot of my bed. One of them had a short, pale-green A-line dress in her hands.

  “Good morning, Princess Primrose,” they said in unison with a curtsey.