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

by Laura Burton

  “Princess!”

  I halt at the hushed voice, with my hand frozen on the freezer door. In my haste to find something to indulge in, I didn’t think to look behind me when I walked in.

  The kitchen is so big, a large oak table sits to the left, and tall pane glass windows allow in the silver light from outside. My eyes widen as I take in the view of Cristiano, standing at the table and cradling a mug in his hands.

  I tighten my belt with horror at being caught––by the Prince no less.

  Curse you, sweet tooth! It’s always getting me into trouble.

  “Oh, hello,” I say with a feeble wave. “I couldn’t sleep so I––”

  “May I make you a cup of hot cocoa?” Cristiano offers. I should act like Prim and say something like, “Actually, I’m rather partial to herbal tea.” Even though I’d rather drink dishwater than herbal tea right now.

  The thought of a steaming mug of milky hot cocoa, fixed by Cristiano, makes my stomach do a little excited dance.

  “Well, I was coming for ice cream. But that sounds better,” I say, smoothing my hair as I march over. Cristiano’s face lights up like a little boy on Christmas morning. He pulls out a chair for me, and I sit, watching him busy himself near the counter. I strum my fingers against my thigh and chew the inside of my cheek as I listen to the scrape of a whisk and then the light clatter of a spoon.

  He returns to my side, brandishing a simple white mug.

  “Thank you,” I say, taking the drink. I raise it to my nose and inhale the rich chocolate aroma. “It smells a bit different…” I think aloud. Cristiano sits across from me and picks up his own drink. “Chili,” he says, just as I raise the mug to my lips.

  Before the steaming liquid can touch my tongue I cough and pull the drink away.

  “Excuse me? Did you say chili?”

  “You’ve never had chocolate and chili before?” Cristiano tilts his head to the side and for a second I’m reminded of Teddy.

  No. I have never had chocolate and chili before. I grew up with pasta, chicken marinated in garlic and olive oil. Herby bread. Chili and olive tapenade. But never have I thought about mixing chili with something so sweet. It sounds wrong.

  I shake my head, my hair swooshing from side to side. Cristiano leans forward and dips his head to look up at me through his dark lashes. A devilish grin takes over his face and my heart flutters at the sight of his dimple.

  “You’re going to love it. Trust me,” he murmurs. If chocolate had a voice, I imagine it would sound like Cristiano.

  Eat me, Violet. You know you want to.

  I can’t decide if it’s my thoughts or Cristiano’s steady stare that’s making me hot, but my whole body has now broken out into a nervous sweat. I wish I wasn’t wearing such thin pajamas, because if I take off my robe, it’ll leave little to the imagination. That said, if I don’t take it off and Cristiano keeps looking at me like a hungry lion, I’ll soon be nothing but a steaming puddle on the floor.

  I blow the hot drink softly to distract myself, then take a nervous sip.

  Cristiano’s smile widens and his pearly whites gleam at me so bright, he looks like a Cheshire cat, glowing in the darkness.

  “What do you think?”

  First, my senses are flooded with warm velvety chocolate. Then my tongue detects a different kind of heat. Almost sizzling.

  “It’s like a party in my mouth!” I say after swallowing.

  Pleased with my reaction, Cristiano leans back and draws his own mug to his lips.

  “I’ve never been a good sleeper. My father would take me to the kitchen and make me a strong cup of hot cocoa. Then he would listen to me talk on and on about anything and everything on my mind.”

  I place the mug down and hum back.

  “My mom’s answer to all life’s problems is a cup of tea and a bowl of pasta,” I say, smiling at the memories.

  “That’s funny. You sounded a little American just now.”

  My chest tightens. Why do I find it so hard to act around him? It’s like his glittering eyes and sexy smile lowers all my defenses.

  “I’m tired. And I watch a lot of American TV shows,” I explain. It’s a lame excuse, but the truth. Of course, my American accent is from growing up in Chicago. But I do watch a lot of American shows. Too many. And I am tired.

  In fact, the hot cocoa swirling round my insides has me feeling kind of woozy.

  Figuring it’s pretty dark in the kitchen, I shrug out of my robe and take a few greedy gulps of my drink. The liquid burns my tongue and I’ll probably not be able to taste anything for a week, but I don’t care. We sit in silence, drinking our hot cocoa: I avoid eye contact with Cristiano.

  I need to finish this drink and get out of here, before I open my big mouth and say anything else to give me away.

  Slowly, Cristiano rises again and walks over. His body heat rushes over me as he approaches and I avoid eye contact, pretending to be interested in the last dregs of my drink.

  “You know, I think this is the first time we’ve been alone,” Cristiano says, leaning down to tuck a few strands of hair behind my ear. He leans even lower to whisper in my ear, and I grip the mug a little too tight.

  “I can’t wait to be married to you. So I can hold you in my arms and stroke your baby soft skin until you fall asleep.”

  My breath hitches, and I close my eyes. I’ve never felt this way before. Not with someone I barely know.

  But the longing I feel when I think of laying down with Cristiano while he strokes my back or gives me butterfly kisses along my jawline, is almost too much to bear.

  “Teddy would be jealous,” I whisper, thinking aloud. And Cristiano pulls back to give me an amused look. “I hope you’re not talking about another man?”

  I stifle a laugh. He knows I mean the dog. We’ve spent afternoons sitting in the drawing room with Teddy draped over his lap.

  Without thinking, I take his collar and graze my thumb across the soft material. Now he’s close, I can see his gray silky pajamas, they’re similar to mine. Which makes me wonder if there is a royal uniform.

  I drag my hand over his shoulder and his muscles tense under my touch. Being alone like this is scandalous. I’ve never felt so naughty touching a man’s bicep before.

  Cristiano kneels down before me and grabs the back of my neck in a firm grip. He drags his thumb across my jugular and every atom in my body shivers. If he turns out to be a vampire, I’m a total goner. I lift my head, and shudder with my eyes closed as he brushes his lips on my neck.

  No airs or graces here. Now we’re completely alone in the dead of night, and all of the feelings we have been suppressing rise to the surface. Like a tsunami, the wave drowns out all common sense.

  I lick my lips and open my eyes as Cristiano pulls away. His yearning is written all over his face. I wonder whether it’s obvious to him that I feel the same way.

  Is this really happening? I wonder if I fell asleep while I was on the phone to Prim and if I ever made it to the kitchen at all. The thought that this might just be a wild fantasy makes me a little bolder.

  “Cristiano,” I whisper, dragging my hands down his burly arms and moving to his chest. His warm breath tickles my nose as he draws closer and I trace the line of buttons on his shirt with my index finger.

  “Yes, my sweet Violet,” he says. I drag my gaze to meet his and the look he gives me is almost primal.

  He finds my hand and we lace fingers, holding eye contact. Breathing sharply, I set my jaw in an attempt to calm the dizziness. The heat between us is so intense, it makes my hair frizz.

  “I––I want to…” I trail off. I want to tell him that my name really is Violet. I want to share this heavy secret so I’m not lying to him anymore. But I think he misunderstands me because he gives a knowing nod.

  “I do too. Trust me, it’s taking all of my self-control not to ravish you right here on the table.”

  A little squeak leaves my mouth as my imagination starts to play out the scenari
o. But then I shake my head and squeeze my eyes shut. As if that might make Cristiano disappear.

  He’s forbidden. He’s Prim’s fiancé. I can’t do this.

  Even if this is just a beautiful dream, it’s wrong.

  But how can something this wrong feel so dang right?

  Cristiano pulls me in and I open my eyes just in time to know I can’t resist him any longer. He grips my neck with one hand and grips my waist with the other. When he slips his fingertips under the hem of my shirt, the contact with my skin sends shockwaves through my whole body. My hands find his neck, then I drag them through his silky soft hair.

  There’s no going back now. I’m pretty sure there’s no way I can pull away even if I want to.

  The bristles of his stubble graze against my cheek and I bite my lip, all of my senses tingling. His scent envelopes my whole body and I want to just stay in this abandoned kitchen in Cristiano’s arms until sunrise.

  With that thought, I throw caution to the wind, ignoring the millions of reasons I shouldn’t do this, and move to find Cristiano’s lips.

  I’ve been staring at these lips for weeks, longing to have them brushing against mine, giddy whenever he pressed them against my cheek.

  His lips are softer than my silk pajamas and they taste of chocolate. I’m kissing a sexy prince with chocolate-flavored lips. Yep. I’m definitely dreaming. There’s no way this is real. Stuff like this just never happens to me.

  He makes a deep guttural moan as he explores my mouth and I cling onto his back, worried that if I let go, I’ll fall into a black hole.

  Seconds stretch into minutes and my head grows light, lacking oxygen. But who cares about breathing? So what if I pass out? Kissing Cristiano sends me into a total state of bliss.

  And I don’t want to stop.

  But a distant bang sends Cristiano tearing away from me in a panic. I sit still, panting and wondering what on earth is the matter.

  Then I catch on to the sound of approaching footsteps and the two of us dash out of the kitchen before we’re discovered.

  My heart is racing faster than the wings of a hummingbird as I sprint back to my room. I dare not look back, not even for a glimpse of who might have caught us. As I slip into my room and close my bedroom door, a wicked grin is spread over my whole face.

  Chapter 14

  The next day, the palace is bustling as everyone prepares for the arrival of the King and Queen. I’m running on an hour of sleep and pure adrenaline, and there’s a fiery throbbing in my chest when I spot Cristiano hovering near the top of the staircase. His face breaks into a guilty grin when he sees me, and without thinking, I grab his arm and pull him into a closet. The door clicks shut behind us and I look up at Cristiano’s bewildered face.

  “What are we doing in the broom cupboard?” he asks, looking at the cleaning supplies around the cramped space. I smirk at him. “Is that what you call this?”

  Then I shake my head and place his hands on my waist. “We don’t have much time before someone will come looking for us,” I whisper, rising on tiptoes.

  “In that case…” He lifts me up, and I wrap my arms around his neck, lowering to meet his lips.

  Kissing Cristiano in the closet with my whole body pressed up against him makes me feel like I’m in a movie. I’m not the type of person to make out with a man in the broom cupboard. And now, it’s like I really have fallen into an episode of Downton Abbey.

  Cristiano lowers me and my toes make contact with the floor as he moves his hands to cup my face. His fingertips press into the base of my skull and he leaves a trail of hot kisses along my jawline.

  “We should go down to breakfast... The staff will be looking for us,” I whisper, closing my eyes and resisting a moan as Cristiano presses his lips to my collarbone. He pulls back and cocks a brow. “You pulled me in here!”

  I grin at him, biting my lip. But then hurried footsteps outside the door drag my attention away from Cristiano’s reddened mouth. “Come on.” I straighten my jersey dress, smooth out my frizzing hair and open the door.

  A pair of young women gasp and scurry down the staircase at top speed, their gray dresses billowing out behind them. I turn back and blush profusely as Cristiano emerges from the closet, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, looking like a happy lion that just devoured his prey.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” I say. “You’re making it look obvious.”

  Cristiano gives me a casual smirk as he follows me down the steps. “My sweet Violet, I haven’t a clue what you speak of,” he says, sounding innocent.

  I shoot him a wry smile and march into the breakfast hall.

  The sun beams down happily, reflecting my sunny mood as we venture out of the gates in the stretch limousine. Another day, another appearance.

  This one has me more nervous than usual. We’re going to a senior home to visit with the residents. The trip makes me think of my nanna, and that makes me think of my parents. I haven’t spoken to them properly in the last couple of weeks.

  I can imagine how they would react if I told them where I am right now, and who I’m with. Mom would go into a cooking frenzy, maybe even start making jam like she did for the three months after Grandpa passed. And Dad would give me the look.

  The one that tells me he’s not mad... Just disappointed.

  Oh man.

  “Is everything alright?”

  I catch the look of concern on Cristiano’s tanned face as he clasps his hand over mine and it’s only then that I realize I’d been wringing them.

  “Just nervous,” I say. I give him a small, awkward smile to reassure him, but I let it fall again when I turn away from him to look out the window. Why do I get the feeling he can read me like a book?

  “You don’t have anything to be nervous about, just show them who you really are.”

  I gulp. Who I really am?

  “What do you mean?” I ask, watching the sandstone walls passing by.

  Cristiano squeezes my hand, prompting me to finally look at him again. He cradles my cheek and I lean my head into his hand, closing my eyes.

  “You put on an act when other people are around. But I know you now. At least… I’m getting to know you.”

  I open my eyes, alarmed. I guess I have been slacking on the acting front when we’re alone. But instead of growing suspicious and thinking I’m an imposter, Cristiano thinks I’m just putting on a face for the public eye.

  Well, I guess it makes sense. Who, in their right mind, would switch places with their twin to swoon over their fiancé?

  Me. That’s who.

  Cristiano and I crossed a line last night... And again this morning. My innocent game of flirting just became a full-on seduction.

  As if my lips can hear my thoughts, they begin to tingle. This is one royal mess––literally.

  I’ve got to come clean to Cristiano and tell him the truth. It’s not fair to lead him on like this and then switch back with Prim. It’s also not fair on Prim that I take things too far. I mean, there’s acting, and there’s method acting.

  Then there’s what I’m doing. Because I can’t figure out what is real and what isn’t anymore.

  Do I have true feelings for Cristiano? Or have I just got caught up in this fairy tale?

  Have I become blinded by my own selfishness? I’ve practically forgotten about the people who are going to be hurt by my actions. My parents. My sister. Most of all, my prince.

  A little voice takes over. Ah, but that’s just it, Violet. He’s not your prince.

  And that is the problem right there.

  I know he’s not mine, but my heart refuses to believe it. If only some fairy godmother could swoop in, wave her glittering wand, and turn me into Prim. That would be awesome.

  I force a smile and look away again. Now we’re in the lush countryside, on a single lane road between vineyards. The sun is casting a beautiful golden glow over the landscape and rolling hills in the distance. But no matter how picture perfect it looks ou
tside, nothing can make me feel less miserable than I do right now. I feel like I’m on the Titanic and Cristiano and I are headed for a massive iceberg.

  Chapter 15

  The manager greets us with a bow. “It is a pleasure to have you, Prince Cristiano and Princess Primrose.” There’s a line of staff standing to the side, their anxiety is palpable, but every one of them is beaming with glowing cheeks.

  I thought it would be pretty cool to have people bow and curtsey to me, or to walk out of a limousine to flashing cameras. But as it turns out, the whole charade just feels a little too hollow. Maybe it’s because I’m not a real princess, or maybe I don’t like being the center of attention after all.

  We’re taken into a big room, where there are at least twenty armchairs scattered around, and long pane glass windows that let in the sun. Pots of silk flowers sit on tables next to each chair and every one of the armchairs is taken by an elderly resident.

  The PR manager gave me specific instructions to keep a safe distance away from the residents, but to show interest in them, so the social media team can take some decent photos for press.

  I hover near a gentleman sitting beside the window. On the little table beside him sits a chess board, perfectly set up.

  “Hello,” I say, pulling up a stool. “Would you like to play a game?” I nod to the chessboard. The old man squints at me, fiddles with his spectacles, and then looks at the chessboard with his wispy white brows lifted. It’s as if he’s only just seeing it for the first time.

  “Why yes, I suppose it would be a shame not to,” he replies. He pulls out a gray handkerchief from his pocket and blows his nose.

  I ignore the glares from the PR manager, who obviously disapproves of my choice to sit so close to the gentleman.

  So what if I catch a cold from this man? Standing two meters away won’t be practical if we’re to play a round of chess. I grew up playing the game, so there’s no way I’m going to pass up on this opportunity.