ROYAL BRIDE (A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance)

by Bella Grant

  As the week slowly rolled by, my interest in Nick Saunders was piqued, and I picked up little titbits about him from Amy. I didn’t look him up online because I didn’t want to be intimidated. After all, he was only one of the richest and sexiest men on earth. I imagined he only dated skinny, sexy women, something I was proudly not. As the thought of dating crossed my mind, I blushed and admonished myself. We weren’t dating. We weren’t even friends. He didn’t know me. I didn’t know him. This was all just a miscommunication.

  Finally, Friday night came, and as expected, Amy was ringing my doorbell as soon as I settled in with my Chinese takeout.

  “Hi, Amy. The ball is not until tomorrow, you know,” I said as I opened the door before she could use her key. I knew Amy too well. She was probably too excited to wait for Saturday.

  “Oh, but I want to sleep over so we can talk about all the things you can expect tomorrow.”

  “Amy, it’s just a ball and I most likely will be kicked out before I even get in.”

  “Don’t be too sure of that,” she said as she settled in comfortably next to me and picked up one of the paper takeaway bowls and scooped some of my fried rice into it. “How can you eat this crap?” she said as she took the first bite and almost spit it out.

  “I love their food,” I said as I chewed on a piece of broccoli. I had ordered chicken and broccoli with fried rice for dinner.

  “Enjoy,” she said as she went to the kitchen. Minutes later, she appeared with a sandwich.

  “You know my kitchen better than I do,” I teased. “I had no idea I had the ingredients to make a sandwich.”

  “You don’t,” Amy said dryly. “This is the most pathetic sandwich I’ve eaten in a while. No mayo, no ketchup. Do you ever go grocery shopping?”

  “That’s what you’re here for.” I shrugged my shoulders, picked up the remote control, and started flipping through channels. Amy took it away from me and turned off the television.

  “We need to talk about tomorrow,” Amy said, and without waiting for my response, she started talking about what she thought tomorrow would be like. I grunted my responses, mostly tuning her out because I was really tired of discussing it. The only reason I wanted to go to the ball was to see if I could speak briefly with Mr. Saunders about a chance to work for his company. If he met me face-to-face, he would see that I have enough experience to be an excellent addition to his staff. Amy was still talking when I dozed off.

  When I woke the next morning, Amy was lying next to me, snoring softly. I had no idea how I got to my bed, but Amy must have gotten me into bed after I fell asleep on the couch. I smiled and covered her partially exposed body with the comforter.

  Saturday was finally here, and I was gatecrashing a party. I quietly got out of bed so I didn't wake Amy. I needed some quiet before her yapping restarted. But I wasn't quiet enough; Amy woke up as soon as I moved from the bed.

  "It's Saturday," she yawned. “Finally.”

  "I know," I said, turning around to smile at her. Yes, it was Saturday and I was going to make a total fool of myself.

  "Are you excited?"

  "Sort of," I said. I was kind of excited to be going somewhere. The closest I'd come to a man since breaking up with Jim was Mr. Rich, and that didn’t qualify as an interaction. I’d hardly given him the time and energy. Now I was heading off to see a billionaire who was probably as cocky as Mr. Rich. At least Nick Saunders sounded more polished and seemed to know how to treat a woman.

  “Sort of? You should be ecstatic,” Amy said, jumping out of bed.

  I don’t know where she gets her energy, but Amy could be a fireball sometimes. I didn’t have the energy for her that morning. “I’m going to take a shower,” I announced as I slipped off to the bathroom. By the time I got out of the shower, Amy was cooking breakfast.

  "You honestly, truly love cooking," I said as I towel-dried my hair. Amy was making miracles with the bare essentials I had.

  "Not really, but we can't eat junk food all the time."

  I smiled at Amy. Years ago, when we were roommates, Amy had always done the cooking while I did the eating. I still loved eating and would throw down a good meal any day, no questions asked. My curves needed to be fed.

  "Besides, it's fun to cook for someone who actually likes food. Justin's so picky I barely make anything he likes."

  "Justin is not human," I teased. Amy's longtime boyfriend was the only man I've ever met who ate the bare minimum to survive. To be fair to him, he had a whole host of food allergies, so the poor thing could hardly eat anything that didn't cause him to break out in hives or just plain get sick.

  "Hey. Leave my boyfriend alone. At least I have one. All you have is that stuffed bear over there.”

  I looked at Winky, my stuffed teddy bear, laying on the bed. I didn't see anything wrong with having a stuffed animal that reminded me of home. I may be an adult, but I still missed home occasionally, and Winky was my childhood teddy.

  "Now you're starting a war," I said as I let my towel fall to the floor and pulled on a pair of sweats and a tee shirt. Amy glanced briefly at me as I dressed and continued cooking. It was funny how comfortable we were with each other's bodies, so much so that I had no problem undressing and dressing in front of her.

  "Nick’s in for a treat," Amy said as she glanced at me again. “You look really curvy.”

  "Curvy? You mean fatter?" I asked, pulling up my tee-shirt in front of the mirror. I loved my curves, but I didn't want anyone calling my fat. Fat meant I was slacking on exercise, which meant being unhealthy. I was curvy, not unhealthy.

  "Relax, girl, you look curvy and hot. I wish I had your body," she sighed as she looked at her body.

  Amy was as lanky as a stick, and even though she ate much more than I could, she didn't gain an ounce of weight. Back in high school, the teachers thought she was bulimic and had made her get a doctor's note to prove otherwise, which I’d always thought was inappropriate.

  "You look great, Amy," I said. What else could I to say? The poor thing had been on so many fattening diets but nothing worked. Her doctors had explained that her metabolism was simply super-charged.

  "That's what you always say," Amy said, smiling as she brought a plate of food to the coffee table.

  "I had that in my fridge?" I asked, looking suspiciously at the plate of bacon, sausage, eggs, and waffles.

  "Not a fat chance. Went to grocery after you slept off yesterday.”

  "I see," I said as I started digging into the food, piling up my plate and drizzling maple syrup over the waffles.

  "Someone's hungry," she said, laughing.

  "Well, I better eat well now because I may be spending the rest of my life in prison for identity theft."

  "Okay, you need to drop this impersonation thing. If I took the card and wore the necklace and showed up as Sara Nolles, that's impersonation. If Sara Nolles showed up as Sara Nolles, that's accepting an invitation."

  "Right, but only if the right Sara Nolles shows up."

  Amy reached out and grabbed the card, which was lying next to her on the couch. She made an exaggerated effort of looking at the card while she made faces. I couldn't help laughing as I saw her face contour into many shapes as she pretended to carefully examine the card.

  "All I see here is a card addressed to Sara Nolles. Sara Nolles is sitting in front of me. Everything matches up. Now, let's talk about how the rest of the day is going to go.”

  I looked at her and saw a sly smile curving her lips. She was on a mission to get me to the ball, and I had lost the battle. I had to concede.

  "What is the plan?" I asked, dreading her list of things for me to do before the actual event.

  "Hair, nails, makeup. I made appointments for you at the spa."

  "But..."

  "No buts. It's all on me, Sara. You always take care of me. Please allow me to enjoy spoiling you.” I nodded, unsure how to respond. "Your food is getting cold," Amy reminded me.

  I picked up my fork and continued
eating my meal. "So, what time is our appointment?" I asked between chewing my food. Before she could answer, my cell phone rang. My first thought was that it was Nick, calling to claim his invitation and pick up his necklace. Or maybe it was his staff, who had just realized their error. Or maybe the real Sara Nolles had appeared at Nick's estate, I'm sure he had one, and was upset about not getting her invitation and gift.

  "Are you going to get it?" Amy asked, looking at me and glancing casually at the phone which lay next to me on the table.

  "I was going to let it go to voicemail," I said weakly. I read the caller id. "Besides, it's a blocked number. It's probably just a telemarketer and I don't want to deal with that right now."

  "Bull shit, sister! You're scared it might be Nick Saunders," she said, laughing. "I'll answer then."

  "Heck no," I said, reaching out to keep my phone away from her. But before I could touch the phone, she picked it up. I grunted. This girl was going to be the death of me.

  "Hello, Sara Nolles’ phone," Amy said in a professional voice I hadn’t known she possessed. In spite of my fear, I giggled. Whoever was on the other line must think I was this ultra-rich, "elite" girl who had a personal assistant to answer her cell phone.

  Whoever was on the other line said something and Amy looked at me, giving me a thumbs up. I raised my hands, shrugging my shoulder.

  "Yes, she will be attending," Amy said and winked at me. She sounded so sure of herself I couldn't help but smile.

  "Yes, this is Amy, her personal assistant. I'll let her know."

  I glanced quizzically at her. So it was someone from the Saunders Empire calling me. And she was my personal assistant? She was setting me up for failure. Now Nick would think I was wealthy when I didn’t have more than a few hundred dollars to my name.

  "She will be ready," Amy replied to whatever the other person said. “Yes, I’ll make sure she knows.” After a few more back and forth talks, Amy hung up. "Gosh, girl. If you don't go to this party, I will."

  "Why, what did they say?" I acted cool and uninterested, but I was dying to know what the man or woman on the other end had told her. "Was that Nick?"

  "So now you want to know? I thought you didn't care about the party or Nick Saunders. And when did he become Nick to you?" She wore that mischievous smile I hated on her face.

  "Amy, if you don't tell me what that phone call was about, I will throw you out of my house."

  "You mean your tiny studio apartment? If I leave, I'll be leaving with my food," she said and made a show of packing up the unfinished breakfast.

  "Amy, come on. I need to know what that was all about."

  "Okay. Just promise not to freak out." I nodded. "So Nick Saunders is sending a limo to pick you up at seven this evening."

  "No, no. He can't do that."

  "What do you mean he can't do that? That's probably what they do for all their guests attending the ball."

  "Amy, their guests are the richest folks in this part of the world. I would think they'd all be flying to the ball in their private jets."

  "You’re funny. Anyway, the man on the phone was some sort of party planner finalizing things. He wanted to know if you wanted the driver to bring some designer dresses and shoes for you and wanted to know your sizes.”

  "What?"

  "I told them not to bother. You may be broke, but I'm not letting some asshole think you need his handout dresses. You have a lovely dress and you'll be wearing that tonight. I picked it out and I know it’s perfect.

  "So now he's an asshole?" I giggled.

  "I never said he wasn't."

  NICK

  Saturday morning arrived rather too quickly for Nick. He had spent all week making final arrangements with Zia for the party. He had worked on coordinating the rest of his plans to get Sara to come to the party even though some of the plans were cancelled - like the dozen roses he had wanted to send her but canceled when he realized that could make her overly cautious.

  That morning as he gazed at his property from his bedroom window, it looked so different. It had looked like a golf course, and now it looked like a wedding reception site. Between the chairs, tents, flowers, and all the staff wandering around adding the final touches, it looked like someone was about to get married. But that's how it always seemed with these parties. All the hustling and bustling was worth it, though, to preserve their preservation. He saw Zia, dressed in a short dress, holding a clipboard and shouting instructions to the crew. He smiled. Zia always had things under control.

  He hated having to dress up and tolerate old men and their catty wives for hours on end. But there was something about today that made him feel differently. Sara Nolles. She had never called to cancel her invitation. She had confirmed that she would ride in the limo sent to pick her up, which was good. She was going to be there.

  He tried to remember her as she was in the cafe – beautiful and feisty. Now he was going to be within reach of her in a few hours. She was going to be in his home where he had privacy. Maybe she would let him near her. He had sensed at their first meeting that she was overly cautious, so he knew wooing her was going to be an uphill battle.

  He took a shower, dressed in white linen pants and shirt and went outside to join Zia. Several of his staff greeted him as he passed them.

  "Hey, Zia," he called, kissing his sister on both cheeks.

  "What is this I hear about the limo picking some girl up for the party?"

  Nick looked at her, wondering how to handle her. If he blew her off and she discovered Sara at the party, she could cause a scene. "Do you need the limo?"

  "No, I have my own," she smirked. “You’re evading my question.”

  "Why are you so concerned with what I'm doing with my limo?"

  "Because you've never sent the limo to pick up a girl. Is she the one that's got you all flustered? The one I said to fuck and get over?”

  Nick looked around and noticed some of his staff looking at them. They pretended to be working, but he knew they were listening. He didn't want rumors spreading about Sara before she even met him as Nick Saunders. And Zia using words like fuck, even though it didn’t bother him, sort of undermined Sara, and he desperately wanted to protect her reputation.

  "Zia, people are paying attention," Nick said as he pulled her to the side.

  "She's the one that's got you flustered, isn't she?"

  "I like her," Nick finally admitted to his sister, his lip curled. “But she’s none of your business.”

  "You don't sound too pleased. If you like her, you should look happier," Zia said, looking him up and down. “Besides, any girl that comes into your life is my business. And you should know that.”

  "I’m not angry. Sometimes you can be so self-absorbed. You think everything is about you." Nick sighed, exasperated.

  “It’s not all about me?” Zia said, laughing. “I’ve been delusional.”

  “Z, you’re a piece of work. One day you’re going to really put your foot in your mouth.”

  "But you’ll be around the corner to save my butt if that were to ever happen.”

  "I can't do it forever, you know," Nick said. “Save your butt.”

  "Whatever. So, who is she? Wait, don't tell me. She's that Sara somebody on our guest list, isn't she?"

  Nick nodded. There was no point denying what his sister would find out in a couple of hours. What did it matter at that point anyway? Sara was coming and that's all that mattered.

  "Have I met her?" Zia asked, more relaxed now.

  "No."

  "Where did you meet her?"

  "It's a long story," Nick said.

  "Well, lucky for you, I have time to listen to my brother tell me about the love of his life."

  "It’s not like that. She doesn't even know me, at least not the way you think."

  Zia looked at Nick. "Okay, Nick Saunders, you better start talking. You’re sending a limo to get some girl you don’t know. Start talking.”

  "Maybe later."

  "No, ri
ght now," Zia said as she pulled his hand and started walking to one of their private gazebos. “You need to tell me what is going on.”

  Nick spent the next hour telling Zia how he met Sara and how he had sent her the diamond necklace.

  "So she doesn't know the necklace and invitation are from the same guy in the café?”

  "No."

  "How do you suppose you'll connect with her today? Walk up to her and lay on the charm?”

  "That's what I've always done."

  "And it's worked for those sluts you've dated. This one sounds like a tough nut to crack. Wouldn't be surprised if she were a virgin."

  Nick blushed at the thought of a virgin mate. Could Sara really be a virgin? Rob, his private investigator, hadn't mentioned that in his report, which was good. That would have been creepy.

  Zia looked at him and started laughing. "You know what virgins are, right? I know you've never seen one."

  Nick playfully smacked her hand. "Are you saying you're a slut?"

  "Hey there, brother, watch your mouth," Zia said and looked around to make sure no one was looking at them. “Or I’ll take your virgin bride off the list.”

  Nick looked at his sister and laughed. "You better not mess with her.”

  "I take it Ms. Nolles will not be donating ten million at this event."

  "Highly unlikely,” Nick said.

  "You will be making a donation for her." It wasn't a question. It was a fact. Nick nodded. "That's coming out of your pocket money, Nick Saunders, not the company’s."

  "Of course," Nick said. He wouldn’t have it any other way. He had already planned to make a donation on Sara’s behalf, except he hadn’t yet figured out how he could do it without embarrassing her.