Royally Wild (Crazy Royal Love Romantic Comedy Book 2)

by Melanie Summers

  “How long until you’re here?” Arabella asks.

  “I’m just crossing the bridge now. I can see your family’s shack from here.” I shift into low gear, wishing I had rented a Jaguar. As reliable as this Volkswagen is, it’s not exactly going to fit in parked in front of a palace.

  “Excellent,” she says, sounding as excited as I feel nervous. “I’ll head to the front entrance and meet you there.”

  “Can’t wait.” Well, that’s not strictly true. I’m not sure any man throughout history has ever been giddy with anticipation when he’s about to meet his future in-laws. (Well, hopefully they’ll be my in-laws. And in my case, multiply the feelings of dread tenfold because I’m sure there’s no way any of them will approve of me. I’m not exactly what most fathers would want for their daughters, let alone a king.

  Well-educated? No.

  But, he must have a stable job, at least? Oh wait, no, he doesn’t.

  Surely he has a nice home that they can share? Nope. Tiny two-room villa in the staff quarters at his family’s resort.

  Oh, but if they own a resort, he must come from money, no?

  Nope. They barely get by.

  My gut tightens as the looming four-storey stone palace grows nearer. The sun has set already and the grounds are lit up in a way that some would likely find inviting, but to me, it all looks rather shadowy and sinister. If we could have met under any other circumstances, I’m sure it would’ve been better than the situation I’m about to walk into—watching the first episode of our reality TV show together. I’m sure Dylan included any and all disparaging remarks I made about Arabella that first day, likely on repeat before and after every commercial break. Urgh.

  They’re going to hate me, aren’t they? I’d hate me if I showed up to date my daughter. Oh, that sounded wrong. Dammit. I hope I don’t say anything that stupid in front of them. Baby shark! Do-do-do-do-do-do…

  Bloody hell, that song really does get stuck in your head.

  When I reach the tall wrought iron gates, I’m stopped by a man in full dress uniform who steps out of the guardhouse and holds up one gloved hand, palm out, facing me. I roll down the window and smile, wondering if he’ll recognize me. “Good evening.”

  “Name.”

  Apparently not. “William Banks. I’m a guest of Princess Arabella.”

  He gives me a hard look, then says, “Oh, yes. I do recall seeing your name on the list. I’m going to need you to step out of the car and open the trunk, sir.”

  I do as he says and find myself being patted down from my neck to my ankles, including a quick check for weapons in my new tan socks by the surly guard while his partner, who seems to have appeared out of nowhere, goes through the gift bags in the trunk. “Sven, it looks like we’re going to be getting cognac for Christmas.”

  “Hennessey Limited Edition?”

  “Nope. The cheap stuff.”

  Cheap? That was close to two-hundred dollars!

  Sven rolls his eyes and finishes patting me down while the cognac critic continues looking through my things. He unzips my duffle bag and digs around, lifting out my toothbrush. “Are you planning on staying the night?”

  “Only if you think the princess will respect me in the morning,” I say.

  Clearing his throat, he drops the toothbrush back in the bag and glares at me. “We’re on heightened security alert at the moment, so you’ll either give a straight answer, or we’ll happily turn you around here.”

  “Honestly, it’s fine, mate. I’m Arabella’s boyfriend. I’m no threat to anyone, unless you had your eye on her, that is.” I offer him an easy smile, but he doesn’t accept it. “Okay, I’ll just shut up and let you finish your job.”

  “Thank you.”

  “There you are,” Arabella says, rushing down the stone steps to greet me. “I was worried you got a flat or something.”

  I walk around the car and hold my arms out, suddenly feeling overdressed. She’s in a pair of grey jogging pants and a long-sleeved black T-shirt. And I’m in the most expensive outfit I’ve ever owned. “The guards were quite thorough in checking me over. You may have to tell them I’m a friendly.”

  She reaches up and puts her arms around my neck, then gives me a quick kiss on the lips. “Mm, you certainly are.” When she pulls back, she looks me up and down. “I thought we said it was a casual evening.”

  “What? This?” I ask. “I threw on the first thing I saw in my closet.”

  “Liar. You clearly went all out at a high-end men’s wear shop.” Taking my hand, she tugs me toward the stairs. “Come on. I can’t wait for you to meet everyone.”

  “One sec,” I say, letting go of her. “I come bearing gifts.”

  “Really?”

  I pop open the boot. “Well, I only get one chance to impress the family of the woman I love.”

  “That’s so sweet of you.” She glances at the massive boxes for the kids. “Oh wow, Will, you may have gone a bit overboard.”

  “Too much?” I ask, staring at the Bounce and Spin Puppy and the wagon that fill almost the entire space. “I was hoping I could at least win over your niece and nephew.”

  “They’ll be asleep by now, but that is so thoughtful of you, really. They are going to love these.”

  I stack the puppy box on top of the wagon box while Arabella picks up the gift bags. She peeks into the bag for her father. “Ooh, Chateau de Montifaud. Father adores this brand.”

  “Now, you’re the one who’s lying.”

  “He’ll appreciate the thought.”

  I hand her the bag with the gin. “This one is for your gran.”

  “This one will be a big hit.”

  A footman appears out of nowhere and holds out his arms. “I can take those for you, sir.”

  “No, thanks, mate, but if you could shut the boot for me, that would be terrific.”

  We hurry up the steps and two young pages open the massive wooden doors to an enormous hall with marble floors. I fall a little behind Arabella because I’m too busy staring up at the murals on the ceiling to remember to walk. “Wow,” I mutter.

  “Oh, yes, the front hall is quite grand, but I promise when you get to the apartment, it’s very much like a normal house,” Arabella says, looking a little embarrassed. “Anyway, we’re going to Arthur and Tessa’s. The babies—well, they’re toddlers really, but I can’t seem to stop calling them babies—should be asleep by now, and since they don’t have a night nanny, we need to go to their place if we want to see them in the evenings.”

  “Brilliant. Who else will be there?”

  “Don’t worry. Just Gran and Father. I didn’t want to overwhelm you with too many of us at once.”

  We start down a long, wide hallway lined with enormous paintings of people who I assume are Arabella’s ancestors. On the right, we pass by a library (obviously, because who doesn’t have a library in their very normal house?), next comes a room that I imagine is called a conservatory or something. The other doors are closed, and when we get to the end of the hall, we stop and Arabella pushes an elevator button. “Now, there’s no reason to be nervous. Everyone is going to love you.”

  “Sure, right,” I say as the elevator doors slide open. Am I sweating? I am. These boxes are surprisingly heavy and this stupid wool sports jacket is insanely warm.

  “No, seriously,” she says, stepping on and pushing the three. “You’re thoroughly impressive. As soon as the show starts, they’ll get a chance to see you in action. Quite an advantage for a man meeting his girlfriend’s family for the first time, really.”

  I highly doubt that.

  A few minutes later, we’ve finally reached the tall white doors that serve as the entrance to her brother’s ‘apartment.’ Two guards stand on either side, dressed in black suits and matching deadpan expressions. I give them each a nod and say hello but neither responds.

  Arabella knocks, then opens it without waiting for a response. When we walk inside, we enter a foyer with tall ceilings that leads to the
main living area, which is riddled with toys. Huh, that is kind of normal. There’s a large blue velvet sofa with a matching love seat, an enormous ornate fireplace with a huge flat screen television hanging above it, and a large grey pig walking towards us.

  Arabella sets the bags down on the floor and crouches down when the pig stops in front of her. “This is Dexter. He loves everyone.”

  She scratches him on the chin. “Who’s a good boy? You are, Dexter. You’re a very good pig.”

  He steps closer to Arabella and rubs his head against her leg.

  “Hello, you must be Will,” a woman on an exercise bike behind the love seat says with a wave. “I’m Tessa. Lovely to meet you. I can’t stop pedaling though. According to The Weekly World News and a bunch of other media asshats, I’m too fat.”

  Arabella stands. “You are not! You’re lovely.” Turning to me, she asks, “Isn’t she lovely, Will?”

  Okay, this is awkward. “Yes, very. It’s wonderful to meet you, Your Highness.”

  Tessa sips from the water bottle in her hand. “Nope. Just Tessa, okay? Are those for the children?!” she asks, gesturing to the boxes I’m carrying. “Oh! They’re going to love those! The Bounce and Spin Puppy especially.”

  I set the boxes down against the wall and stand, just in time for Dexter, the pig, to mosey over to me. He sniffs my new shoes, then works his way up to my crotch.

  “Dexter, don’t bug,” Tessa says.

  “That pig is a total ball-sniffer.”

  I turn to find the source of this shocking comment, only to see a tiny, old woman in a purple tracksuit. She shakes her head at Dexter while she walks toward me, looking surprisingly spry for someone so wrinkled. “Jesus, he looks like he’s going hunting for truffles. Dexter, stop that!”

  Yes, I do wish he’d stop that. Being aggressively crotch-sniffed by an enormous pig doesn’t exactly make it easy to focus on the conversation.

  When she reaches me, she holds out one hand. “I’m Arabella’s grandmother.”

  “Princess Florence, it’s an honour to meet you,” I say, bowing a little as I shake her hand. Was I supposed to kiss her hand? Bowing and shaking seems wrong somehow. Why didn’t I ask Pierce about that? “Arabella’s told me so much about you, I feel like I already know you,” I add, trying to dislodge the enormous snout from my inner thighs.

  The Princess Dowager offers me a wry smile. “Well, the only thing she’s told me about you is you’re great in the sack.”

  “Gran!” Arabella says, turning bright pink. “I told you no such thing.”

  “You should have though, because I can tell by looking that he is,” she says, giving me a wink.

  Oh, God. Can I go home now?

  “Will’s brought you your favourite gin,” Arabella says, handing the gift bag to her gran.

  “Ooh!” Princess Florence says. “Let’s crack that shit open, shall we?”

  She walks over to the bar area, yanking the bottle from the bag.

  “Will, make yourself at home, please,” Tessa says. “I’m sorry to be so rude. Normally, I’d offer you a drink, but if I get off this stupid bike before the ride ends, my trainer/manny is going to call me and nag the shit out of me.” She pants. “He really is insufferable sometimes.”

  “It’s fine. I’ll get him something,” Arabella says. She turns to me. “Beer, okay?”

  “That would be great.” Although, I could use something stronger.

  Thankfully, Dexter abandons his search of my nether regions in favour of having a noisy drink of water from a huge porcelain bowl on the floor next to the window. I join Arabella at the bar and wait as she takes two beers out of the fridge, handing one to me. She gestures toward the couch, and when I turn to head in that direction, I’m met by Dexter’s snout again, only this time it’s freezing cold and soaked as he crams it against my crotch. “Oh, Jesus!” I mutter, shrinking back from him only to spill beer on my four-hundred-dollar shirt. “Bugger.”

  “Dexter, no!” Tessa shouts from her perch. He backs up, seemingly shocked into submission by her tone, but it’s too late. I already look like I pissed myself. Lovely.

  Arabella hurries behind the bar to grab a towel while the Princess Dowager glances at my pants while she holds up a crystal glass. “Welcome to the family.”

  “Thanks,” I say, trying to sound agreeable whilst trying to blot my crotch as discreetly as possible.

  She tips back her gin and downs it in one go, then sets the glass down and looks past me. “Are they asleep?”

  I turn to see who she’s talking to. It’s Prince Arthur, dressed in sweats and a white T-shirt. Great. So she really did mean casual. I tug at the collar on my shirt, wishing I hadn’t said full starch.

  Arthur rubs his eyes. “Yes, they’ve been asleep for a while. I nodded off in there. It’s just so dark and soothing.” He gives me a once-over, eying my wet shirt and pants. Raising one brow, his expression says, ‘disaster’ as he extends his right hand. “You must be Will.”

  One firm pump and he’s done. “Nice to meet you. I enjoyed your show before you started shagging my little sister.”

  What do you say to that? My face falls, and I stare after him while he passes by me and goes straight for the bar.

  “Arthur! That was terribly rude,” Arabella says.

  “Honesty’s the best policy,” he answers, getting himself a beer. He gestures to me with his bottle. “Speaking of which, it seems you’ve soiled your pants. And your shirt, inexplicably.”

  Wow. This is just… exactly how I hoped the evening would play out. At least it can’t get worse, right?

  “You know bloody well Dexter did that,” Arabella snaps.

  Arthur wrinkles up his nose. “Do I?”

  Smug bastard.

  “Of course you do,” Tessa says. “Now, Will, being the extremely thoughtful person he is, has brought gifts for the kids.” She points to the boxes, her legs pumping away on the bike.

  Arthur looks at them, then says, “Excellent. They love their Bounce and Spin Puppy, so now we’ll have one if theirs breaks.”

  Shit. Of course they have it already. “I can exchange them,” I say, feeling my skin heat up even more.

  “Arthur!” Tessa whisper-yells. Then she mouths, “That’s enough,” to him.

  I’m about to say it’s fine and I’m happy to take it back when there’s a knock on the door. King Winston strides in, dressed in grey slacks and a sweatshirt with a Valcourt United football team logo covering his round stomach. The ensemble looks very out of place on someone who carries himself with such a dignified air.

  “Nice shirt, Dad,” Arthur says. “Scotch?”

  “God, yes. I feel positively ridiculous in this getup.” He turns to Arabella, clearly not noticing me yet. “Is this casual enough to make your young man feel welcome?”

  She points to me. “Why don’t you ask him?”

  “Oh, my apologies,” he says with a little bow of his head. “William. Pleasure to meet you.”

  He gives me the same intimidating once-over his son gave me, only he has the decency to say, “Dexter got you, hey?”

  A wave of relief comes over me. If there’s one person in the room I want to win over, it’s him. We shake hands, then he turns to his daughter. “He’s not dressed like a complete wanker.”

  “I wouldn’t say that,” Arthur mutters, before walking over to a fish bowl on the cabinet that contains a single Betta fish. He picks up the food container but before he can open it, Tessa barks, “Nope! You do not get to feed the fish.”

  Yikes, controlling much?

  “But Walter looks hungry. We can’t just let him swim around being hungry all the time.”

  “That’s what fish do, and he already ate today,” Tessa says. “James fed him.”

  “You let the babies feed him but not me?”

  Tessa nods. “They already have a better grasp on proper fish care.”

  Arabella leans in to me. “Arthur killed Tessa’s first fish, Chester, by overfeedin
g him.”

  “Did not,” Arthur says.

  “Did too,” Arabella answers. “And then he got his assistant to run around town in the middle of the night to find a replacement, thinking she wouldn’t notice.”

  “Like I don’t know my own fish,” Tessa tells me, panting a little and rolling her eyes.

  I am so tempted to burst out laughing only I don’t think I should. Not if I don’t want Arthur to hate me forever. But damn, if this isn’t awkward as hell because I have to react with just enough delight to show I’m siding with Tessa and Arabella. I settle for a wide-eyed smile in her direction and a laugh that comes out like a cough or some sort of creepy giggle. Why didn’t I fake a broken limb so I could get out of this? Or actually break a real limb?

  “Thank you ever so much for bringing that up again, Arabella,” Arthur says. “Much appreciated.”

  “So, William,” King Winston says. “Arabella tells me your family owns a resort in the Benaventes.”

  I turn to him with a smile. He might not hate me. Sweet! “Yes, my brother and his wife run it, and my sister is the head chef at one of the restaurants.”

  “Hmph,” he says, before walking over to the bar.

  Okkaayyy. I guess the small talk portion of the evening is over.

  “Oh, the show’s about to start!” Arabella says. “Arthur, turn it on.”

  She walks over to the telly and faces everyone. “Before we watch the big premiere, I want to thank everyone for coming together. This isn’t just a TV show, it’s the start of a new life for me, one filled with courage.” She pauses and glances at me, “And love.”

  “Aww, adorable,” Arthur says sarcastically. “Now, sit down already so we can make fun of you.”

  Rolling her eyes, Arabella adds, “Anyway, I hope this will be the first of many nights spent like this, together as a family, watching Will and me fall for each other while we navigate our way through the treacherous jungle. It’s a rare opportunity for you to really get to know the man I love, to see him in action, and to see just how tough yours truly can be. By the end of the season, my hope is you’ll love Will as much as I do and that maybe you’ll even be a bit scared of me.”