When his lips touch mine, a tendril of heat flames to life in my core. He never fails to make me feel alive. Womanly. Desired.
Seeing the look in my eye, Theo grins. He intertwines his fingers with mine and leads me to the sofa.
“Sit.”
Once again, I’m powerless to his commands. I sit down, my eyes glued to Theo’s face. A wicked flash crosses his eyes as his brows arch.
“Time for breakfast,” he grins. With one hand, he tugs at my panties. I help him get them off, then watch the Prince toss the scrap of fabric over his shoulder.
Giggling, I shimmy my hips down to the edge of the sofa and reach for the waistband of his boxers. Pushing my hand away, though, Theo shakes his head.
“Not this morning.”
“Why?” I whine, reaching for him.
“Because I’m your future King, and I said so.” He kneels on the floor in front of me, pushing my legs wide. For once, I don’t mind him pulling the King card. Propping his uninjured arm against my thigh, the Prince drops his head between my legs.
I gasp, closing my eyes. Heat explodes through my core, spreading heat throughout my body. I squeeze my legs against him and then stop when I feel him wince.
“Shoulder,” he says, his lips glistening with my wetness.
“Sorry,” I whisper.
Without answer, the Prince drops his lips to me again.
Sparks flame to life inside me. Desire and lust swirl in my center, coaxed out by the Prince’s touch. By his tongue. By his lips. By the fact that he seems to be enjoying this almost as much as I am.
I tangle my fingers into his thick hair, tugging him into me. He grunts, lapping up my honey and shifting his hand to touch me. When he slips his fingers inside me, I moan.
Whatever is going on between the Prince and me, I’m powerless to resist. I can tell myself that I shouldn’t do this. That it’s wrong. That I’m leaving as soon as it’s over.
But I’m lying to myself.
How can I leave? How can I turn my back on Theo? How can I deny myself the one thing that has brought me joy in over three years? I feel like myself for the first time since as long as I can remember.
Even before, when I was with Luca, it wasn’t like this. Electric. Frantic. It didn’t make my whole body feel like it was melting.
With Luca, it was just…expected. That’s what was supposed to happen.
With Theo, it’s more than that. It feels wrong, but oh so right. It feels like we should be holding back, but that only makes me want to give him more. Everything. Anything.
When I come, my back arches and my hands grip his hair. He doesn’t stop until I go limp, finally lifting his gaze to meet mine. A smile stretches over his lips as he lays a soft kiss just below my belly button.
“There. Good morning, beautiful.”
I mumble something unintelligible.
The Prince chuckles, reaching his hand down to his crotch. His bulge is unmistakable, but instead of letting me reach for it, he nods to the kitchen. “Let’s eat.”
FOR THE NEXT couple of hours, Theo is painfully out of reach. As soon as we finish our breakfast, the staff arrives at the villa to clean up after us. We get dressed and head to the waiting car, and are whisked back to the sea plane pier.
On the drive there, my fingers go on an exploratory mission over Theo’s body. He grunts in warning, catching my hand and bringing it to his lips.
“Not here.”
“Where?” I ask, frustrated. The privacy screen is up between us and the driver. We have at least ten minutes before we get to the pier. Ten minutes is long enough. I want to make him feel as good as he made me feel this morning. Maybe, selfishly, I want him to touch me again. His hands make me feel alive. His touch is life-giving. His kiss is magic.
He doesn’t answer. He just tangles his fingers in mine and smiles, waiting for the car to bring us to the plane.
Even when we’re in the air and I’m marveling at the water below us, I can still feel a whisper of heat coursing through my veins. Glancing over my shoulder, I catch Theo’s gaze. It’s full of heat and wanting, and it only makes my desire for him grow.
Still, though, he keeps his hands to himself.
This morning was just a tease.
When we land, Theo has a gleam in his eye. “This way,” he says.
“Where are we? What are we doing? How long will we be here? Should I have brought my bag?”
“Relax, Cara.”
He threads his fingers through mine and leads me down the pier toward the shore. From there, he waves away the car that waits for us and nods toward the town. “We’ll walk,” he says.
A bodyguard trails behind us, but Theo doesn’t seem too bothered about being exposed.
Narrow, colorful streets greet us. People stop us every few feet to take pictures and shake Theo’s hand. He keeps me close, introducing me to everyone that we meet.
It feels like we’re together. I suppose in a way, we are. But it feels like we’re really together. Like we’ll be together even after this trip is over.
“This way,” Theo says when there’s a break in the selfies and baby-kissing that seems to happen anytime he’s in public.
He leads me down a narrow alleyway with the bodyguard behind us. From there, we twist and turn through the streets and finally end up at a nondescript door. There’s no sign to tell me where we are, and no discerning features on the door or building. It’s just a brown door on a colorful concrete building next to lots of other brown doors on colorful concrete buildings.
Theo smiles at me. “You ready?”
“I guess. It would help if I knew what I was getting ready for.”
The Prince just laughs, pushes the door open, and we step through.
15
THEO
BEING part of the royal family means lots of charitable work. Most of my life has been spent giving—time, money, attention.
It never felt real, though. Even though we say we’re giving, and we have countless photo opportunities and events that promote our family, it always feels like a way to gain popularity. Charitable work, for the royal family of Argyle, isn’t an actual genuine way to give back. It’s an exchange. We give to charity, and we take the boost in public opinion.
Walking into this music studio is genuine. Changing my plans so Cara can meet one of Argyle’s best musicians is real. That’s giving. Something that I’m doing only to make her happy, and nothing else.
The look on Cara’s face when she sees the gold records on the wall is priceless. Her eyes widen and her full, lush lips drop open. As we walk down a short hallway toward the room beyond, Cara grabs my arm.
“Is this what I think it is?”
“That depends what you think it is,” I laugh.
She digs her fingernails into my arm until I grunt in pain.
“Sorry,” Cara says as if she hadn’t realized what she was doing. She drops her hand and steps forward to look around the room. “Is this Prudence Halloway’s studio? I heard about this place. Apparently, John Lennon was here with Yoko Ono in the seventies.”
I point to the wall, where photos of other famous singers and musicians stare back at us. “A bunch of others, too.”
Cara sucks in a breath, shaking her head.
We’re in a music studio. It’s small, but you can sense the layers of music and memories that coat the place. Guitars and basses hang on the walls, and a glass-walled booth is tucked in the corner.
From behind a beaded curtain, a woman emerges.
Not just any woman. Argyle’s most famous and most celebrated musician. Prudence Halloway was the voice of my father’s generation. Now, her hair is a mix of grey, white, and black, twisted into long locks that perch on top of her head. Few wrinkles are etched into her smooth skin—just a few smile lines and shallow crows’ feet near her eyes. She’s laughed a lot in her life.
Dark brown eyes crinkle as she smiles at us, spreading her arms toward Cara.
“You must be Miss Shoa
l. I cheered for your father at the Olympics.”
“You know my father?”
Prudence laughs, shaking her head. “No. But I cheered for him.”
“I feel like I should curtsy.” Cara glances at me.
Prudence smiles again, and she wraps her arms around Cara in a warm hug. “Come in. Let me hear you sing.”
“Wait, what?”
“Isn’t that why you’re here? His Highness told me you wanted to make music with me. Not the phone call I was expecting yesterday.” Prudence’s whole aura is warm, and her presence is calming. Cara’s shoulders relax, and I sink into an old sofa near the wall.
“I can’t sing,” Cara says, shaking her head.
“I don’t believe you.” Prudence arches an eyebrow.
Cara smiles, a blush creeping over her cheeks.
Prudence grabs a guitar from the wall and props it on her lap, arching an eyebrow at Cara. “Let go of it all, Cara. Sing with me.”
The old woman strums the guitar with a smile on her face, and I watch as Prudence coaxes Cara out of her shell. As soon as they start to play, I’m transported to my childhood. My father used to love this music. He’d play it in the palace at full volume, humming along to Prudence’s melodies.
That was before my mother cheated on him. Before she left. Before he fell ill.
For the first time in my royal career, as I watch Cara smile wide and finally sing her first note, I feel like I’ve done something good.
I’m not here to have a photo with someone. I’m not here to kiss babies and make the citizens of Argyle think I’m a worthy Prince. I’m just here for Cara. To show her that I care about her voice, her singing. To show her that music is still alive in this kingdom, even if it doesn’t exist in her house.
To prove to her that she doesn’t need a fancy education at an expensive school to sing. She doesn’t need permission from anyone to find her voice.
We stay there for almost two hours. I relax on the sofa, listening to the two women harmonize. As I listen to Cara sing, I realize how much I missed that sound. She used to hum and sing and shout all the time when we were kids.
Now, her voice is fuller. It’s rounder. It’s slightly deeper, but it’s just as beautiful as I remember.
Most importantly, she’s laughing. Smiling. Her eyes are shining. I can see in her face how much this means to her, and it makes me feel good to bring her here.
Not for me or my reputation. Not for the royal family.
Simply for Cara.
When we leave, Prudence gives Cara her personal phone number. The two women hug each other again, and we leave the old Argylian singer in her studio as we step out into the sunshine again.
“Oh, Theo,” Cara says, hooking her elbow around mine and leaning her head against my shoulder. “That was incredible.”
“You have a beautiful voice.” My voice is tight, and it’s hard to speak past the lump in my throat. I want to say so much more. I wish I could tell her how moved I was, listening to them, or how much joy it brought me to see her happy.
Instead, I say nothing. We just walk, arm in arm, back toward the pier.
“Thank you,” Cara says, pausing to look at me.
I turn to face her. My heart stutters as I see the sun shining on her skin. She’s glowing. Her long, brown hair frames her face so perfectly, she looks almost ethereal. An angel sent here to show me what really matters in life. Her eyes glimmer in the sunlight, and emotion threatens to knock me back.
In that moment, standing in a narrow street on one of Argyle’s smaller islands, I know that Cara means more to me than I realized.
I want to see her look this happy all the time. It matters to me that she’s happy. Not as a friend. Not as a citizen of Argyle. Not because it’s my duty to care, as King. I care about her. Deeply. Unconditionally.
More than I realized.
“It was nothing,” I finally manage to say. “I wanted to do something you’d enjoy on this tour. I know the official events are boring.”
“Nothing is boring with you,” she smiles. “But no one’s ever done anything like that for me. Mother wouldn’t even let me have voice lessons. She said it was beneath our family’s station.”
“Prudence seemed to think you did well.”
“She was amazing, wasn’t she?” Cara’s face breaks into a smile as her eyes get a faraway look in them. “It was like every note she sang was just dripping with emotion. She could convey so much with her voice.” Cara shakes her head. “I’ve never felt so excited about singing. Even though I’ve always loved it, I… I don’t know. That was incredible.”
“There are lots of good singers in Argyle,” I smile, tucking a strand of hair behind Cara’s ear. “You’re one of them.”
A blush reddens her cheeks and the emotion inside me swells.
This is what I want. That shine in Cara’s eyes. The life and happiness bubbling up inside her. The inspiration in her voice.
I want to make Cara Shoal happy.
Even though we’re out on the street and anyone could see us, I can’t help myself. I lean forward and brush my lips against Cara’s, kissing her in the middle of this colorful, narrow street. She melts into me, placing her hands on my chest as I deepen our kiss—and I feel whole.
It’s not fake. It’s not temporary.
What I feel for Cara is real, and it’s not going away…
…I just hope she feels it, too.
16
CARA
BEING on tour with Theo is like living in a dream. I’m waited on hand and foot as we fly from beautiful royal villa to beautiful royal villa. The people of Argyle are adoring and happy, and I get to experience a new side of the Kingdom that I haven’t had a chance to see before.
I’ve lived a sheltered life. Even though my upbringing was comfortable, I realize that I haven’t really seen much of my own home Kingdom.
I haven’t seen the crowded markets and the hidden beaches. I haven’t seen the rich history that unites every island.
Maybe that’s why I’ve been wanting to run away—because as the days pass, I realize that’s what I’ve been doing. Running away. Packing my bags and jumping ship, so I don’t have to deal with the oppressive weight of my family’s expectations.
I don’t feel like running away anymore, because for the first time, my family’s expectations are aligning with what I want—Theo.
We spend a week tangled in bedsheets together when we’re in private. During the day, we visit all corners of the Kingdom and connect with the people that Theo will one day rule.
One day soon. I see the weight of Theo’s duties carried on his broad shoulders. Sometimes, when no one is looking, I see the lines deepen on his face. He cares about his people, and he wants to be a good king.
I didn’t understand it before. When we were kids, I thought Theo was too responsible. Too boring. I didn’t understand that through him runs a deep well of kindness and a sense of importance. Like every action he takes is significant.
Now, I get it. Theo has a purpose. He has the one thing that I’ve wanted to find—what I thought I would discover if I left Argyle. He knows what he needs to do in life, and every action he takes is carefully considered to align with his duties.
A week into our tour, we visit a small nursing home on one of the more populated islands of the Kingdom. An old man with a shock of white hair and mottled skin smiles at Theo, revealing big gaps in his teeth. He waves the Prince closer to his wheelchair, his smile widening.
“Tell your father I’m very proud of him, Your Highness,” the old man says, patting Theo’s hand.
“I will, sir.”
One of the nurses apologizes and tries to quiet the old man down. The old man waves her away.
“He did great things in this Kingdom when he was a young man. It’ll be your time, soon.”
Theo nods politely.
The old man leans back in his wheelchair, staring at the Prince. “You have to be strong. Make sure you have a good woman
by your side, because being a leader is a heavy burden to bear alone. Your father could have continued building this country up if he’d had a faithful wife by his side. It was only after she betrayed him that things went to shit.”
“Thomas!” the nurse chides, her cheeks turning bright red. “That’s no way to talk about our royal family. Your Highness, I—”
“It’s fine,” Theo says, smiling sadly. “He’s right.”
Theo’s eyes slide to me, and a dagger pierces my heart. In that brief glance, I realize what I’ve been afraid to admit to myself: I want to be the good woman by his side. The one to support him, to help him bear the weight of the crown.
Not because it’s the Crown, and I feel like it’s my duty to help. But because it’s Theo who has to bear it.
My priorities are shifting. Day by day, I realize I don’t want to run away. I don’t need to leave to find myself. There are things right here in Argyle that are worth staying for.
That evening, when Theo and I are alone in the royal villa, Theo has a faraway look on his face. We’re sitting on a plush sofa, watching the waves crash on the shore. I thread my fingers through the Prince’s.
“You’re going to make a great king,” I say softly.
Theo turns his head to glance at me, smiling. “That old man was right, you know.”
“About what?” I keep my face steady as my heart thumps. I know exactly what he’s talking about.
“About my father falling apart when my mother left.”
A lump forms in my throat. The controversy between the King and former Queen rocked the Kingdom when it happened all those years ago. The former Queen had an affair with the King’s brother, and the two of them ran off together.
After that, the King fell into a depression. He isolated himself, and the economy started falling apart. Trade deals faltered. The people of Argyle suffered.
“What happened, exactly?” My voice is small.
“Pretty much what the newspapers said. My mother cheated, and it broke my father’s heart. After she left, I think he had no interest in ruling anymore. It all became too much for him.”
Wrong Prince: An Accidental Pregnancy Romance (Royally Unexpected Book 6) Page 10