by Mia Carson
“No,” she finally said. “I’m fine, just hungry.”
“We just ate an hour ago,” Melinda said.
“Well, I didn’t eat much then,” she said quickly and put a bright smile on her face. “It’s your big day. I’m excited, is all.”
Melinda took her daughter’s hands as her ladies moved with her, trying to curl her hair. “I’m glad you are. I was worried all last night that I was doing something stupid again.”
“Mom, you’ve never done anything stupid. I just want you to be happy.”
“I am—very, very happy,” she said and hugged her daughter close. “Now, you have to start getting ready, too. The ceremony starts in a couple of hours, and we have to pose for pictures first.”
Allete hurried over and pointed Olivia to her dress and a low platform for her to stand on. The dress had been fitted a few weeks ago, but when Olivia stepped into it and Allete tried to zip it up, she muttered curses under her breath in French.
“What’s wrong… Did it rip?”
“No,” she said and tugged on it. Olivia gasped as she tried to suck it in, but it didn’t help. Allete leaned in close and whispered, “I think you maybe have gained a little weight, miss.”
Olivia blanched. She hadn’t even thought of that. “Are you sure it won’t go up?”
“What’s wrong?” Melinda asked from across the room. “It doesn’t fit?”
“Just snug. I must’ve gained some weight. Too much wine, I guess,” Olivia said as she tried to wave away her mom’s worry. “We’ll get it to zip, don’t worry.”
Allete frowned, but she raised her brow and told Olivia to take a deep breath and hold it. With Helen helping to pull the dress together, the two managed to get it zipped up. Olivia let out the breath and gasped. How much weight had she gained?
“Can you breathe?”
Olivia nodded at Helen and managed to breathe in tiny bursts. “Yeah… yeah, I’ll be fine.”
“Once the ceremony’s over you can change,” Melinda said. She looked at her daughter with narrowed eyes, and Olivia felt like she was a kid getting caught in a lie all over again. When she was little, she’d never gotten away with anything, and the way her mom kept eyeing her said she knew something was up.
“We must finish your hair or you’ll be late, miss,” one of the ladies said, and Melinda turned back around.
“Sorry, sorry. Can’t have me being late to my own wedding, now can we?”
Olivia held her stomach as the other women laughed. Helen was the only one who noticed and quickly grabbed her friend’s hand, holding it in her own. “One more night,” she whispered. “Then we’re in the homestretch.”
“One more night,” she repeated and prayed she could make it.
***
Quincy didn’t feel anything. Pascal fixed his tux jacket and bowtie, making sure he looked like the perfect prince, but he felt nothing. He tried that morning to be excited for his dad, but he didn’t see his dad getting married. He saw a glimpse of his future self in a month, getting married to the woman he didn’t love. The woman he loved was going to leave the isle and maybe never come back.
And if she did, what then? Would she be able to look him in the eye when he was married to another? Spending his time with another? Sleeping with another?
“Sir, you should probably put a smile on your face,” Pascal whispered. “You look as if you’re going to a funeral.”
“Sorry.”
“Are you not happy for your father, sir?”
“No… no, I am. Just something else on my mind, is all. I’ll try to smile for the ceremony, promise.”
“I hope so. You don’t want the people thinking you’re not happy for him and his new wife.”
“We don’t want that, now do we?” he replied sarcastically. “I’ll be fine, Pascal, really.”
His servant and friend of so many years stepped back and eyed Quincy. “Sir… Quincy, something troubles you, and I think it has to do with your impending wedding to Gigi. If you are that unhappy with your decision, there are other women. It does not have to be her.”
Quincy laid his hand on Pascal’s shoulder. “I know, but sadly she’s the logical choice. I’ll be fine, really. Just have to learn to accept the hand I was dealt, right?”
“Sir, if you talked to your father—”
“Really. I’ll be fine, but I appreciate your concern, as always. Now then, am I presentable or do you need to tweak me some more?”
He saw the question in Pascal’s eyes and the worry as he sighed. Quincy begged him with his eyes to let it go, and his friend bowed his head. “You are ready, sir. They will be waiting for you downstairs, as will your father.”
“Perfect, thank you.”
On his way through the corridor, his thoughts returned to Olivia getting ready with Melinda in her room. He wanted to talk to her before he escorted her down the aisle, but he wasn’t going to get that chance, apparently. They needed to talk, and it was killing him to see her look at him the way she had. Not cold, exactly, but she’d put up a wall to keep herself from getting hurt. Quincy hated that he’d done that to her. He loved the damn woman, and he couldn’t be with her.
He couldn’t do it. He just couldn’t.
“Ah, Son, you look classy,” Lamont said as he paced back and forth in the foyer.
“As do you, Dad. But you look a bit nervous,” he said and smiled, sincerely happy for his dad and laughing at his nervousness. “You need a drink before the ceremony?”
“I never thought I’d get married again,” he admitted.
“I’m happy for you, Dad, really.”
Lamont smiled. “Me too, Son. I was worried what your mother would think, but then I heard her yell at me last night in my dreams.”
“She tell you to stop being a fool and follow your heart?”
Lamont laughed. “Just like always. Right then, let’s get going. Don’t want to be late. Pretty sure Melinda would not like that.” They walked to the waiting car, and Quincy felt his chest tighten at the thought of being so close to Olivia again. He needed one moment alone with her, just five minutes so he could tell her one last time how he felt.
***
Melinda was hidden behind a partition set up on the beach while the guests for the wedding—pretty much the entire isle—found their seats to watch the royal wedding of their beloved king to his new queen. Olivia was to wait at the end of the aisle and greet guests as they entered. It would have been fine except for one thing. Quincy stood by her side, greeting guests as well.
“Thank you for coming,” he said, shaking the hands of an elderly couple. He glanced over, and she hurriedly looked away. “Are you going to say anything to me at all?”
“I have nothing to say at the moment.” Except I want to take you somewhere private and kiss you and tell you I’m pregnant with our child. “We’re supposed to be here for our parents, so I’m here.”
“Please, Olivia. Let me talk to my father. I need to find a way to make this work.”
No, stop saying things like that. Her gut clenched, and she almost let her hand go to the baby but stopped just in time. “I can’t let you do that to your father, or to your kingdom, Quincy. We are doing what we have to do.”
His face scrunched in annoyance and anger and something else she couldn’t place, but there wasn’t time for this. The wedding was happening in a few minutes, and after that, the reception. Then, tomorrow morning, she’d be on a flight back to Nebraska, and this would be a wonderful dream she would get to remember every time she looked at their son or daughter.
“Just let it go, Quincy. Time to do our duties, and then we’re finished,” she said and hoped he didn’t hear the longing in her voice or the hurt underneath that. From the look he shot her, she’d failed miserably.
“Prince Quincy, Princess Olivia, we are ready to begin,” the wedding planner said as she hurried to them. “When the music starts, you will walk down the aisle and part and everything else has been gone over, yes?”
>
They nodded, and the wedding planner clapped her hands and pointed them to the end of the aisle. Olivia gripped her bouquet tightly and reluctantly slipped her hand into the crook of Quincy’s arm, hating the way that one touch immediately set her nerves on fire. Everything in her said to pull him over by his tux and kiss him hard and deep, but the music started, and they walked forward down the aisle.
“Olivia, please,” he whispered to her.
“Stop it. This is not the time.”
“Are you going to give me the time?”
“When? You’ve been busy with your future wife,” she snapped and took a deep breath to calm herself. They were supposed to be smiling, not arguing as they walked down the aisle.
“I’m telling you, I’m going to try and make this work.”
“No. It will ruin you, and I can’t live with that.” They neared the end of the aisle. “Stop, Quincy please, just… just let me go. I can’t do this.” Her eyes stung with unshed tears, but with her smile, everyone probably thought they were happy tears for her mother. When they reached Lamont and the priest, they separated, though he tried to hang on to her a moment longer.
The music changed, and Olivia forced her gaze away from Quincy’s pained expression to her mom standing at the end of the aisle. The guests stood, and Melinda’s smile brightened her face, but she only had eyes for one person—Lamont. He shifted and cleared his throat as she made her way down the aisle to gasps and happy whispers of the guests smiling at her dress. Olivia was genuinely able to smile at the sight of her happiness and knew from now on, her mom was going to be living the life she’d always wanted.
As the ceremony began and everyone took their seats, Olivia tried to listen to the priest’s words, but her eyes kept shifting to Quincy and she imagined feeling his arms around her as he held her close. His lips against hers, warm and soft as he kissed her long and hard while his hands explored every inch of her body. A fluttering filled her stomach as a visual of them lying together on the beach and in bed passed through her mind. All the times they made love, how he made her feel as he thrust inside her and as they fell over that endless cliff together.
Olivia shifted in the sand, and when she glanced at Quincy, her need to be with him flared to life so badly she almost forgot where she was and run to jump into his arms. If she was worried about a scandal, doing that would surely cause one.
Their eyes locked, and her breath caught painfully in her chest. It was going to be a long night.
Chapter 17
The reception for the royal wedding was grand, and no expense had been spared for the entire Isle of Bijoux to celebrate their king and queen’s marriage. For the most part, it was a festive occasion, and everyone had a smile on their face. Everyone except Quincy.
He’d been standing in the same place for the past hour, watching Olivia talk and laugh with Cheree and Helen. His body wanted to go to her and whisk her away somewhere, but his mind put its foot down, refusing to do what his heart so badly wanted. It nagged at him, over and over, that he was making the wrong decision—screw what his dad would say. This was his life, damn it, and he only got to live it once. Did he really want to let her walk away from him like this?
The night was nearly over, and soon, his dad and Melinda would retire to their room for the night. Once they were off, Quincy could disappear for a while and get the thought of Gigi’s hands groping his butt out of his mind.
“There you are! I brought you more champagne,” Gigi said loudly as she hurried to his side. “Here, have another. You look like you could use it.”
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to get me drunk.” It was meant to be a joke, but the way her face fell was just another hint to Quincy that this was not the woman he should be with. She was more concerned with bedding him than wedding him. “I think I’ve had enough for the night.”
“I could bring you something else,” she offered and rubbed her hip against his.
Quincy set the glass down on the tray of a passing servant. “No, I’m afraid today has been draining. I’ll see my father and stepmother off, then I shall retire for the evening.”
“Are you sure, Your Highness? I could join you for a late night drink if you want.”
“No, thank you, Gigi. Not tonight, but maybe tomorrow when I’m more rested.” He needed her to go away before anything ruder came out of his mouth, but she stayed by his side, watching the people with him.
Near the door, the announcer banged his staff on the floor three times, calling for silence as Lamont and Melinda stopped at the door with bright smiles on their faces and glasses of champagne in their hands.
“We wish to thank all of you again for attending, but the hour is late, and alas, we are not as young as we used to be,” Lamont said with a wink. “Please, enjoy the rest of the night on us!”
He lifted his glass in toast to his new wife, and they left the ballroom to the sound of loud applause and cheering. Quincy clapped with them, a smile spreading across his lips for a few moments before he felt it falter again. He gave Gigi a very quick goodnight and followed the king and queen out of the ballroom, except that he turned left instead of right, making his way to his room. The king and queen would spend their wedding night together in a private villa far out in the middle of nowhere so they wouldn’t be disturbed. A mini honeymoon for them to have before Melinda’s coronation.
Quincy wanted to disappear with them, to vanish from the isle and go missing so he could avoid the wedding he didn’t want to attend. If only it were that easy to run away and take Olivia with him, somewhere no one could find them. If only he wasn’t a damn prince.
His gaze drifted down the corridor, but he didn’t want to bother her. She’d said it herself plenty of times—trying was pointless. He might be willing to give up everything for her, but she wasn’t.
Fighting every instinct to charge into her room and make her see reason—even if that meant kissing her until the sun came up and she saw he didn’t care about anything but her—he walked into his room and sagged against the doors.
“I was wondering when you’d show up.”
He thought he was hearing things and shook his head, but when he lifted his eyes, there she stood on the balcony with the moon shining brightly behind her.
“Hello, Quincy.”
As he straightened, he swallowed hard. “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to leave a painting for you. I’m getting everything ready to go for when I leave in a couple of hours,” she said, and her eyes darted away from him for only a second. She was up to something.
“You don’t have to do that,” he said as he walked towards her, stopping about ten feet away. His hands twitched towards her, but he stayed where he was. “Really, Olivia, it’s fine. I know you need those for your portfolio.”
“I want you to have this one,” she said and returned to the balcony.
She came back in holding the painting of the cove and the couple making love on the beach. Her cheeks were red as she handed it to him, and when his fingers brushed hers as he took it, her breath caught in her chest. Quincy saw how she trembled and knew all he had to do was pull her close and kiss her to make her melt in his arms. Carefully, he set the painting aside and let his fingers reach out to brush longingly down her cheek, running them through her hair and down to her neck.
“Quincy,” she whispered, a warning and a want tangled together as her eyes closed.
He didn’t stop and let his hand trail farther down to her side, bringing her close against his body. That close, he could feel her chest rise with every breath she took, and he pressed his cheek against her hair, breathing her in. Her hands crept forward to his shirt, tugging him even closer as her mouth searched for his. Their breath mingled when he lowered his head, but their lips barely brushed before she started and pushed herself away hard.
“No, we can’t.”
“Olivia, stop.”
“No,” she said and rushed past him to the do
or, but he caught her and pulled her back to him. He slanted his lips over hers and kissed her long and hard, letting his tongue dart into the depths of her mouth as he swallowed the sigh that followed. His lips moved with hers, nibbling her lip as his hands cupped her face, but she shook her head and pulled back again.
“No! We can’t… We just can’t!” She covered her mouth with a hand. Quincy stared at her beauty, her cheeks flushed and eyes wide, filled with passion and fear for what tomorrow might bring.
He didn’t want to agree with her, but he saw his father’s disappointed face as he lost the crown for the bad luck of falling in love with the one woman he couldn’t have. With his hands on his hips and muttering curses, he took a step backwards. He couldn’t be this close to her. He turned his back so she could leave before he tried to stop her again.
“You’re right, just leave, and I’ll try not to bother you the last—”
Olivia whipped him around so fast he wasn’t sure what was happening until her lips were pressed against his. He groaned as his hands wrapped tightly around her waist, lifting her off her feet. Thankfully, her dress wasn’t too much, and he lifted her higher so she could wrap her legs around his waist as he backed them up to the wall. He couldn’t get enough of her fast enough and tugged at the hooks holding the halter top of the dress together.
He tugged harder, and there was a loud rip. The pieces fell forward, and she shimmied a bit so they fell farther, exposing her chest to him. He rubbed his cheek against her breasts, and she pressed him closer, her hands digging through his hair. His tongue licked and teased before he took a nipple into his mouth and sucked on it hard enough to make her gasp. He tasted her sweetness and pressed between her legs, letting her feel just how much he longed for her touch, for her body to be splayed out beneath his. He wanted her body and her heart so no other man could ever touch her without her being reminded of him.
“Quincy,” she whispered and moaned as he switched to the other nipple, sucking until it was hard in his mouth and she squirmed even more against him.
He ran his free hand up her body, the touch of her soft skin setting him on fire as it had so many times before. And there was nothing he wanted more in that moment than to feel her wrapped tightly around him again, pulling him inside her inch by inch until he filled her.