Sexy Bachelor

by Maggie Monroe

  The reporter stood in front of the palace at the main gates, not by the private entrance I had used. “Sources close to the king say that trade with Bostique is at risk unless the king can turn the talks around. The Islands accounts for twenty percent of our trade economy, so this meeting is critical for all of Galona’s citizens. We will broadcast the palace announcement live.”

  I blinked. That sounded serious. I turned the volume up and walked back to the kitchen. The coffee was ready. I didn’t want to miss any of the reports.

  It was silly, but I was desperate for more glimpses of him. Maybe a sound bite. Video footage of him walking the palace grounds or in meetings with the prime minister.

  I poured the coffee into my I heart Freychon mug. It was nothing like the delicate china cup I sipped from yesterday on the balcony. The mugs were one of the first things Brooklyn and I bought when we moved. We had a matching pair.

  I returned to the love seat. The report now focused on the Bostique Islands. There were scenes from their sugar cane fields. Apparently, Galona imported ninety percent of its sugar from the prime minister’s country. The Galonian government was dependent on these tiny islands for huge trade profits. The country’s economic future would be determined based on these negotiations.

  I watched old news clips from previous meetings between the two leaders. Damon hadn’t once implied his meeting was as critical as the reporter claimed. He had been calm. He didn’t rush my tour of the library. I never would have guessed this was going on.

  I wondered if that made him a good leader. He was hard to read. He could present one side, while concealing his emotions. Or did that make him unreliable? Unpredictable? Maybe even dangerous?

  “What’s going on?” Brooklyn emerged from her room. “Did something happen?” She yawned.

  “No. I’m just watching the news.” I hadn’t looked away. I was absorbed in the intricacies of the relationship between the two countries.

  She staggered to the kitchen. “Thank God there’s coffee.”

  I nodded absently.

  “Oh, it’s the king?” She sat next to me with a steaming mug.

  I didn’t respond.

  “What are they saying?” she asked.

  “Trade meetings. Sugar taxes. That kind of thing.” I acted as if the details of trade tax bored me. And under any other circumstance, it did.

  “Oh?” She lifted the mug to her lips. “I didn’t know you were interested in Galona politics.” I saw the smirk behind the coffee mug.

  “There’s nothing wrong with taking interest in the country that is currently our home.” I felt defensive. As if I had been caught doing something I shouldn’t.

  “Mmmhmm. And it happens that the king is hot as fuck.”

  “Brooklyn.” I eyed her.

  “You’re not going to tell me anything? Really?”

  “We can’t.”

  She huffed. “You’re not serious about the contract. I was planning on telling you, anyway.”

  “We shouldn’t.”

  “Mol, it’s not like security from The Titan is going to break in here and arrest us. It’s us. We can tell each other anything we want. Screw them.”

  The news cut away to the weather. I didn’t know how long it would be until the press conference. I needed to stop procrastinating and focus on my notecards. I was losing time. I turned the TV off.

  “You’re not going to watch?” She looked surprised.

  “It doesn’t matter. I have work to do. We both knew what we signed up for. That night is over, and talking about it doesn’t get me any closer to completing my dissertation.”

  “I wish you would stop being practical and just admit that you had fun and that something might have happened.” Her eyebrows rose.

  “It’s not worth talking about. I’m going to the library.”

  I scooped the cards off the couch and shoved them in a bag. I couldn’t stay in the apartment and deal with her prodding. I couldn’t deal with the temptation to turn on the TV again and watch the press conference, hoping for a glance of Damon. His Royal Highness, I mentally corrected myself.

  “Mol, come on. Don’t leave.”

  I grabbed the keys from the hook next to the door and slung my messenger bag over my shoulder. “I don’t know when I’ll be back. Hope you have a good day. Maybe you’ll see a job posting you like.”

  She rolled her eyes and I locked the door behind me.

  The library would be quiet. No TV. No phones. And no traces of the king.

  15

  Damon

  The lodestar was detailed. Sutcliffe had included more information than I asked for. I sat behind my desk, reading the details of Molly Washington’s life. There were posts from her social media accounts. Copies of her transcripts.

  There was an abundance of facts. What was missing was the spaces in between. Her stories. Her words. The colors of her experience. This black and white piece of paper didn’t have that. So far she was like one of my abstract paintings.

  According to the account, Georgan had driven her home late afternoon.

  I picked up the royal line.

  “Sir?”

  “Have Georgan escort Miss Washington to my residence.”

  Sutcliffe exhaled. “Your Highness, you have continued meetings this morning. The press conference will be highly televised. The palace has precise focus this morning.”

  My eyes narrowed. “I didn’t ask for your input. I asked for Miss Washington to be brought to me.”

  “The palace is already surrounded by press. What if someone sees her arrive? Have you thought through this, sir?”

  I could almost see his brow sweating. He hated potential scandal. He panicked over the slightest wrinkle in the royal family’s fabric. Dominic caused him countless sleepless nights.

  “My business with Miss Washington is not for public consumption. I expect her to be in the royal residence when I’m finished with the prime minister. And I expect our security and your expertise to keep her off the radar.”

  I hung up the phone before he could continue his veiled lecture on my personal habits. I don’t know which made him more nervous: my brother’s drinking, or my dealings at the Titan.

  I didn’t care about Sutcliffe’s warnings. Fuck caution. The hunger inside me had been growing since I awoke restless in my empty bed. Every inch of me wanting and needing another taste of Molly.

  Until I had her again, I wouldn’t be satisfied.

  16

  Molly

  The library at the Conservatory was more crowded than usual. I had to hunt for a space in my favorite corner. I was a creature of habit. I liked to sit in the same area. I frowned when I saw a guy with shaggy blond hair taking up two seats at once.

  I took the table next to his, casting nasty stares in his direction. I’d never seen him here before. I cracked my laptop, skimming for where I left off two days ago.

  It seemed as if every time I rounded a corner of research, it only uncovered more roads for me to follow. That was my problem now. I was at a crossroads. I had several options, but I knew I wouldn’t be satisfied if I took a short-cut route. The only way to move in the right direction was if I received permission from the Literary Institute in London to examine one of the rare collections they housed. But access was so limited that they regularly denied professors, let alone PhD students.

  My stomach did a little backflip as I opened the application for the London Institute and began to fill in the blanks. This opportunity could make or break my dissertation. What if I was rejected? They were infamously selective about who they let in to review the texts. I crossed my fingers when I hit send that I’d be one of the lucky few.

  “Holy shit,” The student next to me whispered.

  I turned to tell him that if he was going to take up two seats, the least he could do was be quiet. Instead I was distracted by his expression. I looked up in time to see four men in dark suits walking toward our corner. There was something familiar about them. I didn’t ha
ve time to put it together.

  They were in front of my table.

  “Molly Washington.”

  “Yes?” I eked.

  “Mademoiselle, please come with us.”

  I stared at them. Shaggy blond hadn’t picked up his jaw yet.

  “Why? What’s wrong?” I looked around, searching for some kind of life line.

  “Come with us.” It was an order.

  “Who are you?” The guy finally spoke up, still slouched behind his computer.

  The first suit eyed him, unimpressed. “This is a royal concern.” His voice boomed loud enough to silence any further interference. The quiet library was suddenly like a graveyard. Everyone gawked at me.

  I pulled my shoulders back. He couldn’t be serious. I was being summoned?

  “What does he want?” I whispered.

  “Matters of His Majesty aren’t discussed in open forums. Come.” He motioned to me to follow.

  I didn’t like it. I didn’t like being summoned without a reason. I didn’t like that I hadn’t heard from Damon.

  I leaned forward. “No,” I whispered. “You can tell His Majesty to call me if he’d like to speak to me.” I glanced at my screen and pretended to ignore them.

  I was smug. A little too smug. Proud that I had fended off the royal guard. But within seconds they had closed in around me, each one pulling under my arms and lifting me from the chair.

  “Hey!” I yelped. I kicked my legs. “Put me down.”

  They didn’t speak, but continued to carry me through the maze of tables and rows of books.

  “You can’t just take me like this,” I hissed. I looked around for a librarian or someone to step in, but the crowd watched in awe.

  I wiggled fruitlessly while they placed me in the back of a car marked with the royal crest and shut the door. I tried the handle but it was locked. There was no way out. I beat on the glass.

  This was insane.

  “Let me out of this car.” It sounded more like a whine than an ultimatum. I jerked on the handle again. The engine started and we pulled away from the library. I couldn’t believe this was happening.

  We drove outside of the city and along the steep highway, curling around the low mountainside, until I had a full view of the palace.

  I glared at the mass of stone and windows that towered over these grounds for centuries. Galonians loved their palace. It symbolized the richness of the monarchy. It showcased the majesty of the land. The architecture set the tone for the aesthetic of all Freychon. There were touches of the palace throughout the city. It may be reflected subtly in an archway above a shop door, or a column on one of the government buildings, but this palace was the centerpiece of the land.

  Right now, it felt like I was being dragged to prison.

  We rolled through the private tunnel and the car stopped at the back entrance. The door opened and I scowled at the officer who had taken me from the library.

  “Please follow me.” He extended his hand.

  “And if I don’t?” I challenged.

  “You will be escorted by force,” he stated. There was no change in his voice or expression. I wondered how many people he bullied around like this.

  “I will walk.” I scooted to the edge of the seat and stood outside the door. The same one that only two days ago I had walked through in a trance.

  Maybe it had been a spell. I was caught up in the magic of the king. Stunned by The Titan’s gala. Overwhelmed by the sovereign.

  Inside the elevator I remembered the kiss. The one that had made me breathless. The way my body responded and melted into his.

  The doors opened at the top floor, and the officer waved me forward.

  “You will wait here.”

  I looked around. The residence was empty.

  “For how long?” I questioned.

  “Until His Majesty is here.”

  “And how long will that take?” I crossed my arms.

  “Wait here.” He pressed the elevator button.

  The doors closed and I was alone in the king’s apartment.

  17

  Damon

  I stared at the prime minister. He read through the final draft of the new proposal. My urge to rush him was at an all-time high. I had catered to this man long enough. The hand carved clock above the mantle ticked with each passing second. The side door opened and Sutcliffe walked in. He placed a folded card next to my elbow and retreated.

  I scanned the brief report on the note and smiled.

  She was here. Waiting.

  Just when I thought I couldn’t be more restless.

  My eyes bore into Paul’s. “Do we have a deal?”

  He took a long pause, folding the leather cover over the proposal. The seal of Galona was emblazed on the outside.

  “I believe I can work with these terms.” He flattened his mustache.

  I nodded, concealing my desire to get the hell out of this negotiating room at a breakneck pace. He had consumed enough of my time for twenty-four hours.

  I pushed back from my seat, extending my hand. “Thank you.”

  He gripped my fingers. “Thank you, Your Highness. It’s a fair deal. It will benefit both our countries.”

  “Yes it will.” I grinned. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I have another royal matter to attend to. I apologize for the sudden departure. My staff will assist you.”

  I turned for the door, almost sprinting down the hall—but Kenley stopped me before I reached the first coat of arms. Her eyes pushed me backward. Those eyes were supposed to be reserved for when my brother fucked up, not me.

  “What is it?” I hissed. “I just got out of there.”

  “The press conference, Your Majesty.” She tapped her watch. “Now that the prime minister has agreed to the contract changes, we are shifting the focus from an announcement to an official signing. Your presence is required.”

  “What the fuck?” I whispered.

  She glared at me. I didn’t care. I had prioritized everything over Molly for two days. I was done with it.

  Kenley was good at her job. It was why I hired her. Even more important was how much I trusted her with Dominic when he went on one of his binges. But I didn’t like the tone she took with me now. I wasn’t a royal puppet to be managed.

  “The prime minister leaves tonight. You have fifteen minutes before the signing begins, followed by a joint press conference.”

  I inhaled. “Can’t we push it back an hour?”

  “Why would we do that?”

  I liked her. I trusted her. But I would not tolerate her disrespect.

  Paul met us in the hall. He grinned. “My advisor has just informed me about the ceremony.”

  Now there was a damn ceremony? I eyed my impertinent scheduler.

  Kenley smiled. “Thank you for participating, Prime Minister Caon. There is a royal escort who can show you to the blue ballroom. His Majesty will follow.”

  “Thank you.” He reached for Kenley’s hand and kissed it just below her knuckles. He waddled after the escort.

  I waited until he was around the corner.

  “The blue ballroom?” I balked. Were we trying to show the world we were kissing his ass? That room was reserved for the most prestigious and regal events.

  “You’ve been locked in negotiations for two days. The press has been hounding us for a statement. The blue ball room is appropriate.”

  “Who made that decision?” I asked.

  “Sutcliffe and I discussed it,” she reported.

  I groaned. This had to stop. But I was in the middle of the fucking sandstorm. I couldn’t do anything until it was over.

  “You, Sutcliffe, and I are going to have a meeting. Soon,” I warned. “But not today. Evidently I have to get through a signing ceremony and answer questions from the press.” I didn’t tack on my plans with Molly.

  “Anything you need, Your Highness.”

  “I need a bourbon,” I muttered.

  I saw her blink. She was used to chasing
drinks out of my brother’s hand.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, Kenley.” I pressed my lips into a thin smile.

  “We should go.” Her eyes never looked up.

  “Yes, let’s get this over with.”

  18

  Molly

  As hours passed, I grew less intrigued and more annoyed by my summons. What was I doing here? I pushed the curtains away from the window and looked at the manicured lawns below. There was a fountain nearby that was illuminated. I was too high up to count the tiers of water that splashed into the pool.

  I retied my hair bun for at least the tenth time, stabbing it with the pencil. I crossed my arms and began another lap around the apartment.

  I heard the gentle bell of the elevator and stopped in the middle of my track, behind the couch. My heart sped up. My palms tingled. I waited for the doors to open.

  “Who are you?”

  Her voice was high. She was dressed in a long white gown that shimmered when she moved.

  “I-I—who are you?” I retorted. Although, I didn’t know how much power I had to demand answers in this situation.

  Her perfectly shaped eyebrows rose. “Princess Isabel.”

  Shit. Holy shit.

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” I cringed.

  She placed a hand on her hip. “I take it you know where my brother is?”

  “Actually I don’t.” I rounded the couch. “I’m Molly.” I extended my hand.

  She looked at it. I didn’t know if I had just made a royal faux paus, but she took it with a mild shake.

  “Nice to meet you, Molly.”

  I smiled. “You don’t know where he is either?”

  “I came straight from Sangreaux. I haven’t even changed. I need to discuss a few domestic matters with him.” She walked to the bar, letting the train on her dress slide across the floor.

  I could see traces of Damon’s features. The dark hair and dark eyes. But Isabel had a certain grace, as if she floated on her designer shoes. I had to remind myself not to stare.