"Noah," I warn.
"My point is this," he says. "I've seen you with a lot of women, but none like Belle. She loves you and you love her. It's apparent to anyone who sees you together, and if it isn't apparent, well, then they're fucking blind."
"She should have fucking stayed," I say, more anger in my words than I expected.
"She's scared," Noah says, his voice softening.
So am I. But I didn't run away.
I can't believe she just left. Without so much as a goodbye.
I'm angry at her for leaving, but I'm more angry at our parents – especially Sofia – for deciding that the best response would be for the PR team to descend on Belle like a swarm of locusts. And I'm angry at myself for telling my father about the Vegas marriage.
I don't even wait until dinner to see my father and Sofia. Instead, I go straight to the King's wing of the house, where he and Sofia sit inside the living room of their suite, Sofia on an armchair surrounded by a copy of every newspaper and magazine available, splayed out on a coffee table.
Our faces are plastered across the front page of all of them, a million different headlines, all of them promising tales of scandal.
"Albert," Sofia says. "There you are. I knew you'd see reason. See, Leo? We've been discussing a plan for PR."
"You know she's gone," I say. "You drove her away. With all of your concern about image and PR and bringing in Erika – Belle left."
"I'm sorry about Erika," she says. "I didn't think it would be such a big deal."
"You didn't think it would be such a big deal?" I ask, shaking my head in disbelief.
"At the engagement party, I'd heard you and Erika had…" Her voice trails off, and her cheeks redden. They actually redden. Maybe the woman doesn't have ice in her veins after all.
"That we'd fucked?" I ask, not caring about the use of vulgarity in front of the soon-to-be-Queen or my father. "No, Sofia, it wasn't Erika I screwed at the engagement party. It was your daughter."
"Albert!" my father booms, his voice echoing in the room. "That will be quite enough."
"I don't think so," I say. "I married Belle. And it wasn't anything in the beginning, but now it is. Was. Maybe it's past tense; I don't know. All I know is that I don't care about all of this. I don't care whether you approve or not."
"The wedding is weeks away," Sofia protests. "It's obscene, right before the –"
"You know what?" I don't even know what I'm saying before I say it. None of this is planned or thought out. It should be. It would be more mature that way, more reasonable. "Screw the wedding. And -- "
A single knock interrupts what I'm about to say, the 'screw the throne' rant I'm about to dive headfirst into, and Alex bursts into the room. "Get out, Alex," I say.
“I’m sleeping with Max.”
“Oh my,” Sophia says, her hand over her chest. “Apparently today this family is all about disclosing way too much personal information. Who’s Max?”
“He’s my bodyguard,” Alex says, her tone imperious. She turns around and points as Max follows her into the room and stops short, looking back and forth between us.
“Oh shit,” Max says, only partly under his breath.
“You’ve got that right,” Sophia says.
“So if you’re mad at Albie, you can be mad at me, too,” Alex says. “Did you tell them you’re in love with Belle?”
Sofia looks at us her eyes wide. "You're not in love with Belle," she says.
"Oh please," Alex huffs. "He's in love with her. I've never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at her. And now she's off running around Europe because he didn't have the balls to tell her how he felt."
"Didn't have the balls to tell her?" I ask. "She went running off before I could even say – "
"You heard what I said," Alex says. "No balls. You missed your shot with her. And she ran off because she didn't want all the drama."
"You mean, all of this drama?"
"Silence!" my father yells, his voice cutting through our bickering. "The two of you are not children anymore, so stop acting like it!"
"I didn't even do anything!" Alex squeals. "I'm trying to tell him what's good for him."
"Enough!" My father yells in the voice that we all know means business. He walks over to the bar against the wall and pours himself a glass of scotch from the crystal decanter, his movements slow and deliberate.
None of us speak.
Alex and I watch as he sips from the glass, then sets the tumbler down on the bar. He places his palms on the top of the bar, standing with his shoulders slumped as if he's carrying the weight of the world.
For a minute, I feel terrible. For all of his flaws, my father has always been a good man. Now he’s found happiness with someone, something that's eluded him since my mother’s death, and Alex and I are in here driving him into an early grave.
“Do you love her?” my father asks, without turning around.
“Leo!” Sofia says. "You can't be seriously entertaining this idea."
“Do you love her?” he repeats.
Do I love her?
“Obviously, he does,” Alex interrupts.
“Alex,” my father warns. “Stay out of this.”
“I love her,” I say. It’s the first time I’ve said the words out loud.
It's the first time I've been certain of it.
42
Belle
“You could go back, you know,” Raine says, sipping her coffee. We’re sitting at a café in downtown Budapest, people-watching. Raine's boyfriend is sightseeing with a group of people from the hostel, probably shooed away by Raine so that she could interrogate me about Albie.
“Seriously, I’m totally fine,” I say. It’s an obvious lie, yet I feel the need to say it. I feel the need to convince myself of that fact. “I’m having fun.”
“You’re having a terrible time,” she says. “You should go back to him.”
“After I flipped out and went running away?” I ask. “I can't. Besides, it’s Albie. He’s the playboy prince. There are plenty of women who will be throwing themselves at him. I’m sure he’s moved on already.”
“You’re so full of shit, Belle,” she says.
“I’m not! You’re the one who knows all about his exploits in the tabloids.”
“Those are the tabloids,” she says. “We both know that stuff is only partly true.”
I cock my head to the side and raise my eyebrows. “Please,” I say. “The stuff I read about Albie was mostly true.”
“But that was before you met.”
“And it’ll be true again, after me.”
“You don’t believe that,” she says.
“I don't know what to believe," I say. "I'm sure he hates me now."
“Go to him,” she says. “Tell him that you were stupid and foolish and impulsive and you ran because that’s what you do.”
“What?” I squeal. “Because that’s what I do? I don’t do that.”
“Belle.” Raine sips her coffee and gives me a knowing look. “I love you. But you know I’m right.”
I roll my eyes at her and exhale heavily. “Okay, I run. I ran. I fucked up.”
As I speak the words, my heart sinks, because I know they’re true. I fucked up. I was falling for Albie and I got scared and ran. And now it’s messed up.
“Do you love him?”
“My mother is marrying his father, Raine,” I say, shaking my head. “The whole world is watching us."
"That's not what I asked."
I still avoid answering her question. "I was sneaking around with him, and playing with fire, and it’s my own damn fault I got burned. It would have happened, whether he told his father we got married or not.”
“He told his father?” Raine asks.
“Yes!” I say, my voice a little bit too loud. I look around at the other café patrons, before leaning in closer to her. “He told his father that we were married in Vegas.”
“So he loves you, too, Belle,” she
says.
“What are you talking about?” I ask. “He outed us.”
She raises her eyebrows. “Why do you think he told his father he married you?”
“Because he –“ I’m about to say, because he was standing up to his father. Except I know that’s not all of it.
Because he loves me.
Shit.
“Exactly,” Raine says, even though I haven’t said the words out loud. “And I know you love him. It’s written all over you. It’s been in every word you’ve said about him on the phone since you got there, Belle.”
“Oh God,” I say, my heart sinking. “I’ve been a total idiot.”
“A little bit,” Raine says, smiling.
“Crap,” I blurt out. “What the hell do I do now? Call him? ‘Hey, I know that I ran away from Protrovia and that our parents are going to basically disown us for this, but I just wanted to tell you that I love you?’”
“I probably wouldn’t put it exactly like that.”
“Shit. I love him. I’m in love with him.”
Raine nods. “So what are you going to do about it?”
43
Albie
“This is fucking ridiculous,” Alex yells from the backseat of the SUV. "Dad is going to kill us when he finds out we all took off – and that you guys are with us."
"He won't kill us," Noah says. "I'm sure he has people to do that for him."
"You're always looking at the bright side of things, Noah," Alex says. "It's probably why you and my brother get along so well."
"At least you'll be dead and not fired," Noah says.
"No one is getting murdered or fired." My voice has a hard edge I can't quite keep out of it. I'm more nervous than I should be right now at the prospect of tracking down Belle. I should be excited. Isn't that how you're supposed to feel when you tell a woman you love her?
Instead, I feel edgy and irritable.
Part of me is afraid she's going to tell me to go to hell.
Or worse, she'll tell me she doesn't feel the same, and that it's been about the sex all along.
"How far is Budapest exactly?" Alex asks. "We should have just taken the helicopter."
"It's one thing to sneak out of a tea party in the helicopter, but another to try to be stealthy about flying to Budapest," I say. "It's only a couple of hours anyway."
"We couldn't get the exact location from the head of security," Max says. "Budapest was as far as they could narrow it down."
"Why don't you call Raine?" Alex asks. "Or are you going for a big dramatic entrance?”
"The girl who bursts into our father's room and announces she's sleeping with her bodyguard is giving me shit about drama?" I ask.
"I was trying to take some of the heat off of you," she protests. “Obviously, it was a miscalculated move on my part.”
“No shit,” Max says.
“If dad didn’t kill Max after you told him you were sleeping with Max, then all of us will be just fine,” I note.
“Thanks,” Max says. “I think.”
“I’m not going to call Raine,” I tell Alex. “Not until we’re actually in Budapest.”
“So Belle can’t run,” Alex says.
So Belle can’t run.
She makes it sound like I’m tracking Belle down like some kind of fugitive.
“She’ll want to see you,” Noah says.
“Totally,” Alex says, her voice unnaturally bright.
I focus my eyes straight ahead on the road. “This conversation isn’t helping at all.”
44
Belle
“Beer,” Raine says, handing me a glass. “It’s medicinal. Spending all night worrying isn’t going to do anything for you. We’ll go back to Protrovia in the morning.”
“Right now, you medicate with food and beer,” Phoenix says. “It’s therapeutic.”
“Fine, fine.” I study my menu, but my head is spinning, my thoughts focused on all of the things I need to say to Albie.
Why the hell didn’t I just tell him I loved him when I was in Protrovia?
Raine’s phone buzzes, and Phoenix groans loudly as Raine looks at the screen. “We said no phones during dinner,” he says, grabbing it from her hand.
“Give that back to me now,” she insists, slapping him playfully on the arm. “It’s important.”
“It’s important?” he asks, holding up the phone, but she snaps it out of his hand. “What do you think, Belle? Raine buys us the next round of beers since she’s on the phone during dinner?”
Raine looks up from the phone long enough to glare at us, before burying her head and furiously texting.
“Yes, definitely,” I say absently, still thinking about what I’m going to say to Albie tomorrow. “The next round of beers is on Raine.”
“I’m going to remember you gave me grief about this,” Raine says.
“Why?” I ask. But I’m immediately distracted by the waitress coming over to take our orders, and then Phoenix orders more beer and he's telling me stories about their adventures over the summer.
I’m finishing my dinner and I’m on my second beer when Raine and Phoenix look up, their eyes focused behind me. I hear the chatter of other diners in the restaurant, people whispering and pointing.
“Belle.”
I’d recognize his voice anywhere.
I stand up and turn around slowly, my heart beating wildly in my chest. “Albie.”
He’s standing there, holding a pink box. A few feet behind him are Alex, Noah, and Max. The bodyguards stand there nonchalantly, but Alex looks like a kid on Christmas morning, her hands clasped together.
Albie steps closer to me and hands me the box.
The box. The one he sent me the first time. I shake it gently, listening to the rattle of the objects inside.
That fucker brought the box of sex toys with him to this restaurant, and just handed it to me in front of everyone.
“Flowers just seemed so boring,” he says. “And you left this behind.”
“You’re such a shit,” I whisper. “I’m not opening this.”
My hands are trembling.
“I hope not,” he says. “That would make headlines.”
“So you came all the way from Protrovia to return this?” I ask.
“I drove all the way from Protrovia because I have something to say,” he says. “Right here. In front of everyone.”
“So do I,” I blurt out, summoning every bit of confidence I have to ignore the stares of everyone around us. I can see people taking out cameras, but I don’t care. “I really fucked up by leaving, Albie. I – I want you. I don’t care about any of the rest of it. That’s all I know, and I –“
“Belle,” Albie interrupts. “I’ve been with a lot of women.”
“A lot,” Noah says from behind him, and Alex punches him on the arm.
“Shut up, Noah,” Albie says. He clears his throat, looking me in the eyes, and everything goes still and quiet. Suddenly, it’s as if we’re the only two people in the world. It’s Albie and I, and I’m not scared anymore. I’m the calmest I’ve been in a long time. “I might have been with other women in the past, but I’ve never been in love. I never wanted to be in love. And then you ran into me in Vegas.”
“You ran into me,” I say softly. I’m standing here suddenly grinning like an idiot, unable to get this stupid smile off my face.
“Drunken disheveled Cinderella,” he says.
“Prince Not-So-Charming.”
“This is where I’m supposed to say something really poetic and meaningful,” he says.
I raise my eyebrows. “Meaningful and poetic doesn’t suit you,” I say.
“I’m not very poetic,” he says. He leans in close to me, his mouth near my ear. “But I have a big cock. Hopefully that makes up for it.”
I laugh, even as a shiver runs up my spine at his words. “I’ll have to let you know.”
“Does that mean you’re going to face all of the public bullshit and consequences
with me?” he asks.
I take a deep breath. “I think it does.”
“Good,” he says. “Because I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather face a public scandal with than you.”
“That's…uh…sweet.”
He leans in close to me and puts his finger under my chin, tilting my head up to meet his. “I love you, you know,” he says. “And I’m going to love the hell out of you as long as you’ll let me.”
“That’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard,” I say, with a laugh. I hear a whoop behind us, but everyone fades into a blur as Albie brings his lips down hard on mine. He kisses me like it’s been forever since he last touched me, even though it’s only been days, and I feel myself melting against him.
Like he’s where I belong.
Because that’s the truth. I belong with him.
When he pulls away, he grabs one side of the box as it starts to fall. “Don’t lose that, luv,” he says. “Wouldn’t want the press getting that photo.”
“I can’t believe I’m in love with someone who brings this as a grand gesture,” I say, my hand firmly on the lid of the box.
“And you thought princes were classy,” he says.
“I was misled by the fairy tales.”
“Are we going to stand here all night watching the two of you talk?” Alex shouts.
So Albie kisses me again, his arm wrapping around my lower back and pulling me tightly against him as I try to balance the box in one hand, nearly failing. I push him away, laughing.
“Are you scared?” Albie whispers. “Everyone is watching us, you know.”
“Terrified,” I say, as he grabs my hand.
That’s only partly true. I’m terrified and excited and content, all at the same time.
“That’s that prince,” I hear a woman call through the crowd. “And his stepsister!”
His hand on mine, he turns with me to face the restaurant. “I apologize for interrupting everyone’s dinner,” he says, squeezing my hand. “But I hope that picking up your dinner tabs will make up for the inconvenience.”
Several guys in the back of the restaurant hold up their beers and whoop loudly, before the room erupts in applause. Camera flashes go off, and I can see some diners holding up their phones to record. Normally, all of the attention would make me want to crawl into a hole and hide, but right now, I’m practically floating on a cloud.
Double Team: A Menage Romance Page 54