Royal Mess
Page 4
Remembering that Leo and my sister have never met, I say, “Leo, this is my little sister, Cassandra Lulach. Cassie, this is Leo...” I look up at him, completely at a loss. “What’s your last name? Do you have one?”
He slowly releases my hand. “I have four surnames.”
“Three weren’t impressive enough?”
His lips twitch. “Apparently not.”
When I was born, my mother dropped me at a fire station with nothing more than a blanket. I had no name, no family, no home.
When Leo was born, the entire country celebrated with a parade. He had a name—several, in fact. He had a family, one that has ruled Alsania for more than two hundred years. And he had a home, technically a palace.
Leo extends his right hand to Cassie and rattles off his full name. It’s so long I can’t tell where one ends and the next begins.
“How can you remember all that?”
A smile curves his mouth. “My mother made up a song when I was little.”
I try to picture Queen Eleanor writing a little ditty to help her son remember his ridiculously long and hard-to-pronounce surnames, but I can’t. She’s always so controlled ... so royal ... just like her older son.
I want to ask Leo more about his mother and his childhood, but this isn’t the right time or place. I wonder if there will ever be a right time or place.
Now that the introductions are over, it’s awkward. Compelled to fill the silence, I say, “I’m surprised to see you, Leo. Are you here for me, or do you need an ‘I’m sorry I acted like a jerk’ bouquet for a girlfriend?”
I have no idea why I added that last bit about the girlfriend. Liar. Of course I know why: I want to know if Leo is seeing someone, even casually.
His eyes lock on mine. “I don’t need an ‘I’m sorry I acted like a jerk’ bouquet.”
Damn. I wanted him to say, I don’t have a girlfriend.
“So you give ‘I’m sorry I acted like a jerk’ jewelry?” I tease.
He huffs out a laugh. “Exactly.” His gaze bounces around my shop. “Is there a place we can speak privately?”
“You can use Tessa’s office in the back,” Cassie suggests. “I’ll take care of things up here.”
Leo nods. “Perfect.” He waves his hand toward the side. “Lead the way, Tessa.”
As I take the first step toward my office, Leo’s hand settles on my lower back, just below my apron ties. I’ve read articles about body language, and I know what his action means—he feels protective of me. Maybe even possessive. I can only hope.
“Prince Leo...” Cassie says from behind us.
We stop mid-step and turn to face her. “Yes, Miss Lulach?” Leo asks, his voice princely and polite.
Cassie’s deep blue gaze is focused on him. “Thank you for saving my sister’s life.”
A wave of love crashes over me. Cassie and I have always been close, and I know my death scare absolutely wrecked her.
I’m not the only one with scars from my transplant. My parents and sister have scars too—emotional scars. I’m hoping time will heal us all.
I sense Leo’s eyes on me, and I look up. His midnight gaze skips over my face before returning to Cassie.
“I’m glad I was able to help her,” he says.
As I lead Leo through the back room, my heart pounds and my mind races. What does he have to say that couldn’t be said over the phone?
Technically, my office is a storage closet that I’ve repurposed. It’s large enough for the metal desk I bought at IKEA, an office chair, a tall filing cabinet, and that’s about it.
“I don’t spend a lot of time in here,” I tell Leo. “I do all my client meetings in the front of the shop.” I roll the chair to the other side of the desk. “Have a seat.”
He lifts one eyebrow. “And where are you going to sit?”
“On your lap.” His eyes widen, and I can’t help laughing. “I’m just teasing you.”
I clear a space on my desk and slide onto it. My denim-covered legs dangle in front of the empty office chair.
Touching the toe of my mint-green ballet flat to the mesh seat, I say, “Sit.”
He unbuttons his suit jacket and folds his tall body into the chair. His posture is perfect: spine straight and brown wing tips flush with the floor.
Being alone with him in such a small space makes my stomach tremble and my hands shake. I curl my fingers over the edge of the desk, using the cold metal to hide my nerves.
“So tell me ... what’s so important you came all the way into the city to see me?”
During one of our late-night calls, I asked Leo where he was, and he explained that he and the rest of the royal family spend the summer in the country. I guess only commoners stay in Circo when the temperature rises above eighty-five.
“I wanted to let you know that I’m going to do a media tour to talk about my experience as a living donor,” Leo says.
Surprised by his announcement, I emit an involuntary “Oh!”
The royal family is constantly in the news. From the king’s work in parliament and the queen’s charitable efforts to Prince Leo’s diplomatic trips abroad and Prince Marco’s latest antics, there’s plenty of fodder for the media.
“People are curious, and I’d rather they hear the real story from me instead of”—he makes air quotes with both hands—“an unnamed source close to the prince. Who knows? Maybe I can persuade more people to be living donors.”
“That’d be amazing if you could, Leo. There aren’t enough donors, living or deceased.”
He leans forward. “How would you feel about participating in the media tour ... coming forward as a transplant recipient?”
It takes a moment for his words to register. When they do, my whole body recoils. “I don’t know...”
I trail off, unable to articulate my feelings. If my donor liver came from a normal person instead of Leo, I wouldn’t hesitate to tell everyone my story. But Leo’s royal blood—his position as the future king of Alsania—complicates things. The thought of being stalked by paparazzi makes it hard for me to breathe.
“Hey.” One of Leo’s big hands curves over my knee. “Listen to me, Tessa.” He squeezes lightly. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. It’s your decision.”
I shrug uncomfortably. “I need some time to think about it. Is that okay?”
“Of course it’s okay.”
He drops his hand from my knee and rises from the chair. His broad chest blocks my view of the rest of the room, and I have to tilt my head back to see his eyes.
To my surprise, he moves closer and cups his hands around my face. His skin is hot and supple like the leather seats in a sports car in the summer. He strokes the pads of his thumbs across my cheekbones, and that simple touch spreads heat throughout my body.
“Look at you.” His voice is deep and husky. “Your cheeks are so pink.”
Pink from desire. Pink from excitement.
One of his thumbs cruises down to my mouth and skims across my bottom lip. “And your lips...”
I must be having an out-of-body experience. Or maybe I’m in a medically induced coma and this is just a hallucination. I don’t know how else to explain what’s happening.
“What about my lips?”
“They’re pink too,” he whispers, “like those peonies you dropped.”
I wrap my hands around his wrists, not to push him away but to keep him close. “Leo...”
Kiss me. Please. Now.
A groan rumbles in his chest, and that rough sound creates an ache between my legs. Sliding his hand into my hair, he palms my head and brings his mouth to mine.
For a heartbeat, our lips press together in a gentle kiss. But then his hand tightens in my hair, and he tugs my head back to give him better access to my mouth. He licks my top lip and then the bottom before tracing the seam where they meet.
I open my mouth in invitation, and he slides his tongue inside. Oh, he tastes good, like the glass of expensive merlo
t I drank at a wine tasting earlier this year—hints of black cherry and dark chocolate. I could get drunk on him.
He kisses me until I’m breathless and dizzy. I gasp against his mouth, sucking in air, before his mouth opens wider over mine and our tongues tangle in a slow, wet slide.
When he sucks on my tongue, pulling it into his mouth, I think about him doing the same to my clit. I’m wet and swollen, and I know it wouldn’t take more than a brush of his long fingers to make me come. I can’t stop the moan that works its way out of my throat.
Leo lifts his mouth from mine. His fingers loosen and slip out of my hair, allowing me to bring my head forward.
“Tessa.”
“Hmm?” I ask, preoccupied with his kiss-reddened lips.
He takes a couple of steps backward, putting space between us. “Let me know what you decide about the media tour. The first interviews are scheduled for later this week.”
The shift from making out to media tours is more than a little jarring. “O-o-okay,” I stutter.
He buttons his jacket with a deft flick of his fingers. “Thank you for taking time out of your schedule to meet with me. I’m quite pleased you’re doing so well.”
I’d be doing a lot better if your tongue was still in my mouth and your hand was in my panties.
The words are on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow them whole. “The media tour...” I slide off the desk to stand in front of him. “Do you want me to participate in it?”
I emphasized you because I want to know if the request is coming from Leo or the royal PR team. He opens his mouth, but then closes it without saying anything.
I give him a tremulous smile. “If you want me to do the media tour with you, I will. You saved my life, Leo. I owe you.”
Something hot flares in his gaze, but it’s gone too quickly for me to figure out what it was. Anger? Lust?
“You don’t owe me anything,” he replies, his tone curt and clipped. “It’s your life ... your decision.”
He strides to the office door and opens it. He glances back at me. With his eyes pinning me in place, he says, “You don’t owe me anything, Tessa.”
He steps over the threshold, and then he’s gone without another word.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Leo
I can’t stop thinking about Tessa. It’s been twenty-four hours since I visited her flower shop. Twenty-four hours since I saw her pink cheeks and kissed her pink lips. Twenty-four hours since she told me—again—that she owed me for saving her life.
I can’t help wondering if that’s why she didn’t push me away when I kissed her. At the time, when my tongue was in her mouth, it seemed like she was more than happy to have it there.
Perhaps I misread the situation. Perhaps I was the only one who was happy to have my tongue in her mouth.
In the past, every time I kissed a woman, I knew she was kissing Prince Leo of Alsania. It’s something that’s always bothered me—the knowledge that these women were more interested in being my country’s future queen than being with me. Maybe that’s why I’ve never been interested in anything more than a casual fuck.
When I kissed Tessa, I knew she was kissing me. I had no doubt about that.
The question is: Why did she kiss me?
Did she accept my kiss because she feels like she owes me? Did she kiss me back because she thought she had to?
A low growl rumbles from my throat. You know what’s worse than a pity fuck? An “I owe you” fuck.
Pure, undiluted rage shoots through my veins, propelling me down the corridor. I’d rather go without sex for the rest of my damn life than fuck a woman who thinks she owes me a damn thing.
I want Tessa Lulach more than I’ve ever wanted anything. I want to make her come so many times she loses her voice from screaming my name.
But I’m never going to touch her again. I won’t call her, no matter how much I want to hear her voice, and I won’t stop by her flower shop, no matter how much I want to see her flyaway hair and teasing smile.
An antique rug in a maroon-and-gold pattern muffles my hard footsteps as I make the trek from my home office to the second floor. When I reach my suite, I throw open the heavy wooden door. Though I’m tempted to slam it behind me, I close it with an almost inaudible click.
Marco’s the door slammer, not me. I have far more self-control.
He’s fire. I’m ice.
I move deeper into my suite, which consists of a living area, bedroom, dressing room, and bathroom. The space is massive—bigger than most Alsanians’ houses—but it’s much smaller than my apartment at the palace in Circo.
Last year, I hired an interior designer to redecorate my entire suite at Helios. She got rid of the forest-green-and-cream color scheme that had been there for years and replaced it with deep wine and silvery gray. The updated décor suits me much better. No more floral, paisley, or plaid, thank God.
I retrieve my phone from the inside pocket of my light blue suit jacket. Checking the screen, I see it’s almost three o’clock.
I just finished a two-hour conference call with the analysts who evaluate investment opportunities for Alsania’s sovereign wealth fund, which provides retirement income to our citizens. I chair the twelve-person committee that manages the fund, and I’m glad my assistant was there to take notes because I couldn’t focus.
I don’t have anything else on my schedule today, and I could have tea with my mother and brother. When Queen Eleanor is in residence at Helios, she follows tradition and enjoys high tea in the family dining room. My father and I rarely partake, but Marco joins her every day. He wakes up so late it’s his breakfast.
After a moment of consideration, I decide to skip tea and go for a ride. I need to do something to douse the anger still smoldering inside me, and Pablo could use the workout.
I change into a red polo shirt and tan riding breeches and pull on my worn black boots. After tucking a beige cap into my back pocket, I leave my suite and head toward the stairs that lead to the main floor.
As I turn the corner, I see Marco coming from the opposite direction, sauntering toward the stairs. To my surprise, he’s wearing a white long-sleeved shirt under a cream-colored linen vest and matching trousers instead of his usual summer uniform of faded T-shirt and baggy plaid shorts.
We reach the stairs at the same time. “What’s with the clothes?” I ask. “Did you get tired of being mistaken for a bum?”
Marco laughs. “That only happened once.” He gestures to the stairs. “After you, Your Royal Highness.”
I start down the stairs with my brother a step behind me. “So why are you wearing a suit ... or half a suit?”
“Mother invited a visitor for tea.”
As the Queen of Alsania, my mother juggles a full social calendar, but she rarely invites visitors to Helios. She considers the estate to be our private residence, as opposed to the palace, which is open to the public for daily tours.
“And whom did she invite?”
“Miss Lulach.”
Shock makes me stumble, and I miss the next step. As I grab for the bannister, Marco uses the weight of his body to slam me against the railing. Luckily, I manage to stay upright.
“Fuck!” He shouts right into my ear. “Watch where you’re going, Leo! I don’t want to be Alsania’s next king!”
I can’t help laughing. “It’s always about you, isn’t it?”
“Asshole.”
My brother shoves away and jogs down the rest of the stairs. He’s waiting for me when I reach the bottom.
“Don’t scare me like that again,” Marco says, his voice serious and low-pitched.
He spins toward the wide corridor that leads to the dining room, and I lunge forward to hook my hand over his shoulder. “Hold up.”
He knocks my hand off his shoulder and turns to face me. “What?” he demands, belligerence dripping off the word.
“Mother invited Tessa to tea?”
“Yes. She arrived a few minutes ago.”
I stride past Marco, heading toward the dining room. I was struggling to contain my anger before I knew that my mother ignored my wishes and invited Tessa to Helios. Now, my anger has escaped its cage.
“Where are you going?” my brother asks, hot on my heels. “The stables are the other direction.”
“I know where the fucking stables are.”
Marco makes a funny noise—a combination of a laugh, a cough, and a snort. “Looks like there will be four for tea today.”
Less than a minute later, I’m entering the dining room. Like a heat-seeking missile, my gaze skips over the queen, who’s seated at the head of the table, and stops on Tessa. She’s perched in a side chair next to my mother, holding a cup of tea. Her green eyes widen when she sees me, and her glossy mouth opens in a small O.
I stop at the foot of the table. Inclining my head, I say, “Good afternoon, Miss Lulach.”
Tessa drops her cup to the saucer with a clatter and jumps out of the chair as if the cushion morphed into a cobra. Her dress, the deep purple of the sky at twilight, flutters around her hips.
“Good afternoon ... um”—she licks her lips, visibly nervous—“Your Royal Highness.”
I grit my teeth at the formal title. Yes, it’s the correct way for Tessa to address me, but I want her to call me Leo, dammit.
As Tessa settles into her chair, Marco halts next to me. Turning my attention to the queen, I say, “Mother, I need to speak with you privately.”
She glances at Tessa before bringing her gaze back to me. “We’re in the middle of tea,” she replies, lifting her cup a bit.
I pace the length of the room and stop beside her. “It will only take a moment.” Swiping the cup from her hand, I return it to the saucer before pulling her chair away from the table.