Yours Royally: A Cinderella Love Story (Billionaires and Brides Book 3)

by Krista Lakes

  "We can work around that. At least think about it. We could be together this way." I could hear the excitement in his voice, and I wanted to feel it too. I wanted to be with him. I just didn't want to leave Iowa to do it. I nodded, though.

  "I'll think about it."

  Thunder rumbled, and I heard a splash of rain hit the window as a storm rolled in. Owen grinned at me, hope and excitement radiating from him. I knew I wasn't going to really have to think about it. For the chance to be with Owen, for the chance to make this relationship work, I would get on a plane. I'd become a flipping flight attendant if it meant I could be with Owen.

  "I'll try it. But you're going to have to have some serious alcohol on the flight."

  Owen's face lit up the room, and he pulled me into the bed with him. As he kissed me, I knew I could do this. As much as I hated flying and traveling, I would give it a chance for Owen. For this.

  Rain hit the window harder as Owen kissed me. I could do this. I could do anything if I was with Owen. He wrapped his arms around me, the heat of his skin comforting as we nestled back into the sheets. He was back asleep in minutes, his breathing deep and even. Thunder rattled the windows, but he didn't stir as the rain pounded against the glass outside. It was as if the rain was washing away my worries, bringing change and something new.

  Chapter 14

  I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I could do this.

  Owen squeezed my hand reassuringly, and I gave him a nervous smile. The plane moved forward and my hand clamped down on his. I could do this.

  When Emma had told me that her wedding would be in the Caribbean, I almost didn't go. But she was my sister, so I had dutifully started working on overcoming my fear of flying. I bought books, listened to 'get over your fear' programs on tape, I even met with a hypnotherapist. In the end, the only thing that had gotten me through that flight was a bottle of whiskey.

  The plane began to speed up, the small private jet starting its sprint down the runway. I could feel the plane star to vibrate, the hum of the engines drowning out all other noise. I wanted to scream for it to stop, but I was determined to do this. I held Owen's hand in a death grip. I was pretty sure when we got off the plane that he was going to need X-rays and a cast. That was, of course, if he even managed to have a hand left, on account of the way I was squeezing. He just smiled at me and let me keep tightening my grip.

  In deep, out slow. In deep, out slow. I was resolute not to use the little pills in my pocket. I could do this. Just don't concentrate on the plane. It seemed as though the plane was getting smaller, and I could feel the miles of empty space increasing beneath me. It was such a long, long way down.

  "Just think of it like being in a car," Owen said, leaning over to kiss my cheek. He leaned back in his leather seat, looking far too at ease for being suspended in a tin can a mile above the ground.

  "Right. A car. Just a really weird car," I said through gritted teeth. My jaw was going to hurt tomorrow. This was just a quick flight to New York. We were leaving a little early so I could spend some time with Emma in the city before we took the long flight to Dubai. I had no idea how I was going to survive.

  "Something to drink?" a stewardess asked, her blue uniform crisp and perfect. I wondered if she liked her job. I wouldn't have.

  "Vodka, please. A big shot of vodka," Owen told her. "And an iced tea for me, please."

  The stewardess smiled warmly and placed a hand on Owen's shoulder as she walked past. I didn't even care. If she brought me the vodka and we didn't die on this plane, she could kiss him. She returned in a moment, a tall glass of tea for Owen and a nice tumbler of clear liquid for me. She even brought a little bottle of cranberry juice.

  "Here you go. Let me know if you need anything else," she said, handing me the drinks. I took a big gulp, feeling it burn down my esophagus. I could do this, and a little liquid courage would help.

  "You're doing great," Owen said as he sipped on his iced tea. I envied how he could look so relaxed on this flying death trap. "We'll be there in two and a half hours."

  "Right. Because that's practically no time at all."

  "Have another drink." He kissed my cheek and turned on the TV across from us. A castle and music I recognized instantly filled the screen. "And something to keep you entertained."

  I couldn't help but grin as the animated movie from my childhood started. I sipped on my drink, feeling slightly more relaxed as I hummed along with the opening credits. A bright side occurred to me about flying. I could sing along with the movie, and the noise of the engines would drown out my lack of vocal abilities.

  I could do this.

  I peeked open an eye, the light sending a sliver of pain directly into my head. I knew I shouldn't have had that second drink. My stomach rolled, promising me that if I moved, whatever was left in it would come up. As if there were anything even left in it after we landed.

  "Hey, Sleeping Beauty," a soft female voice called to me. I pouted, wanting to throw a pillow at the voice, but I knew the motion would just make everything hurt again. "Here have some of this."

  I felt a glass press up against my lips and I unhappily opened my mouth, letting a dribble of lemon flavored drink in. If I could keep that down, I knew I would be a happier camper. Keyword being "if."

  "Where am I?" I croaked. My throat felt like fire. I was never drinking again.

  "Owen's hotel room. You have got to remember to eat before you drink next time," Emma answered. "Here, have another sip."

  I sat up slowly and took the glass from her. She looked far too perky and pleasant. I gave her a dirty look as I took a bigger gulp of the drink. It was at least making me feel more awake.

  "What time is it?" I asked, glancing around the room. I sat in the middle of a king-sized bed surrounded by puffy pillows. The drapes were thankfully pulled shut, but I could imagine giant glass windows or a balcony behind them. I would have liked it if my stomach didn't feel like a tiny alien might pop out of it at any second.

  "A little after ten in the morning. Though, that's Eastern Time, so it'll feel earlier for you."

  "Why did you wake me up?" I growled. I just wanted to dive back under my sheets and never move again. Maybe I would bring some of this magic drink with me, though.

  "Because, we have stuff to do today. Remember, we made plans?"

  I groaned. Emma wanted to show me the city, and we were supposed to go out shopping in true New York style with Rachel. I silently cursed the flight attendant and her crisp uniform for bringing me the second tumbler of vodka.

  "Get up. You aren't that hung-over," Emma said, nudging me gently.

  "Yes, I am," I fired back. She laughed and stood up from the bed.

  "Drink that up. I'll start a shower for you and get some breakfast up here. We are going to have fun today."

  I groaned again and slumped back down into the pillows. It was going to be a long day.

  Whatever drink Emma had given me had worked miracles. The shower definitely helped, and the toast she forced down my throat probably did something too. By the time we were in the lobby, I only had a slight headache and thought my stomach should stay put for the rest of the day. As we exited the elevator, a well-dressed woman in her mid-forties hurried over to meet us.

  "Hi, Rachel, sorry we're late. Rough flight last night," Emma greeted her.

  "No problem at all," Rachel said with a smile. "It's nice to see you again, Kaylee. If we're ready, Dean has the car just outside."

  The three of us exited the hotel room, the sky heavy with an impending rainstorm. Waiting by the curb was a sleek SUV with tinted windows. Rachel slid into the front seat, and Emma and I took the back. There was an unspoken tension between Rachel and Dean, but I couldn't figure out if they were fighting love or just plain fighting.

  "Kaylee, you remember Dean?" Emma asked, gesturing toward the driver. An athletic-looking man sat in the front seat, his dark hair peppered with gray. He turned around and grinned, reaching a hand back to shake mine.

>   "I'm glad to see Emma finally got you out of bed. We have some shopping for you ladies to do," he said with a grin. Dean merged the car effortlessly out into the heavy New York traffic. A thunderstorm warning for later in the day came across the radio, but Dean turned it down and flipped on some light music. I kept my nose pressed to the glass, trying to absorb the whole city from the car window. Before, I had been a little too wasted to notice just how big everything was on my way in.

  The city buildings rose up, reaching past where I could see, monsters of gray stone and cement. Well-dressed people hurried back and forth on the busy streets, everyone doing their best to ignore everyone else. It was so different from home. I was glad I didn't have to drive, as cars ducked and weaved around us, Dean managing to slide into spaces I never would have tried for. I think there were more cars on this one street than there were in the whole city of Des Moines.

  "How do you live here, Emma?" I asked as we stopped for traffic. The street looked like sales lot for used cars than a means of travel.

  "What? The traffic?" She shrugged. "I guess I've gotten used to it. The city seemed so big and strange at first, but now, I kind of like it."

  "I don't think I could ever get used to this." The city was just too big and too busy for me. Give me my quiet Midwestern city over this any day. Not that it wasn't impressive, it just wasn't something I wanted to live in.

  Dean navigated the SUV down another street, merging through a sea of bright yellow taxi cabs to pull up in front of a stylish brick building. A big glass window held mannequins in graceful poses, their clothes perfect and beautiful to the point where I thought they might come alive and coax us to buy their wares. Rachel led Emma and me inside while Dean waited with the car.

  The store was quiet except for soft music playing overhead. I wondered where all the customers were as Rachel headed deeper into the shop. She and Emma both seemed to know where they were going so I followed, glancing at the beautiful items for sale.

  A dark red purse caught my eye, and I stopped to pick it up. It was a beautiful little creation, the leather a deep wine red. I even recognized the designer label. I looked at the price tag, knowing I had a little money saved up and could splurge on a purse, especially if I could say I got it in New York City. $2,290.00. I didn't have that much to splurge. I set it carefully back down and hurried to catch up with Rachel and Emma.

  I found them in a private area, Rachel deep in conversation with a saleswoman. As I walked up, Rachel turned and grinned.

  "I went ahead and picked some things out for you to try. They're in that dressing room there." Rachel pointed to one of the large changing rooms. I smiled weakly. If the clothes were half as expensive as the purse, there was no way I could even afford to be in the same room as the clearance rack.

  Emma must have read my mind, as she quickly added, "Don't look at the price, Kaylee. This is my treat for you. I never thought I would get you out to New York, so I'm excited to spoil you a little."

  I almost told her no. I almost said that she shouldn't spend that kind of money. Then I remembered who she was married to, and the words died before they made it out of my mouth. Jack made enough money to buy that purse before he got out of bed in the morning.

  I walked confidently into the changing room and slid on the first pair of pants. They were a soft tan color and made of a light linen material. I was shocked at how well they fit. Rachel was a great judge of size. I turned in the mirror and was pleased with what I saw.

  "Told you those would look good on her," Emma said to Rachel as I stepped out. Rachel nodded.

  "You are getting better. Soon, you'll be dressing me!" Rachel said. The two of them laughed before Rachel stood to get a closer look at the pants. "Those will be great for you in Dubai," Rachel said. She came up and had me spin. "Lightweight, but full length. Mr. Parker suggested we pick some things up for you to wear on your trip."

  I blushed a little. I had no idea what to pack for two weeks in the Middle East. I almost brought only shorts and tank-tops for the desert heat before remembering that the local populace probably would prefer that I wore something a little less revealing. My suitcase was sadly light as the majority of my clothes were scrubs from work.

  "Go in and try on the purple shirt with those slacks," Emma said. She was practically bouncing in her seat. I gave her a strange look.

  "Since when did you get interested in clothes?" I asked her. When we were living in the same house, I never worried about her stealing my clothes because she just wore the same jeans and T-shirt every day. She gave me a proud smile.

  "Rachel's been training me. She's actually managed to show me the error of my ways and teach me something that resembles a fashion sense."

  Rachel blushed. "You picked it up pretty quickly. I'll have you designing your own clothes any day now."

  This time Emma flushed. "No way."

  "I'm going to have to agree with her, Rachel. You should have seen the scarf she tried to knit. And the teddy bear she made in home economics. Well, I'm not sure you could even properly call it a bear."

  Emma blushed almost purple. "It wasn't pretty. Nightmarish things happen when I try to sew."

  "Hmm, I guess that's job security for me," Rachel said with a chuckle. I ducked into the changing room and threw on the purple shirt. It was just a silk button-up blouse, but I could imagine it doing well in the desert heat. I stepped out and did a little catwalk.

  "I like it, but not with those pants," Rachel said with a laugh as I struck a model pose. Emma nodded.

  "Maybe with a khaki skirt?" Emma's face became thoughtful.

  "Or the black slacks," Rachel mused aloud. I grinned. It was fun letting them play dress-up with me. The clothes were all so beautiful that I was having fun just trying them on. Knowing that they would make sure I was dressed perfectly made it easy to try on things that I would never pick out myself.

  We went through mountains of clothes, loading the salesperson who came to check on us with piles of rejects. She didn't mind, though, as the piles of things we were purchasing continued to grow. I had clothes for my trip, and even a new dress to wear out while with Owen that night.

  When we finally walked out of the store, I didn't even want to look at the bill. I had seen price tags of over two grand on some of the dresses that Emma wanted to buy me, and the idea of seeing the final number higher than my yearly salary was just too intimidating. I knew if I saw that, I would never wear them for fear of ruining them.

  Rachel grinned at me as we headed back out to the waiting car. I could see why Emma loved Rachel. The two of them, despite their age difference, got along famously.

  "You lovely ladies have a wonderful time and spend all of Mr. Saunders' money?" Dean asked as we piled back into the SUV.

  "Every dime. But Kaylee is going to look fab-u-lous!" Emma said, rocking her shoulders and giving her hand a single wave. Rachel snorted, and Dean just rolled his eyes as he pulled out into traffic.

  I gave her a playful shove, but I couldn't wait to show Owen what we had bought.

  Chapter 15

  I stood, anxiously waiting for Owen in the lobby of the hotel where we were staying. Since he traveled on such a regular basis, he didn't bother keeping a house in the city and instead just rented the penthouse suite whenever he needed it. He had told me to meet him in the lobby, and he would pick me up when he finished a meeting with Jack to go over the details for his upcoming business trip. He had told me he was taking me to a fancy French restaurant and to get dolled up.

  I fussed with the straps on my dress, as much making sure that it was in place as giving my hands something to do. Rachel and Emma had found me the perfect dress while we were out shopping, and then Rachel arranged for someone to come to the hotel to do my hair and makeup for my date. I chewed my lip, knowing that I was probably smearing my lipstick. Owen was only a few minutes late, but because of my dress, everyone who walked through the lobby stopped to look at me.

  I looked like something off the red
carpet at the Oscars. I wore a long, flowing gown of soft white fabric that fluttered when I walked. It was cut in a Grecian style, with a form fitting top and a skirt that cascaded beautifully to pool on the floor. The dress was long enough that I was able to wear simple white ballet slippers, the skirt's hem long enough that my feet were completely hidden. My hair was slightly pulled back out of my face, but left loose down my back in soft waves. Emma lent me a simple diamond necklace and sparkling chandelier earrings to complete the look.

  Owen finally walked in through the front door, moving the crowd aside like he owned the place. Our eyes met across the lobby, and he moved toward me, slicing through the room as though it were empty. His dark gray suit somehow made his eyes even bluer as he smiled at only me.

  "You look better every time you put on a dress," he said as soon as he reached me. I kissed him gently, not wanting to leave a lipstick mark. He took my hand and held me out as though we had just finished dancing, his eyes going up and down, appraising the dress. He held my hand up over my head, coaxing me into a spin. The fabric floated gracefully before settling again. "I think this is my favorite dress I've seen you in."

  "Thank you," I said, blushing to the roots of my hair. "You look pretty good yourself."

  He grinned and did a model spin for me, finishing with a flamboyant hand on his hip. Even with his goofy antics, he looked hot. The dark gray of the suit stood out against the white of a dress shirt, and a tie the exact color of his eyes pulled everything together. The suit accented his broad shoulders and tapered waist, even showing off his perfect ass.

  A camera flashed and I remembered that we weren't in our private hotel suite, but instead in the lobby of a very stylish and popular hotel. A woman in a wide brimmed hat and oversized sunglasses looked at us with wide eyes.

  "Are you two celebrities? I hear celebrities stay here," the woman babbled, her eyes excited as she held up her camera to take another picture.