Royal Scandal

by Marquita Valentine

“Why can’t you share them?”

  “You’d look at me differently. Everyone would.”

  “I hate to break it to you, but you are different. You live in the biggest house in town, speak with a hoity-toity accent, and have bodyguards. That’s not normal around here…or most places in North Carolina.” She scoots closer to me, so close that I can smell the floral scent of her shampoo. “No one cares, especially me, about that. What matters is what’s in here.” She pushes my hand against my chest. “I have to get to work, and my first house is right around the block. Lola is already there, waiting on me.”

  “I’m sorry for ruining your birthday.”

  “You didn’t ruin my birthday.”

  “I’m glad—”

  “Just the morning and I expect you to fix that tonight.” She grins at me, then pulls her fingers out of my grasp just as the car stops. “See you later.” Like the boys, she doesn’t wait for anyone to open her door.

  I should have opened her door. I should be walking down the street with her. She waves over her shoulder at Beaumont and the car merges into traffic again.

  “Damn it,” I mutter, then pull out my phone to check incoming messages and emails. I can barely concentrate because the car is filled with her scent.

  My head is inundated with her image, of all the ways I want to have her. The hundreds of ways I want to kiss every inch of her body.

  Make her mine in every way possible.

  I slump against the leather seat.

  There is no way possible for us to be together and I blame my rather vivid imagination on years of celibacy. However, I won’t apologize for it. I haven’t had much time and ever since I realized I was in love with my best friend, no woman held my interest. I didn’t want to be with a woman who wasn’t Della, didn’t want to think about how she felt or sounded when she orgasmed while I was with another.

  It felt…wrong.

  My phone vibrates suddenly and I check the screen, then hurry to answer.

  “Prime Minister Davies.”

  “Your Highness.” There’s a hint of a sneer in his voice, but I choose to ignore it. “Forgive the early morning call, but we have a proposition for you.”

  “In regards to our exile?” Don’t get too excited. Remain calm.

  “Yes. I along with other key members of Parliament will be in London tomorrow and we have time to fit you in,” he says.

  Fit me in? Fuck you, I want to shout into the mobile. “Brilliant. What time?” I ask instead.

  “Nine A.M. House of Commons—Strangers’ Dining Room,” he replies.

  The irony is not lost on me. I am a stranger to my country as well as a descendant of the first queen of the isle, Baroness Strange. “Perfect. I’ll see you then.” I end our call before he can and then lower the partition. “Beaumont, we’re going to London.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  “We need to leave as soon as possible.”

  “I’ll make arrangements for the boys,” he says. “Shall I ask Pemberton to reschedule tonight’s dinner and inform Ms. Hughes?”

  Della’s birthday. I inwardly groan at the timing of Davies’s call. “Yes to rescheduling, but I’ll call Della myself.”

  Usually, I look for any excuse to talk with her, but this, especially in light of my beastly behavior, will not be pretty.

  Chapter 2

  Della

  “Please tell me you have plans to go out tonight,” Lola says as she leans against the counter and watches me scrub the floor.

  “I do have plans, only I’m not sure what they are.”

  Lola’s dark eyes narrow. “You’re going out with him, aren’t you?”

  I don’t pretend to not know who Lola is referring to. “Colin is taking me to dinner.”

  “And that’s the only place he’s taking you.” She makes a face.

  There isn’t any lost love between Lola and Colin. From her point of view, she thinks he’s stringing me along and using me to play house with his boys—only without the benefits of being his wife…or mistress.

  I think Colin knows she thinks this, and while he’s too polite to say anything ugly to her, he has no problem with ignoring her, which drives Lola crazy.

  Men never ignore Lola. She’s beautiful with dark skin and nearly white-blond hair, not to mention a killer body. Her lips are always pouting and her eyes are always on take-me-to-bed mode.

  But that’s not all there is to her.

  She helps her mom take care of her younger siblings and works three jobs to help pay the bills. Not only that, she earned a degree in nursing last year—although we don’t talk about why she quit her dream job and came back to As You Wish Cleaning.

  Yet, with all that, somehow she manages to find time to volunteer at the soup kitchen in town.

  Lola also manages to find time to pester me about my relationship or lack thereof with Colin all the freaking time.

  Sitting back on my heels, I toss the sponge into a bucket full of water and eco-friendly cleaning detergent. “Just because he’s rich doesn’t mean I should take advantage of that.”

  “You don’t seriously expect me to believe that you think I’m talking about his money?”

  I flush, guilty as charged. Lola and I have known each other since third grade, which means she knows exactly how to call me out on my bullshit.

  “We’re friends and I’m fine with that.”

  “Said no woman ever,” Lola says. “Unless he’s decided to come out as gay.”

  “He’s a single dad and he’s…been out on dates with women.” Although it had been a while since he last mentioned one, or his brother had teased him about breaking his dry spell.

  I hate when Theo does that. It makes me more than a little uncomfortable, and Colin gets this murderous rage in his eyes, while Theo doesn’t stop until death has been verbally threatened.

  “Okay, we’ll give him the benefit of the doubt with the whole single-dad thing, and you said he has never had a nanny…that doesn’t leave a ton of room for dating.”

  I try to agree with her, but she cuts me off.

  “However, you’ve been around for how long and he hasn’t tried to hit that?” She waves her hand at me in a circle. “Something’s not right. You’re convenient. You’re always with him and his boys, his sisters…his brother.”

  “He’s a gentleman.”

  Lola snorts. “So’s his brother, but that doesn’t stop him from mingling with the locals.” She smiles dreamily. “He is so very good at it, too.”

  “Can we please stop talking about this?” I throw my hands up in exasperation. Lola has been bringing this up for months now. “It’s bad enough I have to work on my birthday.”

  “Bad enough, huh?” Like a dog after a bone, Lola seizes on my poor choice of words. “Did y’all have a fight this morning?”

  “I wouldn’t say a fight.” I shrug a little. “Colin was nervous about his boys going to school, is all. Normally, we get along just fine.”

  “There you go again with the fine descriptor.”

  Why can’t I be less transparent with my feelings? “I enjoy being his friend. There’s something special about him that I can’t find with any other guy around here.” And not say things like that?

  “You have it so bad.”

  “Not so bad that I haven’t dated,” I remind her.

  Over the years, I’ve dated quite a few guys, and by quite a few I mean three. None of them have come close to what I have, even in friendship, with Colin. The second guy I dated had the most potential and we were together the longest. Things were getting serious when I broke it off.

  He proposed and I bolted like a bull out of the gate because that’s what every woman should do when a perfectly nice-looking, respectable, and gainfully employed guy asks her to marry him.

  However, none of that had anything to do with Colin. Okay, so ninety-five percent of my ending that relationship had nothing to do with him.

  “Going to a wedding with your stepmother’s nephew does
n’t count”—she smiles slyly—“unless you banged him at the reception. Please tell me you did.”

  I give Lola a withering look that doesn’t work on her one bit. “You know I didn’t.”

  “And you won’t be banging Colin tonight, either. Which is why you should let me set you up with this guy I met at King’s—he was amazing,” she says.

  “If he’s so amazing, why aren’t you going out with him?”

  Lola crosses her arms over her chest. “Because I thought I’d take one for the team for my friend who is in desperate need of a good time.”

  “And he was with a hotter friend.”

  She grins. “And that.”

  “Knew it.”

  “Don’t be that way, Della. We haven’t been on a double date in years. It would be so much fun.” She sticks out her bottom lip. “Please?”

  With a roll of my eyes, I say, “Okay.”

  Lola whips out her phone. “We are going to have a great time and I swear the guys are legit funny, too. You won’t regret it.” Her phone chirps and she beams at me. “Mark your calendar for Friday night at eight.”

  “Will do,” I chirp with more enthusiasm than I feel.

  “Good. Now I’m off to finish cleaning the kitchen. Vicky gave us a light schedule in honor of your birthday, so we only have two more houses to clean.”

  “Instead of five? Wow, Vicky really is feeling generous.”

  “Oh please, she should throw us a bone every now and then. We’ve worked for her the longest and we’re the best cleaners she’s got.”

  “Don’t you mean service professionals?” Vicky has always been a stickler about our job titles. Personally, I think people should call us what they want. They do it behind our backs anyway, not that I care. I make good money with a great schedule…and my family can use the monetary help.

  Lola uncrosses her arms and grabs a feather duster, striking a pose. “I mean maids.”

  Our laughter fills the room.

  After we settle down again, I wave her away. “Go on. I need to finish.”

  “I’m going. I’m going,” she says as she sashays out of the bathroom.

  Energized by Vicky’s generous schedule, I finish scrubbing the floor in no time. Just as I stand, my phone rings and I answer it.

  “Hello?”

  “Della.” Colin’s accented voice makes my nerves dance. Every freaking time.

  “It’s me.”

  “I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time.”

  I survey the bathroom. It’s sparkling clean. All that’s left to do is a spot check. “You have perfect timing.” I wince. Did that sound too needy? Too cutesy and…ugh…I didn’t worry about this before.

  Okay, I didn’t worry about it until Lola started harping on how I need a life.

  “About tonight…I’m afraid I have to cancel. Urgent business requires a trip to London and I won’t be back until the end of the week.”

  Disappointment hits me harder than the time I ran headfirst into an oak tree while playing tag with the boys. The black eye I sported for almost two weeks had everyone speculating about what went on behind the closed gates of St. Claire.

  “I understand. Do you want me to pick up the boys from school?” I ask, even though I shouldn’t. They’re not my kids, not my responsibility…yet I love them to pieces.

  “No, I’ve already made arrangements.”

  “Thanks for letting me know.”

  He exhales and I can picture him tugging at his earlobe, just like he always does when he’s nervous or has a lot on his mind. “If this wasn’t urgent family business, I would be with you this evening. I want you to know that.”

  “Duty calls, huh?”

  “You could say that.”

  “It’s no big deal,” I lie.

  “Thank you for understanding, love.”

  I shouldn’t get a thrill out of him calling me love, but I do. Because I’m weak when it comes to Colin.

  Gah.

  “Really, it’s no problem. I had plans for later anyway.” While I’m not lying, I’m totally lying.

  “You do?”

  “Yes. Lola and I have double dates. Sounds fun, huh? I can’t remember the last time I went on a date.”

  Oh shut up, Della.

  “Two years ago, unless you count your stepmother’s nephew,” he replies.

  What. The. Hell. Have he and Lola been talking about me? “I do count that. Had a super time with uh…” I blank. For the life of me, I cannot remember his name.

  “Harry,” he supplies.

  “I remember Harry’s name.”

  “It was Charlie.”

  Dang it! “I don’t think this is funny,” I all but growl into the phone.

  “At least you’re mad at me for teasing you instead of canceling our dinner plans.”

  “I’m not mad.”

  “Good. I’ll text you when my plane arrives at Heathrow.”

  I don’t see why he would, but whatever helps his guilty conscience. “Text ya later.”

  As we say our goodbyes, Lola clears her throat.

  Jumping about a foot into the air, I scream. “You’re worse than the butler in Mr. Deeds!”

  “He canceled.”

  I shrug. “Urgent family business in London.”

  “That’s his go-to excuse, right?”

  “He actually owns a business, Lola. Your aunt runs the human resources department there.”

  Lola tilts her head to one side. “I think the reason he hasn’t hit that is because he’s regularly hitting someone else in London.”

  My stomach drops. A part of me thought it was possible, but the fairy-tale portion of my brain that won’t shut off remained firmly in the he’s-traveling-for-business camp.

  Isn’t that the oldest excuse in the book? Sorry, honey, I have a meeting.

  Only I’m not his wife.

  “If that is true, I don’t understand why he’d keep it from me. We’re friends and we share almost everything.”

  “Ding. Ding. Ding. Almost everything.” Lola sighs. “I’m sorry, honey, but when it sounds too good to be true, it probably is. Even for a Prince Charming type of guy like Colin.”

  —

  Unlike the horrible stepmothers you read about in fairy tales or watch in movies, I actually have the best one ever. She’s raised me since I was three and without her, I don’t think I would remember the littlest thing about my mom.

  What she looked like, her favorite perfume, music, and television show. The love she had for me and my dad.

  Why I love black olives and hate the green ones. Why I hum when I’m scared or nervous.

  Basically, Tressie tells me all the things a best friend would know about their best friend. I know what you’re thinking and you’d be right on the money.

  My stepmother married her best friend’s widower and raised me as her own daughter, even after my dad passed away from lung cancer. There was nothing compelling her to stick around.

  Nothing but me.

  “I’m home,” I call out as I close the front door.

  “In here,” Tressie calls out from the living room. I find her sitting in the recliner while she watches Wheel of Fortune. I’m pretty sure she has a crush on Pat Sajak.

  “Buy a vowel or clue, lady. I don’t think either one will help,” she grumbles at the screen.

  “Tough puzzle?” I ask, coming to stand beside her.

  “Only if you’re not familiar with the alphabet.” She looks at me, taking in my Princess Ariel costume. “Where did Colin take you tonight that required a mermaid’s tail?”

  “Nowhere,” I admit. “So I did an emergency sub thing for Lola. I figured if I couldn’t celebrate my birthday, I might as well go celebrate at the hospital.”

  “Was the emergency for Lola or you?” she asks, her blue gaze knowing.

  “Me.” I sink down on the couch. “At least I didn’t have to wear a wig tonight.” As a side job, I dress up as different Disney princesses for parties and charity eve
nts, depending on what the client wants.

  The one tonight was for the kids’ cancer floor at St. Lyon’s Hospital. “I had to pretend to be Anna from Frozen pretending to be Ariel so I could do a sing-along to ‘Let It Go.’ ”

  Tressie blinks at me. “It’s a good thing you love Disney movies.”

  “Who wouldn’t? They guarantee happily ever afters, everyone gets to wear pretty dresses, and sometimes the girl rescues the guy.”

  “I blame your mother for that nonsense,” she says with a wink. “If it is any consolation, Colin’s reasons for canceling plans with you had to be life or death.”

  “Thanks,” I say wryly.

  Tressie has a slight crush on Colin. She says he reminds her of my dad, not in looks but in attitude and the way he’s so considerate of others. Ten years ago, however, she was singing a very different tune.

  Which is why I took a chance and cornered him at the pool to demand to know why he wasn’t being so very considerate of the little people.

  My cheeks heat a little at the memory.

  “Has he called?”

  I nod. “Twice. Once to apologize and the second to apologize again.”

  Tressie grins. “His other apologies are on the dining-room table.”

  Springing up from my seat, I move to the dining room. My mouth drops open at the sight of all the chocolate and flowers and—“Is that an advanced copy of the new Beauty and the Beast movie?” I croak.

  “I think so.” Tressie places her hands on my shoulder. “That boy has such a way about him. He’ll make a good husband someday.”

  But not mine. “Yes, he will. Whoever he marries will be really lucky.”

  “What do you mean whoever?”

  I sigh, turning to face her, my excitement over the movie dying a little. “We’ve been over this a million times. I don’t want to get married.” Lie. “I don’t want to have conversations about kids.” Truth. “I’m content being his friend and helping him with his boys, and living with you.” A truth and a lie wrapped up so tight that it resembles an unbreakable knot.

  “You’re only twenty-seven, sweet girl. Plenty of time for a happily ever after.”

  “I don’t believe in those—at least not for me in the traditional sense.”

  Tressie laughs. “Who said anything about traditional?” She kisses my cheek. “I have cake and ice cream waiting.”