“He didn’t want to get serious and I did,” she finishes. “He told me that he’s been miserable ever since.”
“A year of misery seems like a decent amount of time.” I shrug. “I don’t see where it would hurt to consider the possibility of a future with him.”
Pushing away from the counter, she hops down from the chair and comes around to give me a hug. “Thanks for not lecturing me like I do you.”
“Any time. Also, I’m not going out Friday night if you’re not going to be there.” Lola makes a face but I shut her down. “Not a word.”
“Fine.” Letting go of me, she grabs her purse. “See you tomorrow, chica.”
“With bells on,” I chirp as she leaves.
The boys walk in the kitchen right as the door shuts behind Lola.
“We’re going outside,” Aiden announces, like the little prince he is. I swear Prince George has nothing on this kid.
“Any homework?”
Pierce shakes his head, his ginger-colored hair catching the afternoon light. “Not on weekends.” I love the way he says weekends, as if it’s two separate words—just like his daddy.
I raise a brow. “Y’all wouldn’t be trying to trick me, would you? I know how teachers love to give homework. They love it so much, they want to marry it.”
They giggle.
“We don’t have homework,” Aiden insists.
“Go on outside and make sure to let Miss Tressie know you’re out there. She’s out by the swings.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Now that they got from me. I’m raising them to be proper southern gentlemen.
I shake my head. “Not your kids, Della,” I mumble to myself.
A sinking feeling in my stomach makes me want to curl up in bed, but I refuse to let what life’s dished out put me in a funk.
Turning up the radio, I finish washing and drying the dishes in the sink, then begin to wipe down the counters. In between it all, I check on the chicken, and after deciding it’s done, I take if off the heat and add it to a casserole dish that goes straight into the oven.
Time seems to fly by and, with it, all my anxieties. For me cleaning and cooking are like yoga, only with dirt, raw meat, and sponges.
The door opens and closes.
“You still have about thirty more minutes of playtime, boys, before supper is ready.”
“Is there room for one more?”
With a gasp, I whirl around, still grasping my mop. “Colin! When did you get here?” I can’t help but stare at him, at the way he wears a dark pair of dress pants and a button-down shirt that’s open at the collar. The way he fills every bit of it out makes my pulse jump and my nerves dance. With his cuff links and huge watch on his right wrist, he looks every bit the businessman.
And every bit my fantasy.
“About an hour ago. I had some paperwork to take care of at the office before I could rescue you from my boys.”
“Your boys are a joy. Tressie says they keep her young,” I say, my cheeks suddenly heating at his intense gaze. “Anyway, how was your trip?”
“Informative and frustrating.”
Can trips to bang women really leave a man frustrated? Maybe he’s not doing anyone at all. Maybe it shouldn’t matter to me because we’re just friends.
“Why don’t you pull up a chair and I’ll fix some tea for us.”
“Actually, what I have to tell you calls for something a bit stronger.”
I feel light-headed. He’s getting married or he’s moving, I know it.
“I don’t have anything stronger except for what Tressie uses for medicinal purposes.”
His forehead scrunches. “She needs medical care?”
“No, it’s what ladies in the South call liquor that they regularly imbibe.” I wave a hand in the air. “Doesn’t matter. Just spill it.”
“I’m afraid I haven’t been honest with you about who I really am,” he begins, and my stomach drops to the floor. “While my name is Colin Sinclair, if we were back in my home country, I would be addressed as His Highness, the Crown Prince of the Isle, Colin Sinclair, and people would bow to me.
“My family and I were forced to flee our country due to our parents’ assassinations. You wouldn’t have heard about it because very powerful people managed to scrub it entirely from the Internet, and since we are an island monarchy that is responsible for transatlantic cable maintenance, the executives of Silicon Valley agreed to help.
“Della, say something.”
“You’re joking,” I manage to say, although my voice sounds like it has a couple of frogs in my throat. He has to be. This is too surreal to be real. Princes don’t move to suburbs outside of Charlotte and live there for ten years without someone noticing.
“Afraid not.” Colin shoves his hands into his pockets, then pulls them back out again, one hand going to an ear, fingers tugging on the lobe. Something he’s always done when he’s nervous. “It’s the ugly truth and if you can find it in your heart to believe me, I hope this changes nothing between us.”
Nothing ever changes between us and now it really can’t—and I do believe him. Who would make something like this up? Colin’s not that guy. He’s…
I swallow.
He’s a rich CEO with a highfalutin British accent and I’m…not. I’ve never been ashamed of what I do for a living. Always done my best and taken pride in my work. Colin has never made me feel like I was beneath him.
However, this…this is a game changer. A fairy godmother can’t wave a wand to fix it, either.
I swallow, setting the mop and bucket I’ve been holding on the kitchen floor. “Will you and your siblings go back to the UK now?”
Please say no. Please. Please.
“Not straightaway. We’re not English or subjects of the United Kingdom.” His forest-green gaze avoids mine. He stares at the granite countertop behind me. It’s sparkling clean, thanks to my amazing cleaning skills. “I have to get things sorted here first, and even then, nothing is guaranteed.”
“Why are you telling me this now?” Especially while I’m wearing my AS YOU WISH uniform and plain white tennis shoes. Even Cinderella’s prince got to see her dressed in a ball gown and glass slippers when they first met.
Only Colin and I have been friends for a decade, so I guess I can’t use Cinderella as an example.
“Because I wanted you to hear the truth from me, not secondhand.” Finally, his gaze returns to my face. He reaches out, gently grabbing my hand and sending thrills of pleasure running up my arm. “I need your help, Della,” he says earnestly.
“I won’t tell anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about,” I mumble. Who’d believe me? Lola would laugh her tail off.
“That’s not it.” He shakes his head. The light catches the golden brown strands in his dark hair. “You would never betray my family. There is no question of that.” His sexy lips curve into a small smile and my knees threaten to shake. “Ever.”
Slightly mollified by his compliment, I encourage him to continue. “Ask away. You know I have your back, even if it’s royal and already has a bodyguard,” I tease.
“I need you to marry me.”
“That’s not funny,” I say flatly, tears springing to my eyes. “That’s not funny at all. This entire conversation is mean.”
He holds up his hands. “Please. Hear me out.”
“I don’t know if I want to hear you out.”
“That’s completely understandable, but as your friend, I am begging you to listen.”
Aren’t I the one who told Lola to give her ex-boyfriend a second chance? Didn’t I say that people deserve them? I can at least be the bigger person and attempt to listen to Colin. “I guess you can try to explain to me why you have a sudden need to confess your secrets and propose.” Except he didn’t really propose.
Why do I care?
Because in your dreams, he was always on one knee and holding up a diamond ring.
That’s ridiculous.
You’re ridiculo
us.
You’ll get no argument from me.
“In order for my family to return to our home, I’ve been commanded by our prime minister to marry so that I can be installed as the new king.”
“You need me to do that?” I scrunch my nose. “That doesn’t seem logical.”
“It’s not. Actually, Parliament demands that I marry a woman of their choosing and I’ve made the decision to refuse. Imogen should be queen. It is her birthright. Our isle has never been ruled by a king and tradition should stand.”
I blink at him. “Your sister is a queen?”
“Technically, yes.” He takes a step forward and I step to the side.
“The same sister I fussed at for borrowing my makeup when she was fourteen because you said she wasn’t old enough to wear it yet?”
“The very one.”
Blood drains from my face at all the times I’ve lectured the Sinclairs, including Colin. “Oh my God. I think I’ve either told off or bossed your entire family around for the past decade.”
Colin doesn’t give me a chance to get any farther away from him. He gently grabs my shoulders. “Darling, you can continue to tell us off and boss us around. Don’t change that part of your personality. We adore you.”
“You—I mean y’all do?”
“Very much so.”
“Do they want you to marry me?”
He nods. “If you agree, not only will you help Imogen become queen, you will have our undying loyalty. You will have our protection—Tressie, too, of course.”
“How can I make all this possible?”
He grimaces a little. “You won’t like the answer, but I’d rather you hear the truth. You’re not suitable.”
“Because I’m a maid?”
Letting go of one shoulder, he rubs the back of his neck. “That, among other reasons.”
I give Colin an are you kidding me look. “Gee, thanks. Makes me want to book a church right this instant.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“But it is what you said.” Blowing out a breath, I shake my head. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but I keep going back and forth on what to believe. Right now, I honestly believe you’re a jerk who’s messing with my head.”
He seems to consider my words for a second or two, then whips out his phone from his pocket and hands it over to me. “Read this article.”
I take his phone, but I can’t read anything because there is a pass code protecting it.
“Five-seven-eight-nine-zero,” he says, and I hesitate. “While the gesture might be insignificant, sharing my pass code demonstrates how much trust I have in you, love. Will you please trust me and read the article? After you do, you can make an informed decision to either kick me out of your life…or entertain my very real proposal of marriage.”
Chapter 5
Colin
After what seems like an eternity of waiting for her to make a decision, Della taps in the code and begins to read. I had hoped that she would take my word at face value, but even I have to admit that my confession sounds far-fetched.
“This is awful,” she whispers as she reads. “I knew your parents had passed, but not like this.” Her gaze flicks to mine. “I’m so sorry, Colin.”
Not for the first time, I wonder if any other woman would have reacted like that. Would they be focused on the death of my parents rather than the fact that we’re royalty?
“We couldn’t really speak of it.”
“I don’t doubt it.” Her lower lip trembles as she hands over my phone. “Are the same people who want you to marry the same people who murdered your parents?”
My jaw clenches, even as I shake my head. “No. They were caught, put on trial, and then sentenced to death. Parliament should have allowed us to be there, for the trial at least. But the new Parliament isn’t convinced that we are different from our parents. My mother and father were responsible for the uprising.”
“At least justice was served.” She doesn’t say this lightly. I know her too well. She clears her throat. “Still seems weird that you’re a prince.”
“If it helps, you don’t have to call me by my title or Your Highness.”
She rolls her eyes. Weirdly enough, I’m relieved by that. It means she still sees me as Colin and not a crown prince. “I’d have to be high before I call you that.”
I chuckle. “I know this is a little out of the box, but it can work.”
“Out of the box? There is no box.”
“There is, however, a tiara. Might I interest you in that?”
Her eyes narrow, but her luscious mouth is slightly curved into a smile. “Are you seriously bribing me?”
“You’ll be prettier than any princess, fictional or real.” I cock my head to one side. “And to sweeten the deal, I’ll give you the money for your time. There will be events abroad that would require your absence from work.”
Her slight smile melts. “I can’t take your money,” she says flatly.
“We’ll be married, so it’s your money as well,” I point out.
She arches a brow. “No prenup?”
“Yes, but it will only include everything I owned before we marry. Anything acquired or earned during our marriage will be equally split.”
Della sighs. “I don’t know. I want to help you tell the new Parliament to shove it. I mean, why would they keep punishing y’all for something you had no control over? It doesn’t seem right.”
Yet another reason to love the woman standing in front of me. “To prove a point. To assure the country of a future without selfish rulers. They’re not wrong, Della. My family is not innocent. We abused the powers given to us by the people, nearly destroyed the economy by playing favorites, alienated our former allies…I could go on….In any case, it will take a lot longer than ten years for the Isle to get over that.”
She touches my arm. “If we get married, would it be a real marriage and last forever, or like something you read in a novel, where people get married in name only?”
Real and last forever with Della? That is something straight out of a fairy tale. “Name only and for three years at the most. I don’t know how Parliament will react, or the world for that matter, when our secret goes viral. You might come to the conclusion that I’m not— that marrying into this mess is not worth it.”
She doesn’t say anything to that, not at first. Instead she studies a spot on my shirt and I know without a doubt she’s thinking over everything I’ve told her. Weighing. Assessing.
“Will you get in trouble for marrying me?” she asks, finally—thank God.
“Not really.”
“That’s not an answer, Colin.”
“If I marry you, then we will stay in exile.”
Her mouth rounds. “Then I refuse. I won’t—”
“Please consider it. I need you to help me tell them that we’ve been punished enough and we’re done.”
She smiles. “So you’re only marrying me to piss them off?”
“Basically.” I am such a liar. A really, really bad liar.
“I’m in.”
All right, I’m not that bad of a liar. But I’m also too stunned to speak. I didn’t think she’d actually say yes. Then again, I didn’t think she’d say no, either.
Basically, I didn’t think.
Della lets go of my arm and looks at me from the corners of her eyes. She nervous, but I’m not sure why. “So um…will the boys be upset with me for marrying you? We don’t have to have a ceremony or anything. I mean, you’ve been married before and ours won’t even be real beyond a piece of paper.”
For a moment, I stand there, stupefied. Where in the hell did she get the idea that I was married—shit. Aiden and Pierce. Why wouldn’t she assume I’d been married before?
“I think the boys will be very happy. As for a ceremony, one is required, but I was thinking something along the lines of here, with close friends and family.”
A look of relief covers her face. “Good
. I didn’t want things to change for the worse and they think I’m trying to replace their momma.”
Fine. I am the most superior liar who’s ever lived. I have to rectify this, but the boys don’t know their true parentage. They should know before I tell Della. They deserve that.
Besides, once everything blows over and Parliament comes to their senses, Della and I can separate and go back to the way things were before.
“They won’t,” I assure her. “Let’s get together Sunday evening and discuss the details of our marriage.”
The door bursts open and the subjects of my thoughts come running inside. Their cheeks are a healthy pink, their eyes shining, and their hair windblown. Their smiles are as bright as the sun.
“We’re so hungry, Della!” Aiden announces.
“Boys, I’m home!” Kneeling, I hold out my arms to them. Without hesitation, they change direction and head straight to me. The force of their hugs nearly knocks me on my arse. “I’ve missed you.”
“Missed you, too, Daddy,” Aiden and Pierce each reply.
My heart flips in my chest, like it does every time they call me that. Shit, I can’t tell them. Not now…maybe when they’re older, like fifty.
“You were gone almost a whole week this time. Promise not to leave again?” Pierce asks.
“I can’t make promises not to take more trips, but I promise that I will always come home as quickly as possible,” I reply honestly.
“Oh-kaaaay,” Aiden answers for both of them.
I pull back a little to get a closer look at my boys, at the disappearing baby cheeks and bright blue eyes, at their russet-colored hair and the way their shoulders are starting to broaden. They haven’t acquired that sweaty, almost-a-man scent yet, but it’s close.
“Boys, go wash your hands and set the table,” Della says, and my boys spring into action.
I glance up at her. “Glad to see that hasn’t changed.”
She crosses her arms over her chest and shrugs. “Royalty or not, everyone pitches in around here if they want to get fed.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Tressie mutters under her breath as she walks inside.
I stand up. “What shall I do, then?”
Royal Scandal Page 5