by B. B. Hamel
He looks at me with such admiration and devotion, that for a second I forget that this is all fake. For a second, I really believe him.
“It’s lovely,” I say softly.
He grins at me, pulls me against him, and kisses me slow and deep.
It surprises the hell out of me, but I don’t resist it. I melt into his kiss and it feels good, so damn good. I forget all about the journalists as I kiss him back.
Kissing for the cameras is well within the proper rules of our little contract. We both agreed that we have to seem real, and it’ll look good if we kiss sometimes in front of the press. I agreed to it, but I didn’t know how much I’d really, really like it.
Slowly, we break apart, and I feel like my breath is sucked from my lungs. He looks at me with this smile on his face, and I want to kiss him again.
But the journalists applaud and laugh and I’m pulled back into reality. I blush and smile at them, giving them a little wave as their cameras click.
“Thank you all,” Bran says. “If you’ll excuse us.” He takes my hand we walk away from the crowd.
The guards get in between us and the journalists, but nobody follows. They seem to be respecting our privacy for some reason, and a minute later we leave them behind as we head back down a trail.
“I’m sorry about that,” he says after a few minutes of walking. “It’s been a awhile since I’ve been out here. I didn’t realize how close to the castle we were.”
“You couldn’t have known they set up camp there,” I say.
“No, but still. I wasn’t careful. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I say, and I realize that we’re still holding hands. I don’t let him go.
“And about that kiss.” He stops and faces me. “Was it too much?”
I shake my head. “No. It was perfect.”
“Perfect?” He smirks at me, pulling me close again. “That was just a kiss for the cameras. I can do much, much better.”
I open my mouth to say something, but a guard steps through the underbrush, interrupting the moment. I feel frustrated and relieved, since I don’t know if I was going to tell him to prove it, or if I was going to pull away.
“Prince Bran, your mother has requested your presence,” the guard says.
“Has she?” Bran sighs. “Okay. Let’s head back in.” He drops my hand and starts down the path. “There’s another entrance near here.”
I follow along, heart beating fast. I’m disappointed and wish that guard hadn’t interrupted.
But at least I got one kiss. And my god, it was really, really good. Even if it was in front of a bunch of strangers, Bran knows how to kiss me. He knows how to make me feel good. And I want more. I want more badly.
It’s scary how quickly I’m starting to break down, but I can’t help it. I thought I could handle Prince Billionaire, but I think I was very, very wrong.
13
Bran
I can still taste Mila on my lips as I head up toward my mother’s apartment.
I didn’t plan that kiss, of course. It was totally off the cuff, like everything in that little press trip. But it was a good political move, a really good political move.
Right now, the royal family can’t be made to look like it’s a stodgy group that’s too good for the press. They’ll wreck us in the coverage and we’ll just look even worse than we’ve always looked. We can’t risk that, so I decided to go ahead and hold a little press conference right there in the forest.
I think it went over well. I didn’t give any big or detailed answers, but I tried to say something to absolutely everyone. And then there was the kiss at the end. So far, we haven’t done much press at all, and that’s been on purpose. I’ve wanted to give Mila some time to acclimate to this place, but now it’s time to get her out there. She’s beautiful and I know she looks damn good on my arm. Plus, she’s an American, and as much as people think they hate foreigners, they’re going to like her story. She was born poor just like them and now she’s part of the royal family. It’s going to win some serious points for us. I can already see the headlines: Prince Makes Peasant Into Princess. They’re going to eat that shit up.
I probably didn’t have to kiss her. But fuck, I really wanted to. I really couldn’t stop myself. It’s part of what we agreed to, kissing for the cameras, and I couldn’t wait a single second. I had to have another taste of her, and that was a good opportunity.
I know I left her a little breathless, which is what I wanted. She’ll be thinking about that kiss the next time she takes out the royal scepter to help make her feel good.
I take a deep breath as I get off at the third floor. My mother’s apartment is on the far side of the floor, so I have to walk quickly. My father and my mother don’t live in the same room anymore, but it’s not because they fight. In fact, they’re the most happily married couple I know. It’s simply what they do. My father works late hours, and my mother has a million projects of her own. Their separate apartments started as separate offices, but slowly they evolved into what we have today. My father still comes to my mother’s room at night if they’re not busy and they sleep in the same bed like any other married couple, but unfortunately the King and the Queen are far from normal. They couldn’t be, even if they wanted to.
I knock on my mother’s door and her staff lets me inside. Queen Ana is sitting at her desk, frowning at her computer screen.
“Did you kiss Mila in front of the press earlier?” she asks.
I laugh. “It’s already online?”
She nods, her mouth a tight line. “Just posted a minute ago.”
“That happened just now. They’re fast these days.”
“Says here you answered questions?” She gives me a look. “You’re not supposed to do that.”
“I know, mother,” I say. “But they ambushed us when we were walking in the royal forest. I couldn’t turn away from them, it would have looked bad.”
She nods and reads for a moment then sighs. “Well, the coverage is good, at least. And the picture is flattering.” She turns her screen for me to see.
In the picture, I’m kissing Mila deeply. The headline reads, Happy Prince Kisses Happy Princess.
“Perfect,” I say, sitting down in the chair in front of my mother’s desk. “Exactly what I wanted.”
She nods again and turns the screen away. She clicks a few times then turns to me. “Do you know why I called you up here?”
“No,” I say. “Nobody briefed me.”
“It’s about your fiancée.” Mom doesn’t look happy, and I have a sinking feeling. “I did some research, you know.”
I give her a little smile. “You mean you hired someone to look into her?”
“Exactly,” she says. “Apparently, there’s no evidence that you and Mila ever had a relationship before coming here.”
There it is. Frankly, I was wondering when she’d ask this question. I expected it sooner, but then again, Mom’s been busy lately. I didn’t think my father would care enough to look into Mila, but I knew my mother would. She’s always thorough. Queen Ana is a serious force.
“That’s because we didn’t.”
I have to admit, I like the look on my mom’s face when I say that. It’s half disbelief, half amusement. “Are you joking?” she asks.
“Nope,” I say, shaking my head. “It’s true. We got engaged just before coming here.”
“Oh, Branimir,” she says, sighing. “I thought you were just being discreet with her.”
“That’s what everyone else will think,” I say. “But you might as well know the truth.”
“What did you do now?” she asks, clearly not happy.
“Hear me out,” I say. “The crown is in trouble. It has an image problem. I have no spouse and no heirs, and father’s popularity isn’t outweighing all the grumbling about the monarchy being outdated. We need to do something drastic to start over.”
“So you thought you’d, what, lie to everyone?”
“Exa
ctly,” I say. “I’m the Prince returned to his land with a pretty American girl who comes from a poor family. It’s a great story, mom.”
She watches me, her face tight and hard to read. “How will this help?” she asks.
“I’m humanizing the monarchy,” I say. “People will love the story of the Prince that takes the poor foreign girl and turns her into a Princess. And they’ll love Mila.”
“What happens when they all find out that it’s fake?” she asks.
“They won’t. We’ll go back to America, they’ll forget about us, and then we’ll quietly break up. Meanwhile, we’ll have already helped father’s image problem.”
I can tell that Mom doesn’t like this plan, not at all. “You’ve done some stupid things, Branimir, but this? It’s irresponsible.”
“Trust me, Mom. Mila is an asset to the crown.”
“I hope so.” She shakes her head. “I didn’t expect this to be such a serious meeting. I have to go speak with your father in fifteen minutes.”
“Don’t tell him,” I say.
She blinks, surprised. “You want me to keep this from him?”
“Please,” I say. “He’ll try to stop it. And when he does, he’ll ruin it. The damage is already done, mother. We can wind back the clock. We’re going through with this whether or not father wants to.”
She watches me for a second before sighing and standing. “I’ll think about it.”
I stand up. “Thank you,” I say.
“Come to dinner tonight. Some of your cousins will be there.”
I roll my eyes. “The royal cousins?”
“They’re nice,” she chides me.
“They’re rich, spoiled, and boring.”
“You’re rich too,” she points out.
I grin at her. “But I’m not boring.” She sighs and I kiss her on the cheek. “I’ll see you tonight.”
“We’ll talk more about this later, Branimir. Until then, be careful, don’t do anything stupid.”
“I never do.” I grin at her and leave her office.
I don’t know what she’s going to do now, but I feel like a weight has been lifted. I’m so happy to finally have told her. I knew she’d find out sooner or later, and I’m glad it’s sooner.
Now I just have to hope she can see my reasoning. If my father knows, he’ll ruin this and make it worse. I know my mother can keep this to herself. She is the head of the nation’s spy agency, after all, which is a little known thing. She’s both Queen and head spy, though of course the average person isn’t meant to know that part. But it means she knows what she’s doing, and she’ll see that I’m right about this.
I hope, at least. Only time will tell. Now I have to get ready for a boring dinner with the cousins, but at least Mila will be there. And things aren’t so bad when she’s around to share them.
14
Mila
I can’t get that kiss out of my head, and it wasn’t even our first one.
All through dinner, I kept picturing him grabbing me, dipping me, and kissing me for the cameras. It was just like in a fairy tale, except I guess there were cameras instead of fairies or something.
I know the kiss was part of our deal, but still. It came out of nowhere and he gave me absolutely no time to prepare myself. That was probably the point. He wanted me nice and surprised, since it probably made a better kiss that way.
Plus, it’s weird to have your second kiss with your fiancé happen in front of a bunch of cameras. Of course, it’s weirder that he’s my fake fiancé and also the Prince of this country, but I guess it’s better if I compartmentalize all this craziness a little bit.
Dinner isn’t exciting but it isn’t boring, either. The royal family is all there, King and Queen included, and I think I catch the Queen giving me weird looks a few times. Mostly though I talk to this third cousin and a few other uncles and cousins. Turns out, the royal family is actually pretty big, and there are even a few foreign family members there, people from Russia and Ukraine.
Throughout the evening though, Bran never once leaves my side. I actually am a little bit surprised. He never once leaves me to talk with a boring cousin all on my own. He’s attentive and kind and he keeps giving me these looks which I can’t exactly understand. He’s acting like he’s a real fiancé and we’re genuinely together, which I guess is what he’s supposed to do, but still. I didn’t expect it from him.
I don’t know what I expected. I didn’t think Bran would be this good of an actor, at least. I kind of thought we’d both be fumbling through this thing together, but instead he seems totally comfortable. He seems like we really have been together for a while, like he really does know me pretty well.
Which isn’t really a bad thing, I guess. I’m acting like it’s a negative that he’s taking to our situation so easily, but really it’s flattering. He clearly wants this to work, and maybe there’s something about me that’s making him so comfortable.
Toward the end of dinner, as the desert course is being served and one of the distant cousins is telling some horribly boring and slightly racist story about a yacht and some local Nigerian men, Bran leans over and whispers in my ear.
“Are you ready to tear your eyes out?” he asks me.
I smile and lean toward him. “Just the one eye,” I say. “But I think if this story is going where I think it’s going, it’ll have to be the other as well.”
He grins at me, clearly amused. “Let’s get out of here,” he says.
“Can we do that?” I feel a surge of excitement. I’m ready to go back to my room, get into the bubble bath, and do a little light reading. I am on vacation, or at least I am a little bit, after all.
“Come on,” he says, and stands up. “Excuse me.” The table looks over at him and he smiles a charming grin. “Cousins, parents, it’s been lovely, but I’m exhausted and I’m not caught up on sleep yet.”
“Leaving so soon?” one of the cousins says, an older man whose name I can’t remember.
“Sorry to say, Dirk,” Bran says. “But we have a lot of work tomorrow. Mother, father, cousins.”
There’s a general murmur of goodbye as I stand and join Bran. We quickly make the rounds, saying goodbye, shaking hands, kissing cheeks, and I catch his mother looking at me again with that strange look. I don’t know why she keeps staring at me, but it’s starting to give me the creeps and make me think that maybe she actually knows something.
We leave the room a few minutes later after everyone has said their goodbyes. I follow Bran out and down the hallway where he calls for the elevator. Once we’re inside, instead of hitting the button for our floor, he hits the button for the top.
“What are you doing?” I ask him.
“There’s something else I want to show you tonight.”
The elevator starts going up with a slight lurch. “What is it?” I ask him.
“Something old,” he says.
“Of course.” I roll my eyes. “I’m not impressed by old stuff anymore.”
He grins at me, enjoying my joke. “I think you’ll like this.”
“Any hints?”
“None,” he says. “Except that it’s outside again.”
“No reporters, though?”
“No,” he says. “I promise, no reporters.”
I sigh but I don’t put up a fight. I have to admit, I’m a little curious what he wants to show me this late at night. It’s after eleven, and we were in that dinner for at least a few hours.
The elevator shoots up and soon we’re passing through solid rock again. We pass the ground floor, which is the base of the castle, and we keep going. Slowly, the elevator comes to a halt, and the doors slide open.
We’re clearly inside the castle. The room is all stone, with a rug on the ground and some ceremonial paintings hanging on the wall, but otherwise the room is bare.
“This way,” Bran says, and I quickly hurry to follow him. I’m wearing an evening gown, another fancy dress given to me by Bran, and high heels. I ha
ve to be careful walking on the stone in these heels.
We turn a corner and slowly begin to walk up a flight of stairs.
“Do you know why stairwells are so steep and winding in castles?” he asks me.
“To make the royal family work harder?” I grumble.
He laughs a little. “No, it’s a defensive thing. If people were trying to come up these steps to attack us, it’d be easier for us to stab down and kill them. Plus, you can’t really swing a sword in here. It’s designed to be better for the people with the high ground, which in theory is the royal guard.”
“Makes sense,” I say. “I guess you had to think about people trying to stab you a lot back then, huh?”
He laughs and shrugs. “Part of the deal. Here we go.” He steps in front of a door and slowly pushes it open.
We step outside into the cool night. Above us, the stars spread out across a clear dark sky, and I can’t help but gasp a little bit. There are way more stars than I’ve ever seen in my life out here.
“Welcome to the ramparts,” he says. “The top of the castle.”
“Wow,” is all I can manage as he steps out along the stone pathway.
On either side, the stone wall rises up above our heads, at least seven feet tall. Every few feet, there’s a gap in the wall, probably for people to shoot arrows and throw stuff down at attackers or whatever. I walk over to the edge and look out over the countryside.
It’s dark, but some lights dot the hills. I can’t see much, but I do spot the press campground not too far away.
Bran steps up behind me. “Gorgeous, right?”
I put my hands on the stone. It comes up about to my waist in the gap spots. “Beautiful,” I agree.
“I used to walk around here when I was a kid.”
“You had a lot of spots as a kid,” I say, smiling at him.
I’m surprised to see the look on his face. It’s a little melancholy, though he’s trying to smile. “Life wasn’t always easy for the Prince,” he says.
“What do you mean?”
He shrugs and starts to walk. “A lot was expected of me. I couldn’t have a normal childhood, even though that’s all I really wanted. My parents did the best they could, and they did a lot for me. But sometimes, I needed a place to escape, and so I found some places.”