Can't Buy Me Love

by Abigail Drake

  Duncan woofed from his supine position, but otherwise didn’t move.

  Bailey shook her head. “So this is true. All of it? Everything I just read? My employee, Jenson, was . . . is Prince Asher?”

  “Yes, ma’am. That is correct. I encouraged him to use my name . . . for stealth purposes.”

  Bailey suppressed a snort. “So he’s been lying to me this entire time.” She pressed her fingers to her temples, but it did nothing to dull the pain that slammed into her, the hurt which came from being tricked.

  Jenson frowned. “I’m afraid so, miss.”

  “I don’t appreciate being lied to.” Bailey paced into her kitchen, her anger growing with each step. “This must have all been some big joke to him.” It was that idea—the notion Bailey had been played—which upset her the most. She’d counted on him. She’d considered him a friend.

  She’d even let herself hope, at times, that there’d been more between them.

  Jenson gestured to her desk chair. “May I?” He took a seat when she nodded. “I can assure you, Ms. Parker, that this is far from a joke. The prince, however, should be the one to explain. If you’ll only come with me.”

  “Why would I go anywhere with you? I’ve been lied to. Manipulated. Made a laughingstock in my own field.” Asher might be seriously hot and her country’s prince, but that didn’t mean she wanted to be linked to a playboy. “Besides, who will take care of my dog?”

  “I’ve taken the liberty of finding a lovely kennel for your companion here, and, well, you certainly aren’t going to be able to leave your apartment if you stay.” Jenson gestured to the throng outside. “Not until things calm down, anyway.”

  Bailey blew her hair out of her eyes in a huff. He was right. She needed to break some bad habits and actually leave her apartment. Get out into the world. She couldn’t do that with her fan club outside.

  It wasn’t like she’d been left with much of a choice. Stay and be hounded by hordes of photographers waiting to catch a glimpse of her, or go spend time in the queen’s palace back home.

  It was kind of a no-brainer.

  “I’ll do it,” she said. “But only because staying in the palace will make it easier to kick Prince Asher’s ass.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Asher

  They knew. Everyone knew. Worse, it wasn’t just a rumor about Asher. It was a rumor about his country. One that could impact everything from the tourist industry to the value of the florin. A disaster.

  “Observe, my latest pursuit! Topiary art.” Grandmother took several steps forward before tugging a sheet from a large hedge trimmed to resemble . . . a dick.

  Ash forgot his troubles for several moments, unsure of how to respond. When Grandmother raised the hedge trimmers, he winced. It took all he had not to cross his legs in empathy.

  “Don’t just sit there gaping. Surely you’ve seen a butterfly before. It can’t be that astonishing.” She scowled as she tugged the wide-brimmed hat onto her head and handed him a pair of clippers. “Here. Remove some deadheads while we talk.”

  He took the proffered clippers and set to work on the nearest rosebush. Grandmother returned her attention to her new art form.

  “I’ve watched you, and what I haven’t seen, the servants have filled me in on. You’ve been working all hours of the night, taking extensive projects, designing in the limo on your way to events. I never wanted this for you.”

  “It’s not as bad as all that. I’ve rather enjoyed working.” How could he explain that working for someone who knew nothing about him, knew nothing of his family, rejuvenated him in a way he’d never expected? It gave him a sense of purpose.

  “And does your employer, Ms. Parker, have anything to do with that?”

  “How do you know about her?” Ash asked, but then he spotted the tabloids.

  Grandmother cocked an eyebrow, those too-sharp eyes staring him down, searching out answers

  “Yes. I suppose Bailey and I have become . . . friends.” Somehow, over the past months, he’d begun looking forward to her texts, to seeing her name pop up in his notifications each day. “At least we were friends before all this. She’s probably furious with me now.” He gestured to the papers on the table.

  “It doesn’t matter if she’s angry or not. By my way of thinking, we need to be cunning and quick. We need her.” She jabbed Ash’s arm lightly with the handle of the clippers for emphasis. “I’ve invited Ms. Parker to the palace.”

  “What?” Ash whirled around, managing to snag his sleeve on the nearest rosebush. “You must be joking.”

  “My dear, have you ever known me to be a trickster? I’m quite serious,” Grandmother said.

  “Why bring Bailey here?” Yet, as he asked the question, a zing shot through his bloodstream. It made no sense. It wasn’t as if he’d been involved with Bailey, as if they’d had any sort of relationship, outside of text messages.

  “Because we need a strategy. The press has branded you a playboy.”

  Ash didn’t bother adding that, until recently, he’d done all he could to proliferate the image.

  “If we don’t talk about your work, if we avoid discussion of it altogether, it will only make things worse. We need to play Bailey up as a love interest. You were simply helping her get her business established. Act as though you’ve done this for fun. It was nothing more than a whim, a trifle.” Grandmother removed more growth from the dick bush.

  “Nothing more than a whim or a trifle?” he asked. Working for Bailey had been anything but a whim. He’d done it for Grandmother, and for the family he didn’t have yet. The one he hoped would be in his future.

  “I know this job has meant more to you than that. I also know why you took it on. The press doesn’t need to know the details.” Grandmother squared her shoulders.

  “You continue to surprise me, Grandmother.” Bailey there—at the palace. He could scarcely imagine it. Yet, at the same time, he could envision her visit perfectly.

  “Yes. This just might get Parliament off my back, as well.”

  Ash frowned. “You never mentioned anything. What grief are they giving you?”

  “I’ve been extremely patient with you, Asher. You’re nearly twenty-six and I’ve never pressed.” She frowned slightly, a small crease forming between her eyes. “But I am getting on in years and so are you. If we don’t ensure the line of succession soon . . . it might give parliament cause to do away with us altogether.”

  “Is that a possibility? I didn’t realize it had even been discussed.”

  For an instant, a slight weariness crept into grandmother’s eyes. He read the truth. She’d been shielding him, protecting him from the sharp tongues of the other half of his country’s government.

  “Don’t worry about those old codgers. They aren’t worth your time.”

  “You should have told me what was going on, Grandmother.” Ash didn’t bother to keep the warning tone out of his voice.

  “To what end?” She waved him off, returning to her clipping. “It would only have upset you, maybe even made you rush into an unhappy union. Why do you think I had the marriage law abolished in the first place?”

  “For me?” Ash asked, surprised, though he shouldn’t have been. Grandmother had always watched over him his entire life.

  “Of course. I was very fortunate with your grandfather. I was already very much in love with him when we married. It was the same for your father. I couldn’t imagine you being joined with someone you didn’t love.” She patted his upper arm, eyes glistening. “You would do such a thing for duty. It’s simply how you are.”

  “That’s true,” Ash admitted. “Though it matters little. There is no one I want. Yet.” His thoughts jumped to Bailey again, but he did his best to shove them back into a quiet corner of his mind. Where they belonged.

  “Perhaps you’ll meet a beautiful heiress who will quietly bail us out.” Grandmother winked.

  “You just told me I could marry for love.” Ash frowned, but her words were ci
rcling around in his mind. If he married for wealth, then all of the work he’d been doing to keep the palace and Grandmother’s lifestyle intact wouldn’t have to continue.

  “Who says you can’t have both?” she challenged, tipping her chin.

  Ash’s throat went dry. The last thing he’d been focusing on was a wife. Yet, the seed had been planted. If he could find an heiress to wed, he could save his family. Sometimes duty reigned above personal happiness.

  “I’ve already sent Jenson ahead to collect Ms. Parker. She should be arriving today.” She clapped her hands. “What a wonderful visit this will be!”

  But even as Grandmother rattled off more details, Ash’s thoughts fled elsewhere. Bailey would be in Florico and in the palace. How unexpected.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Bailey

  The queen’s limousine was the most luxurious vehicle she’d ever been in. The leather beneath her palms had the consistency of warm butter. She leaned against the seat as she rode through streets as familiar as the back of her hand. The city center loomed ahead. The driver didn’t turn there. Instead, the limo kept on, heading toward the mountains—toward the Winter Palace.

  When she was a teenager, Bailey had taken a job as a Florican tour guide. She’d swear her calves still burned every once in a while from leading tourists through the hiking trails.

  Bailey’s stomach hummed with the fluttering of a million butterflies.

  She still couldn’t believe it. All that time, she’d been trading texts with Prince Asher and never known it. She’d been joking with—and yes, flirting with—the guy she had a picture of on her desk back home.

  Bailey vacillated between anger, at being lied to, and awe, that she would be meeting the royal family. The thing that concerned her most was that she couldn’t be certain which emotion would come out when she met Jenson, er . . . Asher, face-to-face. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be one that got her thrown out of the palace.

  No. She was a professional, dammit. That had to count for something. Bailey wasn’t about to throw all of her skills out the window.

  “We’re here, Ms. Parker,” Jenson announced from the front seat.

  “Thank you,” Bailey said.

  A moment later, her door swung open. A footman waited on the other side, while Jenson unloaded her two carry-on bags from the trunk.

  “Ma’am?” The footman had reached toward Bailey. She extended her hand and shook his. The footman chuckled. “No, ma’am. Your bag.”

  Great. So much for poise and grace. Bailey had been gripping her laptop bag tight against her hip. Her jet-lagged brain kicked into gear and she handed it over. “I’m sorry.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said. Then, in a lower voice, he whispered, “No worries.”

  Bailey relaxed. Maybe she would fit in at the palace after all. She even managed a return smile.

  “Ms. Parker?” A tall, squat gentleman with a scowling, oval face had moved to her side. “I’ll show you to your rooms. The royal family will be ready to receive you in one hour’s time.”

  Bailey nodded. At least, they were letting her freshen up before the royal ‘Come to Jesus’ extravaganza began.

  Minutes later, she couldn’t quite believe her luck. She’d seen documentaries and pictures of the inside of the Winter Palace, but they hadn’t done it justice. Her room was wide, with high, white ceilings supported by dark, wooden beams. The walls were covered in flowered silk of the palest blue and complimented the gilt-gold furniture. In the center of the room was a piece most dear to Bailey’s heart: a massive four-poster bed. She’d be able to sleep for a week in that bed.

  Two French doors stood across the room, looking out over blue sky. From the distance, it gave the impression that the palace sat amongst the clouds.

  Crossing the room, she twisted the gold doorknob and stepped out onto a breathtaking balcony. It was easily the size of a small backyard and more than enough space for one person. She took several tentative steps forward until she reached the railing, resting her hands on the stone surface, and then sucked in a breath. Before her lay the beautiful Adriatic Sea, its waters crashing against the Florican coast. Untouched mountain ranges surrounded the palace, making Bailey feel as though she were in her own private oasis.

  Lying Prince Asher had all of this and she’d given him two thousand dollars from Windsor? She ground her teeth.

  “Welcome home, Bailey.” She whispered the words to herself, softly, like she was testing them out.

  “I owe you an apology.”

  Jumping, Bailey gripped the railing and turned, sucking in a breath. It was him. Asher. The man who would one day be king. But also, Jenson. He was each and all of those things at once. His hair was close-cropped and golden, his eyes an unsettling shade of blue that burned straight into her soul.

  “All this time we’ve been working together and I didn’t know who you were.” Her cheeks burned. “And I asked you to think royal. I bet you and your staff got a real charge out of that one.”

  Some instinct kicked on inside Bailey. Locking her jaw, she managed a stiff curtsy. “Your Highness.”

  “Bailey, please. Stop curtsying.” He waved her off and walked to the edge of his own balcony, a too-close neighbor of her own. He could have climbed from his balcony to hers if he wanted, without endangering himself in the slightest. “I didn’t laugh at you. I didn’t do this to get a rise out of you or make fun of you.”

  “Then why did you? Why on Earth would a crown prince ever need a job?” She gestured to the gardens and the sea and all of the luxury that sat at Prince Asher’s feet.

  “I have my reasons.” A worry line creased the bridge of his nose. If he was being sincere, Bailey was hardly one to judge. He seemed sincere, though. What would it hurt to give him a chance to explain himself?

  “Alright, then, but I need to clean up.” She almost sounded defensive. Scratch the almost.

  The prince’s lips quirked. “I think, after so many shared late nights, we can forgo the formalities. It’s Ash. Please.”

  He’d barely managed a smile, but that small turn of his lips turned her knees to jelly. Thank God no one was asking her to walk anywhere right then. She doubted her ability to manage even a slow stroll.

  “Ash it is, then.” Oh, God. She was suddenly on a first name basis with her country’s prince. Dad would never have believed it.

  “Thank you. I’ll leave you to freshen up, then.” With a slight bow of his own, Ash stalked through the doors and into his room.

  Her body numb, Bailey did the same. She got as far as the mirror, when she took in her own reflection. One side of her hair was sticking up. Her buttons weren’t lined up properly on her shirt. Her mascara was smudged.

  So much for a good first impression.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Asher

  Bailey Parker was in his home and staying in the room next door. He’d have to talk to Grandmother about what had prompted that choice. She looked every bit as beautiful in person as he’d imagined. Her voice was different than he’d expected. Lighter, almost girlish. Ash liked it. He liked everything about Bailey a little too much for his own good.

  She’d been dominating his thoughts for the past few weeks, but since their face-to-face meeting, he doubted he’d get her out of his mind anytime soon. She was no longer just someone he texted. She was no longer his boss, but also an incredibly attractive woman.

  Seeing Bailey in person had twisted him up into knots so much he was late to tea. She was already sitting with his grandmother when he arrived.

  If Bailey had been a vision before, she was even more so, after a shower. She’d dressed in cropped, beige pants with a dark shirt in hues of royal blue, which suited her chin-length hair perfectly. Blue sandals with thin straps adorned her feet, revealing pink toenails and olive skin. Those toes would surely be his undoing.

  He hadn’t realized he’d been standing in the doorway staring until Grandmother spoke up.

  “Asher. What kept you?” She cocked one
of her silver eyebrows. A servant worked in silence beside her, pouring tea into china cups.

  “My apologies for my tardiness, Grandmother.” Ash forced his thoughts aside as he entered the room, taking a seat opposite Bailey. “You look lovely.” He uttered the words before he’d realized they’d even formed on his lips.

  Bailey smiled. It held more warmth than the guarded one she’d given him on the balcony. Perhaps he’d managed to navigate onto the right track after all.

  “Thank you.”

  Her response pleased him. There were so many women who tried to wave complements away. As though they didn’t deserve them. Bailey wasn’t one of those. Instead, she’d accepted his words, owned them, even sat up straighter as though they’d made her proud.

  “Excellent.” Grandmother’s eyes lit the way they did when she had an idea. Her ideas were notorious around the palace. “Now that we’ve all gotten acquainted, I wanted to talk to you about a little problem we have.”

  Bailey swallowed. “A problem.” She turned to Ash. “I didn’t know who you really were. If I had, I would never have given your name . . . um, Jenson’s name.”

  “Yes.” Ash patted her hand. The skin on his palm burned where he touched her. “You made that abundantly clear when you shouted at me on the balcony.”

  “You deserved it. You lied to me,” Bailey said.

  Grandmother waved a hand, and the servant left, shutting the door with a snap. “Now that we’re alone, you should know the truth. This is highly confidential, of course.” She refilled Bailey’s teacup herself and offered her the tray of cakes.

  Bailey took a delicate chocolate dessert, which also pleased him. Some women would have shied away from the dessert tray. Not Ms. Parker.

  She closed her eyes slightly as she took the first bite, as if she were in heaven, or in ecstasy. Ash wondered if he could send her to the same heights of pleasure, only greater. His body hardened at the thought, forcing him to quickly switch positions.