Billionaire's Runaway Princess

by Mia Caldwell

  “Well, you really are useless then,” said Mrs. Kelley with a serious expression.

  Marisol eyes widened, totally mortified at the words Ryan’s mother spoke. Then Mrs. Kelley broke into a big grin, and Marisol realized she was teasing her.

  “See,” she said brightly. “You heard the worst thing you could, and you’re still standing. So you got some gumption to you. Us Irish appreciate that, the ability to keep standing when the world collapses at your feet. So,” she said picking up a bucket that had bottles of cleaning supplies, “Let’s get this place squared away before Ryan get home.”

  Marisol wiped the tears from her face and followed Mrs. Kelley around the apartment as she explained how to clean different things in the very clean house. She also explained the different pieces of electronic equipment, the television which was cleverly hidden behind a panel above the fireplace, and the sound system. They worked through the house room by room, with Marisol taking lessons in vacuuming, dusting and waxing. They stripped the sheets in Ryan’s and Marisol’s rooms and started the wash.

  “Come on, let’s make some coffee and decide on dinner.” Cheryl walked briskly into the kitchen and pulled out coffee cups from the cabinets.

  “Strange thing about my son, but he sends out all his personal laundry, so you don’t have to worry about it,” Mrs. Kelley said.

  Marisol shook her head.

  “Mrs. Kelley—”

  “Cheryl.”

  “Cheryl, you can drop the pretense. Your son needs a housekeeper like I need a hole in my head. He has everything arranged to lead, from what I can see, the cleanest bachelor’s life ever. Why is he doing this?”

  “I don’t know what you mean, dear.”

  “Yes. You do. I’m homeless, without skills, and utterly useless.”

  “I thought we covered that.”

  “Still, there is no sane reason for your son to hire me, and while we’re at it, why is such a handsome and successful man without a girlfriend. Or is he?”

  Cheryl sighed. “You’re right. There is no girlfriend.”

  “But I heard him tell someone he loved them this morning.”

  “That was me, dear. Like I said, he called to ask me to help you out here.”

  “Oh,” said Marisol.

  “But to answer your question, there are a couple reasons, I think. First, I think he’s afraid he’ll disappoint someone the way that his father disappointed us. Up until Sean left, everyone remarked at how much Ryan was like him. They did everything together. When Sean took off, it devastated Ryan. We never got an answer as to why he left, and all I got was divorce papers in the mail. He never tried to see the children again, and then he was dead a few years later in the car accident.”

  “Oh, that’s terrible. And you’re Catholic.”

  “Yes, after five years, I went and had the marriage annulled for Sean’s failure to recognize that marriage was a permanent union, but it was a hard thing.”

  “I’m sure,” demurred Marisol.

  “But Ryan has also set the bar impossibly high for any woman. There is one woman he’s had a thing for since he was eighteen. To him, she’s perfection and he just won’t let go of the idea of her.”

  “And what of her? Did he ever date her?”

  “No,” said Cheryl.

  “And will he?”

  “Oh, well, we’ll see,” said Cheryl cryptically. She pulled out her cell phone from her pocket and looked at the time. “Ryan said he’d be home at seven, so let’s order something to be delivered.”

  “I can help with that.”

  Marisol got the household computer and turned it on. When it came to life, she showed Cheryl the list of restaurants he ordered from.

  “He likes Thai food,” remarked Cheryl.

  “Then let’s do that,” said Marisol happily. She felt useful for once, and Ryan’s mother was so sweet she liked doing things with her.

  “Now,” said Cheryl. “Why don’t you get freshened up before my son get’s home.”

  “That’s an idea, but I have very few clothes.”

  “About that. Ryan told me that, and he gave me an idea of your proportions, so I picked up a few things on the way over here.”

  “He really is very worried about that, and I can’t figure it out. There are all those clothes in the second guest bedroom.”

  “Those? Marisol, those are what we collected for Saint Christopher’s in a clothing drive. Saint Chris’ doesn’t have much room, so we keep them here. And while they’re okay, Ryan doesn’t want to see you in other people’s castoffs. Trust me. This is no big deal to him. He never spends money on anything, except me and the kids at the shelter. And believe me, he hauls away a ton of it.”

  Cheryl rolled her eyes.

  “What does his company do?” asked Marisol.

  “I let him tell you. So far I’ve given away too many secrets as it is. Go ahead. The clothes are on your bed. I’ll see you later.”

  “Aren’t you staying for dinner?”

  “No. I’m going to visit Peggy and then get on the train back to Connecticut. I’ll see you another day.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Dinner In

  Marisol was impressed by the clothes Cheryl brought. The underwear was lacy and fit her perfectly. There were a couple pairs of slack and shirts, as well as skirts. There was a selection of T-shirts and button downs. Marisol felt very blessed that Cheryl went through so much trouble for her.

  For tonight, Marisol picked a pair of black jeans and a white button-down shirt. Her hair was growing in from the close crop that she kept because of the wigs she usually wore, so she picked at it with her fingers, twisting it into small dreads to give a different look to it. Looking in the mirror, with no wig and no make-up, Marisol understood why the police officer at the hotel didn’t recognize her. She didn’t look like her state pictures at all.

  Cheryl had set the table, including a bottle of wine, when Marisol came out of her bedroom. The buzzer at the service entrance rang, and she took the bag and wrote out the tip. This time she put ten dollars as the tip which, judging by the disinterested look on his face, was probably more in line with what he usually got.

  Marisol wasn’t sure if she should put out the food in bowls, but then heard the front elevator open as she hurried to bring bowls to the table.

  “Hi,” she said when he came to the table.

  “What’s all this?”

  “I have it on good authority that you like Thai.”

  “Oh that wicked woman,” said Ryan, but he smiled an earthshattering grin when he looked at Marisol. “Very nice,” he said. “Let me get out of these work clothes. Turn on the television, will you? I’d like to watch the closing stock reports. And while you’re at it, bring the food to the coffee table. I know my mom has a thing for eating at the table, but at night, I like to relax a bit before I work again.”

  Ryan returned wearing a pair of sweats and a black tee that hugged every muscle in his arms and chest. He was gorgeous, and her knees weakened at the sight of him. She had never felt this way about a man, and she turned her eyes away, afraid she would betray her emotions.

  “Come,” he said, patting the couch beside him. “Sit with me.”

  Marisol settled in next to him as he filled a plate and handed it to her.

  “You have to try the Panang curry. Very spicy, but very good.”

  He made his own plate, and when the stock news came on, he watched it intently. When it was finished he huffed.

  “Well, that didn’t turn out so well,” he said.

  “What?”

  “I’ve been watching the news on a company I wanted to invest in, but it appears they don’t have the goods to make a purchase worthwhile.”

  “What company is that?”

  “Dalaysia Mining. The government of Kreigov optioned all the stores of Dalaysia’s indium oxide in a new trade agreement.”

  “You’ll have to tell me. Why is indium oxide so important?”

  “It’
s important to my company because it’s an ingredient key in making touchscreens, which is one thing KelTech, my company, makes. It’s rare and expensive, and Dalaysia’s supplies have been nearly tapped out, but my people have been working on ways to mine and extract the ore in places that were deemed too expensive to mine in the past. I was going to buy the shares of Dalaysia Mining to assure a supply of it for my company.”

  “You’re talking about a hostile takeover?”

  “Not so much hostile. I wouldn’t want day-to-day control of the mines, because I know nothing about it, but with new sources of the ore, such a sale would have improved my stock and Dalaysia Mining’s. As it is now, Kriegov will drain the mines dry and all Dalaysia Mining will get out of it is cash—which I suppose motivates some people, but that country’s problems run deep, and the trade agreement isn’t enough to pull Dalaysia out of its troubles. At most, it forestalls an economic collapse for five years.”

  Marisol chewed her inner lip while listening to Ryan’s assessment of her father’s negotiation. If Ryan was right, her father had made an agreement out of desperation to keep ahead of imminent ruin.

  And she part of that deal. Anger flared at the Vattakovs for taking advantage of her country’s precarious economic condition.

  “You seem to know a lot about a tiny country,” said Marisol.

  “I like geography and became fascinated with the little countries in Europe,” he said. His ears were tipped red again.

  “Geography,” said Marisol, not quite believing his story.

  “My teenage obsession helped me understand different parts of the world,” he said. “Because of that, I’ve been able to position my company to be in the top five of the world’s producers of touchscreens.” Ryan turned his blue eyes on her. “But what about you? Did you have any teenage obsessions?”

  Marisol shrugged her shoulders. “I didn’t have time for any. I was busy with school and uh, the family business.”

  “The family business,” he said with a smile. “And what would that be?”

  She looked into Ryan’s warm eyes as he searched hers. He wanted to find out more about her, that much she was sure of. There was something there in his blue orbs that seemed like longing. Marisol licked her lips, gazing at this incredibly sexy man. Heat rushed through her as she became incredibly aware of how close he was to her. She searched his face and saw his kindness and generosity and her heart melted. Without taking time to think she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.

  The first contact of hers against his sent heat through her body and she moved closer pressing her body against his. The taste of him overwhelmed her and her heart thudded against her chest. Ryan responded tasting her lips with hungry nips. His tongue pressed forward and she opened her mouth needing everything her. She had never felt such delicious pleasure at kissing another and couldn’t help but feel a burning need to get even closer to him.

  His tongue slid against hers claiming her mouth and her only thought was that she needed more from him.

  Ryan cupped her breast in his head running his thumb over her nipple which became hard and sending waves of heat through her. She felt as lit up as Christmas tree and burning ten times as hot.

  Suddenly Ryan pulled away. He was breathing hard as one hand held the back of her neck.

  “We shouldn’t do this,” he said.

  Marisol sat back feeling stung by his rejection. Tears gathered in her eyes but she stood up quickly.

  “Of course,” she said turning her head away.

  “Marisol,” said Ryan. “It’s not that you aren’t beautiful, because you are.”

  “Please, Mr. Kelley,” said Marisol coldly. “Save me the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech. I’ll just go to my room now.”

  “Marisol, please,” he said.

  She stalked away angry, but not as much at Ryan as herself. What was she thinking? The last thing she needed to do was drag him into the mess of her life. He’d done enough for her already.

  Marisol felt a strong hand on her arm. She stopped in her tracks, strung tighter than a violin string. Part of her wanted to shake his arm off, but another wanted to throw herself into his arms. Instead, she drew herself up straighter and looking over her shoulder, gave him the most royal look of disdain she could muster.

  “Please remove your hand,” she said. Her voice was ice. Ryan’s hand slipped slowly from her arm.

  “Good night, Marisol,” he said sadly.

  ***

  Marisol tossed and turned all night. She couldn’t get their kiss out of her mind, and just the thought of it gave her shivers. She had little crushes as she grew up, but nothing compared to the longing she felt for Ryan Kelley. It was as something had awakened in her and taken root. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it played on her mind the whole night. His sexy kisses made her burn with the fires of lust. And that was wrong.

  Lust was a sin. It had to be. And a further complication was that technically, Marisol was engaged. Looking at another man lustfully wasn’t forbidden just by the Church but also by her position as Princess of Dalayasia. She was supposed to be a moral example for her people.

  Some example she was. But God couldn’t mean for her to marry the lustful and drunken Tristan, could he? Those two qualities alone would make Tristan ineligible for marriage within the church.

  Marisol was confused.

  She trembled in her bed, wanting to be close to Ryan even though she knew it was wrong, and he’d made it quite clear he didn’t want the same thing. The memory of their shared kiss inflamed a desire in Marisol that banished all rational thought. There wasn’t anything more she wanted to do than to hold, kiss, and touch his body.

  Could something that felt so good be so wrong? They had been together for nothing more than a few snatches of minutes together in the past couple days. She recognized that they barely knew each other. Yet there nothing about him that she disliked, and everything she adored. He was kind and generous. Ryan cared for the people in his life, his sister, his mother, and the people at the shelter.

  Ryan wasn’t just a handsome man. He was a wonderful man, the kind that women dreamed about.

  And she didn’t have a single clue as to what to do about it.

  Marisol finally pushed herself out of bed to face the duties of the day. Breakfast for Ryan was the first thing on the list.

  But she didn’t spot him in the apartment. Marisol knocked on the door of the office and didn’t find him there. Plucking up her courage she knocked on his bedroom door, but there was still no answer. Nervously she open the door and found it empty. No sounds of running water came from the bathroom.

  Ryan had left without a word to her.

  Marisol huffed feeling disappointed. Then the back door buzzer rang and Marisol went to answer the door. When she opened it, she was greeted by a huge bouquet of red roses in a vase.

  “Excuse me,” said Marisol. “Who are these for?”

  “The card says Marisol,” said the deliveryman behind the roses. “Is she here?”

  “I’ll take them.”

  Marisol took the flowers into her room and opened the small card.

  Marisol,

  Sorry, I was so forward last night. Let me make it up to you by taking you to dinner.

  R .

  “Forward?” It was her that had practically attacked him. He was the one who’d pulled back. At least he didn’t think badly of her, and she was going to have dinner with him.

  Her only problem now was what was she going to wear?

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Dinner Out

  Looking over the sizes on the clothes that Mrs. Kelley bought her gave Marisol a clue as to what size to buy. The problem Marisol had was that she didn’t know how formal or casual the dinner would be.

  She looked through the contact information in the computer and found Ryan’s work email. Opening the email file, she typed him a letter:

  Ryan,

  Thank you for the beautiful roses. I hadn’t ever rec
eived such a lovely bouquet. I would happily go out to dinner with you anyplace you wish. What are we wearing? Casual? Formal? Something in between? It doesn’t make a difference to me, because I look forward to spending time with you anywhere you request.

  Sincerely,

  Marisol

  She studied the message and thought she’d struck the right tone. Marisol wanted Ryan to know that she wasn’t angry with him. If she thought it was proper, she would have said more, maybe add some Xs and Os, but that would be too much.

  Before long a message popped up on the screen.

  Dear Marisol,

  I want to do this right, but don’t worry about what you’re wearing. Suitable attire is being sent over by messenger. See you at seven.

  R.

  At seven Marisol was ready. The beautiful a-line Kelly-green dress was obviously expensive. Lace rimmed the pleated skirt, and around the neckline and down the sides of the dress. A pair of gold sandals accompanied the gift. The combination was understated and elegant. Marisol liked the look.

  When Ryan opened the front door his eyes went wide, and he seemed to like the look too. “I like when a woman is ready on time,” he said.

  “I like it when a man shows up on time.”

  “Then let’s go,” he said holding out his arm. “The car is downstairs.”

  Marisol’s heart fluttered against her chest as Ryan sat next to her. He was especially handsome in charcoal wool suit, crisp white shirt and burgundy tie. It took all her will power not to stare at him.

  “Where are we going?” Marisol could barely contain herself. Dinners out were a rarity for her as a princess. Media stalked her and her father relentlessly, and her father was a private man. Now, however, since the police didn’t even recognize her though they were searching for her, she felt comfortable going out with Ryan.

  “A little place I know. I haven’t been in a while.”

  The car pulled up to an Italian restaurant. When they entered a large man with dark hair and eyes raised his arms.