by Vivian Wood
Queen Alison folds her hands in her lap and gives us a grave look.
“You two are in serious trouble, I’m afraid.”
I literally start to sweat. I can’t help it; this is the monarch of my country.
I glance at Rex. He is completely impassive, and I find myself itching to strangle him.
Bastard. How can he walk through the world so unaffected by everything around him?
“Darling, the press caught every single thing that happened last night,” my mother says.
She leans forward and shoves a few tabloids into my shaking hands. I look down at them, and they are pretty awful.
Me, taking at swing at Charles. Me, red-faced and screaming, pointing my finger in a photographer’s face.
Damn, I look drunk. Not exactly my best side.
“And Alisdair… I don’t even know where to start,” Prince Archie growls. “After the conversation we had only yesterday…”
The Prince holds up a huge glossy magazine that shows Rex carrying me in his arms. Our surroundings are so dark and the angle is so bad, you actually can’t tell that it’s me.
PRINCE MAGNUM ABDUCTS MYSTERY BLONDE, the headline screams.
I wince and glance at Rex apologetically. I fully expect him to sell me out, give me up with a bit of his usual asshole snark.
But he doesn’t. He examines the photo and then shrugs.
“That’s it?” Prince Archie asks. He starts to go red at the collar, baring his teeth as he speaks. “Alasdair, I don’t think you appreciate just how bad this press is for us.”
“For you, you mean?” Rex asks.
He doesn’t move, doesn’t cross his arms or pout, but his voice is openly hostile. I wonder what that’s about. Prince Archie has always been a blowhard, but he and Rex used to have a kind of respect between them.
Before I can linger on that topic, Prince Archie shoots to his feet. He comes to stand over Rex, uncomfortably close to both of us. He shoves a finger in Rex’s face and proceeds to absolutely lose his cool.
“You are such a WORTHLESS piece of GARBAGE, you know? And of course the second SHE is back in town, you’re running around with her!”
I am the very picture of shock when the Prince points to me, bringing me right into it all.
“Father, don’t.” Rex’s voice is flat, and he’s ignoring the screaming and finger pointing, but I can see him starting to flush with anger.
“I thought we SETTLED this already! You are to stay out of the FUCKING PAPERS. You are to marry a RESPECTABLE GIRL. And you are to stop being such a FUCKING PROBLEM for the family. If your mother could see you now—”
“Don’t talk about her,” Rex growls. “You don’t talk about my mother, you prick.”
For a second, I think Prince Archie is going to actually go apoplectic, pop a vein in his big bald head or something. I look over to my mother, trying to gauge her reaction to the Prince’s complete loss of self-control.
She’s looking off in the distance, like suddenly this painting of King Gregor XVI is super interesting. Avoiding the whole situation, just putting it out of her mind.
No concern that he’s actually partially screaming at her own daughter in the process…
“GROUNDED!” he screams.
“Now, Archie,” the Queen says, looking a little worried. “Don’t overdo it. Your heart, you know.”
“What.” Rex sighs the word at his father, and it’s not a question.
“You and Lady Katherine are GROUNDED. Her things will be moved into your flat at Canal Place. You two are going to stay there, together. And you’re not LEAVING, with the exception of royal events to which you have been SPECIFICALLY invited,” Prince Archie declares, turning to pace the room.
“For how long?” Rex asks, a muscle ticcing in his jaw.
“Three months! Until the wedding is past,” the Prince says, a satisfied gleam in his eyes.
What? Three months, trapped in an apartment with Rex?
No no no, that cannot happen.
“Mum…” I say, trying to get her to jump in and intercede.
My mother inhales, nostrils flaring, and then forces a bland smile.
“It’s for the best, honey,” she tells me, not meeting my gaze. “It’s this, or head back across the pond to the States.”
My face heats. I’m starting to get pissed now. The grounding is one thing; Mum refusing to stick up for me is a whole other issue.
“What about my new job?” I ask, crossing my arms. Unlike Rex, I am more than happy to show my displeasure through childish posture and pouting.
“Katherine,” my mother says, clearing her throat. “You’re working on a fashion line. You can have your office at Canal Place, I’m sure. The point of this isn’t to make a thousand little rules, it’s to keep you out of the press.”
Prince Archie seems to have calmed himself somewhat by now, and he comes back around to stand behind Mum’s chair with a smarmy smile.
“I’ve spoken with King Percival at length on this matter, and he agrees. If either of you steps out of line, you’ll be stripped of your title.”
“You can’t!” I say, shoving out of my chair.
It’s not as impressive when I do it, being all of five feet. Archie sneers at me, even as he presses a hand to my mother’s shoulder.
A clear display of possessive dominance, if I’ve ever seen one.
“I absolutely can, and certainly will,” he says grimly, crossing his arms and giving me a considering look. “Honestly, after all the trouble you’ve caused, your mother is the only reason you’re standing here right now instead of reading a letter discussing your loss of rank. I’m sorry to say that I think you run rather closer to your father’s temperament than your dear mother’s.”
How dare he bring my father into this?
I make a strangled sound, anger shaking me to my core. The only thing that keeps me from launching myself at Archie and trying to hurt him is Rex’s hand on my wrist.
Rex reaches out and grabs me, yanking me a step closer to his chair.
Prince Archie, the Queen, and my mother all lock onto where his hand grips me. All three of them look at us with such disgust and disdain, like Rex touching me is somehow wrong.
Like Mum and Archie are the center of the universe, and the rest of us just gravitate around them. They can make all the rules, rewrite history…
A history they don’t even know about, when it comes to me and Rex.
Queen Alison recovers first, giving us a forced smile.
“So. You two are responsible for one another now. Where one goes, the other goes. If one falls from grace, so does the other.” She pauses and purses her lips. “Have I made myself perfectly clear?”
“Crystal,” Rex and I say in unison.
The Queen gives us a skeptical look, then shakes her head.
“You’re dismissed. We will see you both at the charity gala.”
She stands, and then everyone is standing and bowing, and the Queen’s secretary is shooing Rex and I out the way we came.
Rex storms off, leaving me to follow in the wake of his furious curses. When we climb back into his car, he pulls out of the front drive with a squeal of tires.
“Put your fucking belt on,” he grits out.
“Jesus, slow down,” I say, scrabbling to get the seat belt across my body. “Are you mad?”
“As a fucking hatter, Kitten. I’d think you’d know that by now,” he growls. “Now be good girl and stop talking to me for a bit.”
That shuts me right up. I cross my arms and stare out the window, fuming the whole way to Rex’s apartment.
When we finally walk out of the glass elevator and into the marble foyer of Rex’s apartment, we find several people moving boxes and garment racks inside.
Some of the same boxes and garment racks I’d never unpacked at the apartment I shared with Charles, it appears.
“Damn, the palace moves fast,” Rex sighs, skirting two men wrestling an oversized trunk inside. “Y
ou have too much stuff, Kit.”
“This isn’t even a quarter of it, I assure you.”
I follow the movers and see that they’re putting trunks and boxes in neat stacks in the biggest guest bedroom, the one that could double as a second master.
I should dig up all my work stuff right away, and have them bring my drafting table over… I think.
Rex is behind me, suddenly, close enough to send a shiver up my spine.
“Coffee?” he asks.
I turn and look up at him, and something electric passes between us.
“Okay,” I find myself saying, all thoughts of productivity fleeing.
I follow him back into the kitchen. The apartment is made for entertaining, with a big open kitchen, a slick fully stocked bar, and a huge open concept lounge area grouped around a big drop-down TV screen.
“Sit,” Rex says, pointing to the long marble bar counter that defines the beginning of the dark-tiled kitchen.
I pull out a chair and sit to watch him take out a coffee grinder, a French press, and a kettle. He proceeds to put the kettle on, then he turns and gives me a long look.
Folding his muscular arms across his chest, he leans against the kitchen counter.
“We need to set some ground rules here,” he says.
I roll my eyes and cross my own arms, giving an undignified snort.
“What, you’re worried I’m going to intrude on your party schedule here?” I challenge him. “We’re both grounded like teenagers, if you’ll remember.”
Those deep blue eyes drop from my eyes to my mouth, then my chest, and lower. He sighs.
“I have a lot going on in both my personal and professional life, and I don’t see any reason why you should intrude on that,” he says.
“Right,” I say, waving a hand. “Because this is what I wanted, being trapped here with you.”
A dimple flashes in his cheek, and I know he’s about to say something bad.
“I can think of worse fates. At least we both know you find me interesting.”
Ah. Well that wasn’t so bad, I think.
“And by that, I mean you think I’m the sexiest man you’ve ever seen,” he finishes. “I know it’ll be hard, but you’re going to have to try to keep your hands to yourself, Kit.”
My look of angry surprise makes him laugh.
“You are so full of yourself!” I manage.
“You don’t deny it, though.” I want to smack the smug male satisfaction right off his face. “Chemistry might never die, but that doesn’t mean you can be throwing yourself at me every minute of the day.”
“I would never!” I cry.
“No? What about last night?” he asks.
I make a strangled sound. “You kissed me, asshole!”
“I remember it differently,” he says.
“In your fucking dreams,” I grit out.
He looks contemplative for a moment.
“I mean, sometimes,” he says with a smirk and a shrug. “Can’t control my dreams. I’m only human, and I have so much history to reflect on…”
“You aren’t seriously telling me that you fantasize about our shitty teenage… fling,” I hiss.
“Isn’t a fling just a few times?” he asks. “That doesn’t seem right. How many times do you think I had you, Kitten? A dozen? Maybe more.”
The kettle whistles. Rex turns his back on my expression of outrage and grinds some coffee, then pours the boiling water and coffee into the French press.
When he turns around and sees that I’m still beyond pissed, he laughs.
Dick.
“Are you going anywhere with this delightful little chat?” I ask. “Or are you just… I don’t know, gloating?”
“Yes. I have a full work schedule the next few weeks. It’s posted on the door to my office, next to the bedroom you’ve taken over.” He opens a cabinet and pulls out two matching white mugs. “I don’t care what hours you keep, but I expect respectful silence on the nights before I have to work early.”
“Fine,” I say. “Anything else, Prince Magnum?”
His smile dims for the barest moment. Interesting.
“Yes,” he says. “When I… entertain… I expect you to stay out of my way.”
“Are you seriously making a no cock-blocking rule? You are beyond ridiculous.”
Rex shrugs. “Maybe I just want you to stay out of my business affairs, hmm?”
“Somehow, I don’t think that’s what you meant.”
“I also want you to stay out of my darkroom. Last door on your hall. There’s a ton of material in there that could be damaged.”
I narrow my gaze.
“You develop photos here?” I ask.
He nods. “And everything in there is highly light sensitive.”
He’s full of shit, and I know it. Yeah, you can damage photos if you open the darkroom door while someone’s working. But outside of that, there’s no harm in opening the door.
Still, I don’t argue. What do I care about his stupid little hobby?
“Fine,” I say. “I have some rules of my own, though.”
His brows rise as he presses the coffee and pours it into waiting mugs.
“What makes you think you get to make rules?” he asks.
“Don’t be an ass. You need me. Or at least, you need me to stay out of the press. We have a shared fate now, remember?”
He stands there for a moment, holding both mugs of coffee. For a second, I think he’s about to turn and dump mine in the sink.
Instead, he drops it before me with a hard thunk. The amusement of moments before has vanished, which makes me happy in a weird way.
If I’m not happy, he shouldn’t be either, right?
“I’d love to hear what your rules are, Lady Katherine.” His sarcasm is nothing short of withering.
“You didn’t always have such a temper,” I tsk, picking up my coffee cup and taking a sip. “And my rules are simple. I want the same respect you’ve asked for, plus one more thing.”
“Do tell,” he says, his voice a throaty rumble.
“Clothes. I want you to stay fully clothed in communal areas,” I say. “Kitchen, living room, office.”
His expression goes from bewildered to massively amused in the blink of an eye.
“Damn, you are hard up for it, aren’t you?”
I set down my coffee cup.
“I’m sorry?”
“You didn’t get your jollies with Charles, I know that much. I think you’re worried that if you see me walking around au naturel you’ll be unduly tempted.”
“That is NOT it,” I assure him. “It’s just… you know, being respectful. I don’t need an eyeful every time I want a glass of water.”
“You don’t want to get wet every time you walk into the living room, you mean?”
I stand, my face growing hot.
“That’s enough of that,” I say, trying to sound as stern as possible.
“Seems like you missed out on that, too.”
“Missed out on what?” I ask.
“On having a real man around to talk dirty to you. Charles didn’t fuck you, didn’t even fuel your fantasies.” He sips his coffee and shakes his head. “Sounds like you probably have an awful lot of pent-up desires, huh?”
Then he laughs and shakes his head.
“Damn, I just realized that I’m the only one who’s ever fucked you, Kitten.”
If my face gets any hotter, I will actually become lava.
“Shut up,” I say, not bothering to deny it. “I hope you enjoy your little memories from upper forms, because they’re all you’ll ever have of me.”
His lips curl in a challenging smile.
“You think I couldn’t seduce you if I wanted to?” he asks, his voice soft and husky, sending a tingle low in my body.
“No, I don’t think,” I snap. “And besides, considering our circumstances, I don’t know why you’d want to.”
“Because it’s taboo now, you mean?” he asks, his
eyes sparkling. “I’d think you know that’s right up my alley.”
“Just… stop,” I say, growing frustrated. “I like you better when you’re just ignoring me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am going to start unpacking. It looks like I might be here a while.”
I pick up my coffee and head toward my new bedroom.
“Don’t forget the rules!” he calls after me, but I don’t stop.
The whole way to the back hallway, I can feel his eyes on me.
I only wish I didn’t like it so much.
7
Rex
I spend the next couple of days watching as Kit’s possessions start to take over my flat. The whole place, usually sleek and modern, is slowly filling with her things.
Seeing a pair of her floor lamps and a leather armchair tucked into the corner of the living room is the final straw. She can put all her shit in the spare bedrooms, pack them full of her junk if she wants.
But the living room was designed by a famous interior decorator, for fuck’s sake. It’s already perfect as it is, without Kit’s personal touches.
“Kit, for the love of god,” I say, pushing open her bedroom door.
She whirls, her hands coming up to cover her bare breasts. She’s in nothing but a pair of lacy panties, a nice little surprise for me.
“Rex, get out!” she screeches. “Don’t you fucking knock?”
“It’s my flat,” I say, leaning against the door frame and looking my fill.
Her tits are bigger than I remembered, overfilling her hands as she tries to cover herself. Damn, those legs are long and gorgeous too. She was beautiful in upper forms, but now Kit’s fucking devastating.
“Can you get out?” she growls. “Don’t just stand there staring at me like a fucking pervert.”
“I want to talk to you.” I smirk at her, loving the way she blushes all the way to her pretty blonde roots.
“Asshole.”
“Quit giving me ideas. I thought I was supposed to be the dirty talker,” I fire back.
She gives me this aggravated expression, and I can’t completely smother my grin.
“At least turn around,” she hisses.