“There’s a lot more security today,” I said to the one standing beside the door. Because of the hat and the darkness, I couldn’t see much of his face, but his fingers were long and his hands seemed strong as he lifted the basket out of my hands, so I focused on those.
“There’s always more security when we have an important visitor.” His voice was slightly clipped.
“Oh.” I opened and closed my hands to stretch them again as I looked around, not that there was anything to see.
“You’re Monsieur Bouchard’s niece?”
“Yes.”
“Your father is in the king’s cabinet,” he said and I couldn’t tell whether or not he meant that as a good thing.
“Yes.” I bit my tongue. Normally, I was proud of my father, but standing outside the villa where the prince my father was constantly questioning resided felt shameful.
“Don’t worry. You won’t be beheaded for having your own thoughts.” The guard chuckled quietly. “Not anymore anyway.”
“Thank God for progress.” I smiled.
“So you will be dropping these off every night?”
“I guess so. It’s part of my penance.”
“Penance for what?”
“It’s a long story, but trust me, I deserve worse than delivering heavy baskets to the future king.” I glanced up at him.
“I’d like to hear that story.” He smiled wide. It was a boyish smile, one that made me smile instantly.
“Maybe I’ll share it with you.”
“Over a pint?”
“Sure.” I shrugged a shoulder, feeling grateful that despite everything I could still sort of flirt. “When are you free?”
“When do you want me to be free?”
“Is that how this job works?” I laughed. “If so, sign me up.”
“I have two days off, but my line sounded better than saying that.”
I laughed again. Suddenly, the door beside us burst open and we both froze as if caught doing something wrong. I’d only ever seen Prince Elias smiling that charming, panty-dropping grin he liked to flash at photographers just as they snapped his photo, the one I’d seen yesterday when Etienne was with me, so the fact that he was standing before me, glaring, threw me for a loop. I blinked away from his eyes and it was then that I noticed he wasn’t wearing a shirt. My eyes widened on his torso. There was no question that the prince worked out.
“Do you need something?” he snapped.
“Um. No.” I blinked rapidly at his tone, wondering why in the world it was directed toward me. “I was just dropping off a few things.”
“Do we have everything we need, Pierre?” His gaze swung to the guard.
“Yes, sir.”
“Please bring it inside.” He spoke to him in a direct yet polite tone. It was me he was saving the disdain for and that was perfectly clear when he looked at me again. “Thank you for bringing it. That will be all. I’ll be needing my things much earlier tomorrow.”
In response, I could only nod and blink. I couldn’t even say another word. Pierre followed the prince inside and the door was shut in my face. It was definitely not what I’d been expecting and not something I wanted to experience again.
Chapter 5
“I never want to go back there again,” I said.
“He’s notorious for his mood swings,” Etienne said.
“I felt so . . . small.”
“I’m sorry, Addie. That’s just him.” He sighed heavily into the phone line. “Just steer clear.”
“Oh, I am. I’m going to drop off his basket at five o’clock today and make sure I don’t call attention to myself at all. I can’t wait for this weekend to arrive already so I can leave.”
“So you are doing the Versailles event.”
“How do you know about it?”
“Mira told me.”
“How does Mira know about it?”
“I don’t know. How does Mira know anything? Gossip,” he said.
“Still. I would love to know who she heard it from.”
“Hold on.” Etienne sighed. “Mira, who’d you hear that Pirouette Events was doing Versailles from?” He was quiet for a moment. I could hear Mira talking in the background before Etienne said, “She heard it from Sarah who heard it from Rita who heard it from Francis who heard it from Princess Pilar.”
“Oh. I always forget how many connections Mira has.”
“She’s been a good ally for you right now, I’ll tell you that. The only people judging you for your mishap are the older ones who forgot what it was like to be young and make mistakes.”
“Well, thank her for that.” I could only imagine what Mira was saying to defend me. Out of all of Etienne’s girlfriends, she was definitely my favorite.
“I’m sorry Eli gave you a shitty time,” Etienne said, lowering his voice. “He’s known to be an asshole sometimes, but it doesn’t make it okay.”
“Thanks. I just wasn’t sure what I did to deserve that.”
“Nothing, Addie. You did nothing. Go about your day, go plan the hell out of the Versailles event, and forget all about him.”
“I will.” I nodded once in determination and smiled.
* * *
At five o’clock, I was walking toward Prince Elias’s villa delivering his basket. This time, I’d completely pushed aside any thoughts of the prince and the concept of him I had in my head from the first time we’d met. In doing so, I prepared for disappointment and I was okay with that. Better to be prepared for the bad than expect the good and have a harder time accepting the reality. The same security, Pierre, was at the front door.
“I’m off tomorrow evening,” he said upon seeing me.
“Beers, then?” I asked as I walked up the three steps and set the basket down in front of the door.
“Sure. Which villa do you stay in?”
I stared at him for a long moment, wondering if I should tell him. He probably already knew though. I pointed next door.
“Oh.” He laughed. “You know you could walk here.”
“I could, but the basket would make my fingers fall off, so I’d rather drive the little golf cart over.”
“They are pretty heavy.” He lifted it.
Now that he was standing in front of me, I realized he was much taller than I was, but then, most men were. I was five foot five and usually wearing flats. He was also standing much too close to me. Close enough that I could make out that his eyes were pale blue and his face needed a shave.
“You’re really pretty,” he said.
“Thank you.” I smiled. “I don’t think I even told you my name last night.”
“What is it?”
“Adeline.”
He smiled. “I’m Pierre.”
“Nice to meet you, Pierre.”
“May I pick you up at seven tomorrow?”
“I . . . can you make it seven thirty?”
“Seven thirty it is.” He smiled wide. When he did that, his eyes twinkled.
The door opened beside us and he took a giant step back, leaving me exposed to the person on the other side of the door. Prince Elias. Again. This time, he was wearing a white button-down shirt, his dark hair in disarray. He had the perfect bedroom hair. And bedroom eyes. And they were staring right at me. My heart pounded in my ears. Again, I couldn’t seem to move. It was as if he’d cast me under a spell and there was no escaping it.
“Miss Adeline brought your things, sir,” Pierre announced, his back toward me now.
“Set them inside, please,” Prince Elias said, his eyes still on mine, his voice a command no one would dare to contend. Pierre disappeared inside.
“I . . . ” I licked my lips, clasping my hands together. “I hope you find everything well. If you need anything else, please don’t hesitate to tell me. Good night.”
I turned around, my skirt whooshing with my movement as I did so. I needed to get out of here before I made a fool of myself. Why was I even talking to him? He hadn’t said one word to me. Why was he
even opening the door every time I got here? It was annoying and unnerving and I hated the way he made me feel. Thankfully, my feet worked quickly and I was off the porch and back in front of the cart in no time.
“Adeline.”
My heart ceased at the sound of my name coming from his lips. I stopped walking. Stopped moving. Stopped breathing. Somehow, I managed to turn around and face him. Prince Elias was just walking down the last step when my gaze met his.
“I’m having a party tomorrow night.”
“Oh.” I perked up. He was inviting me to one of his famous parties?
“I’d love you to serve drinks for us.”
“Serve drinks?” I blinked. “I . . . um . . . I don’t think I’m qualified to do that.”
I wasn’t a bartender. Besides, I didn’t do this. I didn’t serve people or make them baskets or work parties I wasn’t being paid to plan. I hired people for that. How in the world had I found myself in this position? I didn’t expect Prince Elias to know that but surely he knew I was wearing designer and wasn’t meant to be his houseworker? Then again, his nannies and house employees probably wore designer too. The point was, I was usually invited to parties like these, not working them.
“It doesn’t matter. I would appreciate your help and you being there anyway.”
“I really can’t. I can hire someone to do it though.” I smiled politely.
“I’d prefer it if you did it yourself.”
“I can’t. I . . . ” I paused, trying to decide how much I wanted to explain. Finally, I simply smiled again and said, “I have a date.”
“A date,” he repeated, his eyes assessing me closer now, as if he was trying to figure out who would ask me on a date. It was the moment I realized I could definitely grow to hate Prince Elias. How had I ever slept with this man? How could I have given him my virginity? I was disgusted with myself.
“Yes, a date.”
“So you won’t be available at seven?”
“No,” I said too quickly, then added, “I will bring your basket and whatever else you need at seven, but after that, I’m indisposed.”
“What about nine o’clock?”
“I’ll still be on my date.”
“Eleven?”
“What are you getting at here? I’m not a bartender, Prince Elias. I can hire you one from the bar down the street if you’d like, though I’m sure your staff probably has a list of capable bartenders who can go to your party.” I was losing my patience and trying really hard not to. “I won’t be available tomorrow night and you should be grateful for that. I make shit drinks. All of my friends say I do. I put too much alcohol and too little mixer and everyone ends up getting drunk way too quickly and feeling sick at some point or nursing massive hangovers. I’m not available tomorrow night nor am I here for your entertainment. I’m sure it’s a concept you’re not familiar with, but some of us have actual lives and actual jobs that don’t revolve around the Crown.”
When I finished my rant, I slapped a hand over my mouth, wishing I’d done so before I started talking. Oh my God. Had I just . . . why, why, why had I opened my mouth to respond? Prince Elias was no longer watching me with interest. He was shooting daggers at me. I lowered my hand from my mouth.
“I’m so sorry. That was . . . That was not what I intended. I just—”
“I believe you’ve said enough, Miss Adeline. I will not be needing your services tomorrow evening.” He turned around, but looked over his shoulder one last time to add, “Have fun on your date.”
He said the word date with such disdain, I was sure he absolutely hated me. I just couldn’t figure out why I cared so much.
Chapter 6
At seven o’clock the following evening, I walked up to the prince’s villa and sat the wicker basket down in front of the door. Unlike yesterday, Pierre wasn’t standing beside it. Tonight, there was security everywhere, though. I’d overheard two of them saying they were expecting a lot of people at the party tonight. A lot of ruckus and nudity the other added. I’d just placed the basket down, when, like clockwork, the front door opened. Prince Elias was standing on the other side of it, with a short glass in his hand. His white shirt was unbuttoned up top and his sleeves were rolled up as if he’d just gotten home from work, but I knew better. The man didn’t work. I hadn’t seen him leave the premises the entire week.
“Are you ready for your date?” he asked, disapproval dripping from his voice.
“I am. Are you ready for your party?”
“I am.” He took a large gulp, draining the glass of alcohol. His dark, mysterious eyes never left mine. “Do you drink, Miss Adeline?”
“Occasionally.”
“Come in. Share a drink with me.”
“I can’t.”
“Because of your uncle?” His head tilted slightly as he looked at me. “I heard he doesn’t want any of his female employees talking to me.”
“I’m not his employee,” I said, though my uncle had warned me to stay away from the prince. “I have a date and I don’t want to be late.”
“You’re nervous,” he said. “Do I make you nervous?”
“A little.” There was no point in lying to him.
“That’s interesting.” He let go of the door and took a step toward me. “I’m sure your date can wait a few minutes.”
I stared at his chest, at the button that was undone and the golden skin that peeked from underneath. I couldn’t bring myself to look at his face directly. Not when he was standing dangerously close to me. Not when the scent of his cologne made it nearly impossible not to feel as though he was completely taking control of my body.
“Come on, Adeline,” he said, his voice low, sexy. “One drink.”
The way he said my name made me instantly transport back to our night together and the way he chanted my name as he came. It took everything in me to clear that thought away and shake my head no.
“I can’t.”
“Are you afraid you’ll enjoy my company?”
“No.” I met his gaze. “I know I wouldn’t.”
He chuckled darkly. “You know, not once since I’ve been here have you curtsied to me.”
“Am I supposed to curtsy to you?”
“Am I not your future king?”
“You’re not king yet.” I matched his cold stare. “Besides, I live in London. Your Crown doesn’t extend that far.”
“It extends this far though.”
“Well, then, it’s a good thing I’m just a passerby.”
His eyes narrowed and after a few seconds of a staring contest I wasn’t prepared to engage in, I turned and walked away, heart beating frantically. As I reached the last step, I glanced over my shoulder to see that he was still standing in the same spot I’d left him, staring after me. “Have fun at your party.”
* * *
“You seem preoccupied,” Pierre said across from me.
We were at a pub in town having fish and chips and beer and so far, everything was going well. It was all easy conversation and not much flirting at all, which oddly, I appreciated.
“I was just thinking about what an asshole the prince is.”
Pierre coughed, patting his chest as he set his beer down. “He’s going through a lot.”
“Right.” I rolled my eyes, lifting my own beer to my lips. “He doesn’t even leave his villa. It’s not like he’s working.”
“He’s a good man.”
“Well.” I set my beer down. “It’s all the same to me. I still don’t like him.”
“A lot of people have issues with the royal family. Your father is always criticizing them publicly.”
“My father works with them. He only criticizes certain aspects of what they’re doing that he doesn’t agree with.”
“Do you agree with him on the matter?”
“I don’t have to. I no longer live here. I bow to the Queen of England.”
“That’s a cop-out.”
“What, bowing to another queen?”
&
nbsp; “Not giving your opinion because you feel like it doesn’t apply to you. It’s a cop-out.”
“Do you think the king should have as much power as he does?”
“Yes.”
“Yes? No hesitation?” I felt my lip turn up. “You say that because you work for them.”
“For centuries they had all the power. Now they have a little less power and it’s still running smoothly. Why change something that’s not broken?”
“You don’t think the economy is broken in its current state?” I asked. “There are doctors and lawyers getting paid wages way below the average. And that’s only a few who have suffered in the recent years since the king’s health has been on the decline. This is what started the French Revolution. They were lucky the Crown was saved all of those years ago. I don’t think they’ll get lucky again. He should’ve stepped down years ago, or let the cabinet have more power. Let the people have more power.”
“You have a lot of opinions for someone who doesn’t even care to address her prince with courtesy.” The voice was Prince Elias’s and it came from behind me.
I thought I’d already been sitting up straight, but I was wrong. At the sound of his voice, my back arched and my shoulders pushed back as my heart dropped into the pit of my stomach. How long had he been standing behind me? How long had Pierre let me speak without telling me to stop? From the look on his face, he seemed like he had tried to warn me but I wouldn’t quit speaking. It was a flaw of mine. When I was passionate about something, I couldn’t stop talking about it. Slowly, I glanced over my shoulder to find Prince Elias standing in the center of the pub. Everyone around us seemed to have completely stopped what they were doing to stare at him. Some women were still curtsying. Some men still bowing. Everyone’s mouth was agape. And then there was me, whose face was aflame and wanted to die of mortification.
The Sinful King: By New York Times Bestselling Author Page 4