by Kim Karr
Forcing myself to look only at her, I manage to smile. “I’d love to.”
“Good. Follow us then.”
Turns out, following them means strutting right up to Julius and gathering into the fold. Every step I take in his direction only makes my heart beat faster. In that white shirt with the top button open and his charismatic smile, he really is the epitome of beauty, with a beauty sitting beside him, too, I remind myself.
Ugh.
That smile on his face fades when he sees us approaching, though, and my heart sinks. Still, liking our approach or not, he stands, and the look on his face goes remote and unreadable. I glance away, unable to hold his cold stare after the hot, gooey one seconds ago.
“Julius,” his father clears his throat. “It’s time for the first presentation.”
Julius nods, and then he leans his dark head over to murmur something to Katerina. She laughs, and I know whatever he said was meant to charm her because she starts blushing. When he steps back, she waves, blowing him a kiss. “See you later, Love.”
Love.
Oh, God.
After giving her a curt nod, he turns his attention to me. Once again, I feel like the evil stepsister. “Ophelia.” His voice is so deep and rumbling that I can’t help but shiver. “What are you doing here?”
“I was invited,” I lamely offer.
He raises one eyebrow and stares over at me. “I mean with my family.”
I’m wondering how to respond when his Grandmother says, “Mail order brides from the Ukraine are very nineties, aren’t they Julius?”
He shoots her a dirty look. “Statements like that are bound to start rumors, Grandmother.”
She waves a hand in his direction. “It’s a good thing no one is listening to what I have to say then, isn’t it?”
I’m more than acutely aware of the proximity of Julius’s body to mine, especially when he bends to plant a kiss on his Grandmother’s cheek. “I’m listening, Grandmother. I might not like what you have to say, but I’m always listening.”
Laughter bubbles between her lips. “Good, because I want you to skip the new club opening tonight. This isn’t the time for small indulgences.”
He looks indignant. “How do you know about that?”
With a tsk, she says, “I know about everything, Julius. You really should know that by now,” and I have to hide my own smile.
It looks like Katerina won’t be seeing him later, after all.
Poor girl.
“I wish I knew how,” he answers with an extra-wide smile, and my heart pounds at the sight. “Because I’d love to shut that source down.”
The Queen gives him a dismissive wave. “I’ll never tell.”
Striding a bit faster, he ends up right next to me again, and with the slight breeze in the air, I can smell him. Just him. A scent that infuses into my lungs with every breath I take.
That’s when I get it—the magnitude of my sins.
I did this.
I lost this man.
Right then, I know I should slow my pace, move to the other side. Stay far away from him. Yet, I don’t. Why? Because I deserve to feel the loss of my own deceit.
I deserve the hate fucks.
The dirty looks.
The cold demeanor.
I deserve all of it, and so much more. And God help me, I know I’ll take whatever he’ll give me. No matter how humiliating, because nothing I try to do to make up for what I did, ever will.
I lost this man all on my own.
I did.
Under the second tent, Queen Helena indicates where Julius and I should sit. “I think I’ll leave you two here to represent me,” she says. “I’m feeling a bit tired and not up for the presentation, after all.”
“Are you sure?” Julius asks.
She nods, and then Vittore wheels her back toward the Palace. Now, I don’t know her that well, but I think she planned this. I really do.
Is there such a thing as a Queen fairy godmother matchmaker? Because I think I found one.
I glance over and look at Julius while the person standing up front talks about love and kindness and giving.
This beautiful, damaged man is beside me, and I’ll never get him back. He’s my own personal hell, and I’ll burn in it just to keep him near, even if only for a little while.
Once the charity firm tells everyone about their goals, a band starts to play the very familiar Palm Court music to the people. They mill around, moving with their plates in their hands toward the little tables on the lawn.
I stand, about to walk away, when Julius reaches out to take my hand. His strong fingers and the feel of his skin on mine is overwhelming. “I need a minute.”
I nod.
“Follow me,” he demands, ducking his head and peering into my face, as if wondering if I am going to deny him.
Like I ever would.
Looking at him, I find him staring at me in such a penetrating way; I can feel his look all the way into my bones. “Yes, of course, I will.”
With his fingers still wrapped around mine, he leads me toward a triangular patch of grass that stretches from the green vastness of the royal park to the dense forest.
I feel like there’s no gravity holding me up with him so close. I’m dizzy. Confused. And stupidly hopeful. “Why are we coming out here?”
Julius leans nearer and puts his lips close to my ear. “Trust me,” he whispers.
There are herbaceous borders and rose beds, lilies, and even clematis all around us. Soon, we approach a sign that reads “BIRD SANCTUARY.”
“There’s a bird sanctuary here?” I ask, surprised.
He nods. “All kinds of feathered gifts are given to the Royal family. Further in, you can find flamingos slumbering in a pool and a few exotic ducks, too.”
“Wow, I had no idea.”
“There are even partridges in a pear tree.”
I laugh and give him a playful shove. “Stop it.”
“No, I’m serious.”
“I’ll have to see it to believe it.”
There’s a gentle brush of his thumb across my lower lip that sends a current of electricity through me. “Then, one day, I’ll have to show you.”
My breathing is out of control. “I’d like that.”
Right then, he ducks his head, and instinctively, I open my mouth. Our eyes hold, and a tremor runs through me when he places a soft kiss on my lips.
With his mouth on mine, I tremble from my head to the tips of my toes. That tremor I feel only intensifies as Julius takes my chin between his thumb and finger and turns us a bit, pressing his lips harder against mine.
When he pulls back, he’s breathing fast, clearly fighting for control. And I want him to lose all of it. Throw caution to the wind. Kiss me harder. Want me more. Take me anywhere. “That should do it.”
“Do what?” I ask, still in a daze.
“Give the paparazzi enough time to get the right picture.”
That was for show?
It felt so real.
Looking around, I’m clutching at the ache in my stomach as I attempt to stand taller. “Yes, I think you’re probably right.”
“Julius!” Katerina calls. “There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
I guess she didn’t see the kiss. Or if she did, she doesn’t care. Either way, he doesn’t respond to her right away.
He just looks at me.
I look at him.
Eyes locked.
“Are you ready to leave?” she asks him, and he’s still looking at me.
However, when she gets close enough that he can’t ignore her, he glances her way. “Yes,” he tells her, and then he gives me a look laden with pity before he walks away, beside her, leaving me alone.
The way I deserve to be.
THAT KISS
The Wimberly Warrior
The Gossip Column
HOT ROYAL NEWS
By Ann Hess
This picture definitely tells a tho
usand words.
The Prince of Wimberly was spotted in the garden of the Palace trying to slip away for a little summer loving with the same unknown girl we’ve spotted him with, but he was caught in the act.
I won’t kiss and tell.
Will you?
TWO DAYS
The Present
The picture of Julius and I kissing in the garden surfaced Monday morning, and it put Raquel’s mind at ease.
He’s all kinds of tall, dark, and handsome in it, and I’m hardly noticeable. In fact, the only thing truly visible is my butt. The wind was blowing, and somehow, the fabric of my dress managed to stick to my rear-end.
Seeing me or not doesn’t really matter because Raquel has been congenial ever since. So much so, she gave me a story to cover about Parliament’s position on increasing minimum wage.
Much to my relief, a picture of Julius and Katerina has not surfaced, but what that means, I have no idea.
He’s not mine.
No matter how many different ways he looks at me, kisses me, touches me, he’s still lost to me.
I’ve just submitted the article I was assigned when my office phone rings. “Ophelia.”
“Hurry up and get up here,” comes a voice from the other end. It’s Raquel. “And be quick about it.”
She hangs up before I can respond, so I slide my feet into my uncomfortable pumps and grab my black pantsuit jacket.
The elevator has me on the top floor in less than five minutes, and I’m knocking at her door in less than seven.
“Come in,” she calls, a slight bark in her tone.
Oh, no.
Unsure what I might be walking into, I slowly open the door and try to catch my breath. She motions for me to take a seat.
Attempting to balance on my heels while my legs are shaking is making me walk slowly, but thankfully, I’m no longer out of breath by the time I sit.
“Yes, I see,” Raquel says, squinting her eyes at me. “I do understand. However, I’m not sure I can spare her.”
Spare who?
Me?
She nods, twisting in her chair, with an odd smile on her face. “Well, when you put it that way, how can I say no?”
A kaleidoscope of butterflies swarms my belly as I patiently wait for Raquel to finish her goodbyes, so I can find out what is going on.
When she hangs up, she’s so smug; I have to wonder if she knows something I don’t. “That was Prince Vittore. He was calling on behalf of the Queen. It seems she wants you to finish your story on the Crown, so she is requesting you spend the next two days with her.”
I swallow, wondering why the sudden need to speed up the plan. Then it hits me—the IPO must be going through, and that means so am I.
Panic grips me. I only have two days left, at most, here in Wimberly, and I haven’t made any specific plans. God, I’m not ready to say goodbye to Julius forever.
That familiar sting in my nose announces the arrival of tears, and I have to look away and force myself not to cry.
“Did you hear me?” Raquel booms.
I blink. “I’m sorry. I think I have something in my eye.”
“I said, this is your big break, so don’t blow it. Make sure you get enough to write an entire biography, if need be, and dig deep. I don’t want the surface crap you’ve been feeding me. I want real emotions. Do you understand?”
I simply nod, unable to speak, because my throat is clogged with unshed tears.
“Good, then go.”
The reprieve is so close. I’m at the door and almost in the hall.
“Ophelia.”
Turning only slightly, I look her way.
“I also expect a bit more than a picture of a passionate kiss to surface after Friday night’s ball.”
Oh, balls.
The Ball.
“I want you to break that boy’s heart. Make him want you and then send him off on his merry way.”
Break his heart?
She really is clueless.
He’s breaking mine every day.
I attempt not to bristle at the clipped demand and slowly inch my way out the door. “I’ll do my best to get his attention, but I’m not the only woman vying for it,” I tell her honestly.
“Oh, Ophelia, by the look on his face in the photos, I think you have it.”
What look?
What is she talking about?
“One more thing. Don’t forget your gown.” She waves her hand toward a bag hanging on the door behind her.
Taking that as meaning she wants me to get it, I walk toward it and unhook the hanger, before heading back toward the door. I need to get out of here.
“Take a look at it,” she demands.
Knowing better than to argue, I stop and unzip the white bag. I pull out a long gown. Raquel is beside me, holding the dress up to my body, before I can blink. The color is black. The style is strapless with the sides cut out, and it looks very tight. Blood heats my cheeks at the thought of wearing it and feeling naked when I do in front of everyone.
“I can’t wear this.”
“Oh, dear, of course, you can. You’ll wear this to the ball,” she instructs. “And when you do, you won’t have to worry about Julius seeing anyone else but you. My stylist guarantees it.”
If her stylist guarantees it, she might want to get ready to give every cent back she earned. However, instead of telling Raquel that, I simply say, “Okay, if you insist,” and then head downstairs, covering my groan with a cough.
Out in front of Wimbledon Life, I watch the cars zoom by the busy street and soak up the warm late morning sun.
The car Queen Helena sent for me is punctual, as usual, and as planned, I’m at the Palace by lunch. What is not planned is coming here today and tomorrow.
My last days.
With him.
Sadness swarms me, and I force myself to push it aside.
Walking up the grand staircase, I’m suddenly struck by the strangest thought—that I wish I could come here every day. I’ve never really had a sense of home any place I’ve been, and yet, here, in this giant Palace with way too many rooms, I feel oddly comfortable.
Every time I’ve met with the Queen, whether here or at her summer home, I’ve interviewed her in a different room.
Today, I’m escorted to the music room.
When shown inside, I find myself looking around in awe. The room is lavish with marble columns and gold mirrors hanging from the walls. There are traditional patterned rugs, blue and gold chairs scattered here and there, along with harps and cellos and even violins strategically placed for the best sound.
Then I spot the most exquisite grand piano I have ever seen in my life. I’ve played since I was little, my father taught me, but I’ve never owned one.
Without thinking, I find myself near it, admiring the bronze rim and ornately carved legs. Running my fingers over the keyboard, I imagine what it must sound like in a space like this. And then before I can stop myself, my fingers are gliding over the ivory, and I’m playing, “Moonlight Sonata.”
The haunting melody of the first movement is dark and whisper-like, and I have to stop playing before I get to the second in order to catch my breath.
Loud clapping has me whirling around.
“Why’d you stop?” Julius is sitting on the sofa on the other side of the piano with one ankle resting on his opposite knee and a stack of papers beside him. He’s wearing black slacks and a white shirt that molds perfectly to his toned chest.
My heart flies out of my chest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were in here.”
He bites his lower lip. “Beethoven, huh?’
I nod. “My dad taught me.”
Julius stares at me. His sleeves are rolled up, displaying his corded, tan arms, and I quickly wrench my gaze away from them. “I thought your dad was a hippie or was that a lie, too?” he asks, now frowning.
My mood plummets even further, and I walk around the piano toward him, placing my hands on my hips. “Why wo
uld you say that? Do you believe hippies can’t play classical music? What? They can only play rock and roll in your book?”
“Hey, relax. I’m just asking.”
Relax. No, I won’t relax. “Well, if I played the Beatles instead, would you believe me then? Or do you just assume everything I say and do is a lie? Because let me tell you, I think I’ve proven to you it’s not.”
He raises one brow at me, and the burn of constant disappointment practically radiates out of my chest. “Please tell me you can at least play the Beatles?” he asks.
“Screw you, Julius,” I bite out, feeling a volcano of ugliness erupting from the pit of my stomach.
His expression immediately dulls as he gets to his feet. “I was fucking kidding around.”
I place my hands up in a halting motion. “Don’t come any closer. I’m not falling under your spell anymore. Go see Katerina.”
“Katerina?” He gives me a little huff of incredulous laughter.
“Yes, Katerina. I bet she’d fall for your charm almost instantly, and then she’d let you fuck her right here on the piano.”
Just then, a throat clears. “Good afternoon, Ophelia. I thought we’d have lunch on the veranda before you and Julius have to leave.”
Humiliated that the Queen just heard our exchange, I can’t even begin to process what she’s referring to. “Yes, of course. But what do you mean, leave? I thought you wanted me here for both today and tomorrow?”
The Queen uses a cane to get from her wheelchair to the bank of French doors. She pauses at them, without turning around. “Julius hasn’t told you yet?”
My eyes dart to his.
The smug bastard is glaring at me as he strides by, and the smell of his cologne wraps around me. As soon as he pushes the doors open for his Grandmother, he says, “We haven’t gotten to the day’s agenda yet.”
“Well then, may I suggest you tell her as not to keep her in the dark.” Then, with that little snippet, the Queen disappears outside, leaving Julius and me alone in the room.