by Holly Rayner
“It was okay, thanks for asking. I’m at my sister’s house in New Jersey now.”
I’m pacing the room, shaking my hand that’s not holding the phone. “Hey, I’ve been thinking about your offer…”
“Yes?” he asks, a lift to his voice.
Letting out a whoosh of breath, I sit on the bed. “And yes. If the offer still stands, I would like to accept it.”
There’s a pause where I doubt everything.
And then…
“Excellent,” Max says.
“Yeah.” My insides twist and dance, excited and nervous at the same time. “This is crazy, but yeah.”
“I promise,” he says, “you will not be disappointed.”
My heart flips at the statement, but then I remember he’s talking about money, and I nod against the phone.
“Are you sure we can pull it off, though?” I ask. “Not only convincing your father, but everyone. The whole world.”
I hadn’t even thought of that last part till I said it just now. If I stay married to Max, I’ll be a princess. People will know who I am. They’ll want to take pictures of me and Max. Maybe even me alone.
I’ll have to start thinking about everything I do in a new way.
“Do not worry about that,” Max says. “His being my father means I know exactly what he wants. Leave the planning up to me, Poppy. My wheels are already spinning. Right now, all you need to do is come to Stromhaer as soon as possible.”
“Like right now?” I glance over my shoulder at the closed door. I only got back to Jersey today.
“I know you are visiting your family, and I do not wish to impinge on that, so—”
“How about three days?” I ask.
“Wonderful.”
Even from thousands of miles away, I feel his voice all over my body. It’s not exactly like hearing it when he’s only a couple feet away, but it’s still magic.
“Perfect,” I say.
“We can text about specifics,” he says.
“Okay.”
“And Poppy?”
“Hm?”
“I’m excited to see you.”
The line goes quiet, and even though I’m still left with all these anxieties and doubts, I’m smiling like I’ve won the lottery.
Chapter 7
Poppy
“More champagne, Miss Moran?” Suzanna, the flight attendant asks.
I shake my head at her. “No. One glass is more than enough, thank you.”
“Can I get you anything else?”
“No, I’m perfectly comfy. Thank you.”
“We will be landing soon, so it’s best if you secure your seatbelt.”
“Will do.”
She smiles and nods, moving down the small jet and going to the compartment near the cockpit.
She’s Max’s flight attendant. I’m on Max’s private jet. I’m headed to a hotel in Stromhaer to see Max.
All these facts I have to constantly repeat to myself, because it all still seems too wild to be true.
The last three days, I spent every minute I could with my sister and her family, doing my best to put thoughts of the impending future from my mind. Now that I’ve left them behind, though, Max and what might happen next are all I can think of.
The plane dips, and I scoot a little closer to the window. We’ve been flying over the ocean this whole flight, and now land is finally in sight.
It’s a city, built right up against the beach.
Stromhaer.
Seeing it makes me gasp. I’m a princess of Stromhaer. Not officially yet, I suppose, but if all goes according to plan…
It’s late in the afternoon, and I’ve got a good view of the neighborhoods on the outskirts of the city. There are big apartment buildings, but a lot of houses with land as well.
From my extensive in-flight reading, I know that the country has a small agricultural industry, but most of its money comes from tourism. And that makes sense. Stromhaer is definitely a destination, considering the whole place exists on one big island.
My mind turns to the beaches. I know people come from all over the world to see them, but as Max already knows, beaches aren’t really my thing. Maybe there’s stuff for me to do in the center of the island, though. There are some lush woods there, so hiking and mountain biking are a possibility.
The plane dips again, taking us lower. Before I can process the thoughts whizzing through my head, we’re landing.
Gathering my things, I find a text from Max on my phone.
“Hope your flight was enjoyable. My chauffeur will meet you at the airport and take you to the hotel. How does dinner at nine sound? At your hotel’s restaurant, on the bottom floor.”
My fingers tremble slightly as I write back.
“Sounds great. I look forward to it.”
I expect to wait a bit as the plane sits in a line to taxi to a gate, so I’m surprised when Suzanna comes out and opens the door.
“Allow me, Miss Moran,” she says, taking my suitcase.
“Oh. Thanks.”
A staircase has already been set up. It leads right down to the pavement, where a black SUV idles, a man in a suit standing next to it.
“Miss Moran.” He does a kind of half bow. “I’m Henrik, Prince Max’s driver.”
“It’s nice to meet you.”
I go to grab my suitcase, but it’s already been put in the SUV. Henrik opens a back door and stands there, smiling, waiting for me to get my butt in gear.
I’d much rather ride in the front, but maybe it’s protocol to sit in the back seat, and if that’s the case I better get started practicing now.
The door clips closed behind me, and Henrik climbs behind the wheel. We take off, Suzanna waving at me from the doorway to the jet.
Sweet job, I think. Imagine being a private flight attendant. I bet this is her one and only job, since she has to be ready to go whenever Max wants to take off somewhere. And that probably means she works very little, since he can’t be flying every day.
And then I remember that I’ve stumbled into a pretty sweet deal myself.
Assuming we can fake it well enough.
Max said he had some ideas for how to pull this off, but I’m still apprehensive.
Trying to put my worries aside, I look out the window as we drive through Stromhaer. I spent a lot of the flight reading up on the city-state. The city limits are huge, but there’s also a lot of protected land outside of it, where endangered plants and animals are well cared for.
It’s a great place to live, and it ranks really high on happiness scores every year.
“Have you ever been to Stromhaer, Miss Moran?” Henrik asks.
“It’s my first time, actually.”
He nods. “It is a beautiful island. I’m sure you will find it to your liking.”
I study the back of his head. Does he know anything about my reasons for being here?
I’m going to assume not. Most likely, Max has kept his “wife” a secret and is waiting until after he tells his father to announce my existence to the world.
We drive through a part of town with ancient churches and cobblestone streets, and I roll down the window and inhale deep. The air is fresh, each block bringing a new mix of smells. There’s the salt from the ocean and sweet and savory scents from the restaurants. We pass a flower stand that’s closing up for the night, and I hold my breath to hang on to the roses as long as possible.
By the time we arrive at the hotel, it’s twilight. Henrik pulls up to the front, and a porter takes my bag right away. Right on his heels is a well-dressed man with a thin, black mustache.
“Good evening, Miss Moran.” He nods crisply at me, his hands clasped behind his back. “I am Arvid Heskin, the manager. It is a pleasure to have you staying here.”
My tongue is in knots. “Oh, th-thank you. I’m very happy to be here.”
Okay, so even if no one knows that I’m married to the prince, they at least know I’m connected to him. There’s no way the hote
l manager comes out to greet every guest.
I’m taken through a shiny front lobby that has a giant chandelier in the center and into a gold elevator. The hotel only has a few floors, and Arvid takes me to the top one.
He unlocks a door and sweeps his arm in front of him. “If there is anything you should need, simply dialing one connects you with the front desk. Is there anything I can do for you at the moment?”
“Um, no. I think I’m good, thank you.” I take my suitcase from the porter and give him a tip.
“I do hope you enjoy your stay.” The manager bows from his waist, hands me the room key, and slips out.
As the door snaps shut, I swivel on my heel and take in the room.
Wait. That’s not right. Rooms.
It’s a living room I’ve found myself in, with two big windows overlooking what I’m pretty sure is the oldest and most culturally rich part of the city. Everything is red, gold, and white, with the two couches the color of snow.
A bouquet of red roses sits on the coffee table, a folded white card propped in front of them. Without even checking out the rest of the suite, I snatch up the card.
Poppy,
I’m thrilled to have you here, and can’t wait to see you at dinner.
Until then,
Max
My heart speeds up, and I press the card against my chest. As soon as the smile starts, I know it’s wrong.
This isn’t a romantic note from Max. It’s merely a friendly one.
He worded the card so that, were anyone to see it, it could be loosely interpreted. They could easily believe it was a message sent between lovers.
It’s not real.
I put the card down and smell the roses. Closing my eyes, I remember the ones I got a whiff of on the way over here.
Roses are my absolute favorite, so I’m going to take their appearance twice in one night as a good omen.
Leaving the card and roses where I found them, I walk across the sitting room and peek into the bedroom. As expected, it’s just as lavish, the four-post queen set in front of a large TV and another big window leading to a balcony with several chairs.
The bathroom is through the bedroom, with a clawfoot tub and a separate, walk-in shower.
And there’s a kitchen. A kitchen!
Okay, so it’s more a nook than anything else, with a mini fridge and a small stove, but still. A person could actually live here.
The best part of it all isn’t the hotel. It’s the location. I’m back in Europe.
Squealing, I kick off my shoes and jump onto the bed. Bouncing up and down, I circle my arms around and laugh.
“Europe,” I sing, “I’m back! I’m back, back, back in Euuuuurooooope.”
Collapsing onto my back, I look up at the ceiling and sigh in pleasure. And to think—there was some time there where I thought this would be a bad idea.
I pull my phone out. It’s an hour till I’m meeting Max for dinner and I need to get ready, but first I have to share my excitement with someone. I start to dial Laura, but then remember it’s the middle of the night for her and immediately end the call.
Looking at my phone, I twist my lips.
Usually, when I have some good news to share, I hit up my friend Karen. We met at a hostel two years ago, and even though she’s back in her hometown of London now, we talk all the time. I visited her in England last summer, and she came to see me twice over the winter and spring. I’ve been keeping her up to date with what’s going on in my life—except for when it comes to Max.
That, I realize with a sinking heart, I can’t share.
I’ve already told Laura about the fake marriage, and I can guarantee that means Oscar knows. I know for a fact they’ll take my secret to their graves, and Karen would probably do the same, but it doesn’t work that way.
I can’t go around talking about anything related to Max. Like it or not, my life isn’t fully my own anymore. I have to think about how everything I do impacts Max and his image. Our image.
Putting the phone down, I sit up and look around at the fancy room. Is this what Max was hinting at when he said he doesn’t observe everything it means to be royalty?
I know a decent amount about European royals. Nothing crazy, but I do read the news.
I can’t recall hearing much about Prince Maximillian before. Likely, he’s been doing everything he can to fly under the radar. Who can blame him? One hour in his kingdom and I’m already getting an idea of what the pressure of living in the public eye must be like.
Hoisting myself from the bed, I grab my suitcase and wheel it into the bedroom. I packed the nicest outfits I own, but being in this hotel makes me feel like no dress I brought could possibly be good enough.
Laying several of them out on the bed, I inspect each in turn and finally decide to go with the little black dress—the one perfect for any and every occasion.
The clawfoot bathtub is calling my name, but there’s no time for soaking right now. I need to get moving if I’m going to do my hair and makeup and meet Max on time.
After taking a quick shower, I dry off with a fluffy white towel and wrap myself in an even fluffier robe. The mirror and lighting situation in the bathroom is a makeup artist’s dream, and I sit at the vanity there to do my face.
I’ve never been much of a makeup girl, but I figured out an everyday look that works for me some time ago, so I go for that. Scooting back from the mirrors, I take a look.
Pretty good.
But tonight is special.
And if I’m going to be a princess, I should really learn how to do it up.
Grabbing my phone, I search for makeup tutorials and find one on smoky eyes. It’s a little nerve-inducing to be putting all that unforgiving black on my face, but I take my time, and I’m happy with the result.
I hope Max likes it.
I’m not even going to chastise myself for that thought. I’m a red-blooded woman, and Max is a very fine specimen of a man. Of course I’m attracted to him, but having thoughts and desires doesn’t mean I’ll act on them.
Finished with my makeup, I pin my hair back at the sides. It’s nothing fancy, but it will have to do for tonight.
Black dress and tan high heels on, I grab my room key and slip it into my silver clutch. It’s really Laura’s—my wardrobe severely lacks when it comes to nicer outfits and accessories, and she insisted I bring some of her things with me to Stromhaer.
I don’t know how long everything I’ve packed will last me, though. I don’t know how long I’ll even be here for. Is Max expecting me to stay here permanently, or will I be free to head off to wherever come tomorrow?
We haven’t discussed any of that. At this point, I’m along for the ride.
I check my phone. Time to go.
Taking a deep breath, I head to the elevator. There are a couple people at the front desk in the lobby, and one of the girls approaches me.
“Good evening, Miss Moran,” she says. “Right this way.”
“Thank you.”
Has the whole staff seen a picture of me? It makes sense, but it’s weird to imagine a photo of me being passed around a hotel staff meeting. I don’t even know what picture they would use. My presence on social media isn’t the most regular.
She takes me across the shiny lobby and to double doors between two large ferns. At the sight of Max on the other side of the doors, I get a little woozy.
It’s going to be weird seeing him again. I need to keep my wits about me and remember that this is business. Nothing more.
The girl opens the door for me, and Max gives me that megawatt smile. His hands go over mine, and he kisses me on the cheek.
“Thank you,” he tells the front desk girl.
She bows low on her way out. “Enjoy your dinner, Your Highness.”
Max turns to me, his eyes moving quickly as he takes me in.
“How are you?” he asks.
“Good.” I’m trying to walk the line between looking politely into his face and starin
g at him. He’s even more handsome than I remembered, and his soapy, earthy scent has me nearly coming undone.
He’s continuing to look into my eyes, though, and maybe he’s expecting more.
Should I kiss him?
Without thinking, I step forward—but he has my hand, and he brings it up to press his lips to the top of it. A shiver goes through me, stopping me in my tracks.
And then I notice the restaurant is completely empty.
“You eat late in Stromhaer, don’t you?” I ask.
The place is just as nice as the rooms above it, with soft lighting and plants all along the walls.
Max chuckles. “I booked the restaurant for only us. I wanted to make sure we would have complete privacy.”
My eyebrows must go all the way to my hairline.
“It’s nothing,” he says.
“Apparently not.”
Max gestures at the restaurant. “Let us have a seat and begin our life together.”
It could be that he means to be funny, but I don’t laugh. Nerves shake me, and I stand up straighter and fake my confidence.
“Let’s do this.”
Chapter 8
Poppy
“Sit wherever you wish,” Max says.
I pick a table in the middle of the restaurant, and he pulls my chair out for me.
In the blink of an eye, someone arrives—as happens so often with anything having to do with Max. The waiter fills our water glasses and makes a show of opening a bottle of wine that I guess Max ordered earlier.
“Chicken or fish?” Max asks me. “Or they have a vegetarian dish, as well.”
“Fish, please. I’m sure your seafood here is great.”
“It’s amazing,” he grins. “Fish for us both,” he tells the waiter.
“Yes, Your Highness.” The waiter bows and backs his way into the kitchen.
All I can do is laugh. “I thought you hated all this pomp and circumstance.”
His shoulders drop, like a weight has been put on them. “I do.”
“I’m sorry,” I quickly say. “I didn’t mean to…”
I don’t even know how to explain myself, so I reach for his hand that’s on the table. He turns it over to squeeze my fingers, and I allow myself to enjoy the touch for a second before putting both my hands in my lap.