Royally Duched (Duched #2)

by Xavier Neal

  To withstand the mocking and ridicule that seemingly waits? To listen to men and women call my fiancé different and suggest the very idea of us together is ‘too controversial’ for them to accept? For those things? Yes I’m ready. However, having to witness my family’s dreams become destroyed in the process of my pursuit for personal happiness? I can’t say there’s anything that can help me prepare for that…

  I try not to sneer as I continue to scroll down the job listings I’ve been sent this week.

  Boring. They all look absolutely, one hundred percent dull. It could be because they’re all desk positions. Manager of this. Secretary of that. Consultant to this consultant. One of the perks of being engaged to someone in the royal family is definitely the pull they have to provide opportunities like this, but just between you and me? It makes me feel…like shit. I’m being handed these chances on a silver platter simply because I’m banging a Prince. Yeah… I’m qualified for a couple of these, but most of them…no. If I take one off this list, not that I even want to, it wouldn’t be earned or deserved. I’ve spent ten years of life working for everything I’ve been given in my career, from my education to kissing the asses of Art directors in hopes they’ll remember my name when a job opens up. To just take one of these jobs away from someone who did more than blow a Kenningston leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Well, either that or it’s from the lemon flavored yogurt they served for breakfast alongside half a banana. Have I mentioned just how much I miss the states yet?

  Kellan walks into the room, ear pressed to the phone, completely focused on the conversation. “I understand wanting to see a drafted proposal.”

  For the past three weeks it feels like he’s had his ear glued to his cell and fingers to his tablet. After our engagement party where he, his father, and his brother lost crucial investors to their beloved projects, he’s been busy trying to fill the gaps in funding. The only real break he’s taken to do more than sleep or squeeze in a work out to go towards his training for the triathlon in a couple months was when we flew back to the states last weekend to celebrate our engagement there at his favorite pub. It was the first time since the announcement in his country I had seen him relax. It was also the most amount of sex we’ve had since that night as well. Never thought I would turn into one of those women who had to complain they weren’t getting laid enough in a relationship…Should I be worried? I mean, if we’re not having sex before we’re married, how much is our sex stock going to plummet once we are?

  “Lunch?” Kellan’s question grabs my attention. “You want to discuss it over lunch today?”

  I turn completely around in the leather desk chair I’m sitting in to profusely shake my head.

  Rather than even glance my direction, Kellan checks his watch, and mutters, “That’s…that’s in just two hours.” There’s a short pause and he quickly denies, “No. No. Of course it’s not a problem. I’m very interested in doing whatever it takes to make this work.”

  Those words used to be directed at me. Ugh. Now I’m turning into a needyasaurus. There’s a reason those went extinct before all the others.

  “Yes. I will see you there.” He ends the calls and returns to shuffling around items on the dresser counter. “Love, have you seen my K cufflinks? I swore they were in my wardrobe, but couldn’t find them this morning before my video conference.”

  “Nope,” I answer and stand up. “But I have seen the look of anger on your future wife’s face and it’s not pretty.”

  His movements don’t cease as he acknowledges the statement. “Of course it’s pretty. Everything about my future wife is pretty. That’s what happens when you’re fortunate enough to marry the most beautiful woman on the bloody planet.”

  “Smooth,” my comment causes him to cock a smirk.

  No. No. Stay focused here. He’s in trouble and I don’t just mean for his poor choice in aftershave. Tell me you don’t smell that. It’s like cow shit and lumberjack sweat. It’s awful.

  Realizing he’s not taking the conversation seriously, I harden my tone. “Kellan.”

  The shift swings his attention to me. “Well, looks like I was correct. Even your angry face is stunning.”

  With lifted eyebrows, I question, “How could you agree to a work lunch with whoever was on the phone when you promised to have lunch with me?”

  His face scrunches at the mistake. “My apologies, love. It must’ve slipped my mind.”

  I try to ignore the pang in my chest.

  Not something you want to hear from your future husband.

  Kellan abandons his cufflink hunt and slowly walks towards me. “I’d call back and push this meeting, but the donor is already on the fence. Plus Dana recommended me and-”

  “I get it,” I cave with a shrug, trying to hide my disappointment.

  He arrives in front of me with a heartbroken smile. “You do, but you don’t like it.”

  “No. I don’t.”

  For what feels like the first time since the morning after our formal announcement, Kellan takes a long hard, look in my eyes. His two hands fall to my hips to hug my body closer to his. The simple gesture dusts the tension off my shoulders. “You’re unhappy.”

  Not intuitive but at least he’s noticing, right?

  “A little,” I meekly confess.

  His eyebrows sarcastically lift.

  “Okay, fine a little bit more than a little. But I’m not miserable.”

  “Yet.” He adds on a sigh. “Love, I know things have been crazy for the past few weeks, and I promise they’ll eventually calm down. It’s just with a large amount of funding missing, and having to replace them myself, has just created more burdens than predicted.”

  “I know…and I understand, but I miss you.” My hands wind around his neck. “And I get it. I do. Everything you’re doing now is to save your dream, to save as many children as you want, and to secure some sort of future for our own-”

  “Yes-”

  “But can we cut back on the neglecting the fiancé part?”

  The expression on his face falls.

  “You spend most of your day in meetings or checking in on the branches of MINOH close by, making sure the employees are up to your standards and that the minors are indeed getting what they need. By the time you get back, it’s either dinner, which is followed by more business calls or it’s past dinner and you just shower and crash out. Forgive me for sounding like a total dude, but I miss getting laid at the very least.”

  He lightly chuckles at my remark.

  “You can’t go from orgasms morning, noon, and night to barely a kiss goodbye. My lady parts are rioting right now. Just being this close to you is turning me on in epic proportions.”

  Kellan’s grin becomes heated as his hands caress down the back of my jeans. “Is that so?”

  I try to bite back my whimper.

  Horny enough to wear out a brand new vibrator’s first set of batteries…How awkward would that be to order and have delivered here?

  “I also miss laughing with you, going to movies, cooking dinner together and even bothering you while you watch lacrosse.” With another deep sigh, I state, “I just miss us.”

  He gives me a sweet smile. “I miss us too, love.”

  “Plus, I don’t have a job yet, so doing something other than trying not to cuss out the wedding planner, would be great.”

  You think normal wedding planners get pushy, try meeting a royal one. We’re talking a woman whose sole purpose her entire life has been bred to do weddings and wedding affiliated parties such as our engagement event. She comes from a long line of royal wedding planners. She helped organize Soph and Kristopher’s wedding as well as some Duke of Dinkle Berry and Count Crazy. Of course those aren’t the real names! I can’t remember what she actually said. Her mouth moves incredibly fast and at times it sounds like she’s got a handful of marble rolling around inside of it. It’s only been two and half weeks with her and I already wake up in agony on the mornings I have to meet her. That’s r
ight. Just me. Another reason I am not a huge fan of Kellan working around the clock. He’s not sharing in the building of ‘our wedding’. Which nothing about what she has suggested thus far screams ‘us’ or our style. My fear that everything would become about the Kenningston name becomes more real by the day.

  “Why don’t you come along to MINOH with me here in Fayeweather and Rockbridge next week? Perhaps bring some art supplies and introduce the youth to a little culture that I hate?”

  His idea tilts my head.

  “You could teach them some basic techniques; perhaps give them an extra outlet they might need. I’m also scheduled to visit the St. Cecila’s Children’s Hospital about our joint efforts to continue to provide basic health care for those in the MINOH program. You could come along with me to that and spend some time creating art work with the children in the Shepard’s wing. They’re young children who…are waiting for transplants in the hospital. They don’t get many visitors outside of their family, so having a fun activity like drawing rainbows with colored pencils to pop music might be fun. Therapeutic even.”

  “First of all, colored pencils are dull, even to me.” Kellan smiles and I give him one in return. “And second, that all kind of sounds fun. Definitely better than staring at job listings I don’t have any interest in.”

  “There’s no rush for you to get a job, love.”

  “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one with nothing to do but look at wedding plans, take selfies and binge on Netflix.”

  Not really complaining about the Netflix thing. Come on now. We all love the ability to binge on it.

  “Well, I know having a change in their daily routines will bring the children joy. Who knows, maybe it’ll bring you some as well.”

  I’ve never really given teaching art much consideration other than when I give Kellan shit for not paying attention to what I’m trying to explain, similar to the way he gives me hell for not listening about lacrosse. I don’t have much experience around children, but maybe focusing on trying to instill a love of art in them, might rekindle the one inside of me that’s being neglected lately. I’ve already managed to burn through the few supplies Kellan had ordered when I first got here, so the lack of anything to keep myself connected is taking its toll on me as well. Damn. Is it just me or am I complaining a lot?

  “Yeah,” I agree with a nod. “I’ll give it a shot. I’ll spend a couple hours looking at fun art projects and then have Kage take me by the art store for supplies. How many children at a shelter?”

  “About 50 at any given time. Seventy five is max. It’s all the buildings and funding can truly handle.”

  The thought of there being so many minors without any place to go brings a different pang to my chest.

  It’s devastating how many children end up homeless or forgotten or runaway because living on the streets would better than whatever it is they ran from. They need a place like MINOH to be safe. Fed. Loved.

  I try to push down the guilt over selfishly commanding his attention while he exerts every effort to keep his program for those who have so little, simply running. “Do you have a business credit card you want me to use or a check or something?”

  “I’ll leave you with one of the cards. Please keep the receipt for tax purposes.”

  “Will do,” I state and wiggle my body closer. “You know this is the longest we’ve been this close since our engagement party?”

  His hands graze down my backside and cup my ass again. “That’s ridiculous. There should be some sort of law passed making that impossible.”

  With a smile, I grind my crotch against his, the feeling of his cock beginning to stiffen exactly what I was hoping for. “Can’t have lunch, but perhaps a shared snack?” I wiggle my eyebrows and a deep groan breaks free from him. Just as his lips feather mine, we’re interrupted by his phone ringing.

  He gives me a pleading apologetic look.

  I step back out of his grip and quietly insist, “Take that. I know you need to.”

  Kellan pulls the phone from his pocket. His eyes immediately widen at the sight. “I really do.” He hits the answer and states, “Kellan Kenningston.” After a short pause he assures the caller, “No. This is a perfect time to talk.”

  Liar.

  To my surprise, he tugs me to him by my belt loop, and sweetly meshes our mouths together. I can hear the loud caller continue the conversation, but it quickly fades as does the rest of the world anytime our lips touch. His tongue knocks against my lips, commanding access. The moment it’s granted entry, it enslaves mine forcefully in knee buckling twists and turns.

  Abruptly Kellan leans back and says into the phone, “I can’t meet for an early lunch, but perhaps an early cocktail?” His thumb caresses my throbbing bottom lip before he mouths, “And you for an early dessert…”

  My bottom lip slips once more between my teeth to prevent from moaning.

  And coming on the spot. Just this little bit was enough to get the canvas primed…

  “Sure,” he agrees, his attention now dedicated to the conversation. “Any amount of funding would be fantastic.”

  I watch him dig out his wallet and place the credit card on the edge of the bed. Engulfed in his discussion, he doesn’t bother to give me a second glance before walking back out, voice now oozing with additional charm for whoever’s on the phone.

  This is going to be a great thing. Maybe I won’t love working with children, but I’ll definitely love being more involved in art and being around Kellan. At the very least me visiting the programs in person shows I’m prepared to support him no matter. Just hope when the time comes for me to take a job I really love, he reciprocates.

  With a deep exhale, I round the corner towards the playroom of the Shepard’s wing at St. Cecila’s Children’s Hospital. Kage quietly follows behind me.

  Kellan had to immediately meet with whoever it is he was meeting, so I had to find my way all by myself. You know, after being ignored the entire ride here for his endless ringing phone. I was tempted to throw the damn thing out the window and mock him with a ‘can you hear me now’ joke, but I went against it. I’ve never hated cell phones this much before…

  At the door of the small room, Kage gently grabs my arm. “Be careful ma’am. I was informed not to enter the room with you, so please use extra caution.”

  I glance into the area where the few children seem to be struggling to smile. I give him a playful grin. “You do know I’m entering a hospital area full of ill children not infiltrating a terrorist ring.”

  He doesn’t crack a smirk.

  After adjusting my shoulder bag of supplies, I surrender my hands. “Got it. Be careful.”

  Kage nods his gratitude.

  I stroll past him and into the room, immediately seeing a set of nurses in opposite corners, monitoring the situation. Three steps into the room, I fake a leg pain, only to hear Kage’s feet storm in quickly after me.

  Turning around, I tease, “Gotcha.”

  He huffs his irritation, but the children all stop to stare at the sight.

  Nervously, he backs up, which is when I announce, “See giants are real.”

  He’s gotta relax if he’s going to be around me.

  Some of the smaller children continue to gape while the others laugh at the comment. As soon as he’s back out of the room, I introduce myself, why I’m here, and who I represent, to the two nurses as well as some of the mothers who are lingering. They kindly express their gratitude for my presence and explain how none of the children are contagious. They also ask several health-related questions before allowing me to try to make contact with the kids.

  I flop down on the floor next to a small round table where the crayons and coloring books are stationed.

  The blonde little girl I sat beside offers me a crayon. “Wanna color?”

  “Thanks.” I smile softly. “Wanna use one of my special coloring books?” She bobs her head rapidly and I pull out the doll themed one. “This one comes with these magic myst
ery markers. Wanna see how they work?”

  She turns her small frame towards me and nods again.

  Removing the special attached markers, I turn to the first page, and begin to color the doll’s dress. At first the color is clear but within seconds it turns bright orange.

  There’s a sharp gasp out of her. “That’s magic!”

  “Pretty cool?” As she nods, I offer her the other markers. “Your turn. You try.”

  The little girl begins to color the hair. When it turns pink she giggles, “Ot-Oh. Pink hair…”