A Royal Disaster

by Jennifer Bonds

Truth be told, Lena was starting to wonder how she was going to handle it. In just twelve short days—yes, she was counting—her entire life had changed. Sure, a lot of it sucked—like the paps that were always hovering outside—but Liam had become a bright spot in her life. She relished their stolen time, their quiet talks, and the daily flower deliveries he handpicked. She’d come to realize that under the polished royal veneer lay a man just as real and vulnerable as any, and despite his best efforts to hide it, she could see how the crown and his parents’ impossible expectations weighed on him.

  And then there was their scorching chemistry. Every time she so much as looked at him, she feared her panties would go up in flames. She’d had lovers before—not many—but enough to know that what she and Liam had was a rare connection.

  One they’d never get to fully explore.

  They were from different worlds. His full of wealth, privilege, and royal decrees. Hers full of delinquent notices, lawsuits, and the world’s worst luck.

  Which was why she needed to remember that none of this was real, even if—for the first time—she wished it were. Lena had always been proud of her work at the studio, and she still was, but she couldn’t deny that the thought of returning to her real life didn’t seem so great.

  Not without Liam in it.

  She stole a glance at the prince, smiling as one of the kids accidentally brushed a blob of yellow paint on the sleeve of his T-shirt. He took it in stride, adding a blob of his own yellow paint to the other side, eliciting a squeal of laughter from the little boy beside him.

  So he had been listening when she talked about balance in art.

  Lena shook her head and moved on to the next table, answering questions and offering instruction. She needed to stay focused on the class. The children deserved her full attention, even if her life was unraveling at a breakneck pace.

  When she got to Ella and Dante’s table, they bombarded her with questions about the prince, their eyes bright and hopeful.

  “Mami says you’re going to be a princess,” Ella announced. “Can I be one too?”

  Dante rolled his eyes. “It doesn’t work like that. You have to marry a prince—like Elena—to become a princess. Right?” he asked, looking to Lena for confirmation.

  “All girls are princesses,” Lena said matter-of-factly, dodging the question as unease stirred in her belly. This was getting out of hand. It would only get worse if he came to family dinner. Her family would read too much into it.

  She’d have to talk to Liam, make him see reason. He could make up some excuse about business meetings. Or royal duties.

  On a Sunday?

  Whatever. He’d figure it out.

  “Your paintings look great,” she said, steering the conversation away from princesses and royal weddings and the train wreck that was her life. “Your brush technique is getting really good, Ella. Have you been practicing at home?” Ella nodded, puffing out her chest just a little. “And Dante, your color palette is awesome. The contrasting colors work beautifully together to really make the tree pop.”

  She watched for a few more minutes, stealing glances at Liam while the kids painted. He caught her only once, and when he did, he gave her the damnable wink. The one that made her knees weak and her panties wet.

  “I hope you paid the insurance bill this month,” Nia said, sidling up next to her.

  “Why?” Lena demanded, fear clawing at her chest. Mierda. Had something broken? They couldn’t afford repairs on top of everything else. “Did something happen?”

  “Not yet, but if you keep staring at HRH like that, this whole place is going to go up in flames.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lena said, dragging her gaze from Liam and forcing herself to meet her friend’s stare, head-on.

  “Girl, come on. You two have been making sex eyes at each other all afternoon. Hell, I’m starting to get turned on. It’s like watching the start of a porno.” Nia paused, a mischievous grin splitting her face. “Have you two been getting it on in the studio after hours?”

  “Shh!” Lena said, grabbing her friend’s elbow and leading her away from the kids. “Someone’s going to hear you, and I do not need details of my sex life in the papers.”

  Nia squealed. “So it’s true? Tell. Me. Everything.”

  “There’s nothing to tell,” Lena said, shaking her head adamantly, “but that wouldn’t keep the paps from printing it and citing ‘a source close to the couple.’”

  Nia shook her head in agreement, gaze fixed on a cluster of women who were undressing Liam with their eyes. “Is it me or are there more moms than usual?”

  Normally the parents just signed their kids in and picked them up after class, but it seemed there was at least one adult for every kid in the class. “Grab some brochures and start handing them out. Maybe we can sign up a few new students today.”

  God knew she needed every dime she could scrape together. Between the downturn in business and Chad’s lawsuit, she was hanging by a thread. And according to the completely jaded dude at Legal Aid, the fastest way to make the lawsuit go away was to settle. The ass had even gone so far as to hint that perhaps Lena could borrow the money from her boyfriend if she couldn’t scrape the cash together herself. Just the memory of the consultation had her seeing red.

  Over her dead body would she ask Liam for money.

  “Girl, you read my mind,” Nia said, bumping Lena’s hip lightly with her own. “And if I just happen to hint to those cougars that Prince William might be dropping in more often, well, who’s to say it won’t happen?”

  Lena rolled her eyes and asked, “How’re things going with Operation Seduce Ethan?”

  Nia crossed her arms over her chest and huffed, one of her curls taking flight. “The man is oblivious to the art of seduction. I’m going to have to up my game.” She turned toward the object of her obsession, tilting her head as if studying a Picasso. “You know, maybe a big surly dude like Ethan needs a woman who isn’t afraid to take matters into her own hands.”

  “Or maybe he’s focused on his work?” Lena offered. She didn’t even know if Jack and Ethan ever got a night off.

  Nia made an inelegant noise. “No one is too busy for love.”

  “Oh, it’s love now, is it?”

  “Could be,” Nia said with a shrug. “Hard to tell when I can barely get two words out of the man.”

  Lena smirked. “And all this time I thought you were only interested in his muscles.”

  “What can I say? I’m feeling the whole package. Who knew strong and silent could be so sexy?”

  Nia grabbed a handful of brochures off the counter and sashayed across the room, making a point of stopping to talk to Ethan on her way to the cluster of gossiping moms. Lena watched her friend, wishing she could approach Liam so boldly, despite the fact that every bone in her body—hell, every life experience—told her she wasn’t princess material.

  And never would be.

  …

  Liam dropped his brush in the rinse jar and leaned back to study his handiwork. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done something so simple—or relaxing—as paint. Despite the loud hum of the studio, he’d managed to slip into a state of quiet contemplation, the stress of the trade deals and his marriage predicament falling away as he’d poured himself—and the weight of his crown—into the painting.

  Granted, he wasn’t going to win any awards, but he’d done a bloody fine job.

  “What is that?” the girl across from him asked, scrunching up her nose as she studied Liam’s tree and the self-portrait he’d painted alongside it. He’d replaced the entwined couple from The Embrace with his disapproving parents and the lone girl of The Expectation with a silhouette of himself, the burden of his crown exaggerated on his brow.

  Elena approached the table, splaying her fingers over her mouth to stifle a laugh. “Be
kind, Kiera,” she said when she finally got control of herself. “I think Prince William’s done a lovely job with…” She paused, stealing a glance at his canvas. “His painting.”

  Great. Even Elena couldn’t see his vision.

  Another boy moved to look over Liam’s shoulder. “Kind of looks like a zombie couple.”

  “Don’t be stupid,” Kiera said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Princes don’t paint zombies.” She turned to Liam expectantly. “Do they?”

  “No, no zombies. Not today anyway,” he said, throwing the boy a bone. “It’s actually—”

  “I know!” shouted a girl with an oversized sparkly bow on her head. “It’s a picture of Miss Elena and Prince William!”

  The little boy snorted. “If that’s a self-portrait, it’s not very good.”

  Before Liam could respond and put an end to the discussion of his subpar artwork, another boy interjected, pointing at the impressionistic image Liam had painted of himself wearing the crown. “That one over there looks like a giant pen—”

  “Time!” Elena called, cutting the boy off as she dropped a hand to his shoulder. There was a hint of laughter in her eyes.

  So much for his artistic abilities.

  The debate about his painting ended, Liam rose from the table and thanked the children for letting him join their group. Then he watched as they began the cleanup process. They emptied their rinsing jars in an industrial sink tucked into the back corner of the studio and rinsed their brushes. Then they worked as a team to pull up the brown paper that had been laid over the tables to catch spills. When they were done, they piled their aprons on a table, grabbed their paintings, and filed out with their parents. The studio was far from perfect, but they’d surely cut Elena’s cleanup work in half.

  Once all the kids were gone, he approached Elena. “You run a tight ship.”

  She shrugged. “Have to, otherwise the kids will run roughshod over us.” She wiped her hands on her apron and waved to Nia as her friend ducked out with an armload of textbooks. “Thank you for coming today and for being so patient with the kids. Everyone had a great time, and I know they’re going to be telling all their friends about the time they met Prince William.” Her eyes darted to his canvas, which was still on the table. “I’m sure they’ll be singing your artistic praises.”

  He laughed and shook his head. “It was my pleasure. Spending the afternoon with the children was just what I needed. My days are so full of royal duties back home, I don’t have nearly enough time to devote to community outreach. It’s considered the responsibility of the spare, not the heir.”

  “It’s a shame,” Elena said, her eyes softening as she studied him. “You were great with the kids.”

  Liam sighed. “Too bad the same can’t be said for my artistic abilities.”

  The left side of Elena’s mouth hitched up and she gave him a crooked smile. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. Children are brutally honest.”

  “That’s putting it mildly,” he teased, gesturing to the drying canvas where he’d evidently portrayed himself as a giant dickhead. His brother would have a field day if he ever got his hands on it. “I don’t suppose they’ll be hanging my work in the palace gallery any time soon.”

  “Don’t quit your day job just yet,” Elena said, patting his chest playfully.

  The gentle touch sent a rush of adrenaline pulsing through his veins and, before he could think it through, Liam brought his hand up, capturing Elena’s wrist in his grasp. Her palm lay flat against his chest as she looked up at him from under her lashes, dark eyes churning with…desire.

  It wasn’t the first time he’d seen his own passion mirrored in her eyes, but it was the first time he couldn’t come up with an excuse to walk away. To hell with all the reasons it was a bad idea. He enjoyed Elena’s company and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted a woman so bloody badly. Why shouldn’t they act on it?

  Half the world was already convinced they were fucking.

  “Elena.” Her name rolled off his tongue like a gravelly plea, and he would’ve sworn her knees gave just a little.

  Then, not meeting his gaze, she pulled her hand free of his grasp, tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and patted the front of her apron, as if searching for something. “I should get these in the wash,” she said, hastily grabbing an armload of aprons from the nearest table. “You don’t have to stay. You’ve done more than enough to help me out today. I can take care of the rest.”

  She was rambling, something she often did when she was nervous. It was only a matter of time until she started talking about his cock. He watched as she skirted the counter and headed for the back room, the curve of her perfect ass taunting him with each step.

  Bloody hell. Maybe it was a blessing she usually wore those baggy overalls. Otherwise he’d be walking around all day with a hard-on.

  Liam grabbed a pile of aprons and followed her, not giving a second thought to the men guarding the door.

  In the back room, Elena was stuffing the aprons into the washer with gusto, her movements exaggerated and jerky, as if she were still flustered by his touch.

  Liam approached slowly, dropping his stack of aprons on top of the dryer.

  Elena froze but said nothing, so he took the opportunity to move behind her, bracing his arms on either side of the washer as water poured down on top of the colorful fabric inside. It was an old machine and it vibrated under his palms, quickening his pulse.

  He’d been too long without release, and the damn washer might bloody well push him over the edge.

  “Elena,” he said, leaning close so that only the slightest bit of space separated their bodies.

  “Yes?” The lone syllable hitched in her throat and the heat of desire rolled off her in waves.

  Encouraged, he brought his right hand up, his pointer finger skimming her neck as he traced the delicate flesh behind her ear. Even as his finger cut a path across her heated skin, she melted in to him, her soft curves melding to the hard planes of his chest. “You have a spot of paint here. May I?”

  She nodded, and using the pad of his thumb, he rubbed all traces of blue paint from her skin, following with a gentle brush of his lips. Her skin was on fire, and the scent of lavender and lemon overwhelmed his senses as he drank her in, desperate to taste her as he’d done at the theater.

  But that had been for show. This was…bollocks. There was no point lying to himself. Their first kiss had been born of passion and desire and the base urge to claim Elena for his own. To tell himself anything else would be a lie, so he gave in to the desperation clawing at his skin, demanding he take Elena in his arms as he’d fantasized of doing for weeks.

  Elena must’ve felt it, too, because she twisted around, her full breasts heaving against his chest as she drew a shaky breath. Their eyes met and Liam closed the space between them, leaving no room for words or doubt or even air as he lowered his lips to hers.

  Sweet Jesus.

  It was as if her mere touch incinerated his carefully crafted self-control. Gone was the perfect royal and in his place was a man ravaged by desire. His lips moved over hers with the kind of desperation attributed to heartsick fools and hormonal teenagers, but he didn’t give a damn. She tasted even better than he remembered, her lips as full and sweet as honey. And when her tongue brushed against his in tentative exploration, Liam groaned and deepened the kiss, not caring that this woman—whose passion and fire called to his own—wasn’t on the list of crown-approved brides.

  Chapter Twelve

  Kissing Liam was…everything. Well, everything except air, so when Lena finally pulled away to catch her breath, breaking off the kiss felt like walking away from a canvas she’d poured her heart and soul into. She didn’t like the feeling. Not one bit.

  Mierda.

  No way was she catching feelings for her fake boyfriend.

 
She brushed the tips of her fingers over her lips. Even without a mirror, she could tell they were swollen. Well kissed, Nia would’ve said. So much for subtlety. She could only imagine what Jack and Ethan would think.

  So not the point.

  “Why did you do that?” she said.

  He’d taken a step back, giving her a bit of space. It wasn’t much. Just enough to breathe and pump the breaks on the rapid-fire thoughts racing through her mind.

  Liam flashed her a smile, the one that showed off his dimples. “Why not?”

  “I’m serious,” Lena said, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. Why did the man have to be so sexy? This would be a thousand times easier if he were a hideous troll. But no, he had to be the fully loaded fake boyfriend model with perfect cheekbones, arctic eyes, and those perfectly symmetrical goddamn dimples she couldn’t stop drawing, let alone thinking about. It wasn’t fair. Even his hair, despite being mussed—had she done that?—was perfection. How could she possibly be expected not to fall for him? It was like they said on that space show Chad made her watch, resistance was futile.

  But that didn’t mean she couldn’t do things on her own terms. “There’s no press here,” she said, gesturing to the empty storage room. “So why did you kiss me?”

  “Because I wanted to, and I thought you wanted it, too.” Liam raked a hand through his hair, making it stick up even more. Lena’s fingers itched to smooth it down, but she pinned her hand to her side. She needed to hear what he had to say and if she touched him, there would be no more talking.

  “I find you refreshing. I’m attracted to you in a way I’ve never been attracted to a woman before. I…” He paused, casting his eyes about the room as if searching for the right words. It was an uncharacteristic display of vulnerability from the always confident prince, and Lena’s marshmallow heart melted just a bit as he floundered. “I care about you.” Their eyes met and held this time, as if he was determined to show her the truth of his words. “You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met before.”

  It was a hell of a compliment, but it was unexpected and she wasn’t prepared for it. It was too much, too soon. He couldn’t possibly mean it, could he? Not the way it sounded, anyway. Lena was a realist and she knew the main point of difference was that she was a woman used to wading from one craptastic disaster to another.