Royal Player (The Rourkes, Book 5)

by Kylie Gilmore

  “Yes, well, you didn’t die, and here I am, thankful for it.”

  “Your father’s tremors are getting worse. He’s anxious for you to marry and take your place with Peter.”

  I tense. “Of course, Marge filled me in. May I speak with Papa?”

  “He’s sleeping. He’s not young anymore, Polly.”

  He never was. He was a widower, who remarried my mother. He had me when he was fifty. His first wife wasn’t able to have children and drowned in a boating accident. There were whispers of foul play, but I don’t believe them. My father spoke of her fondly, even if she was a disappointment in not producing an heir.

  My mother goes on. “He’s already outlived his father and grandfather. The genes on that side aren’t good for longevity. It’s time for you to do your duty.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “Do you?” she asks sharply.

  “Yes,” I say through my teeth.

  “I do hope Anna gives birth soon. We need you home immediately after.”

  I need more time to come up with a plan. “I’ve promised to be at the christening in the palace chapel. It’s a very big deal, the heiress to a kingdom. Anna would never forgive me if I missed it.” I have no idea when the christening is, I just need to be sure I’m not rushed home early.

  “They’ll have it so soon after the birth?”

  “Anna clings to her American ways. She frequently chooses the unconventional path.” I quickly correct course before I’m ordered home immediately for allying myself with an unconventional queen. “Within reason. She’s taken very well to royal protocol and expectations. A shining example of what a queen should be, as are you.”

  I can hear the smile in her voice. “Thank you, Polly. That’s the first time you’ve said so. I’ve tried very hard to be an example for you. I just wasn’t sure if it took.”

  A backhanded compliment, which I ignore. I’m well aware my parents find me difficult. “I’d better go check on Marge and arrange for whatever she needs. Give my love to Papa.” I say goodbye and hang up. She didn’t grant me further time, but she didn’t deny me either. A good sign.

  I call to check on Marge, though I’m sure she’s just fine. “How’re you feeling? Better or worse?”

  Marge’s voice is nasal. “I feel like crap, but it’s just a cold. Fever’s gone. How’s Lina doing in my place?”

  “Wonderful. I couldn’t have asked for a better companion.”

  She huffs.

  “Not better than you, of course.”

  “Let me speak to the girl.”

  I grimace. Crap. I haven’t seen Lina since this morning. I imagine she’s sticking close to Louis. “She’s in the bathroom.”

  “I’ll hold.”

  “She’s taking a shower after swimming in the ocean. She’s a mess of sand, salt, and sunscreen. Terrible sunburn too. I imagine she’ll take extra long after the shower, carefully applying aloe.”

  “Did you swim? We didn’t bring your swimsuit. What did you wear?” She sounds accusing. I’m supposed to keep covered up for modesty’s sake, and my swimsuit is a one-piece with short sleeves that has a long skirt. It’s more of a ruffled dress than a proper swimsuit. She probably thinks I wore a scandalous normal one-piece or, God forbid, a bikini.

  “I didn’t swim. I just stuck my toes in the water.”

  “Did you wear a proper hat and veil?”

  “The wind stole it.” It’s the excuse she expects to hear from me.

  She groans and then coughs. “Ask Lina to call me when she’s able.”

  “We’re pretty busy with exploring nature around here, but I’ll pass on the message.”

  “If she’s sunburned, she shouldn’t be exploring nature.”

  “I’ll keep her under a parasol.”

  “You should use one too. The sun will give you wrinkles and freckles.”

  I suppress a sigh. “Great idea. Feel better!”

  “I’d feel better if I had my eye on you.”

  I press my lips together, mutter goodbye, and hang up. I know she’s only doing her job and that deep down she cares for me, as I do her, but she’s also a reminder of the restrictions placed on me. I must break free. From Peter, from all the rules. I must become the one who makes the rules.

  ~ ~ ~

  Dinner with Charles is lovely. He’s reserved a private room in the back of an elegant restaurant with fabulous French food, and I must admit, it’s nice to speak my native tongue with someone who understands. He’s familiar with Beaumont, having visited several times on vacation, and loved it there. It is a beautiful place with white sand beaches, clear blue water, and tastefully done resorts.

  Once the dinner dishes are cleared, Charles orders a brandy. I sip at my sparkling water, wanting to keep my head clear for our talk.

  Finally, he gets down to business when his brandy arrives. “We have a mutual friend from Beaumont.”

  “Who?”

  “Peter Boucher.”

  My stomach drops. He’s friends with Peter? That’s my soon-to-be fiancé. Does he know the truth about my family?

  He goes on smoothly. “I know he’s blackmailing you into marrying him, and I know why.”

  My heartbeat pounds in my ears. I can’t believe this. Nobody knows.

  I finally find my voice, but it comes out breathy. “Why would Peter tell you this?”

  “I’ve stayed at one of his resorts multiple times, and he knows of my ties to the royal family here. We became friendly. Obviously he’s quite sure of himself to plainly tell me the facts.”

  I go cold. Charles probably wants to blackmail me, too, just to keep the whole thing quiet. “What do you want?”

  His oily smile gives me chills. “I only want to help you. If you pay off your parents’ debt, Peter’s hold on you vanishes.”

  “And you’re going to help me pay it off?” It can’t be that easy. I know this, but I need him to get to the point.

  He leans in, lowering his voice, though we’re alone in the back room of the restaurant. Vaughn is posted outside the entrance of it. “Have you ever considered how valuable your virginity is?”

  I gasp.

  “Hear me out. An auction for your virginity, quietly done, here in a hotel suite. The ultrawealthy seek the elusive, the unique, the unattainable. You’re all three. You will never find such a gathering of the wealthy all in one place. One hour of your time to gain your freedom.”

  Bile rises in my throat. “You disgust me. I would never sell my body.”

  He leans back in his seat. “Understandable reaction to an unusual idea, but you’re in an unusually difficult situation, are you not?”

  I toss my napkin on the table. “We’re done here.”

  “Maybe you’d like to hear what Peter plans to do with your palace once he’s king.”

  I stare at him. “Do with it? What do you mean?”

  He pulls out his phone and taps it a few times. “Peter wants to turn your palace into a tourist attraction like a carnival ride.” He shows me the screen. “There’s your proof.”

  I read an email from Peter in growing horror as he asks about European castles used in the tourism industry and wondering about the expense of turning part of it into a ride. He concludes Beaumont doesn’t have a theme park and this would make it more appealing to families. Suddenly I remember Peter asking me about my travel to Villroy, inquiring about their experience with destination weddings and their royal honeymoon suite. This is unreal. He wants to turn the palace that’s been in the Lyon family for centuries into a carnival ride? It’s blasphemy.

  My head spins with all the implications. Peter can never be made king. Marrying him doesn’t solve anything. It only makes it worse. I have to pay him off and get him out of the picture as soon as possible.

  “No one would ever know,” Charles says softly. “A small sacrifice for the good of your kingdom.”

  I shiver, goose bumps breaking out over my skin. Duty to kingdom above self. It’s ingrained in me. But this i
s too much. Every cell in my body screams no!

  He smiles, his voice gentle, and I’m frozen in horror. “I’m only trying to help you get out of his hold. You need the money, and I can promise a windfall deposited in your account immediately upon completion of the transaction. Tomorrow night. I’ll take a small percentage for arranging it.”

  I meet his eyes, and they gleam with greed just like Peter’s. He seeks his own windfall, which means he expects a lot of money to pour in for me. I’m nauseous at the mere thought of it. I’d entertained the idea of giving my virginity away in a big adventure so Peter wouldn’t get everything, but I never took it seriously enough to follow through. I even dared to broach the topic with Oscar last night in my drunken state, but he was sensible and looked out for me. I appreciated that once I sobered up.

  “Let’s go back to my office to work out the details,” he says.

  I swallow hard. “I need more time to think.”

  He gives me an indulgent smile. “Offer expires at midnight tonight, Princess. Then I share what I know.”

  “So now you’re blackmailing me too?”

  He lifts his palms. “I’m the only one offering to help you.”

  I stand. “I don’t need your kind of help.”

  I turn and rush out of the restaurant, but I still hear his ominous pronouncement. “Midnight, lovely.”

  Chapter Eight

  Polly

  I nod at Vaughn, who’s waiting for me, his face impassive as usual.

  “Just need a moment,” I manage, my voice not entirely steady. I take a few steps away from the restaurant entrance.

  He doesn’t react. His only job is to remain vigilant for physical danger to me.

  I try for a deep breath, but can’t manage it. My breath is coming much too fast. My fingernails dig into my palms. I need to calm down enough to think. I manage a deep breath and continue toward the atrium at a brisk pace. I halt suddenly as I spot Oscar heading toward me. “Hi!” I squeak.

  Keep walking and do not stop until you reach the soothing view of the sea. It’s the only thing that could calm me at this point, short of a sedative.

  Oscar stops in front of me, blocking my exit. He frowns. “What’s wrong?”

  “I was just taking a walk, exploring the casino.”

  His eyes narrow. “Now why don’t I believe you?”

  I lift a palm. “I don’t know. I’m new here and there are a lot of rooms and hallways to explore.”

  “Polly, we’re going to be business partners. I can’t work with you if you lie to me. What’s wrong?”

  I swallow hard. Then I realize he said that in French, like he knows how to get to me. Unfortunately, it worked. I don’t want to jeopardize my standing with him or Adrian. “I’m sorry. I feel a little strange sharing, so I just said the first thing that came to mind.”

  “Sharing what?”

  I don’t want to lie, but I can’t bring myself to tell him the truth. He wouldn’t understand the desperate situation I’m in, and I need to keep this whole thing quiet. I give him part of it because I just need to get away fast before I lose it. “I just had dinner with Charles.” Adrenaline spikes through me, energy shooting down my legs. I need to escape. Anywhere but here.

  His jaw clenches. “I was here to tell him to back off. You’re practically engaged…wait. You went to dinner with him? You’re marrying someone else as soon as you get back home.”

  My throat tightens. I can’t marry Peter anymore, and my options suck. “I can have dinner with people.”

  “Not him,” he snaps.

  I skirt around him and head toward the exit of the casino. I’m near tears, and I can’t deal with him right now.

  He catches up to me outside. “He’s a one-night-stand guy. Even at the party, he went upstairs for some action and had more after the party. He’s probably a sex addict, and you’re…well, you’re—”

  I halt. “What?”

  His lips curve up in a small smile that brings out the dimple hiding on his scruffy jaw. “You’re you.”

  And it actually sounds like that’s a good thing. I swallow over the lump in my throat. “Yes, well, I’m me whether or not I had dinner with him. Please just let it drop. I don’t need another chaperone.”

  I switch gears and head back to my hotel next door. I need some alone time to pull it together. He keeps pace with me.

  I turn to him. “I didn’t sleep well last night, so I’m going to my room for a nap.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “No. You’re high energy, and the last thing you’d do when out on a rare trip without your chaperone is to nap.”

  I don’t know what to say to that. I’m a little floored that he knows me that well after only a few days in my company.

  I head for the elevator. Oscar and Vaughn follow. There’s a middle-aged couple here too.

  The doors of the elevator close, and I stare straight ahead. I don’t know how to get rid of Oscar, but now that he’s standing so close, I’m not sure I even want to anymore. He’s everything Charles is not—a good man, honorable and honest. He looks out for me in a protective way. And he smells so good. The pull to him overwhelms me.

  Focus. What are Oscar’s intentions? Is he going to follow me to my room and lecture me on the dangers of having dinner with a sex addict? Charles is a lot more dangerous than that. He’s a total sleaze, but then again so is Peter. Is it possible Peter is behind this virginity auction? Maybe he wants to discredit me, make it impossible for me to take my place as queen because I haven’t passed muster. No, he’d want me to be queen since that’s his way in as king. This must be Charles’s idea, looking to benefit from my misery. He’s an opportunist.

  Oscar leans down to my ear. “Invite me in.”

  Warmth seeps through me despite the horrendous turn of events. Oscar feels safe.

  I glance up at him, and he gives me a tight smile. “I want to talk to you privately, away from your entourage.” He means Vaughn.

  “About what?”

  “The casino and your place in it.”

  I don’t believe him. He wants to lecture me. “Then let’s call Adrian.”

  “Adrian is on a winning streak. The building could fall down around him and he wouldn’t budge.”

  I face front. I need to think clearly, but it’s impossible. I was already off-kilter from my meeting with Charles, and now my senses are overwhelmed with Oscar’s sexy scent and proximity. I’m flushed with heat. A very inconvenient time for me to be in lust. Irony.

  “Just business,” I say as the elevator doors open. “No lecture.”

  “Lecture,” he scoffs. “What do you think I am, some stuffy chaperone?”

  I give him a sideways look. “You sounded like one earlier.”

  He grins. “Just wanted to make sure you knew what you were dealing with where Charles is concerned.”

  More than you could possibly know. Sex addict is the least of Charles’s sins.

  A few minutes later, I let him into my room. Vaughn remains in the hallway.

  Oscar puts the TV on.

  “You want to watch TV?” I ask.

  He crosses to me, speaking low near my ear. “I want to have a private conversation. I know how to work around staff. I’ve been guarding my own privacy my entire life.”

  “I wish it were that easy for me.”

  He sets the remote on the dresser and then crosses to the far side of the room and sits on top of the desk. “Have a seat.” He indicates the wooden desk chair.

  I do. Then I realize I have to look way up at him, and I feel too small here, trapped almost in the inferior position. I get up, shift the chair away, and sit next to him on top of the desk.

  I’m nervous suddenly. I can’t even look at him, but all of me is suddenly hyperaware of him—the dark outline of his legs in tailored pants, his large hand resting on his thigh, the heat of him, his sexy scent. I’m so wired. He comforted me last night, yet I’m wound so tight I fee
l like if he said “boo!” I’d jump a mile. It must be because I’m holding in too many secrets.

  “Polly.”

  I meet his blue-green eyes and they’re sharp, studying me. I clear my throat. “What did you want to talk about exactly?”

  “If we’re going to be business partners, you have to be honest with me.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I instinctively cover my tracks when I’m caught by surprise.”

  His eyes narrow. “That sounds like a little more than dinner. Cover your tracks? Caught? What exactly are you doing with Charles?”

  I clamp my mouth shut. I need to be honest, but I simply can’t share the hideous turn of events. “It’s nothing to do with you.”

  “Are you making some kind of side deal with him for the business?” he asks sharply.

  “No! Nothing like that.”

  “Then what?”

  I turn my head away. “I can’t tell you, okay? But there’s nothing underhanded going on business-wise.”

  His warm hand cups my jaw, turning me back to him, his gaze intent. “You will not have dinner or anything more with Charles again, understand? I don’t like the way he treats you.”

  My lower lip wobbles.

  “Pol?”

  I pull away and stand, crossing my arms tightly across my middle. I really don’t want to break down in front of him. “You should go.”

  He stands in front of me, his voice low. “Tell me what happened with Charles.”

  “I can’t,” I choke out. “It’s shameful. My family.”

  I cross the room blindly, my chest tight, my eyes hot.

  His voice is close behind me. “If you don’t tell me, I’m going to track him down and ask him. I’ll beat it out of him if I have to.”

  I turn. “Oscar, don’t.” Tears leak out despite my valiant effort to hold them back.

  He pulls me into his arms, and I bury my face against his warm chest. All this time I’ve kept all this horror inside, and I just can’t any longer. It’s too much.