by Tracy Wolff
We sit in silence for a couple of minutes, just thinking. Then Garrett asks, “So where is she? How come I haven’t seen her around if you’re that serious about her?”
“Yeah.” It’s my turn to blow out a long breath. “About that. She…left.”
“Left what? Wildemar? Or you?”
“Maybe both? Definitely me.”
He sits up straight, suddenly looks more alert than he has in days. “What did you do?”
“That’s just it. I didn’t do anything. She just freaked out.”
“That doesn’t sound like her.”
It gets my back up a little, the way he sounds like he knows her so well. Then again, he has known her a lot longer than I have. Instead of being jealous of that fact, maybe I can use it. Especially since I’m pretty sure he’s part of the reason I’m in this mess. “She started going on about how we didn’t fit and how I was going to leave her behind for the country. I tried to tell her that wasn’t true, but she wouldn’t believe me.”
“Fuck.” He winces. “That’s my fault.”
“Yeah. I’m aware of that. She disappeared right after, called in to work and said she was taking vacation time. I’ve tried texting, calling, but she won’t respond and I don’t know where she went.”
Garret looks at me. “Are you asking me where she went?”
“Maybe. I don’t know.” He lifts a brow. “Okay, yes. I’m asking.”
“Is she still in the country?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? Call up the border patrol and find out. See if her passport dinged going through.”
“Seriously?”
“What the fuck’s the point of dealing with all the shit that comes with being royal if you don’t get some of the perks?”
I laugh. “Now you sound like me.”
“Well, yeah? Where do you think I learned that philosophy?”
“Okay, I’ll make the call. But, if she didn’t leave the country…do you have any idea where she’d be?”
“I’m working on that…”
Chapter 33
Savvy
It’s a beautiful evening. The moon is full, the stars are out and the breeze blowing off the nearby lake keeps everything just a little on the crisp side.
I pull my sweater a little more tightly around me as I walk, wishing I’d changed out of my shorts and tank top before walking into the village for dinner. Then again, I don’t think even jeans and a sweatshirt would keep me warm right now. I’ve been ice-cold since the minute Kian walked out of my house, and there doesn’t seem to be anything I can do about it.
It was the right thing to do, I tell myself as I veer onto the path that will take me to the cottage I rented when I fled my house like the hounds of hell were on my heels. It’s probably stupid to spend the money I’d been saving for a real vacation on it, but when things blew up with Kian I just wanted to get away and this seemed like the perfect escape.
I’ve loved Tournemire since I stumbled on it during my first road trip, not long after I started school in Wildemar. It’s a small village, rich with history and beauty and the friendliest people in the whole country—at least in my opinion. I’ve wanted to come back since I returned to Wildemar six months ago, but this is the first chance I’ve had.
It helps that it’s also pretty isolated—or at least isolated according to modern world standards. There’s only one main road in and out of the village and internet and cell service is spotty at best. For most people that’s a killer, but right now, I’m loving the fact that I can’t pull up my Twitter feed every five minutes and find out where Kian is.
Not that I want to know, because I don’t. It’s just hard to be on the internet for more than five minutes without running into an article about His Royal Hotness somewhere or other. I don’t click on them, obviously—I’m not a masochist—but it’s not like I can keep from seeing his face. His sexy, gorgeous, kind face…
I nip the thought in the bud. The first step to solving a problem is admitting you have one and I definitely have one. I am in love with Prince Kian, the Duke of…and I am desperately afraid I’ve gone and ruined my entire life. Because, let’s face it, Kian’s not exactly an easy act for a guy to follow…
Garrett was one thing. Losing him broke my heart, but losing Kian…it’s shattered me into so many pieces I don’t think I’ll ever recover. The fact that I pulled the trigger—that I ended it before he could—somehow only makes the pain worse.
Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I should have trusted him—trusted what we had—more than I did. But it’s hard to do that, hard to believe him when he says I matter when I’ve never really mattered before. To anyone.
My parents weren’t bad parents, but they were always more wrapped up in themselves and their great adventure than they ever were in me. I loved them, and I know they loved me, but I was always an afterthought. Always a problem they had to get around in order to live their lives the way they wanted to.
And then there was Garrett—I threw everything I was into that relationship and it still wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough.
I was just another problem to get around, a dirty little secret he had to keep away from his public life. For a long time, I thought it was okay—that what we had was real in a way everything else wasn’t. Finding out it was actually the opposite hurt me like few things, save losing Kian, ever have.
I go around the last bend in the road, happy to see my cottage in the distance, the light I left on leading me to it like a beacon. The bag of groceries I’m carrying is getting heavy, but more than that I’m just ready to be inside. Ready for a distraction from my thoughts and the tears rolling slowly down my cheeks.
Damn it.
I’m supposed to be getting over him, not crying every time I so much as think his name.
As I get closer, though, it registers that there’s another car parked in the driveway. And not just any car—a Bentley SUV.
Oh God.
Oh no.
Oh God.
My stomach starts churning, and for one long moment I think about running. Fleeing. Just dropping the groceries where I stand and bolting back into the woods.
It’s such an inviting thought that for long seconds I stand frozen, absolutely unable to move forward even an inch. I can’t face him. I just can’t. I’m not ready to see him—someday, I’ll be ready. But not now. Not today. I can’t do it. I just can’t.
Panic takes over now, shuts my brain down just when I need it most. Because the decision on whether to stay or to flee, whether to see him or to run away, is suddenly taken right out of my hands as I realize Kian is standing on the cottage’s front porch, watching me.
So, no running then. Not because I’m too proud to let him see me retreat, but because—for all his easygoing attitude—deep down, Kian is a predator. If I run, I have absolutely no doubt that he’ll chase. And he’ll win.
And if that’s the case, I might as well get it over with—somewhere comfortable, with chairs and heat and wine. Lots and lots of wine.
I start walking again and once he realizes I’m heading toward him, so does Kian. We meet about a hundred yards from the house.
“I was just about to send out a search party,” he says, smiling a little.
I don’t smile back. I can’t. It feels too good to hear his voice, to see that crooked smile and those beautiful, beautiful eyes. “Do you want wine?” I ask, nodding toward the bag I’m carrying.
He looks surprised at the question, but then, who can blame him. I’m not tracking the best right now.
“I want you,” he answers. And fuck. Just fuck.
“Kian—”
“I mean it,” he says. “I love you, Savvy, and I’m not leaving here without you.”
“Stalk much?” I manage to get out, though my tone is more yearning than snide.
“I never have before, but you’re introducing me to a whole world of firsts.”
Goddamn it, does he really have to be so freaking perfect all
the time?
It’s not until he laughs that I realize I said that out loud. Great. Fantastic. Wonderful. My grip on reality is fading by the second.
“You should go,” I tell him, ordering my feet to move so I can sweep past him. Too bad they have other ideas.
“I already told you,” he starts, then freezes when his phone goes off. Of course he has service out here in the middle of nowhere. Of freaking course. Stupid satellite phone. Stupid prince. Stupid everything.
“You should get that.”
He takes the phone out—of course he does—and I wait for him to get distracted and finally break eye contact so I can breathe again. Move again.
But he doesn’t look down to check his messages, doesn’t look away at all. Instead, he pulls his arm back and then throws his phone as far as he can into the woods.
I’m so shocked that all I can do is shriek. “What did you do that for?”
“I told you. I’m here for you and I’m not talking to anyone else until we get this sorted out.”
“Your father—”
“Can suck it.”
“Garrett—”
“Knows where I am and knows better than to interrupt me.”
“The country—”
“Can wait.”
“Kian, no, it—”
“Can wait,” he repeats, bringing his hands up to cup my face. “Just this once, it can wait.”
The tears start all over again. “Kian—”
“I love you, Savvy. I love you and I want to marry you and I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy.”
The bottom drops out of my stomach. “What did you say?” I whisper.
“I said I want to marry you. I want to wake up beside you every day of my life and go to bed with you every night. I want to make babies with you and a home with you and a life with you.”
It’s so not what I expect him to say that for long seconds I can’t say anything. I can only stare at him, looking into his green, green eyes that are filled with more love—and more resolve—than I ever could have dreamed of.
“I don’t understand.”
I’m not trying to be funny, but he laughs anyway. “I know you don’t, sweetheart. I know. But that’s okay. Because I understand enough for both of us. You love me but you’re scared. Shit, I’d be scared, too, if I were you. I know my reputation’s not the best.”
“I don’t care about your reputation.”
“You should. I’ve been kind of a jerk.”
“No—”
“Yes,” he tells me. “I have. But that’s because I didn’t know any better. I didn’t know what it could feel like to love a woman so completely that she takes over my thoughts and my dreams and my life. I didn’t know what it would feel like to love you. But I do now and I promise, Wildemar or no Wildemar, crown or no crown, I will always put you first. You will always matter to me more than anyone or anything else in the world.”
I’m sobbing now, just full-on sobbing, and shaking so badly that I have to hold on to Kian to keep my knees from buckling underneath me. But that’s okay, because he’s holding on to me, too. Keeping me safe, keeping me right where I want to be.
“How did you know?” I ask when I can finally speak. “How did you know what I needed—”
“Because I see you. Deep down inside, where nobody else can reach. I see you, the same way you see me.”
“I love you, Kian. I love you so much.”
“I know, sweetheart.” He pulls me closer, nuzzles his nose and mouth against my cheek.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t trust you. I’m sorry I didn’t believe that you could love me the same way that I love you. I’m sorry I wouldn’t take a risk—”
He stops me with a kiss—a soft, sweet, endless kiss that warms every single cold part inside of me. “Marry me,” he says, when he finally raises his head, “and I’ll forgive you.”
“I’ll marry you,” I answer. “But only if you promise me a happy ever after. You are a prince, after all.”
“Oh, sweetheart, I’ll promise you more than that. I’ll promise a happy, crazy, messy, funny, real ever after.”
I throw my arms around his neck then and pull his mouth back down to mine. “And I’ll promise you one right back.”
For my mother
Acknowledgments
This book is the result of a fun afternoon brainstorming session between my amazing editor Sue Grimshaw and myself and I can never thank her enough. She’s the best editor, friend, cheerleader and support system a girl could ever ask for and I’m grateful every day that I get to work with her.
I also need to thank Gina Wachtel, who is truly an inspiration and who I am so, so excited to work with. She really does know everything and I’m honored that after all this time she’s still buying my books and steering my career. Thank you so, so much!
I want to thank everyone else at Random House, too—Matthew Schwartz, Erika Seyfried, Madeleine Kenney, Penelope Haynes and Lynn Andreozzi. I am so, so lucky to work with the best team in the business and I’m more grateful than you will ever know.
As always, I must thank my agent, Emily Sylvan Kim, who is one of my best friends as well as the greatest agent ever. Thanks for everything you do for me. There are no words for how much I adore you, xoxoxo
And finally, I have to thank my mom, who was so patient and helpful while I wrote this book. I love you, Mom, and am so grateful to have you!!!
BY TRACY WOLFF
Lightning Novels
Down & Dirty
Hot & Heavy (coming soon)
His Royal Hotness
Royal Pain
Royal Treatment
Ethan Frost Novels
Ruined
Addicted
Exposed
Flawed
Hotwired
Accelerate
Other Books
Full Exposure
Tie Me Down
Play Me (serialization)
Lovegame
Extreme Risk Series
Shredded
Shattered
Slashed
PHOTO: © KEVIN GOURLEY
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author TRACY WOLFF lives in Texas and teaches writing at her local community college. She is married and the mother of three young sons.
tracywolffbooks.com
Facebook.com/TracyWolffAuthor
Twitter: @TracyWolff
Read on for an excerpt from
Royal Treatment
His Royal Hotness
by Tracy Wolff
Available from Loveswept
Chapter 1
Garrett
They say I’ll get used to this.
After all, what’s there to get used to, really?
Lounging around, doing whatever I want whenever I want, living a life of absolute luxury with absolutely no responsibility…
It’s a dream come true.
Or at least, that’s what everybody tells me. That this new life of mine—as the spare instead of the heir—is the best thing to ever happen to me.
Too bad I’m not nearly as sure.
That’s not to say I haven’t given it the old Royal try…because I have. For more than a month now.
I’ve slept with half a dozen women in as many weeks.
Have drunk my weight in bourbon and champagne more times than I care to count.
Have raced the world’s fastest cars on the world’s fastest race tracks and frittered away copious amounts of money on absolutely nothing of value…
I’ve even hopped from one hotspot to the next—from Rio to the Azores to Patagonia, for God’s sake—which is pretty much at the end of the fucking world. I’ve been to more parties in the six weeks since I’ve gotten a clean bill of health than in the first twenty-eight years of my life. And that’s saying something, considering major galas have been a part of my existence since I learned how to walk. Maybe even longer.
And now I’m here, sunning myself on a
rock near a secluded watering hole in the small village of Tournemire and whining to myself about how much I hate my new life. Could I be any more of a spoiled prick if I tried?
It’s obnoxious and I’m pathetic. Not to mention completely useless.
The man once trusted to rule the country now can’t even be trusted to be in the royal palace…at least not when serious business is afoot.
King’s orders.
Oh, that’s not what he or my brother, Kian, say to my face. But I am very aware of how often they’ve been showing me the door lately. Just like I’m aware of what meetings are going on at the palace when they do. I may have had a couple concussions too many in the three months I was missing, but my brain still functions better than most. Certainly well enough to know what my family is up to…even if they never say it.
I’ve become a liability, someone who can’t even be trusted with palace gossip let alone state secrets.
Fuck.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck.
Death has to be better than this. Then again, anything does.
The alarm on my phone goes off, a reminder to roll over onto my back so I don’t burn. Because that’s what my life has been reduced to. No meetings, no public appearances, no charity work. Just me, a bottle of sunscreen and this very, very uncomfortable rock.
Because I’m boring myself with all the whining going on in my head, I shove off of the rock instead of merely flipping over. And dive head first into small lake. And then I swim back and forth, over and over again, determined to exhaust the demons inside of me since I can’t seem to vanquish them.
Somewhere around lap thirty-four, I become aware of a commotion at the other end of the lake. And since the commotion involves a tiny little redhead with a very big attitude going toe to toe with one-third of my security detail, I can’t help but settle back to watch the show.