by Romy Sommer
If I were thinking at all rationally right now, I’d probably hate myself for wanting him. But my body is wound so tight I don’t care. Because that feeling I had when I first laid eyes on him in the library nearly two weeks ago is now ten times stronger than it was back then. Yeah, I’d like to do him.
***
Since we only got back to the palace in the early hours, I’ve hardly slept by the time I meet Adam in the ballroom. My head hurts, and my muscles ache. I didn’t realize ballroom dancing uses so many muscles. Adam has thoughtfully supplied bottles of water which at least relieves my dehydration, even though it does nothing for the pain in my head. The headache has nothing to do with last night’s cocktails and everything to do with the fact that I spend the better part of the day in Adam’s arms, our bodies constantly touching and swaying together.
By the time Max and Phoenix return from their weekend escape late that afternoon, I’ve mastered the basics of the waltz, rumba, cha-cha, foxtrot and quickstep. I draw the line at learning to tango. I am never going to need to dance a tango.
With their return, the palace goes from silent as a grave to humming. The next morning there’s an official debrief for the bridal party and all the heads of staff in which Claus runs us through every step of the processions, ceremonies and even the speeches. This is suddenly very real. Though I’ve been working on my speech since I first received Phoenix’s call, I pray for a lightning strike or other act of God to get me out of it.
On Tuesday the palace is overrun with staff, preparing for the arrival of the first wedding guests – Max’s family.
Phoenix’s anxiety feels almost like a living thing, and I share the feeling, though for entirely different reasons. Tonight, we’ll be sitting down to dinner with a whole bunch of royalty. This will be my first real test since that disastrous dinner party. But for Phoenix, her anxiety isn’t because of the titles or the etiquette, but because they’re family. By lunchtime she’s a wreck.
“I’ve met them all before, and they’re wonderful people.” She folds her napkin over and over. “But it’s just so …”
Overwhelming. I get it. Her mother died when she was young and she was raised by a single father, just like I was raised by a single mother. Neither of us even knew our grandparents. Suddenly finding herself in a large family of in-laws and grandparents and cousins has to be pretty intimidating.
“My mother sent a long text this morning,” I say, ready to provide a distraction. “She’s dating the GP she’s working for.”
Phoenix laughs. “Oh, no! That is so not going to end well. And I thought she was really enjoying that job?”
“Me too.” I sigh. “Her eyes are always so full of stars, she can’t see straight.”
Which is exactly how I feel about Adam.
***
We gather in the private drawing room for pre-dinner drinks. This is a long room with French windows opening straight into the private garden. The walls are painted a soft periwinkle blue, and the ceiling is decorated with plaster molding painted in gold. The scent of roses drifts in through the open doors.
When I enter, running late because it took me an age to straighten and tame my hair, the room is already packed with people. Phoenix comes forward to welcome me, squeezing my hand in mutual support, before she introduces me to everyone.
Max’s mother was a supermodel before she married the former archduke. She’s still beautiful and effortlessly glamorous, with a tanned glow that suggests her new life in California agrees with her, but there’s a sadness in her eyes too. Phoenix once told me Max’s parents were desperately in love, and her husband’s death really knocked her.
His American grandparents are down-to-earth, and when his grandfather shakes my hand I can feel the roughened work calluses on his palm that remind me he’s still a wine farmer.
Then there’s Max’s older brother Rik, as dark as Max is fair. His hair’s a little over-long and tattoos peek out beneath his sleeves, making him look more like a marauding pirate than a dethroned prince. I cannot believe that once upon a time he was the dutiful brother, the one raised to be archduke. Rik’s new bride, Kenzie, is a ‘commoner’ like me and Phoenix, and she makes me feel less like a unicorn in this room of beautiful people. She’s petite and fragile-looking, with ginger hair, freckles, and sparkling blue eyes. She’s also heavily pregnant.
“Yes, I was an enormous bride.” She giggles as she rubs her belly. “I can’t wait for the baby to come. The sooner he or she arrives, the sooner we can go home.”
“Where’s home?”
“We live on an island in the Caribbean called Corona, but we’ll be staying with my parents in England until after the birth. Rik thinks I should have my mother close by.” She rolls her eyes. “I love my parents dearly, but they also drive me nuts.”
Trust me, I get it.
Max’s other brother, Christian, is the newcomer in the family, the late archduke’s son by the girlfriend he had before he met Max’s mother. He’s also an A-list movie star, and I’ve swooned over that face and those hypnotic blue eyes more times than I can count. What red-blooded woman on the planet hasn’t?
His wife makes me think of Grace Kelly, with her grace, poise and ice-blonde good looks. They really are an intimidatingly gorgeous couple, but Teresa takes my hand and leads me to a sofa, plying me with good-natured questions about how I’m enjoying my visit in Westerwald.
“I grew up here in Neustadt,” she says. “I really miss it, especially now as the seasons start to change. California’s year-round summer is lovely, but I do miss the autumn leaves and winter snow. You really must come back at Christmas time. The markets and the festive lights are magical.”
If only. I sigh. “Everything about this place is magical! Even the bars. Adam took me to the Landmark Café, and it’s nothing like any bar I’ve ever been to.”
She laughs, glancing toward where her husband and Adam stand in conversation beside the drinks trolley. “I know that bar.”
As if sensing her gaze, Christian turns to look at her, and his eyes light up. I don’t even bother to hide another sigh. I’ve never had a man look at me like that.
Dinner is a loud, casual affair, even though it’s served in the formal dining room. The conversation flows naturally and I find myself relaxing, not worrying about small talk or if I’m going to embarrass myself. I’m seated close to Max’s grandparents, who are exactly the kind of grandparents I used to wish for. I never met any of my father’s family, and my mother’s parents were extremely conservative and cut her off when she came to Vegas to dance. That’s another thing Phoenix and I have in common.
Adam is seated down the far end of the table, with Rik and Kenzie, and though there’s a lot of laughter and chatter between us, I notice a reserve between Adam and Kenzie.
“Please, please tell me you didn’t sleep with her?” I whisper to Adam as we make our way back to the drawing room after dinner.
“Oh God, no!” He looks genuinely horrified at the thought. “She used to date my friend Charlie a long time ago, back before she met Rik.”
There’s a look in his eyes when he mentions his friend, something more than grief, and I wonder if he even knows it’s there. He turns away quickly, smiling at the room, but his smile seems forced.
Max’s grandparents head off to bed, and his mother soon after, leaving the rest of us to keep the party going. Since the servants have packed up for the night, I station myself at the incredibly well-stocked drinks trolley and do what I do best: mixing and serving drinks until eventually the party breaks up. Max and Phoenix head to their apartment, but the rest of us are all staying in the guest wing so we walk up the stairs together, parting with hugs and warm goodnights.
Chapter 18
Khara
On the morning of the wedding rehearsal Phoenix and I visit the palace vault with Max’s mother. Anna, she insists I call her. The head of palace security accompanies us, but Anna unlocks the door with her own key. The heavy door opens slowly and
Anna switches on the lights. I gasp.
The windowless room looks like a museum, with low lighting and velvet-lined glass cases around the walls. Each case has its own light, illuminating what seems like hundreds of items of jewelry. I follow them hesitantly into the room, pretty sure I shouldn’t even be here.
There are necklaces, bracelets, earrings, and brooches – and more tiaras than a Disney movie. Not the glitzy plastic-looking tiaras you see in bad TV movies either, but really old antique-looking ones.
In a tall case in the center of the room is a gem-encrusted crown. “Max wore that for his coronation,” Phoenix tells me.
“That was the day he proposed to you, wasn’t it?” Anna asks.
Phoenix flashes me a conspiratorial look. “That was the day Max made his very public proposal, yes.”
Way to go, Phoenix. Not quite the truth, but not a lie either.
As we wander from case to case, Archduchess Anna tells us the history of each piece. Some came into the family as parts of dowries, some were gifts from other royal families, and others were wedding gifts from husbands to their brides. There’s even a case of Fabergé jewels.
I have a sudden image of Phoenix doing this one day, walking her own daughter or daughter-in-law through the history and significance of each piece.
“This one—” Anna points to an especially elaborate necklace of rubies and diamonds, almost vulgar in its ostentation “—started a war. Archduke Willem had it made for his mistress. Some say it was this necklace that was the last straw. After he presented it to her, the people of Westerwald rose up in support of his queen, who was kept a virtual prisoner while he flaunted his mistress to the world, and there was a very bloody civil war.”
“Max told me the story,” Phoenix says. “When the war ended, a sorceress cast a spell on the royal family so that every royal marriage from that time forward would be blessed with true love.”
She and Anna exchange a satisfied, secretive look that makes me feel even more like I’m eavesdropping on a private conversation.
Anna gives us a lesson in tiaras, and I learn a whole lot of new words I’d never heard before – drops and toppers and festoons, and the difference between bandeaus and wishbones and circlets. There are tiaras that can also be used as necklaces, and others that can be taken apart to form brooches, and one with interchangeable gems to match any outfit. We pore over the cases, and Phoenix finally settles on a simple bandeau tiara, a scrollwork of vine leaves made of silver and diamonds.
“Very apt when you’re marrying a winemaker,” Anna says. “Now don’t wash your hair for at least a day before the wedding, or the tiara will slip around on your head. And make sure your hair is already lacquered before you put it on, or the tiara itself gets sticky. You also need to ensure that your veil isn’t attached to the tiara, or the weight of the veil will pull it backwards off your head.”
I stifle a giggle, and both women look at me. “So, behind all the glamour that the rest of the world sees, this is what real princesses talk about – practical things like hair-washing and lacquer?”
Anna laughs. “Yes, nothing is ever as glamorous as it seems. Now, what about you?”
“What about me?” I ask, immediately self-conscious. “I’m wearing flowers in my hair. No tiara necessary.”
“But you’ll need earrings and a necklace,” she points out.
I’m so dumbstruck that the other two ladies continue without me. Phoenix describes my bridesmaid dress and they pick out a pair of sapphire chandelier earrings for me to wear, and a delicate emerald necklace for the banquet.
“I can’t!” I whisper, but they ignore me.
The head of security takes meticulous notes of which items we’ll be wearing with each outfit throughout the festivities. It’s his job to ensure the jewels are brought to our rooms in time for each event, and that they’re safely locked away again afterwards. I’m still shell-shocked when we finally leave the vault, and Anna hands Phoenix the ancient-looking key. “It’s yours now,” she says simply.
***
The cathedral is closed to the general public until after the wedding, but the place is a hive of activity. TV people swarm all over, laying cables and rigging cameras and microphones. Church staff polish the candle sconces, and specialist window cleaners are up on scaffolding cleaning the stained glass windows. Security officers guard all the entrances, searching everyone who enters and exits.
Phoenix and I walk the long length of the uneven, flagstoned nave, both wearing the same shoes we’ll wear for the wedding in a couple of days. Up front, Max and Adam wait for us. Max smiles at his bride as if no one else in the world exists, but it’s Adam I’m watching. A small smile curves his mouth as his gaze meets mine, and he no longer seems to have that bored air he usually wears.
The archbishop runs us through the ceremony, and when it’s all over we return to the palace for afternoon tea.
“Where’s Adam?” I ask, when I notice he hasn’t joined us in the drawing room.
“His uncle and aunt have arrived for the wedding. They’re staying at one of the hotels in town, and Adam has gone to see them,” Rik answers.
An anxious knot tightens in my stomach. Has he made a decision yet whether to accept his uncle’s offer? Could he be announcing his decision right now? Though I have no right to feel this way, I’m hurt he hasn’t told me any of this. Just friends, remember? Yet somehow I thought we’d become very good friends. The kind of friends who tell each other things.
He doesn’t join us for dinner either. Since tomorrow is the civil wedding, everyone heads to bed early. I’m just stepping out of the shower, ready to get into my pyjamas, when there’s a knock on the door.
“I have the chocolates ready, but you better not have cold feet,” I say as I swing open the door. But it isn’t Phoenix, come for a late night chocolate-binge. It’s Adam, dressed in a navy three-piece suit and looking breathtakingly debonair.
“I’m not sure why I’d be getting cold feet, but I won’t say no to chocolate.”
“I was expecting someone else,” I stammer.
One dark eyebrow arches. “You were expecting someone else in your room at this hour, dressed like that?”
He waves a hand at the towel, which is the only thing covering my assets.
“Phoenix, but that doesn’t matter. Please get inside before anyone sees you here.”
He grins and steps into the room. I quickly shut the door, but now I realize I’m practically naked and standing less than a few feet away from Adam. He seems to be thinking the same thing. His eyes kindle.
So maybe he is still interested?
My heart hammers loud enough inside my chest I’m sure it’s audible.
“Give me a moment.” I rush to collect my pyjamas, and dash into the bathroom to change. Plain grey sweatpants and a thin camisole top. Why didn’t I think to grab something sexier?
My hair is still steamed-up from the shower and untameable. Since I can’t hide in here all night while I straighten it, I’ll simply have to leave it as it is. I brush my teeth, add a dash of lip gloss, and return to the main room.
Adam is seated on the sofa, flicking through the new novel I picked up in the library earlier, this time an Alisha Rai romance with a semi-naked man on the cover. I would blush, but Anna recommended the book and if it’s good enough for an archduchess I’m not going to be embarrassed to admit I’m enjoying it. Adam sets the book down when I draw close, and his eyes darken. God, I wish he didn’t want to be just friends.
What are the chances that ‘friends with benefits’ could be an option?
“I had dinner with my uncle this evening,” he says, patting the sofa beside him. I fetch the box of chocolates I had ready in case Phoenix showed up, before I sit on the sofa, carefully keeping distance between us.
“How did it go?”
“He suggested I visit Erdély before making a decision.”
I nod. “That’s sensible.”
“So I’m going to leave the d
ay after the wedding to spend a few days there.”
My heart catches in my throat. The day after the wedding. That’s two days away. Just three more sleeps before he leaves and I most likely never see him again. I don’t trust myself to speak, so I nod again.
Since I now need chocolate a great deal more than Phoenix will, I rip away the packaging and open the box, offering Adam one before I blindly help myself.
The bittersweet taste of dark chocolate and strawberry liqueur hits my tongue. After the wedding, I have just one more week here in Westerwald before I’m due to fly back to Nevada. Phoenix and Max planned to take me to the castle in Waldburg which I’ve heard so much about. I was looking forward to seeing it but, without Adam there, it suddenly feels very unappealing. I can’t even imagine being here in Westerwald without Adam down the corridor, or holding my hand (metaphorically) through every event.
“Another?” I ask, offering up the chocolate box.
He takes one. I take two; hazelnut praline and something darker-flavoured, coffee perhaps. I couldn’t be bothered to read the box.
He holds my gaze until my breath squeezes tight in my chest. I memorize every line of his face, the slight crinkles that are developing at the corners of his eyes, the tiny gray flecks at his temples, the five o’clock shadow on his strong chin. His lips, full and tempting.
He leans forward, twining his fingers into my hair. “I like your hair like this, free and unconstrained.”
I wrinkle my nose. “It’s a pain in the ass.”
He grins. “Just like you then.”
I can handle the flippant, easy banter. But his fingers are still in my hair. He tucks the strands back behind my ears, his fingers brushing my cheek, and my eyes drift closed. This, I can’t handle. Why did he have to touch me?
Because now my body is coursing with the electricity of his touch. I know chemistry can’t be trusted, but it’s impossible to ignore. I want him even more now than I did that first night in the library, before I knew who he was. I want him more than when I was drunk on cocktails.