Ruling the Princess

by Christi Barth

  She trailed her fingertips in the just-cool-enough water. And lying on a pool float in the middle of the day while sipping icy Riesling and calling it work? Utterly luxurious.

  “Do you approve of that wine, Your Highness?” asked Rudolfo, the wine steward. The tall, skinny man wore the shallow silver tasting cup around his neck that marked him as a master sommelier. It seemed a bit ostentatious for poolside, but he was also stuck wearing the palace staff uniform of a lavender vest over a white shirt with a tie. He had to be broiling.

  Suddenly, guilt assailed Genevieve for making Rudolfo do this outside. She’d wrap things up quickly.

  She set her glass on the edge of the pool. “It’s delicious. Just a hint of honey, rather than being overpowering. But the real question is whether or not my sister will approve.”

  “Princess Kelsey seems to enjoy Rieslings and Sauvignon Blanc more than Chardonnay, according to the footmen who serve her at dinner.”

  “Then we’re on the right track.” Hopefully.

  Was it cheating to have the staff figure out her sister’s likes and dislikes? Maybe. But it was hard planning a special evening for someone that she’d only known for a few months.

  When she’d helped her father throw a state dinner for the Japanese emperor in the spring, Sir Stefano had provided her with five pages of food preferences, conversational topics, and even a list of names of the emperor’s pets.

  Having more intel on a foreign dignitary than for her own baby sister was disheartening. And infuriating, whenever Genevieve reflected on everything she’d missed out on doing with her.

  Kelsey hadn’t had a celebration with her family, well, ever. Not unless you counted her christening at the ripe old age of three months. She deserved to be feted in grand style. As befitting, well, a princess. But also, in a manner that showed her how beloved she was by their family.

  Regal, yet warm. Fancy, yet fun. Just like Kelsey herself.

  Genevieve had volunteered to organize the whole thing, partly as a way to make amends for treating her so…warily? All right, poorly when she’d first returned.

  Also, as the big sister, Genny owed her this. So everything had to be perfect.

  Rudolfo finished making notes on his tablet, hunched under the table’s umbrella to see his screen against the sun’s glare. “I’ll order two cases for the party, in addition to champagne, of course.” A knowing smile beamed her way. “As, I believe, is your preference.”

  Ah, he knew her so well.

  Her tastes, at least. Genevieve allowed very few people to truly know her. What was the phrase? Been there, done that, got horribly betrayed, got the T-shirt?

  “Preference or weakness?” She flicked at the water. “Prince Christian called me a cliché for enjoying a glass of bubbly.”

  Rudolfo leaped to her defense—she was his favorite, since Christian preferred beer. “I can’t think of anyone who would turn down the chance to step into your shoes and drink champagne.”

  Perhaps. But those people didn’t realize how hard the rest of her day could be.

  The non-bubbly hours. When Genny had to be “on” all the time. When every movement, every syllable uttered was constantly judged…and often found wanting. When it took every ounce of control not to break down in tears of sympathy while talking to brave parents in hospitals and their even braver, suffering children?

  With a rueful laugh, Genny said, “I can think of one. Princess Kelsey is less than thrilled about acquiring royal status. No matter what beverage I serve to cheer her up.”

  “Do you still want to try the Vino Verdhe I selected?”

  The only thing on her schedule until dinner was planning Kelsey’s birthday party. She could be cooped up in her office brainstorming decorations. Or she could stay here at the pool, get inspiration where the party would be held, and enjoy another glass of wine under the summer sun.

  “I’d hate for your hard work to be for nothing, Rudolfo. Why don’t you leave the bottle on the table? I’ll sample it once I get out.”

  “Very good, Your Highness.”

  She closed her eyes, pushed off the edge with her toes, and just floated.

  Alone.

  Entirely alone, what with Clara on watch outside the gate to the garden. Wasn’t that miraculous? This was a hard-earned peace, after yesterday’s frustrations around the Royal Auditor.

  The biggest frustration being how good-looking he was…

  The gate leading to the inner courtyard snicked open again. Genevieve didn’t bother to open her eyes. “Rudolfo, if you’ve brought me yet another choice, my father might have you arrested on the grounds of endangering my life. If I drink two bottles of wine by myself in one afternoon, I’d undoubtedly drown.”

  “You’re already drowning. In your own excess.”

  That wasn’t Rudolfo.

  Not only would he never be so rude, but the voice didn’t have his lilting Italian accent. Her eyes flew open to see Lord Theo just inside the gate, arms crossed and feet planted wide.

  He looked imposing and pissed off.

  He also looked like a model from a cologne ad, with an open-necked white shirt tucked into dark cream trousers. A jacket hung over his shoulder from two fingers. The sun glinted off the dark glasses that made it impossible to truly read his face.

  He looked like all the sin of summer in one tall, hot package.

  “You…you can’t just drop in on me!” Genevieve spluttered.

  “Funny, I said the same thing to you yesterday. It seems that rule doesn’t apply to us.”

  Fine. No way to refute that argument. Nor, with the lack of respect he’d shown yesterday, was there any point noting that he again hadn’t bowed to her in the greeting required by protocol.

  Thank goodness her own oversize shades made it impossible for him to see her irritation. In as disinterested a tone as she’d use to check in with her brother about his favorite rugby team’s standings, she asked, “What are you doing here?”

  With a flex of his biceps—more than noticeable beneath the impeccably tailored shirt—he slowly cocked his arm. Looked at his watch. While Genevieve looked at the way the sun burnished the hair below the rolled-up cuffs to the warm gold of ancient coins. “Well, it’s three o’clock. On a Wednesday. Obviously, I’m working.”

  “As am I.” Genny fought back the impulse to sit up straighter in the semi-reclined floatie.

  “With two bottles of wine?” He snorted. “If that’s how you do Wednesday, what the hell does your Friday look like?”

  “For the record, I was joking when I thought I was addressing Rudolfo.” Addressing?!? Her haughty was racing all over her like a rash. Oh, the Grand Duchess would be so proud. “He’d never endanger me, and I’d never drink two bottles alone.”

  Lord Theo sauntered over to peer at the four glasses lined up on the table. “Sure looks like you tried.”

  He was like a dog with a stick. Just wouldn’t drop it. And oh, how she’d love to swat him on the nose with a rolled-up newspaper.

  “If you must know, I was tasting wines for an official event. Tasting. Barely two sips were poured in every glass.”

  How had he put her on the defensive again so quickly? This was her house. Her back yard, as it were. She could do whatever she damn well pleased. Including getting sloshed on a Wednesday, if the spirit so moved her.

  But Genny hated the judgment in his voice.

  Judgment equated to disappointment, and she’d spent her whole life actively working to make sure that nobody felt disappointed by the House of Villani. This wasn’t about the audit. It wasn’t about the country’s impending vote on joining the EU.

  It was about upholding her own personal standards. Her own core belief that she had to be perfect—or as close as humanly possible—to live up to the expectations of the people of Moncriano. It was her honor to be their princess, and they
deserved nothing less than the best.

  Like it or not, Lord Theo was one of those people. Her people.

  He flicked his fingers at an empty glass, setting it ringing. “What happens to the leftover wine?”

  “Oh, so now you believe I didn’t drink it all?” The nice thing about being multi-lingual? She could call him a jackass in so many different ways…

  “Your very tart tongue isn’t slurring any of your words, so yes. I want to know if this is something else I should add to my budget slashing.” Theo held up his right hand and started ticking off points on his fingers. “How many times a year do you do these tastings? How much wine is wasted? Thrown out? A whole bottle at a time after only a few sips?”

  “Why not bring in a spotlight and go interrogate my sommelier and the kitchen staff?”

  “Perhaps later. For now, I’ll start with you.” He pulled out a chair and sat, crossing an ankle over his knee. In other words, Lord Theo looked comfortable. At ease.

  As if he thought he was in charge.

  Presumptive jerk.

  But Genny was smug, since she knew the answer. “None of the wine is wasted. Some gets served in the staff dining room. The rest, the chefs freeze for use in sauces.”

  He lifted the bottle out of the ice bucket enough to look at the label. Then he let fly a low whistle. Perhaps he recognized it as expensive? It wasn’t as if Rudolfo would’ve chosen rotgut for Kelsey’s party.

  “You let the staff drink the pricey bottles good enough for the royal family?”

  “To your point, it is better to be used and enjoyed than poured down the drain. And we appreciate the people who work so hard for us.”

  “You appreciate them enough…to give them leftovers.”

  And yet again, he’d twisted her words. “I’m getting the distinct feeling that if I said we donated it to homeless shelters, you’d accuse the royal family of promoting alcoholism to the less fortunate. To be clear, is there any answer that would satisfy you?”

  The corners of his full lips lifted. Not a full smile, but just enough to show her that it’d transform him from handsome to devastatingly, drop-dead hot. “Probably not.”

  “Honesty? I’m shocked.”

  “Me too, a little,” he admitted.

  That honesty impressed her. It showed a hint of his true personality beyond nagging jackass.

  Was it possible that Lord Theo was enjoying this push/pull between them? The constant scrabbling for balance? Because, as much as she wanted to slap his smirking face, Genevieve had to admit that her pulse raced from their back and forth.

  They were both silent for a moment. The pool filter softly thwapped in and out. A hummingbird hovered in the middle of the scarlet bougainvillea bush that crawled up the corner of the high fence to the garden.

  One of them had to be the bigger person. Which fell in her job description, unfortunately. The edict from the king had been to get along with Lord Theo and not rock the boat.

  She hadn’t liked the chauvinistic, handsy American president, but she’d endured sitting next to him for a State dinner last year. And done it with a smile—albeit over clenched teeth—on her face. Getting along with difficult people was literally part of her training as a princess.

  Disappointing her father was also not an option. So Genevieve paddled a little bit closer to him. “You know, I think we got off on the wrong foot. Why don’t you pour yourself a glass of that wine and we can start again?”

  “You sure? You don’t want to save it for the chambermaids?”

  Genny slid her glasses down her nose to glare. “Continuing to be churlish does not equate to a fresh start.”

  Lord Theo held up both hands. “You’re right. That was a knee-jerk reflex. Sorry.”

  See? A little civility went a long way to smoothing things over. Maybe this would work after all. “Would you pour me one, as well?”

  “A tasting or a full glass?”

  Hmm. That comment rode the line between teasing and snark. But she’d give him the benefit of the doubt and assume he teased, as part of their truce. “I’ll have as much as you. Since we’re both still on the clock, as it were.”

  He draped his jacket over the back of a chair. While he stood and poured, Genevieve got to watch.

  Stare.

  Ogle. Because the view from the back, with those tailored trousers showing off an impressively tight ass, was as good as the front. Lord Theo had a mountain range for shoulders that tapered down to a narrow waist. Shoulders that looked like he could carry huge planks with ease. Or…perhaps…a woman…

  Why did he have to be so attractive on the outside and so mean-spirited on the inside? What on earth was behind his obvious grudge against her and the royal family?

  Why did she want him with a visceral tightening between her legs?

  As he rolled up his cuffs to his elbows, Genevieve said, “I hope you don’t mind the heat out here.”

  Not that she’d invited him to meet at the pool.

  “You don’t know hot until you spend summers in Boston and New York. The stickiness drips sweat off your sweat.”

  Now she was picturing Lord Theo with sweat dripping down his chest, tangling in the light mat of chest hair that peeked out from where he’d undone another button at his collar.

  Genny plunged her hands into the water, desperate for something to cool her down.

  …

  Why was she staring at him? Shit, had the woman noticed that he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her since he’d arrived?

  Since he’d had to clench the wrought iron gate at the sight of her laid out in a tiny white bikini that covered nothing. One knee had been slightly cocked, as if in invitation, on the float, the other extended and so toned and beautiful that need punched straight to his gut.

  She hadn’t noticed him, so Theo took his time drinking her in. The cloud of blond hair he wanted to wrap around his fist. The slightly parted, pink lips he wanted to bite. The slow rise and fall of her chest under the tiniest white triangles.

  He’d had to strip off his jacket before opening the gate to keep from sweating. Because that infuriating, maddening princess brought Theo’s blood to a boil.

  “I didn’t realize you’d spent time in the United States,” she said.

  “You didn’t get a dossier on me? Someone on your staff slipped up.”

  “Please don’t do that. Don’t make a generalization without any facts to back it up. Everyone on my staff works incredibly hard, and they do not slip up.”

  Huh. Theo admired how she sprang to their defense.

  It surprised him.

  He’d assumed the royals considered everyone in the palace to be mere servants, at their beck and call. Especially since he’d passed the guy dressed in full palace uniform dripping with sweat and carrying a tray of wine bottles.

  “Sorry.”

  Her chest heaved upward, as if she was gulping air to prevent snapping at him. Again. And she kept splashing her hand back and forth in the water. “I happen to know that my father received a full report on you and approved you. Once you’ve got the king’s seal of approval, that’s good enough for me.”

  “Fair enough.” God, it was work striving to be pleasant. Courteous. But the princess had a point. There wasn’t any point in being adversaries. Or, rather, in letting her know that he hated everything she stood for.

  Simon had made the same point. When he’d asked if Theo wanted revenge or to actually fix the royal budget to benefit the country.

  Clearly, he needed to dial back the reflex to lash out at her. Treat her like a regular client and not, well, a princess. Or his lifelong nemesis.

  “What were you doing in America?” she inquired with the ease of a career diplomat. Which she sort of was.

  “I went to graduate school in Boston. Then I started my career in New York.”


  “Oh, my sister would be jealous. Kelsey only got to live in New York for a few days before we scooped her up and brought her back home.”

  “It’s a great city. Exciting.” Small talk. Theo ranked small talk right up there with getting a cavity filled. Something that always lasted longer than you hoped and numbed you until a zing of pain wormed through.

  “I went there for a birthday. I binged on five Broadway musicals in three days. It was glorious.”

  Wow. An actual personal tidbit. Theo bit his lip to keep from asking how much that had cost. She’d probably stayed in the penthouse at the Waldorf Astoria and racked up a bill in the thousands of dollars for those three days.

  “I prefer plays. Never makes sense to me when people stop talking to cartwheel into a song and dance number.” Theo reminded himself today was yet another battle to be won. No way would he let her be the bigger person in this truce. If she could share, so could he. “Last month, I did a double-header. Watched both parts of Harry Potter and the Cursed Child.”

  “Was it good?”

  “Yeah.” And he grinned. “Magical.”

  “Oh, you’re funny.”

  “When the mood strikes.”

  “So what brings you here today, Lord Theo? It must be a matter of some urgency, since you didn’t have time to request an appointment.”

  Claws out again, huh? Fine. “I thought I made myself clear yesterday. This is a hands-on project. I can’t effect change sitting at my desk staring at spreadsheets.”

  “Wait—what?” Her head snapped up from the pool float. “You mean you’re going to be popping in all the time? That’s absurd.”

  “I said I’d be all over you. Just think of me as a bodyguard—but for your purse.” Theo remembered the rumor Simon had shared with him last night over their third round. That Princess Kelsey was openly hooking up with her bodyguard. That he’d been a commoner, and the royal family manufactured a title for him so that he’d be worthy of their princess. “Shouldn’t bother you. I hear the House of Villani likes to get tight with their bodyguards.”