Ruling the Princess

by Christi Barth

And she liked it. Crisp, curling hair, hard muscles—Theo belonged in the dictionary under “well-proportioned.” Masculine. Tan. Toned. Thick thighs that made Genny wonder-just for a second—what else might be thick.

  Those were dangerous thoughts.

  She tossed her head and enjoyed the soft thwap of her ponytail—also adorned with a bow, thanks to Kelsey—smacking him on the cheek. “You’re dangerously close to insulting the heir to the throne. Christian and I worked quite hard twisting those streamers and getting them to drape just right.”

  “Sorry. I was stating facts, not passing on insults.”

  “This time.” It wasn’t as if he’d hidden his disdain for her and her family prior to this evening.

  “Yes. This singular time. This party is…not over-the-top. Not formal. Not at all what I expected,” Theo conceded.

  If there was one thing Genevieve knew how to be, it was gracious. “So you came to catch us out, spending absurd mountains of money to celebrate the very young age of another country.”

  “Yes. But I was wrong. I’m surprised. And relieved.”

  Damn it. A man who could admit his mistakes? That was not common. It was responsible. Sexy. Proof that there were more layers to Theo that might be worth drilling down to…

  She tightened her grip on the burlap. “I’ll overlook your assumptions if you help me win this race.”

  Cocking one dark eyebrow, he asked, “Is the prince a bad loser?”

  “Worse. He’s a bad winner. He’ll rub it in my face for the next year.”

  “Can’t have anything happen to a face as beautiful as yours. It’d be a national crime.”

  Genny almost missed the start of the race, so shocked was she at Theo’s compliment. His flirtation.

  Yes, they’d kissed already, but the way he’d sprinted away from her gave the impression Theo regretted it.

  Genevieve never regretted a good kiss. And Theo’s had been stellar. Top ten.

  She did regret giving him the upper hand. She regretted whatever she’d done that made him apologize for kissing her. The one conclusion from her sleepless night was that there wouldn’t be another kiss between them.

  Now? She wasn’t so sure.

  Genny became even less sure once they won. Theo clamped an arm around her waist and lifted, spinning her in a victory circle while everyone else clapped.

  It was fun.

  His hard body pressed tight to hers felt amazing.

  If it’d been anyone else, Genny would’ve clamped her legs around his hips to help. But this was the man trying to make her look foolish.

  Trying to make her family look reckless and elitist.

  So she savored one more second of soaking in his masculine heat, and then she broke free and marched him right over to Kelsey. “Theo lives in New York. He’s the perfect person to help you reminisce about all things American tonight.”

  Her exit strategy from the conversation was to turn tail and walk away as quickly as possible, snagging Ambra’s hand to tug her along. Once they were by the metal tub full of ice and beer, she pulled two bottles out to disguise her urgent conversation.

  “I need you to do reconnaissance for me. I can’t entrust this to staff.”

  Without hesitation, Ambra nodded. “Of course. Whatever you need.”

  Whoever labeled beer bottles as screw tops lied. Genny gave up and plucked an opener from the tray. “You still have friends in England and the States, right?”

  “Sadly, yes. People marry and move. I’ve got friends scattered to the winds in at least seven countries.”

  “Perfect. If I’m going to have any hope of controlling Lord Theo Holst, I need information on him. Whatever you can dig up.”

  “Overturn all stones? No dirt too messy?”

  Genny didn’t like the implied level of threat. But this was war. “Let’s gather the info before I decide what to do with it. I can’t let his crazy demands make the House of Villani look weak or foolish. I have to do everything in my power to defend our reputation.”

  Including ignoring this surge of attraction for him…

  …

  Theo didn’t pet every stray puppy and hug strangers at parties. But he did expect more of a greeting from his older sister than merely the traditional European double-cheek kiss. Even the hotel waiter had expected it to take longer, as he’d had to scramble to push her chair under her.

  As soon as they’d ordered, he moved to the edge of the white sofa. “I appreciate you driving into the capital to meet with me, Hanna.”

  Barely rounding her shoulders in acknowledgment, his sister replied, “I’m here for a lecture by the Association for Vertical Farming. Using an ecosystem approach, utilizing mushrooms and insects.”

  Wow. She knew how to put him in his place. Exiled brother falls firmly below a lecture on insects. Message received.

  “You look snazzy for it.” Smiling, Theo waved an arm at her white blazer with a brown windowpane pattern. Paired with a simple white blouse and orange pants, Hanna’s outfit lacked the…bling of Genevieve’s outfits.

  Wait. Why was he noticing that?

  Why compare the two women when they couldn’t be more different?

  “Thank you,” she said stiffly. “I’ve a meeting at the bank to go over the refinance first, so I can’t stay long.”

  He looked out the floor-to-ceiling windows of the lobby. A gelato kiosk did brisk business on this sunny summer Saturday. On the edge of the harbor, there were plenty of relaxed, laughing people strolling along the marina. Families, couples, groups of friends.

  It made him realize how grim he felt, in contrast. Here he’d spent years imagining how happy he’d be to return to Moncriano. But Theo hadn’t yet figured out where he fit in here.

  It wasn’t as if the princess had made him feel welcome. Perhaps it was a good thing his assignment was just temporary. He’d finish his audit, be the hero with his idea to bolster the coffers of the family duchy, and then…go back to New York?

  He looked back at the impassive mask of Hanna’s face, mentally rearranged his schedule for the day, and offered, “Would you like me to come along?”

  “I don’t need an escort, Theo.”

  “Of course not. I just meant that numbers and finance are my thing. If I’m good enough to audit the Royal coffers, I can lend a hand with my own family’s.”

  “It’s handled,” she said shortly. Hanna pulled her long, curly brown hair forward, toying with the ends. Then, as if realizing that she’d cut him down twice in as many minutes, she offered, “You’re too important to waste on our little refinance of a few buildings.”

  She’d just handed him an opening on a silver platter. The kind he’d been surprised not to see two nights ago at the Villani family cookout.

  Crap.

  The princess already dominated his thoughts enough. He couldn’t let her interfere, aka screw up this first step in earning back the respect of his father.

  “No, Hanna, I truly want to help. To contribute in a more substantial way, now that I’m finally back in the country.”

  “That sounds…ominous. Is that why you called this meeting?”

  Irritation skated over his skin like a rash. “For God’s sake, I haven’t seen you in three years. I want to catch up with my sister. Is that so suspect?”

  Hanna sidestepped his question. “You didn’t want to do the same with Father?”

  “Not yet, no.”

  Alain Holst was the one who’d tossed him into exile. The one who’d refused to let Theo back on Moncriano soil. Oh, he’d gone along and visited his son a few times on holiday. But when his mother got a divorce and moved to Monaco, the visits dwindled. And once Theo turned eighteen and could’ve technically made his own choice to return, well, what was the point in going where he wasn’t wanted?

  With this plan, though, his father
would beg him to rejoin the family fold.

  Meanwhile, he could get to know his sister better. Hopefully. If she’d bend just a little.

  “Perhaps we could chat more at the Order of the Peacock ceremony on Tuesday. I assume you’re going?” Hanna said, with a weight that told him the expected correct answer.

  A royal ceremony? Not if he could help it. Although he knew that his family loved them beyond all reason. Crap. What if he did have to attend? “If Princess Genevieve is, then I am. This is a much more hands-on assignment than anticipated.”

  If he was having coffee with Simon instead of Hanna, Theo could make a joke about just how badly he’d like to get his hands back on the princess.

  Except that wasn’t a joke at all.

  The conversation dropped off again as the waiter served them tea and coffee and a plate of thin lemon cookies. It was all very proper. Civilized.

  It made Theo want to get up and drag Hanna outside for a scoop of gelato. To lick at cones and laugh at the antics of the ducks bobbing at the shoreline. To be a brother to her and not just a meeting.

  But clearly a meeting was all he’d get today. Best not to waste it.

  Bracing his elbows on his knees, Theo leaned forward. “Look, Hanna, I have an idea. A plan. A project, really. To revitalize the duchy. To pull us out of the eighteenth-century rut we’re in and innovate. It’ll give everyone who lives inside our borders more stability, security. Frankly, more cash in their pockets.”

  And perhaps—finally—he’d earn back the respect of his father.

  “Sounds like quite an undertaking.”

  Her tone sounded like she’d care far more about scheduling a reminder to clean the litter box than keep listening to him. “I’ll need your buy-in, of course. Your help.”

  “Why?”

  Theo gave a quick glance around the lobby, convinced there had to be someone listening who’d roll their eyes with him. But all he saw were high-backed chairs and potted lemon trees. Maybe the lemons were sour enough to side with him?

  Summoning all the patience he’d lacked thus far in every conversation with the princess, he said, “Because you’re running our estate.”

  Hanna tapped her spoon on the edge of the cup three times, so hard Theo was surprised the delicate china didn’t shatter. “What I think doesn’t matter. Father spends all his time here in the capital, in Parliament. As far as the estate goes, it’ll be all up to you.”

  “Hardly. I just want to help.”

  “Theo. You aren’t listening.” Her lips pressed together into a thin line as she set down her cup on the glass table. “The title and land skip over me. It all goes to you.”

  Good thing he was seated, because his knees felt as wobbly as a newborn giraffe. “Why?”

  “Tradition,” she said succinctly. And, coincidentally, with her mouth pursed as if she’d just eaten a rotten egg.

  This couldn’t be right. “Since when?”

  “Since the day you were born with the right kind of genitals to inherit.”

  …which he’d never been told.

  Hanna was older by seven years. She had a “Lady” in front of her name. He’d assumed everything passed to her. Mostly because how on earth could his father send him away if he was ultimately to run their duchy?

  But also… “I thought the law changed. Back in the seventies. Allowing the eldest to inherit, no matter man or woman.”

  “The law in Moncriano changed. But the law doesn’t change centuries of tradition in our father’s eyes. He worked with lawyers to stipulate everything passes to his son.”

  “I can’t see Father trusting me with it. You’ve been running the estate for him for years.”

  “Indeed. Which in no way changes the conditions of his will. You will be the Duke, with all that entails.”

  “I don’t want it.” Not any of it.

  Theo avoided using his current title. It meant nothing. The honorific had been passed on to him the same as the runner’s build he shared with his father.

  He didn’t want to be welcomed back home because of a damned paragraph in a will. He wanted to accepted for who he was, not who they expected him to be. Once he took over the title, he’d lose his freedom. He’d have to conform to, yes, centuries of tradition and stricture and rules.

  His freedom of choice had been taken away when he’d been sent to boarding school in England. He’d sworn that day that he’d never allow it to happen again.

  Becoming duke would put him in a prison not of his making.

  “It isn’t fair.”

  Lifting her saucer once more, Hanna murmured, “Agreed.”

  If her tone had been any drier, the tea in her cup would’ve evaporated.

  “Shit. Hanna, I don’t want to replace you. I like my job. I truly just want to help integrate some forward-thinking changes, put our balance sheet more in the black, and then I’ll get out of your hair.”

  “Like I said, you can do as you please.” After a short sip, she gathered her purse and stood. “I’m not surprised you didn’t know. But now that you do, it’s important that you talk to Father, that you set aside the years spent apart and rejoin the family.”

  Through clenched teeth, Theo said, “That wasn’t my decision.”

  “Well, it is now. Tuesday will be a good time for a fresh start. Look sharp. Impress Father with how far you’ve come. Show him that you’re ready to truly be a Holst. To do your duty by the family and not embarrass us again.”

  She offered him a means to an olive branch.

  Except that Theo couldn’t forget that he’d done nothing to deserve the treatment his father had given him. Or the way he’d refused to believe his son all those years ago, choosing to side with the House of Villani instead.

  Jerking his tie loose, he said, “Since when is love conditional?”

  “Oh, Theo. This isn’t about love. When you’re a member of the nobility, what is expected of you comes first. What is proper comes first. What is best for the line and the crown.” She took a few steps forward to pat his shoulder. “Perhaps you should ask your new ‘assignment’ about love and how it does or does not factor into her future. I’m sure her response will match mine.”

  Hanna strode off. No parting hug. No “great to see you.” Her visit had been so short that Theo doubted their drinks were even cool enough to swallow yet.

  Talk about a true-life representation of how little it would mean, to be accepted back into the family merely out of tradition.

  Abruptly, Theo stood. No point staying here alone.

  He’d show up early to bother the princess.

  Who knew there’d be a day when he’d willingly hang out with a member of the royal family to avoid brooding about his own?

  Chapter Six

  Still in one hell of a mood from the fleeting meet with his sister, Theo found it all-too-easy to fall back into the habit of criticizing the princess. He glared at the tightly coiled bun on the back of their driver’s head. That was as good a place to start as any.

  “Do you know how much money you’re wasting of your subjects by not bothering to drive yourself?” He snapped out the question as sharply as the salutes the guards tossed at them as they motored through the gold-tipped palace gates.

  “No.” The princess could not have sounded more smug. Especially since she topped it with an I’m smarter than you quirk to her lips. “But I know I’m saving them quite a bit. Because I’m not using just a driver. Clara is my Royal Protection officer. By having her drive, she’s doing the jobs of two people.”

  It made sense. But Theo wasn’t in the mood to give in, not even to logic. “Why can’t you drive and Clara sit in the backseat?”

  “Safety protocol. It is presumed that, were someone to attack the car, I might be too scared at my imminent danger to properly execute risky evasive maneuvers.”

 
He snorted. “That’s hilarious.”

  The flare of her nostrils was the only indication that he’d managed to prick her cool reserve. “You don’t think I’m in danger? Because I’ll have you know there are threats made against me every day. By anti-monarchists, by extremists, by terrorists. Not to mention random batshit crazies. And, oh, that my sister was kidnapped and almost assassinated three weeks ago.”

  “Dial back that snit. Of course you receive threats. You’re the trifecta of targets: beautiful, wealthy, and important.”

  The princess cocked her head, cascading a waterfall of golden hair over the shell-pink ruffles of her blouse. “Thank you?”

  “To clarify, it’s insane that anyone who has met you would think you couldn’t handle yourself. You’re tough. Spine of steel. Smart. Strategic.” Theo waited a beat to watch her shoulders soften and lean back again into the leather seat. To see her relax into his compliments. Then he zinged. “Just bitchy enough, too. You’d escape, then circle back, catch the idiot who threatened you, and wreak vengeance.”

  Still calm, as if asking whether Theo preferred mint or cinnamon gum, she said, “Would it truly be so painful for you to say something nice to me without dragging it back around to an insult?”

  In his current mood? Maybe.

  Which wasn’t entirely her fault. Theo scrubbed one hand across his face, trying to wipe away all vestiges of the chat with Hanna.

  Then he looked at the princess. Really looked at her. Took in the cameo earrings that were probably silhouettes of an actual relative. Snakeskin-patterned sandals with heels that could double as weapons if she were attacked. And that angelic face that she so expertly smoothed into a mask most of the time.

  God, he wanted to give her a reason to crack that mask. To let go of all that practiced reserve. Theo dragged his gaze away, out the window at the wildly waving pedestrians. “Not if I was properly motivated,” he murmured.

  “I’d hoped you’d be impressed that we’re simply in a Land Rover and not a limo or a Pope-mobile type vehicle.”

  “You’re not ostentatious that way. You enjoy the trappings of being a princess, but you don’t want to rub it in people’s faces.” Genevieve always looked like a princess, true, but not an over-the-top version.