A Cinderella Twist: A Contemporary Royal Romance Read online

  “How is it great that I wasn’t prepared to rule out the possibility of flying coach while traveling with a royal?” I ask, blowing the steam from my cup. I’m glad I didn’t just blindly start sipping, my insides would be scorched right now.

  “It’s great that the royal thing wasn’t real enough for you to think it could be ruled out,” he explains, and I notice he’s making no attempts at drinking his coffee either. He must be used to the boiling temps of it. Apparently, they don’t worry much about lawsuits here. “Usually, my title is more real to people than I am. But then, when I come to the states, I get to escape all of that for a while and just be myself. I think it’s part of why I hang around my brother and Abbas so much. They’re some of the only people who still remember who I was before I left.”

  “That’s why no one told Mal and me the whole story of your family business,” I surmise, putting together pieces I hadn’t realized were still left out of the puzzle until now.

  “Exactly.” He ventures a first sip and seems to regret it instantly, judging by the pained expression that follows. “It’s become a refreshing glimpse of reality anytime I get to meet his friends and they treat me like I’m just his boring older brother.” He smirks. “Of course, the same can’t be said for being confused for a demon.”

  “Not refreshing? Or you’re just not willing to deem it a glimpse of reality,” I quip, giving in and trying my coffee as well. It doesn’t instantly blister my throat on the way down, but it’s definitely still hot enough to encourage swallowing with caution.

  “God, I hope that’s not a realistic description of the first impression I leave in my wake.” He laughs. “Though I notice I wasn’t so demonic, I managed to scare you away.”

  “Well, you were half naked,” I point out. “Even a demon loses some of his intimidation factor when clad in nothing but a towel.”

  A small crashing sound follows my comment, and I turn back just in time to see a flushed Alexa straighten out a tray of snacks she was in the process of preparing as her next offering. Apparently, the thought of Lachlan in a towel has that effect on women who view him first and foremost as the prince. Not that I wasn’t pleased with the sight myself, but it didn’t send me in a tizzy, and I certainly don’t recall dropping anything. And not just because the only thing I was holding was half and half and my commitment to coffee goes beyond my commitment to being thrilled at the sight of hot half-naked men. I like them both, but only one of them can be depended on to deliver under every circumstance. And in my experience, it’s not the hot naked guys.

  “So,” I move on to other topics before Alexa drops her tray again. I saw pastries among the breakfast buffet coming our way, so I’m invested in seeing her succeed now. “How similar would you say Lindish is to English? Am I going to be able to communicate with people once I get there? Or am I going to be stuck talking only to you for the foreseeable future?”

  He chuckles quietly and I notice he’s also observing Alexa. It’s hard to say what’s drawing his interest, though I suspect it’s not the pastries, and from where he’s sitting, he’s got the better vantage point. “You’ll be able to speak to anyone you choose,” he says, eyes still in sync with Alexa’s motions and I catch myself start to scowl. I can’t really be jealous. Clearly, this act is already taking on a life of its own. “Everyone my father employs, from his advisers to the doormen, is fluent in English. It’s a requirement he set when I was a child, to ensure a smooth transition for me on my visits from the States.”

  “Handy.” I reach up and start to twist my hair between my fingers, a habit I picked up when I wore it in braids all the time. Now that it’s shorter, I’m disappointed to find it requires more effort and delivers less comfort. “And should I choose to leave the castle?”

  “You’ll have a translator.” He nods, indicating Alexa moving in behind me. “Along with your driver. And security. And a P.A.”

  “What do I need a P.A. for?” I ask, greedily examining the tray held in front of me. “Are you putting me to work when I get there?” I choose a twisty, glazed situation with a cream cheese filling bursting out of every end and thank Alexa before I look back at Lachlan, sounding extra excited when I add, “Am I going to be in charge of something?”

  He smiles broadly and lifts his head as if to nod, only to say, “No.” He chooses more responsibly from Alexa’s spread, taking a banana for himself and a buttery, deliciously flaky croissant for Mo, which she happily takes from his hands before Lachlan can even thank Alexa. Then, his attention turns back to me. “But that reminds me, I have a phone call to make.”

  “Royal business?” I ask, eyeing my yummy, twisted mess for the best place to take the perfect first bite.

  “Wedding business.” He winks, taking his phone from his pocket. “I think it’s time I tell my parents about the surprise I’m bringing home with me.”

  “Oh.” The perfect bite nearly winds up perfectly lodged in my throat. Things just became terrifyingly real. “Right.” My stomach turns and I’m reminded of how I always wind up curled over a trashcan on opening night. Somehow, I’d expected that to be different here. Now that I’m faced with the proverbial curtains being lifted for our opening scene, I’m sorry to say, it’s not.

  Before I can conjure reasons to stall, and long before I could voice them if I had a chance to think them, Lachlan has the phone out, holding it between us on speaker so I can hear as well. It only rings twice before someone answers. A man’s voice, gruffer than Lachlan’s but familiar in a way that leads me to believe it must be his father.

  “I was wondering when I’d hear from you,” he greets Lachlan, a delighted chuckle following his words. “Dresdon just notified me the plane is circling the runway, so I assume you’re on board and headed home?”

  “Yes, sir,” Lachlan confirms, eyes locked on mine when he adds, “and I’m not alone.”

  “Oh?” Even before he knows the reasons, he sounds pleased. “I hope that means Monroe is with you.”

  “She is.” He smiles at me. Not the way you’d expect a co-conspirator to smile at his partner in crime, but eerily similar to the way you might imagine a love-sick man to gaze at the woman of his dreams moments before he tells his family about his plans to marry her. “And so is Greer. My fiancée.”

  If I ever thought I was hungry enough to eat the giant pastry in my hand, I can’t remember what that felt like. My stomach is suddenly so tied in knots, not even licking the cream cheese filling seems possible. I try to gulp down my bout of nerves, which I have to conclude are a new and unpleasant form of stage fright and not at all related to Lachlan giving me his dreamy eyes, so that I can say a cheery ‘hi’ to my future father-in-law, the king, when I catch sight of something else out of the corner of my eye. Alexa. Lingering strangely close as if she’s eavesdropping. Then, I notice she’s doing more than just listen, her eyes are practically glued to Lachlan, but not in the infatuated way I initially thought, more like she’s studying him. And then it hits me. She’s spying on us. And the dreamy eyes Lachlan is giving me aren’t for my sake at all. They’re for hers.

  LACHLAN

  MY FATHER’S LAUGH BOOMS over the receiver. I knew he’d take the news well, though even I’m surprised he’s so overtly overjoyed.

  “You’re engaged!” It’s not even a question. There’s not a hint of doubt to be found. “Lachlan, I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear that!”

  “You’re not upset I didn’t discuss it with you first?” I knew he wouldn’t be. My father’s not the one hung up on propriety and tradition. Nevertheless, acknowledging he could be upset, and certainly has a right to be, is a gesture I’m all too happy to make.

  “Upset?” He laughs again, this time at how absurd he finds my question. “Not in the least.” Then his tone quiets down so much so, he sounds like he’s about to share a secret. “Though if you had told me beforehand, I could have let you take your pick from the family vault.”

  Greer covers her mouth with her hand suppressing a
giggle. I think she just figured out my father has yet to master the concept of being on speakerphone. Running a country, that he can do in his sleep but when it comes to the basics of technology he struggles when left to his own devices.

  “I appreciate that.” I smile at her, reaching over to take her hand, finger moving over the empty spot meant for a ring. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Alexa taking in the motion with extensive interest, all but confirming my suspicions about her unexpected presence here. She’s been my stepmother’s personal attendant for years and the only times I’ve crossed paths with her were on trips we all took together. Usually, the attendants on my flight are the same who work with my father. He doesn’t mind sharing. She does.

  Until today, it seems.

  “To be honest, father,” I start, eyes moving to catch Greer’s gaze. “I was hoping that offer might be extended to me even after the fact.” I twine my fingers through hers until we’re holding hands, both our palms melded together, resting in her lap. She smiles and I can’t help but think how easily all of this is coming to us.

  “Nothing would make me happier,” he says with a warmth in his voice that makes the weight of our lie rest heavy on my chest. He thinks I’m asking for the aquamarine; the same one my mother wore. “Tell me, who else has heard this most wonderful news? I don’t want to rob you of your thunder and accidentally tell.”

  “Chase knows. And Greer’s father,” I pause, allowing time for my father to conclude the obvious without having to tell another lie. He’ll assume on his own I asked Greer’s father for his blessing before proposing. “But you’re the first official call to make the announcement.”

  “You haven’t told your mother?” It’s the first time in this entire conversation he sounds thrown.

  “There wasn’t time.” It’s a partial truth. I needed more time than I had to convince myself to go through with telling her. “She’s expecting a video call once I’m back home.” She always does. No matter how old I get, she needs to hear I’ve made it safely wherever I’ve gone. “We’re planning to tell her then.”

  Greer moves her free hand over mine, so it’s completely enclosed by her touch. Then she squeezes it softly and I wonder if she knows how much the thought of telling my mother is eating away at me. She could. She’s known my mother for years. How close they are, I haven’t asked. Haven’t wanted to know. Maybe if there was a chance my mother met her and disliked her, it would be helpful, but knowing both women, it’s highly unlikely. If anything, my mother adores her, and revealing to her that Greer is on the verge of becoming her daughter-in-law will only aid in increasing her love and attachment to her by a million.

  “Perfect, perfect,” my father mumbles and I get the sense something new is tugging at his attention. It’s not for lack of making me a priority, it’s just the business of being king. Someone always needs something from him. It’s a responsibility he carries with honor and the utmost respect. He serves his people. He doesn’t rule them. “You wouldn’t mind if I tell your stepmother then?” he asks after a moment of murmuring under his breath. Usually means he’s been reading something. Always reads out loud to himself. Doesn’t matter how often he’s reminded of the many documents he’s handed for his eyes only. Somehow, other’s ears are never considered a problem to him. “You know how much anxiety surprises cause her.”

  “I wouldn’t mind at all. In fact, you’re welcome to spread the news far and wide. You and Mom are the only two people I value telling myself.” The faster word of our engagement gets around, the better. We don’t have a big window of time and a lot to get done in it. The less we have to explain ourselves, the better.

  “News like that? You know I’d love nothing more than to shout it from the rooftops.” He laughs again, the jolliness of his initial reaction resurfacing. “I’ll have the whole place buzzing with wedding fever by the time you arrive.”

  “I don’t doubt that you will.”

  We end our call on that note and I put my phone back into my pocket and out of sight where I won’t have to be reminded of the conversation I just had. This is turning out to be harder than I was expecting.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  GREER

  We’ve been in the air for nearly four hours when Alexa finally has to take a bathroom break.

  It’s like Lachlan and I’ve both been waiting for this very second, because we huddle together instantly when we hear the lock click on the bathroom door.

  “We’re going to have to wing it when we arrive and meet tonight to cover details about our pasts and relationship,” he hisses. “I would have texted you, but I have a feeling seeing us both glued to our phone screens would tip her off to something too.”

  “How psycho is your stepmother exactly?” I whisper, eyes darting back and forth between Lachlan and the bathroom door. “How did she even know to plant a spy on your flight home?”

  “I had to tell the captain how many passengers to prepare for,” he says, voice so low I can barely hear him, causing me to lean in even closer. “Someone must have told her. She hates surprises. Has to control everything. She’ll have felt the need to know who I was bringing home by any means necessary.”

  “Just asking you wasn’t an option?”

  “You’ve seen the way Alexa has been taking note of every move and word exchanged between us. My stepmother wouldn’t have been remotely satisfied with simply asking and receiving a straightforward answer.”

  Just then, the lock clicks open again, and Alexa practically comes flying out, as if she sensed she was missing a particularly important exchange.

  It takes her half a second to register us huddled together, and another half a second for me to see her notice. Then, my lips are pressing against Lachlan’s and my hands are curling around the back of his neck, drawing him ever closer as if this was always the intended reason for our close proximity.

  Squinting through one eye, I see her quickly turn her head and rush past us, appearing adequately embarrassed for having walked in on us in such a state. Only when I hear her bustling away in the kitchen area again, do I pull my lips away from Lachlan’s.

  “Nice save,” he breathes, fingers grazing his lips as if he can’t believe they were tangled in a kiss with mine mere seconds ago.

  Now that I have time to think about it, I’m not so sure I can believe it myself. But I don’t dare show it. Not for the sake of our act, either. The last thing I want is for Lachlan to have any doubts as to my abilities to remain professional through every aspect of this performance. “I was part of an Improv troupe for years,” I murmur, smirking in a way I know could be interpreted in multiple ways depending on perspective. Lachlan will know I’m making a joke, but Alexa will likely assume I’m having deliciously dirty thoughts I can hardly wait to act upon. “Got really good at being spontaneously creative.” I wink, sealing the impression I’m hoping to make on our audience.

  “Good,” he growls, giving me such a devilish smile, I imagine Alexa blushing just watching from a distance. “We’re going to need those skills to get through the initial welcome when we arrive,” his voice is so deep and dark again, I know there’s no way Alexa can overhear us, but judging by the way he’s looking at me and the way his hand continues to gently fist my hair, keeping me within kissing distance as he speaks, I don’t have to guess much at what her imagination might come up with.

  I move in closer, grazing my lips over his as I murmur, “We’ll be fine. It’ll be late anyway. I’ll feign exhaustion if things get too intense for us to navigate safely.”

  “We keep this up, Alexa will have given my stepmother plenty of reasons to believe you.” He presses his mouth to mine one last time. Then, slowly, we pretend to tear ourselves away from each other again. Well, almost all the way. I notice even after we’re back to maintaining proper personal space, his hand continues to rest on my knee. I also notice that I like it there. And then I proceed to ignore having noticed it.

  Instead, I change course all together. “How long do
you want to let Monroe sleep?” She dozed off about an hour ago for her regular nap, but given the time change that comes with this trip, it’s probably best not to let her sleep the full two hours she usually does.

  Lachlan glances at his watch, then looks over toward where Alexa is still fussing in the kitchen. Apparently, he can’t determine what she’s doing just from watching, because he says, “Excuse me, Alexa. I don’t mean to interrupt what you’re doing, but could you please tell me what time you’re planning to serve Monroe’s lunch?”

  She looks up from her task, oddly startled, as if whatever she was doing should have been lunch related but somehow wasn’t. “Whenever you wish, your highness,” she squeaks. I’m sure she’s a wonderful flight attendant, but spy work is not an area I see her excelling in.

  “If you could fix it whenever you finish up with what you’re currently doing, that would be wonderful.” He smiles at her and I swear I hear her drop something.

  “Of course, your highness. Right away.” I look over my shoulder at her again, now just in time to see her abandon whatever it was she was or wasn’t doing and flitting about in the small space to accommodate Lachlan’s request as fast as she can.

  “Is it just me, or does that girl need a vacation?” I mutter under my breath.

  “Working for the queen does that to people,” Lachlan says dryly. “Even Monroe gets flustered around her, and usually she doesn’t even know what’s going on. It’s just a side effect of being in her presence.”