Royally Wicked Page 6
I toss the paper onto the bed, grab my phone and type in Las Vegas Sun into the search engine. After a couple of seconds of churning (stupid slow service), up comes the site.
There he is. In full color.
It’s true.
He isn’t a mental patient. He’s a prince.
I sit there stunned, unsure how I feel now.
He’s a prince. Who wants to marry me?
Why get married to a stranger? Why me?
I peel open the envelope and pull out the card inside. It’s white, embossed.
A wedding invitation?
Whose?
His.
And mine.
My name is on it!
A knock at the door has me practically jumping off the bed. I drop the card and run to the door.
I peer through the peephole. It’s someone else. A woman. A nicely dressed, very attractive woman.
I open the door. Standing next to her is a wheeled rack of dresses.
White dresses.
“Hello, Riley. My name is Mary. I’m here with your dresses.” Smiling, she pushes the rack through the door.
Dresses.
Invitation.
This isn’t happening.
Is it?
No.
No!
I go to swing the door shut but it stops, a man pushing through the doorway. “Excuse me,” he says, with some kind of foreign accent. “Jerard here to do your makeup.” He waves at someone behind him, in the hallway. “And Sergio will do your hair.”
Hair.
Makeup.
Dress.
Invitation.
It seems this prince is going to make sure I don’t refuse.
Except I can’t blow off the obvious. The fact that we’re strangers!
I can’t marry him!
He can waste all his money, if that’s what he wants. I’m not going to let anyone bully me into getting married for crying out loud! Not even a prince.
Who looks like a freaking god.
And does magical things with his tongue.
Yeah, I’m so not marrying him. No matter what.
“Let’s get a look at that skin,” Jerard says, grabbing my chin and pursing his lips. He tsks. “What have you been using on your face? Soap?”
“Time to get hustling! If there are any alterations to make, we’re in trouble!” Mary lifts a massive white tulle and satin concoction up to me and grins. “Beautiful, don’t you think?”
And Sergio grabs a handful of my hair and mutters something in a foreign language that sounds like a curse.
Holy crap, I can’t believe what’s happening! My devious royal wanna-be groom is going to pay for this!
Chapter 8
Max
I employ geniuses.
I knew this before today. Well, I sort of knew this.
Today they’ve proven to be far more talented and creative and resourceful than I ever gave them credit for. To plan this surprise in such a short timeframe. I would have thought it impossible.
“I owe you my life,” I tell Sergey. Normally the head of my security team, he eagerly dug in when I told him what I wanted. No questions asked.
“Please, Your Grace,” he says as we step into the chapel. “There’s no need for gratitude. There’s still the question of your would-be bride showing.”
“She’ll come. If not to marry me, then to give me hell .” I take in the small but elegant room. “It’s perfect,” I tell him. I hand him the ring box.
“I’m glad you like it.” He flips up the lid and whistles. “If the American girl turns you down, there will be hundreds waiting in line to take her place.”
“I don’t want anyone else. I will marry Riley. She will be my wife. If not today, soon. Just tell me this hasn’t leaked to the press yet? I don’t want that kind of pressure put on Riley. It’s all been a lot for her to take in as it is.”
“No, Your Grace. We’ve taken great care to keep the press out of this.” He motions to the smiling man who has just entered. Silver hair gleams on top of his head. His suit is black. Classic. It fits well. “The minister, Jerry.”
The minister, Jerry offers his hand. “Congratulations, Your Grace. We are all set for today’s event, whichever way it goes. I’m just very grateful that you chose our lovely establishment for your...wedding...” He combs his fingers through his silver hair. “I hope you don’t mind if our photographer takes a few pictures?”
“Yes, of course. Now, in regard to today’s ceremony, I don’t have the license, so no matter what it will be unofficial. But I’m not expecting it to go that far anyway. I’m expecting her to put on the brakes early. But I’m hoping she’ll at least accept my proposal.”
The minister cocks a brow. “I can’t see any woman turning you down. You’re a prince.”
“You don’t know my Riley.”
He laughs and claps me on the back. “I may not know her, but I like her already.”
Just as I’m about to respond, Sergey escorts a woman into the chapel. She looks confused. Lost. And a little weathered. But despite her slightly rumpled appearance, I recognize her immediately.
“Mrs. Hall,” I greet her, extending a hand.
She focuses bloodshot eyes on me as she gives my hand a weak shake. “What is this all about?”
“My name is Maxim Alexandr Jakub Filip.”
“That’s a whole lot of names,” my future mother-in-law quips. “Who has a name like that?” Truly, her daughter is the spitting image of her—at least in that respect.
“I am the Duke of Drinova and Prince of Belvaria,” I tell my soon-to-be wife’s mother.
She scrunches up her face, producing creases between her brows and around her mouth. “Belvaria? Where’s that?”
“It’s a small country in Europe,” I explain, accustomed to foreigners not being familiar with my homeland.
Her eyes widen. “You’re really a prince? You?”
I swallow a chuckle. “I am.”
“For real?”
“Yes, for real.”
She crosses her arms over her chest and squints at me. “So what do you want, your highness?”
“Please, call me Max,” I correct her gently. “I had you flown in today because I wish to propose to your daughter.”
Those squinty, bloodshot eyes triple in size. “You want to marry my Riley?”
“I do. I’m planning on asking her in the next few minutes.”
“You want to marry Riley?” she repeats. “My little girl will be a princess?”
“She will be if she accepts my proposal. Out of respect for you, I wish to ask you for permission to court her. In Belvaria.”
She scowls. Obviously she isn’t happy about her daughter being taken so far, even if she hasn’t been close in the past. “You want her to move away?” she asks.
“Yes. Because I can’t live another day without her, now that I’ve found her. But I promise to provide everything she could need or want. I will love her. Protect her. Spoil her.”
“That sounds like a dream.” Mrs. Hall shrugs. “She’d be nuts to refuse you, but she’s my daughter. And knowing my daughter, she just might.”
“If she does shoot me down, that’s okay,” I lie. It isn’t okay. It will never be okay. But I don’t want to scare my fragile-looking mother-in-law right off the bat. These things have to be handled with care. Because I want Riley to be happy, and her friends and family to be happy for her. “I’ll just ask her again later. And again. And again, if that’s what it takes.”
She smiles and I see a hint of the rare beauty that once was, years ago, before alcohol and hard living wore it away. “You have my permission, young man. You’re determined. Stubborn. That’s a good thing. She’ll give you a run for your money.”
“I’d have it no other way.”
Once again Sergey enters the chapel, this time with a younger woman. Her compact body is squeezed into a tight dress that looks a lot like the one Riley was wearing the day I met her. She
has to be Riley’s friend, Morgan.
“Hello, I’m Max,” I greet her, offering a hand.
“So you’re the prince that wants to marry my best friend?” Morgan asks as she sizes me up. “Where’s Riley?” Morgan glances at Mrs. Hall then turns her attention back to me.
“She’s on her way down from her hotel room.” I check my phone, which is buzzing. “Ah, she’s right outside.”
Jerry takes his place at the front of the chapel.
My heart takes its place in my throat.
I motion to Mrs. Hall and Morgan, indicating they should stand on the bride’s side as I make my proposal.
The door swings open.
Music plays.
My breath is stolen away.
Chapter 9
Riley
Ohmygod, is that really my mom? And my bestie, Morgan?
It is! It’s really them!
How?
When?
Standing at the chapel’s entry, I freeze in place, unable to move. As I’d ridden the elevator down from my room, I’d rehearsed my speech.
But now I’ve forgotten every word.
My mom is here! I haven’t seen her in years.
She’s smiling.
So is Morgan.
They’re watching me.
Finally my gaze travels to the right. And my heart does a triple flip.
Max cleans up really nice. Holy crap, he’s gorgeous.
Wearing a tux that fits every muscular bulge to perfection, he’s standing with the security guy who delivered my invitation earlier.
He has the most breathtaking smile.
And ohmygod, could I fall in love with that smile.
And that body.
And he somehow found my mom!
And flew in my best friend too!
What kind of guy does that?
The kind of guy with connections, for one. And the kind that wants to make his girl happy.
I’m in love!
But...holy shit...do I want to marry him today? Could I do something so crazy?
Is it any crazier than flying to Vegas to hire a prostitute?
Yeah, it is. Marriage is for life. Sex? That’s a few minutes.
But, still.
He’s a prince.
A gorgeous prince.
A nice prince.
A generous prince.
What am I going to do?!
I take one step. Another. A third. As I slowly make my way up to the front of the chapel, I scramble to make a decision.
Should I get married?
Or not?
I don’t know what to do!
It would be really, really insane for me to marry this man and run off to some foreign country with him.
But it would also be really, really insane for me to turn him down, if he is as wonderful as he seems.
But that’s just it. Nothing is as wonderful as it seems.
Because life is reality, not fantasy.
My heart is slamming against my breastbone. My hands are shaking. I would anchor them to my sides but I don’t want the sweat from my palms to stain my dress. I’m poor. I know real silk is crazy expensive.
I am so uncomfortable in this dress, and not just because I don’t know what to do.
Crap, I’m at the front of the chapel already.
I look at my mother. She’s grinning ear-to-ear. If it weren’t for the fact that I’ve seen that look on her face way too many times before, and always for the wrong reasons, I might be comforted by her apparent approval of this wedding. But history has taught me that Mom’s opinion of any situation isn’t to be trusted.
But there’s Morgan.. Her opinion I can trust...
I look.
She’s smiling too.
Morgan might wear some questionable clothes, but the girl is smart. And wise beyond her years. That’s why we get along so well.
Her expression is saying, ohmygod-I’m-so-freaking-happy-for-you-you-lucky-bitch!
Mom’s happy for me.
Morgan’s happy for me.
Now I’m really confused!
Max gently takes my shaking hands in his. He smiles at me. The world is almost okay when he looks at me like that. Almost.
The man standing in front of us (the minister, I’m assuming) clears his throat and begins the ceremony. He says, “Dear family and friends, on behalf of Max and Riley I welcome you to this--”
I blurt, “I object.” It just comes out.
Morgan smacks my shoulder. “Are you nuts? The man’s a prince!”
Mom sighs. “I knew it.”
Max merely smiles. It’s a patient, kind expression. “It’s okay, Riley. I can wait to marry you.” I take a deep breath. I’m sure it’s the first deep breath I’ve enjoyed since Mary and the rest of the gang showed up a couple of hours ago. “Honestly, I didn’t expect you to go through with the ceremony. I didn’t even bother with a marriage license.”
Ohmygod, the jerk!
I smack his shoulder. “Then why did you put me through this?”
He chuckles, the sound vibrating through my whole body. I love the way that happens. And I love the adorable sparkles I see in his eyes. “Because I figured why not go for it, on the slim chance that you might?”
I poke his hard carved-from-granite chest. “You’re crazy. Has anyone told you that before?”
“No. Never.” He winks then glances over his shoulder at his presumably best man. There’s an exchange of something from one to the other. Then, he shows me what that something was.
A box.
And inside the box, a ring.
With a big blue stone on it. A stone so freaking sparkly, I’m practically blinded by the glitter.
He takes my hand in his and gets down on one knee—for the second time since I met him. “I’m doing this right this time. Riley Hall, will you make me the happiest man on earth? Will you marry me?”
Another proposal?
Morgan nudges me in the ribs. “Aren’t you going to answer him?”
“When?” I ask. I’m so confused! Does he mean right now? Or tomorrow?
“Whenever you want,” he says, looking up at me with big puppy-dog eyes. Adorable, loveable puppy-dog eyes. “A month from now. Six months. Ten years. I don’t care. As long as you agree to be my wife.”
“Six months?” My heart is pounding in my chest. And doing a happy dance, too. “That’s more like it,” I half-joke.
“Is that a yes?” my would-be fiance asks.
I nod. “Yes. I will marry you.” I can hardly believe I’ve just said those words. I can hardly believe this wonderful, sexy, generous man will be my husband.
He slides the ring on my finger then simultaneously stands up and scoops me off my feet. His mouth slams over mine. His tongue shoves its way into my mouth, and I get swept up in his scrumptious kiss. There is no doubt that this handsome, sexy, persistent man adores me. And wants me. And cherishes me.
I am the luckiest girl in the world!
Somebody clears her throat.
Crap, I forgot there were other people in the room.
My head spins as I wriggle out of Max’s arms. “Sorry,” I say to my grinning bestie and mother.
“No need to apologize to me!” Morgan grabs my upper arms and gives them a shake. “You should be apologizing to that wonderful man, for making him wait six whole months! You are crazy, Riley! Don’t you know who that is? He’s Cleo’s Bachelor of the Year!”
“Cleo Who?” I ask, not following.
“No, Cleo. The magazine! You’ve not only landed yourself a European prince but also an international Bachelor of the Year. How the fuck did you do that?”
“I don’t know, to be honest.” I glance at Max and smile. “Maybe it was that dress?”
Max waggles his eyebrows. “That dress,” he agrees.
“Where is it?” Morgan hooks her arm through mine and stomps toward the door, tugging me along with her. “I’m going to change my clothes right now and find me a prince!”
I peer over my shoulder and watch my real life Prince Charming offer his elbow to my (destitute, alcoholic) mother, as if she’s a queen.
That’s it. I’ve found my keeper.
Maybe I don’t need six months after all.
Epilogue
Max
“I win! I win, I win, I win!” My wife does a little happy dance, her beautiful smile so bright it nearly blinds me.
I gladly concede. There’s nothing better than losing a game of Homewrecker to my sweet Riley. Because I’m never a loser. “You are the queen of Homewrecker,” I say as I pull her into my arms. “What’ll it be this time?”
When I first proposed to her in Las Vegas six months ago, I had no idea I could ever be so happy. Nor did I realize how empty my life was before.
Riley is my everything now. My princess. My friend.
My now. And my tomorrow.
And, in eight months, she will be the mother of my child.
I love her more today than I did yesterday. And I know I’ll love her even more tomorrow.
“Hmmm.” She scrunches up her adorable little face as she considers her potential prizes. “It’s been over twenty-four hours since my manwhore has paid me a visit,” she says, giving me that look. The sexy come-and-get-me look that got her pregnant. “How about we go to bed early...and do something naughty?”
Like I said, I’m never a loser.
Is it any wonder I adore this woman?
I scoop her off her feet. “Your wish is my command, princess.”
That is no line. I have, and will, give her anything she wants. Anything her heart desires. She deserves it.
In a mere six months, this wonderful, generous, honest, sexy-as-hell woman has made me a husband. And a soon-to-be father.
Thanks to Riley, my life is full. My heart is full.
And now I have a partner at every ribbon-cutting ceremony I attend.
Life gets no better than this.
Even if I were to lose everything—the money, the title, all of it--I would still be the luckiest man in the world.
Because (this is cheesy, but so true) love is the greatest treasure of all.
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