Billionaire's Runaway Princess (9 page)

All
of Marisol’s luggage was packed and sent off to the airport. They had spent two additional days in the city, as her father reached out to new connections to try to save their little country. Marisol stayed in her room. She told her father it was because the reporters kept hounding her, but the reality was she couldn’t face New York, Ryan’s New York, without him by her side. For two days she lay in bed inconsolable, eating little and crying into her pillows.

Her father had told her last night they were leaving, and she was glad. She could put this behind her and be the princess her country expected. From this point onward, she would commit to making Dalaysia a better place, just as her mother did. So she got out of her bed and made ready to leave.

Now she waited for her father, who got involved in a last-minute plan to shore up the economics of her country. She stood at the large pane of glass that looked down over the city streets. Just a few days ago she’d stood there, angry and embittered about a fate she had no control over. Now she was sad, gripped with a grief that shook her soul. She had done everything wrong and lost so much. She’d shaken her father’s trust in her and caused him fear and pain. The quest to find her mother’s family had ended bitterly. And on top of all that, she’d lost the man she loved.

The front doors of her suite opened.

“Marisol, I want you to meet our new business partner.”

Her father sounded exceptionally cheerful, which was good. Marisol, however, couldn’t find it in her heart to be glad. Obviously he had worked something out, but Marisol’s heart was still heavy.

“Just a minute, your Grace,” she called out. She looked in the mirror to make sure her makeup and wig was in place. Gone was Marisol the housekeeper. Here stood Marisol, Princess of Dalaysia.

The man’s back was to her as she entered the room, finding her father fixing drinks from the bar. She stopped in her tracks. It couldn’t be.

“Ah, Marisol. I’m sure you know Mr. Kelley.” Her father beamed at her.

Ryan turned and smiled.

“Hello, your Grace,” he said.

“Ryan here has the most amazing ideas for mining indium tin oxide that was too expensive to mine before.”

“He does?” Marisol quirked a brow.

“Yes. The merger with his company and Dalaysia Mining will benefit both KelTech and our country and extend our production of the mineral for twenty years.”

“By that time, there will be something new on the market for creating touchscreens. My company is working on that too, but regardless of whether it’s indium or something else, we’ll manufacture touchscreens and other electronic equipment in Dalaysia, providing continuous employment for Dalaysian citizens.”

“You will?”

“Yes,” said her father. “We’ve been able to work out agreeable terms, tax deferments, and a favorable lease agreement for the land.”

“That’s wonderful,” said Marisol in a tone that said anything but.

“It is wonderful. It is just the thing to get our country on its economic feet.”

“Yes, it sounds like it is.”

“You know,” said the king, “I think there is something I need to discuss with Gustav. I’ll be right back.”

“Father—”

But he slipped out the door, leaving her alone with Ryan.

“Thank you, Mr. Kelley, for coming to our aid once again,” she said coldly.

Ryan lowered his eyes and pursed his lips. He took a big breath and then looked at her again

“How are you doing, Marisol?”

Marisol lifted her chin, feeling confused. “I’m fine.”

“I see that,” he said with an appraising grin.

Marisol felt exposed and vulnerable. She hated that feeling. “Why are you here, Ryan? You made your feelings clear the last time we saw each other.”

He sighed, and the tips of his ears turned bright red.

“You know I’m Irish, right?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Us Irish, well, when we get an idea in our heads, we get stuck on it. I was crazy jealous, Marisol, of the idea you’d marry Vattakov. It made me act like an idiot. I hope you can forgive me?”

“You’re forgiven for being an idiot,” she said in her most royal voice possible. It held a touch of disdain that would put off most people. Apparently, it almost had the desired effect.

Ryan muttered something to himself, and she hoped he would leave. She couldn’t bear to look at him or to be this close. He had hurt her badly.

He caught Marisol’s gaze again. “Okay, I deserved that. I was an idiot. I loved you for a long time, Marisol, from the first time I saw your picture in one of my sister’s teen magazines.”

“What? The Irish getting stuck on things idea?”

“No, Marisol. Damn it, you aren’t going to make this easy on me, are you?”

“And why should I?”

“Because I love you, Marisol. I always have, and I suspect I always will.”

Marisol bit her lip as she studied his gorgeous face. “I love you too, Ryan, but you broke my heart when you left me behind in the courthouse.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. If you give me a chance, I’ll make sure I never do or say anything that will hurt you ever again.”

“That’s quite a big promise, but I’m going back to Dalaysia today.”

“I know,” he said. “That’s why before you go, I want a promise from you.”

“What promise?” said Marisol.

Ryan dropped to one knee and pulled a velvet box from his pocket.

“Marry me, Princess Marisol of Dalayasia?”

“Oh, Ryan, it’s not that easy for me. I have obligations to my country. I can’t, I just can’t.” Words failed her. How could she explain what it would mean if another Duvaingnon brought another commoner from America into the royal family?

“Open the box, Marisol,” said Ryan.

Marisol, her eyes filling with tears, took the box from Ryan’s hands. Then she opened it and gasped. It was her mother’s engagement ring. There was only one place he could have gotten this. Her father. With this ring, her father was telling her he approved, and that, whatever happened, whatever the fallout, he wanted her to be happy.

“Of course, if you don’t like it, I’ll give it back, and we’ll get you another one. Anything you want, Marisol. Because I’m Irish and stubborn, and I’m not leaving this room until you promise to be my wife.”

“Like it? How can I not like it?”

“Then you’ll marry me?”

She flung herself into his arms. It felt so good to have his strong arms around her. Marisol buried her face in his neck.

“Yes, stubborn Irishman Ryan Kelley. I’ll marry you.”

“
Now
tell me again how you were involved in this conspiracy?” asked Marisol. She twisted the paper umbrella in her fruity drink as she waited for Cheryl’s answer.

They were sitting on the upper terrace of the royal palace in Dalaysia, watching the staff putting the finishing touches on the reception and wedding areas. The newly renovated garden stretched out for a couple acres to the cliff that overhung the Gulf of Lion in the Mediterranean Sea. The wedding area sat close to the cliff and was filled with chairs for the invited guests. They’d tried to keep it small, but this was a royal wedding. Royals, dignitaries, government, and business leaders from all over the world had already arrived, jamming the brand new hotels built for the occasion. 

The merger between KelTech and Dalaysia proved extremely advantageous, just as Ryan had said it would, but even more so because it kicked up the interests of different businesses, including several in the travel industry. At long last, money was pouring into Dalaysia with the overdue development of the country as a vacation destination.

This spring day was gloriously bright, and Marisol beamed with happiness. Tomorrow was her wedding day, and she would marry the most handsome man in the world. He was perfect.

The media thought so too, and Ryan complained he couldn’t go anywhere without a reporter following him. For months, Marisol and Ryan’s story filled the tabloids. There were even egregiously erroneous ones that announced their engagement was off or that Marisol had to marry because she was pregnant, which made her laugh.

Since that one time, and after both made confessions to their priests and did their penance, they’d vowed to wait for their wedding day to make love again. It was a difficult vow to keep, especially when they wanted each other like crazy. They came very close to breaking that vow, but one of them would sensibly hold back the other.

Marisol could barely contain her excitement over her imminent wedding night, and it made it difficult to concentrate, especially when people were talking to her like Cheryl was now.

“My son can be stubborn and unreasonable, and there was no talking to him. I tried to tell him it was obvious you loved him, but he wouldn’t listen. Even when that story came out about Vattakov’s arrest, he still wouldn’t relent. ‘She’ll marry him anyway,’ he said.

“Well, that just wouldn’t do. I tried calling your father, which, by the way is nearly impossible to do. No one would let me through. Finally, I came to the hotel and demanded to speak to him. It was a tossup whether hotel security or the NYPD was going to haul my ass out of that hotel, but luckily your father walked into the lobby. I launched myself at him, almost getting myself shot in the process, but as you can see, my son gets his stubbornness honestly.”

“Yes,” said Marisol with a smile. “I can see that.”

“And I told Francois that it was a crime the two of you weren’t together and he agreed. ‘But what can be done?’ your father asked. And I told him about the work my son’s company was doing, and he got very interested. So he called Ryan, which Ryan tells me nearly knocked him out of his chair. Francois told him there was no reason not to do business together, and Ryan agreed. And Francois has this wonderful way of working people.”

“Yes, I know,” said Marisol.

“And he kept dropping hints that the whole Vattakov affair was devastating to the monarchy’s reputation, that he’d made a horrible mistake in engaging you to Tristan. At the same time, he kept giving Ryan compliments about his work and saying things like ‘if I could find a son-in-law like you, this whole thing with the Vattakovs would blow over.’”

“It sounds like he laid in on thick.”

“Oh, he did, but Ryan was being thickheaded about the whole thing. You know how he gets about business.”

“Yes, the whole ‘get stuck on an idea thing.’”

“That’s right. Finally, Francois had to say, ‘Do you want to marry my daughter or not?’ Again, that nearly knocked Ryan out of his chair. And he said, ‘Of course.’ ‘Then you’d better go get her, son, because she’s stubborn too, and you’re going to have to convince her since you’ve been such an idiot about this. And it might take more than a day, and we’re leaving tomorrow.’”

Marisol laughed. “Well, it didn’t. Thank you for your part, but you must tell me, just what is going on between my father and you? He doesn’t let just anyone call him by his first name.”

Cheryl shrugged her shoulders. “He’s a very nice man. We’ve had some nice talks, that’s all.”

“Uh huh,” said Marisol, taking a sip of her drink.

“And just what are my two favorite ladies up to now?” Ryan threw his arms around both of them.

“Just talking about conspiracies,” said Cheryl archly. “And just what are you doing here now? You aren’t supposed to see the bride before the wedding.”

“I couldn’t stay away. I had to get a kiss. Come on, Marisol, let’s take a walk in the garden.”

With Ryan’s arm around her, they walked down the stairs to the elaborately decorated garden.

“Okay, confess, Ryan Kelley. Why did you pull me away from your mother?”

“What? A kiss isn’t enough of an excuse?”

“No,” said Marisol.

Ryan’s eyes travelled up the terrace where Cheryl sat. Her father closed in on her, with a smile on his lips.

“Oh, I see. Another conspiracy,” Marisol said.

“He just wants to ask her to lunch.”

“Uh huh,” said Marisol.

“And I want to get mine,” he said with a wicked gleam in his eye. Before she could say anything, Ryan crushed his lips into hers, and soon all she thought about was how good Ryan Kelley felt in her arms.

“One more day,” she whispered, “One more day and there will be no more waiting.”

***

Could
she be any happier? They had the most glorious wedding on a beautiful day. Her family priest consented to have the ceremony on palace grounds because the Catholic church they attended wasn’t big enough for all the guests. The tiny space in the center of Dalaysia’s capital would have proved a security risk.

The reception and dinner was perfect as well. The first dance in Ryan’s arms as his wife was a memory she’d treasure forever, but what brought a tear to many people there was when she danced with her father as the band played
Butterfly Kisses.

Ryan and his mother danced to
A Song for Mama.
It was the sweetest thing Marisol ever saw, especially when Ryan kissed his mother’s cheek when the band’s singer sang “You’re the queen of my heart.”  She beamed with pride at her new husband because she knew from he way he loved his mother, he would love her forever too.

Now they were alone in the suite her father had prepared for them in the palace. Marisol had her tired feet up on the table in front the large couch before the fireplace. Ryan opened the champagne also left by her father and handed her a glass.

“I don’t think I need more alcohol,” groaned Marisol. “How many toasts were made to us?”

“I lost track,” he admitted. “But one more for us.”

Marisol looked at the envelope on the coffee table addressed to Ryan in her father’s hand. “Are you going to open that?”

“I don’t know. What could it be?”

“Open it and find out.”

Ryan picked up the envelope and pulled out the card inside. Marisol glanced at it and smiled.

By Royal Decree of His Royal Highness Francois Duvaingnon, King of Dalaysia, let it be known that Ryan Andrew Kelley, is now styled as Prince Ryan of Dalaysia, consort of Crown Princess Marisol Duvaignon of Dalaysia, and is to be accorded all privileges and honors of that rank.

“I told him it wasn’t necessary,” said Ryan. “And I didn’t say I was giving up my American citizenship.”

“That’s not what this means. It means my father loves you like a son. How can that be bad? And you can hold dual citizenship here.”

“But I’m not a prince,” protested Ryan.

Marisol shifted to lean across her husband.

“You are to me,” she whispered. She put her arms around his neck to bring herself even with his lips. He bent his head and kissed her gently, at first, then more passionately.

“Let’s get me out of this dress,” she whispered.

Ryan helped Marisol up from the couch. In the bedroom, Ryan unbuttoned the many buttons on the back of the wedding dress, cursing lightly. Finally, the dress pooled to the ground and Ryan looked at her hungrily.

“I’ve been waiting for this a long time,” he said.

“I can see,” said Marisol noting the fullness in his dress slacks. She hugged him, pressing her body against his and he groaned.

“I’ve waited too long,” he said. With that he swept her into his arm, just like he did that first night they shared and laid her on their bed. He didn’t wait for words of encouragement from her and shortly was beautifully naked before her, his shaft hard and straining.

“Come here,” she said, holding out her arms. “And don’t wait. I’ve waited for you too, and I can hardly stand it. I’m ready for you.”

Ryan lay over her, holding his weight up with his forearms.

“You’re so beautiful. Is it any wonder that I love you?”

“Don’t wait,” she said squirming under him desperate for more of him.

Ryan guided himself to her entrance and she sighed as she felt him between her legs.

“Please, baby,” she begged. “I need you.”

His eyes closed half-lidded with desire he entered her. Both of them moaned at the sensation of their flesh joining filling every inch of her core. Marisol felt the gathering rush inside her. It won’t take much or long for her completion. Ryan moved, groaning at each stroke. “You feel so good.”

“More, honey. Please.”

Ryan moved, thrusting faster and harder, growing wilder, and Marisol slipped headlong into the fire that consumed her body. She exploded around him, crying his name. Ryan pulsed inside her, crying her name, sending aftershocks of her orgasm through her.

They held each other tightly, listening to the beat of their hearts. He kissed her neck, whispering how much he loved her. Then he tightened, getting tense.

“Damn,” he said. “I didn’t use a condom.”

Marisol smiled. “Relax, sweetheart. We’re married now.”

“But I’m sure you don’t want a child this soon after marriage. There’s so much work for us to do.”

“This is the first duty of any newly married royal couple,” she said.

“First duty?” said Ryan.

“Securing succession.”

“Oh,” said Ryan. Then he smiled. “Well, as a royal duty, it’s not so bad.”

“What?” Marisol slapped his shoulder.

“As a matter of fact, let’s do our duty again.”

Marisol smiled. “And you said you weren’t a prince.”

******