Going Royal 02 - Some Like It Scandalous (8 page)

“Bummer.”

“If you say so.” She tried for glib and light, but exhaustion warred with need—she wanted him to come home. Then she could yell at him for walking away. Yes, that was what she wanted.

“Anna, are you really okay with all of this? I mean if you’re not really back together...” Bless her heart, give her sister a little while to bask in the pseudo-royal glory and she still returned to earth.

“No.” She didn’t lie this time. “No, I’m not all right. But I will be. Just avoid the press, okay? Don’t go for the Pippa thing. Mom texted me that they had to call the police to shoo them off the lawn.”

“I won’t. I mean...it would be fun and all. But only if you were happy.”

“I love you too, kiddo.”

“I know, I’m fabulous. And there’s Billy. We’re off to the village tonight, new bands playing. Love you.”

“Love you.” And then her sister was gone, her mood ping-ponging from sympathetic and loving to excited for her next adventure. The eight years separating them seemed vast more often than not, but she was good people. Thankfully, Anna’s phone had stopped ringing nonstop when she switched the cell back on, but the forty-some-odd messages in her inbox worried her. Mail from the office told her the press showed up there as well, but her staff assured her they had it under control.

They also recommended she stay away from the office. The building wasn’t “secure.”

Tossing the phone on the bed, she paced through the bedroom. The housekeeper told her there were some nightgowns in the dresser and fresh pajamas—all recent purchases, and set aside for guests. Not that she had an overnight bag, or her book, or anything to do...

Abandoning the bedroom, she wandered through the quiet apartment—too quiet. The staff didn’t live in. She wasn’t sure who mentioned that to her, but they were just a phone call away. Star four on the phone would ring to the valet and he would take care of everything.

Valet.

They rode in the back of a luxurious limousine
,
the deep leather seats sumptuous and if not for Charlie’s hand wrapped firmly around her own
,
she might have drowned in the surrealism of it all.
The hours since the knock on the door had raced past.
His security had shuttled them from their meager apartment
,
whisking them to the airport in the back of an SUV and through private gates
,
taking them all the way to a waiting plane.

Her heart ached for him
,
but as the hours passed
,
Charlie seemed to vanish before her eyes.
His jaw tightened
,
his eyes grew more remote and even his manner became more autocratic
,
isolated and aloof.
Except he still held her hand
,
held it tightly.
Through the window she glimpsed an estate—no
,
not an estate.

A
palace.

Apprehension shivered across her skin and her pulse raced.
What the hell was she doing here?
She had finals to take
,
though she’d been told by a man with a very no-nonsense accent
“
arrangements would be made.
”

What arrangements?

The car glided almost silently past tall iron gates and four heavily armed and decorated military men who stood watch.

When they finally pulled up to the circular drive in front of the palace doors
,
her stomach sank.
An entire line of people awaited them—all dressed in black-and-white suits or uniform dresses
,
save for an older woman with dark hair shot through with strands of silver.
She wore a far more ornate black dress
,
black gloves covered her hands
,
gems gleamed at her wrists
,
ears—and dear God
,
she wore a tiara.

A
tiara.

Anna worried she might throw up.
Two younger men accompanied the grand lady and behind her gathered others in equally formal
,
if stiffly dark
,
dress.
Of course it’s dark
,
Anna chastised herself.
They’re in mourning.
And all at once
,
her attention went back to Charlie.
He stared out the window
,
a
muscle ticking in his jaw.
The vehicle halted and one of the butlers stepped up to open the door.

“
I
have to exit first
,”
he murmured in a dull voice.
Charlie’s hand trembled in hers—or maybe she imagined it.
He withdrew his touch and pulled away.

“
All right
,”
she replied
,
but he stepped out of the vehicle and the moment his foot touched the ground
,
everyone along the line bowed or dipped into a curtsy—every single one of them.
The band around her chest constricted
,
threatening to cut off her oxygen.
Charlie’s chin came up and his hands fell to his sides as he surveyed all of them.

He wasn’t Charlie anymore.
He was everything noble and regal—he’d become the prince.

Her Charlie was a prince.

After a long pause
,
Charlie stepped forward and kissed the older woman’s cheek.
The man holding the car door held out a hand to her and she finally unfolded from the seat to exit the car.
In her jeans and T-shirt
,
she felt positively rumpled next to all of the finery—even the staff wore better outfits than she did.

“
If you’ll follow Elsie
,
ma’am
,
she can show you to your room and help you change.
”
The man’s crisp words dragged her attention away from Charlie—no
,
not Charlie.

Armand.

She paced through the darkened living room. The nighttime view was just as spectacular as she’d imagined. The city lights gleamed like a scattering of multicolored gems. She rummaged through the kitchen until she found bottled water tucked into a drawer in the fridge and a container with cake in it—chocolate chocolate cake with chocolate icing. Scoring a fork from another drawer, she made sure everything was back in its place before carrying her stolen treasure into the living room.

The remotes were easily located, hidden beneath a stack of newspapers. Some were written in languages she didn’t recognize, but most seemed focused on the business sections. She could imagine Armand sitting here with his morning coffee and reading through each paper as he considered how to dominate the world next.

Her conscience twinged.
In all fairness
,
he’s never talked about ruling the world or wanting anything more than a double cheeseburger with a strawberry shake.
Even the news reports tended to follow two threads with the Grand Duke Andraste—who he was screwing and what charity he supported.

The women in his life—how could she ever have competed with any of them? He dated the crème de la crème of the world’s most beautiful women.

Setting aside the newspapers, she grabbed the remote and pointed it at the screen. It shouldn’t have surprised her that the channel was already on the gossip station, but she comforted the disappointment with a bite of cake.

“The big news this morning was whether one of the world’s most eligible bachelors, ranked number seven by both
Sophisticate
and
Scantily
magazines, was indeed off the market.” An image zoomed in of her getting into the SUV outside her house. The sadness etched into her expression filled the screen. Despite the sunglasses, her mouth was a soft, thin line and her face was pale. The wind stirred her hair and pulled one strand across—she barely remembered that part.

She remembered looking at the crowd and all the camera lenses zooming back at her.

“Anna Novak, a Los Angeles businesswoman who was recently appointed the head of the Princess Alyxandretta Dagmar Scholarship Fund for Foster Children—”

She grimaced at the name. That was not what the scholarship would be called, but the reporter’s phrasing seemed to diminish the project—as if it weren’t important.

“—is working closely with the prince as he brings the fund under the oversight of the Dagmar Foundation. The foundation as we have reported is Grand Duke Armand’s pet project and has been since he founded it nearly a decade ago.”

Licking the frosting off the fork slowly, Anna paused. She hadn’t realized he began the foundation himself.

“Like many royals, Grand Duke Armand travels frequently and spends a great deal of money furthering the causes closest to his heart. His long-established bachelorhood has never been in this much question before. ACE has learned that Anna Novak and the prince attended college together and according to Vance Anderson, the couple lived together...”

The screen changed and a man with a weak jaw and a hint of jowls smiled at the camera. “We were in economics together, I think it was their first class in freshman year—could be wrong. Anyway, they dated a lot and were pretty inseparable. I noticed because she was hot and they moved in together just a couple of months later—”

“It was a year later, jackass.” Anna stabbed the cake again and gave herself another chocolategasm to numb the stupidity of that interview. She didn’t recognize the name and the man looked vaguely familiar, but that could just be his build and conversation.

“In the meanwhile, the prince’s former flame, the model Nikole, had this to say...” The reporter blathered on.

The screen cut away to a close-up with the exotic Somalian beauty with the caramel-dipped-in-gold skin and too-blue eyes. “Hmm, I do not believe there is much to this relationship beyond the press speculation. As lovely as a happily ever after would be, if she were that important, he would have mentioned her to me,
n’est-ce pas
?”

Anna scowled and stuffed another bite of cake in her mouth. The woman continued to talk about her most recent vacation with the prince—less than a month before—and the only reason they weren’t together was her photo shoot in Greece.

Licking the chocolate off her lip, Anna punched the fork into the cake again. If only it were that snotty, arrogant woman’s face. Blowing out a breath, she was glad when the reporter switched tracks and an image of Alyx filled the screen.

“It was just a few months ago that the grand duke was reunited with his cousin, Grand Duchess Alyxandretta, who unbeknownst to the family grew up in foster care in California. Sources close to the family have stated categorically that had the family known of the princess’s existence, they would have reunited with her sooner and are profoundly grateful to have the opportunity to welcome the darling princess and her new husband.” The camera angle switched and the blonde reporter turned to look at the camera. “The prince and his brothers attended the small wedding ceremony in Sacramento and the grand reception later. The princess will be presented to the European contingent and allies this coming New Year’s at a special ball in her honor. But the question on everyone’s lips is will the grand duke be escorting Anna Novak and do the ladies of the world have to give up on their chances of dreaming this prince will come for them?”

She rolled her eyes. Could they become any more melodramatic?

“To add to the mystery spice of this secret love affair, ACE has learned that in the decade since their split, Anna Novak has been engaged twice—”

She choked.

“—her first engagement took place just two years following the reported breakup with the then recently crowned Andraste Grand Duke, Armand Dagmar. As you may recall, the grand duke’s father and titular head of the family passed away from a heart attack during the prince’s senior year at college. Sources have reported that when the prince returned to the family estate in Norway, Anna Novak actually accompanied him but left before the final ceremony that sealed the grand duke’s new role. Two years after this, announcements were posted in the Tampa, Florida, newspaper regarding her engagement to firefighter Chad Dowds. ACE requested an interview with Mister Dowds this afternoon, but he refused to answer our questions.”

Oh crap.
She needed to call Chad and apologize.

“Her second engagement, however, is the one that interested local reporter April Menendez—” The screen cut away to a lovely Hispanic woman standing in front of a Los Angeles police station.

“Thank you, Kim. I’m standing here at police station in Los Angeles where a certain detective works. Four years ago, this police detective—who has not allowed us to use his name—was engaged to Anna Novak. Because the officer works undercover, ACE was allowed to interview him but only if we did not take cameras inside or use his image. The officer in question had nothing but praise for Miss Novak. He wouldn’t comment on their engagement or why it ended. He also dismissed the prince’s involvement in calling off his engagement to Miss Novak, assuring us that it was a mutual decision.”

“April.” The screen cut back to the woman in the studio—she angled so it appeared she was speaking right to the image of April in the upper right hand of the screen. “Have you had a chance to sit down with Miss Novak?”

“No, Kim. I haven’t. All attempts to reach Miss Novak have been rebuffed, though we have it on good authority that she was seen entering the prince’s Petersburg Towers here in Los Angeles. Now, as we reported last month, the prince maintains a residence at the top of the tower. His security also picked her up at her house.” The image cut to the circus outside her little cottage and Anna sighed. “As of ten this evening, Miss Novak had not returned home. Her office is declining any comment as has the spokesman for the royal family...”