Paris and the Prince: A BWWM Billionaire Romance (Royal Weddings Book 1) (11 page)

Paris managed a shy smile and Alex nodded enthusiastically, thrilled that his parents had changed their minds about letting them be alone. As everyone made their way to the door, the King's arms around his youngest sons, just like when they were boys, Cat and Celia already chattering with one another about the plans they had to make, Paris couldn't help but feel that same longing she felt when she saw happy families in restaurants. Or mothers and fathers in airports waiting excitedly for their kids to walk off a plane. It was the feeling that she may never be a part of a whole, functional family, not in the way she wanted to be.

She felt herself drifting into her sadness when suddenly, Alex's hand slipped gently around her own. Even as her anger resurfaced she couldn't help but feel the same butterflies she'd felt that first night when Alex had come to her rescue in the alley in Paris.

“Care to take a walk, Paris?”

T
he light
of a blinding white full moon was already reflecting off the water when Paris and Alex got outside of the castle. Once they were a few hundred steps away, Paris allowed herself to turn around and take in the palatial estate in the starlight; it was even more stunning at night. The song of nightbirds echoed across the lake, causing Paris' heart to swell with emotion.

“I can't believe you grew up here,” she whispered.

Alex scuffed lightly at the grass, and took in a deep breath of the night air.

“I did and I didn't. I spent a lot of time at boarding school when I was a kid. Equestrian training. That didn't take. And then, a form of what you Americans have—ROTC, to prepare for my time in the Navy when I got out of school. But I was here during the summer, and on holidays. It was nice. I lucked out with my family... I know that. Many royals have no relationship with their family at all. Our parents love us, and each other. Everything else is just... filler.”

Paris turned from the castle and looked at Alex. Even in the darkness of the night, she could see the brightness of his eyes behind his glasses. He was so tall and strong, his face so honest and kind.

Her voice trembled slightly. “I hate you, you know. Just a little. You made me seem like an idiot.” The sound was a whisper but it seemed to echo over the lake and reverberate off the peaks of the mountains. The moon highlighted the tears streaming down her face.

He watched her steadily, aware of the pain he’d caused her—never having wanted her to find out this way. His heart clenched, aware that he was on the verge of losing her forever. He would do everything in his power to prevent that from happening. Alex took one step toward her and held out his hand.

“Paris—I love you.”

Even though she wanted to hang on to her anger just a little longer, she knew it wasn't possible.

Paris brushed a tear away from her cheek and ran toward Alex, into his waiting arms. Their lips met in a searing kiss as he just held her close and relished the feel of her body against his own.

He didn't know what he could say to make everything better, so he just kept whispering into her ear, “It's going to be okay, my love. I don’t know how, but it's going to be okay.”

H
urricane Whitney had been blowing
through the Royal palace in Estia ever since she arrived. Leonard had been calling King Alexander's phone all morning but getting no response, which was aggravating him beyond all belief, and driving him to drink earlier than usual. Most of the servants were used to Whitney's screaming, she'd been shouting like a madwoman since she was a child, but today, her anger was palpable and contagious. Everyone in the palace was in a terrible mood.

Rather than the usual tinkling ice cubes in a pitcher full of Bloody Mary's, the dining room was reverberating with the sound of plates and glasses crashing against the wall again. Leonard was guzzling the crimson liquor straight from the pitcher while Penelope held an ice bag against her head.

Once Whitney finally stopped screeching in gibberish, Leonard groaned in an exhausted voice, “What would you like us to do about it, my angel? Alexander isn't taking my calls, none of my contacts know anything. So, I'm open to any suggestions you have.”

Whitney threw a croissant at her father's head, which he didn't even bother to try and deflect.

“I want the plane. And I want it to take me to Dalvana. Right now.”

Penelope pulled the ice bag away from her head and looked at her husband with a terrified and panicked stare. Leonard knew the last thing he should do was allow his daughter to fly to Dalvana and cause further damage to Estia's already tenuous relationship with the country. But telling Whitney “no” wasn't an option in the best of circumstances. He let out a massive sigh and swallowed the rest of his Bloody Mary in one gulp.

“Whatever you want, my darling.”

A
fter their walk
around the grounds the night before, Paris and Alex had joined the rest of the family in the living room. When they walked in, the fireplace was crackling away, Joseph was watching intently as the King and Mathias finished up their latest chess match, and Catriona was sitting at a piano, gently playing a piece by Ravel that Paris' brother had taught her when she was little. Paris felt her heart swell with happiness, and couldn't help herself as she sat down next to Cat and began to play an accompaniment in a higher key.

Soon, the men were all standing around the piano, watching as Cat and Paris played the song in perfect harmony. When the piece came to an end, Cat laughed a long, sweet laugh and gathered Paris in a huge hug, kissing her softly on the forehead.

“My boys have never expressed an interest in music! I can't believe you know the piece!”

Paris ran her fingers across the keys, struck by how smooth and perfect they were. She'd never touched such a perfect instrument in her life. She knew when she spoke, her voice came out as a whisper, but she was still in awe.

“Pavane pour une infante défunte. My brother is a musician. Ravel is one of his favorites.”

All at once, Paris was overcome with sadness. She missed her brother, and realized she hadn't spoken to him in days—him or her sister. They must have been so worried. Both Cat and Alex saw the sorrow in Paris' eyes, but Cat spoke up first.

“Don't you worry sweet girl. In just a few days, this will all be over and you can let your family know what is going on. I'm sure they miss you very much too.”

In an effort to control the “story,” as it were, palace communications had been on a lockdown, preventing Paris from calling home.

Alex cleared his throat, drawing all attention in the room to him.

“There's no need to wait a few days. I've made up my mind, and I don't plan on changing it. I know this is going to cause problems, and I am more than willing to do anything I can to help abate it, but I am not going to marry Whitney. I don't love Whitney. I never have, and I never will.”

The King raised his hand to stop his son from continuing, but Alex kept going.

“Father, let me finish. We've done things a certain way here for a very long time, and it's time to change. From this day forward, for me, for Joseph, for Mathias, for whoever comes next, the royals of Dalvana should be allowed to marry for love. I don't love Whitney. But I do love Paris. And whatever happens next, that's all that matters to me.”

The room was dead silent but for the gentle crackling of the fireplace.

It was quiet enough that everyone heard Paris whisper, “I love you, too.”

L
ater that night
, after the rest of the house had gone to sleep, Alex snuck from the family's wing to the guest quarters, hoping to find Paris awake and willing to talk.

As he approached the heavy oak door, he was suddenly grateful for the far distance between the wings of the palace, knowing how his parents would disapprove of an evening visit in this manner. Though, he thought wryly, it was a bit late for that.

He rapped lightly on the door and waited, hearing slight movement inside.

When Paris finally opened the door, Alex almost growled audibly with desire at the sight of her. Was his mother trying to torture him by giving Paris a negligee like that?

Paris was dressed in a white silk chemise that just brushed the tops of her thighs and which was nearly translucent with the light shining behind her. Alex could see the faintest outline of her areolas through the thin fabric and the darker ‘V’ at the juncture of her thighs. Her riotous mane of curls framed her lovely face like a halo. She was an angel come to earth.

“God, do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” His voice was thick with desire.

Paris looked down at her bare feet, embarrassed, and unused to hearing anything of the sort. She didn’t know how to respond. But then, she didn’t have to as his hands lightly touched her face, turning it towards him in the light.

He bent his head and lightly brushed his lips against her own, kissing her softly, nipping lightly, and letting his fingers run through her hair and then down her back and over her front so that her nipples poked slightly against the silk chemise. Paris opened her mouth, letting the heat of his kisses melt any resistance she might have had.

Paris pressed closer to him, letting herself fall into his embrace and his broad chest. She felt his cock through his trousers harden in response. She closed her eyes and exhaled as he gently, expertly, caressed her breasts with his fingers.

His hands slipped lower running along the silky chemise and over her curvy backside, massaging her rear and pressing her close to him.

Together, they somehow managed to stumble into the room and shut the door, the urgency of their need growing stronger with every touch and heated sigh. Paris reached out and grabbed the bulge in Alex's pants. In the dim lights of the room, illuminated only by the moon hanging over the still lake and a small oil lamp on the bedside, the shadows played over the deep curves of Paris's body.

"Should we be doing this here, with your parents–?" Paris managed to gasp out.

"Probably not," he murmured. It didn't stop their urgent movements as they reached for each other.

Alex slowly eased the spaghetti straps of Paris’ nightgown off her shoulders. Paris released his throbbing erection as she lowered the waistband of his trousers and undid his zipper. Their clothes landed in a heap on the floor, and the pair was heedless of the delicate and expensive fabrics as they kicked them aside.

Ducking his head, Alex closed his mouth over one tight little nipple and began sucking the small bud, sending tingles through Paris’ body. The heat generated between them by their friction left a glow of sweat over their bodies.

Alex's palm was open as he circled her breasts gently, rolling the tip between his finger and his thumb, causing Paris to gasp with pleasure.

As she swooned with the sensations, Alex gathered her in his arms and laid her gently on the bed, spreading her legs wide as he knelt between them. He used his fingers to spread her nether lips and lowered his mouth to suck on the little bud between her thighs. Her knees fell open as she gave herself to him completely. He put his tongue where his mouth had been, flicking it back and forth until Paris began to squirm and gasp out.

Paris threaded her fingers through his hair and began to pump her pelvis rhythmically in time with his thrusting tongue. It wasn't more than a minute later when she cried out with her release, writhing with pleasure.

Alex had reached his own state of overwhelming need, and he knelt over her, his cock at the same level as her pussy. Paris grasped his cock at the root to guide it toward her entrance. They moaned together as he sheathed himself to the hilt.

She grasped his shoulders, drawing him close to her, as he plunged himself in and out of her tight pussy. Her legs encircled his hips as they thrust and she drew him in deeper with every gliding motion.

He was raining kisses over her face, her neck, her breasts, as she shuddered and gasped beneath him. His thrusting became more urgent and Paris could feel a tightness building deep within her core. She returned his thrusts, bucking against him, working feverishly toward her own climax.

Alex thrust in several more times, splaying her legs wide to give him deeper access in her tight channel. They clung to each other gasping as he gave one last downward stroke, remaining inside of her and crying out. Their climax came together as his cock and her pussy throbbed in unison, and Alex collapsed on top of her, fully sated.

It was several minutes before either of them moved, each struggling to regain their breath and still their pounding hearts. Alex gently pulled away from her, turning her as he did so to cradle her in his arms. He brushed his lips over the top of her forehead and smoothed her hair. Paris looked up at him, smiling, and buried her face in his chest.

They lay like that for an hour, silent, with the low water lapping gently on the shore outside, lulling them to a half-slumber, until Alex stirred beside her.

“Wait—I almost forgot.”

“What is it?”

Alex rolled over, grabbing his trousers and fishing a small, delicate box from the pocket. He turned back to Paris, who was on her side, watching him curiously.

“This is what I actually came here to do—until you distracted me, that is.”

He held the box out to her and slowly opened it. Paris’ eyes widened as she saw what lay inside. It was the most flawless diamond ring she had ever seen—large, but not too ostentatious, delicate with vintage scrollwork along the sides.

“What—what are you doing…?” Her voice wavered and she sat up, backing into the headboard.

“Paris—I should have done this with fireworks, and violins, and everything else you deserve—but I don’t want to wait. I know we haven’t known each other long, but it’s long enough to know I never want to live without you. Will you marry me?”

Paris blinked. Twice.

Her mouth was dry, and she looked back at him, and then back at the ring.

Her mind was warring with itself, unable to comprehend what was happening. Had she fallen in love with this man? Yes, wholly and unexpectedly. Was she ready to give up her dreams of becoming a doctor? Of living a normal life? She wasn’t sure.

Alex was looking at her expectantly, and the silence between them loomed large.

“Ummm, Can I think about it?” Paris managed to croak out.

T
he next morning at breakfast
, Alex and Paris couldn't stop giving each other sidelong glances filled with meaning, and in turn, Joseph and Matthias couldn't control their urge to tease their big brother, especially because their parents hadn't yet made it down to the table.

“Alex, man, I came to your room to play cards last night and you were nowhere to be found. Where were you hiding?”

Alex looked uncomfortable, but Paris had spent more than her fair share of time around her big brother, and was used to teasing like this.

“You checked the wrong room, Joseph. Alex was playing with me. But you wouldn't have been invited.”

Matthias choked on his orange juice and did a spit take all over Joseph. Joseph cursed at Matthias as he tried to wipe juice from his face and shirt. Alex stared at Paris with an amazed smile on his face, just as Cat and the King walked in the dining room. King Alexander surveyed the scene, his eyebrows knitted together in concern.

“Do I want to know what happened here?”

At the same time, Matthias, Joseph, Alex, and Paris replied,

“No, sir.”