Royal Date (3 page)

“Who is Chiara?”

“My sister.”

“How many brothers and sisters do you have?”

“Three brothers, two sisters. I had another brother, but he died before I was born.” Serafina said this as she sat right next to me, putting her head against mine. She held up the phone and took three pictures of us together.

“Why were you fighting with your sister?” I asked when she finished.

Serafina flicked through the pictures, altering them with some app. “She accused me of stealing my other sister Violetta’s phone.”

“Did you?”

“Yes, but she’s not allowed to tell me what to do. Mamma says I’m not responsible enough yet to have my own phone, and I
needed
to take a picture of us together.”

“Know what might help you get your own phone? Not stealing other people’s.”

I heard running footsteps out in the hallway, and a teenage girl threw the bedroom door open. She looked like an older version of Serafina.

“I’m Chiara. Nice to meet you. Nico’s never brought a girl home before. Especially not one who was injured.” She said everything quickly, run together, without a pause to breathe.

Injured? I became aware of an ACE bandage on my left wrist, which I hadn’t noticed before. A dull ache started in that wrist, my chest tightened every time I needed to breathe, and it hurt to move my left leg. I remembered how much pain I was in right after the accident, and I was grateful for how much better it was now.

“Do you need some medication?” Chiara asked me with a worried look on her delicate features. “You have some on the table next to your bed.” I turned to see unopened bottles of water and prescription pill bottles. I picked up one and it had my name right there on the bottle. Kat MacTaggart. Vicodin.

“I’m okay,” I said as I put the bottle back down. I didn’t need to explain to children why I had no intention of taking even a single pill.

Instead I pulled my covers off to investigate my leg. I had another bandage there, with bright purple, yellow, and brown bruises all over both legs. Serafina took more pictures.

“At least your toes look pretty!” Chiara said brightly. “I painted them for you.” My toenails were hot pink with sparkles.

“When did you do that?” I asked, alarmed.

Chiara crawled up onto the bed next to her picture-taking sister. “While you were sleeping. Nico said I wasn’t supposed to bother you. I’m not bothering you, am I?”

This whole surreal situation was bothering me.

“Let’s watch
Frozen
!” Serafina said after she put the phone down. She ran over to a dresser and picked up a remote. She pushed a button, and a massive flat-screen TV rose up out of the dresser while she climbed back onto the bed, making her way over to me. With a few more clicks, she had queued up the movie. She cuddled up on my side, laying her head against my shoulder. I adored children, but this kid had no personal boundaries at all.

The opening credits started, and I asked Chiara, “Is my friend here?”

“She’s talking about the fruit one,” Serafina said, without taking her eyes off the screen. “She’s next door.”

“Let me go get her for you,” Chiara said, jumping off the bed and running out into the hallway. I heard a rapid knocking, a door open, and then to my great relief, Lemon’s voice.

Anna had just started singing about building a snowman with Elsa when Lemon came in, a look of worry on her face. I noticed she was wearing what she called her “work clothes.” They were the white button-up long-sleeved shirts and crisp dark slacks she wore when she wanted to be taken seriously. I had teased her about packing them, but it looked like she’d found some use for them. She rushed over to me and enveloped me in a giant hug. “Kat, darlin’, I am so, so glad that you are okay.”

She held me for longer than we might normally hug, finally letting go and standing back at arm’s length to look at me. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore and a bit weirded out,” I said, nodding my head toward an oblivious Serafina.

Lemon looked over at the fireplace to where there were two comfortable-looking chairs. “Can you walk?”

I didn’t know, but I wanted to try. I felt stiff, like I hadn’t moved in a week. Serafina moved away as I swung my legs over to the side of the bed. I flexed at the ankle, which hurt, and at my knees, which didn’t. Lemon offered me her hand and helped me to stand. My ankle was a bit painful, but I could manage it. I let out a shaky breath, and I saw Lemon’s eyes dart to my nightstand. Fortunately, she knew better than to offer me any of the pills.

We walked slowly over to the chairs and sat down in front of the fire. “What happened? Where are we?”

Lemon looked like the cat who ate an entire flock of canaries. “We are at the Monterran royal palace. Home of King Dominic, Queen Aria, and the crown prince, Dominic II.” She seemed to enjoy my look of confusion. “You know him as Nico.”

“Say what now?” A prince? A crown prince? And how was that different from a regular prince? I looked over my bed. That made little Serafina and Chiara princesses.

“You remember the man who saved you on the slopes, right?”

The one who looked like a fallen god turned human? Vague recollection. “Yeah.”

“He brought you here to his
palace
,” she emphasized, her eyes gleaming. “Can you believe he’s an actual prince?”

I didn’t think I had sustained any brain damage. She didn’t need to keep repeating herself. “Yeah, you mentioned that. But how did we get here?”

Lemon explained that the helicopter had taken me to a hospital, where it was determined I had sustained bruised ribs, a minor sprain in my ankle, a major sprain in my wrist, a mild concussion, and bruising everywhere else. I was very lucky. I knew it could have been much worse. But when she started talking about the tests they ran and how worried she had been, I put my hand on her arm to keep her from continuing.

“CT scans and X-rays? How much was that?” Visions of bankruptcy danced in my head. I willed myself to not have a full-blown panic attack. No way could I afford all that. My student health insurance only worked on campus.

“Stop worrying about money,” she replied. Such an easy thing for someone with a lot of money to say. “The only thing that matters is that you’re all right. Prince Nico paid for all of your expenses and brought you here to recover. Apparently his father is ill and they have a small army of doctors and nurses to look after him, and they’ve been watching over you, too. He wanted you to be close by so he could make sure you were all right.”

Lemon looked way too happy about that. It had been her life’s mission since freshman year to get me to hook up with someone. She couldn’t understand my aversion to men. She used to ask me if I wasn’t, um, interested in men, that she would understand, but that wasn’t the situation. I was definitely attracted to guys, but I just couldn’t with any of them.

“And he feels responsible.”

“Why?”

“His family owns the resort. One of many.” She practically bounced in her chair. “So not only is he gorgeous and royal, but rich to boot. Well done, darlin’.”

Lemon had more energy than someone without a crystal meth addiction should have. I gave her a look of disdain. She should know me better than that. “When are we leaving?”

“Here’s the thing about that. I think we should stay here for a little while.”

“Why? I’m awake. I feel better. We can go back to the resort or back home . . . wait. How many days has it been since the accident?”

“Three.”

“Three days?” I tried to keep the hysterics out of my voice. “I’ve been sleeping for three days?”

“You needed time to recover. But listen, Kat, I’ve been talking with the prince. And funnily enough, he’s in dire need of someone with modern marketing skills.”

Lemon was about to finish up her master’s degree in marketing and branding; I was getting mine in social work. Or, at least, that had been the plan before my scholarship had been defunded. But I didn’t want to think about that right then. One problem at a time.

“And?”

“And his family uses this old stuffy British firm that’s never even heard of Facebook. He really wants to increase tourism to his country, so I started laying out strategies for him and his press secretaries. I can use this as my thesis. You know how I’ve been stressing about this, and it’s like an answer to my prayers. A thesis dropped right in my lap! Who else gets to write their master’s thesis on the effect of social media on an obscure royal family?”

She had been struggling. I remembered her spouting off ideas to me back in our apartment last semester about overt international pricing strategies and brand image. She hadn’t seemed too thrilled about it. But this—I could see her giddy excitement.

“I’m getting real-life work experience here, and they seem to love my ideas.”

“Like what?” The aching was starting to get worse. I shifted in my seat, hoping to relieve it.

“I was thinking of getting the prince on that TV show with the single guy and all the women who compete to marry him. I have a sorority sister who works as an assistant director on it, and I made a phone call. It’s a done deal. But we need to build up his brand, get the whole world talking about him. Pour some chum in the water to get the sharks feeding. And that’s where you come in.”

“Me?” I asked in surprise.

She avoided looking me in the eyes, picking nonexistent lint off of her slacks. “You and he are going to spend some time together. Go on some pretend ‘royal’ dates. Then you’re going to write about it. With your words and that man’s face on the new website I’m having designed, this thing will go viral faster than a hare with a hot foot.” She sounded very proud of herself.

But there was no way I was doing that. Just the thought of it was enough to give me a coronary.

“Nope.”

“Kat, please, it’s already been agreed to. Just say you’ll do it.”

“When was this agreed to?”

“While you were sleeping.”

“So you’ve just been arranging my whole life while I was in a coma?”

“Oh, calm down. You weren’t in a coma. Just knocked out.” Lemon never sugarcoated anything. She was sweet and kind, even with her passive-aggressive “bless your hearts,” but she did not pull her punches. Flying here to Monterra was my first time ever on a plane, and I had been a tad freaked out. When I asked Lemon for any last-minute advice, what was her loving response? “Don’t touch any red buttons.”

“How are those two things different?”

“In both length and seriousness.” Lemon was one of those all-is-fair-in-love-and-war-and-getting-me-a-boyfriend people. Anything went, and when it came to her mission, she had no boundaries or filters. It made me very uneasy that they’d spent three days together. Talking about me.

Who knew what she had told him? I couldn’t date him. Not even fake date him. I had thrown up on him. I nearly died on his family’s mountain. I had been rude to him. Dismissive. Cold. He probably thought I was the world’s biggest hag. Why would he agree to it?

“I think I need to lie down.”

Lemon got up to help me back over to the bed. “He’ll pay you to write the article, and he’s so nice. It’s really no big deal. You’ll have a good time.”

I eased myself back into the bed, realizing it was probably the most comfortable one I’d ever slept in. The pillows were like fluffs of heaven, the comforter soft and downy and perfect. It was hard to stay mad while lying in this bed.

“Please,” she said, looking down at me. “I know this is huge. But I’ve never asked you for anything like this before.”

I sighed. She was right. Lemon was a nurturer, and she lived to take care of others. Including me. She had always been generous, even when I didn’t want her to be, and so supportive. At times I had felt like our friendship was somehow unequal because of our financial situations. This was my chance to pay her back.

I could do this for her. I closed my eyes. “Okay. Fine. I’ll do it.”

“Fantastic! The prince said he wanted to discuss the details with you himself.” My heart skipped a beat before settling back down. Despite my denials, I actually wanted to see Nico again. Some part of me was excited about it. I opened my eyes because I realized there was something she wasn’t telling me. I could hear in her voice that she’d left something out.

“What else?”

She perched on the side of my bed with one of her “I found a new man” smiles. “His name is Salvatore, the Duca di Brista. That’s a duke. He’s one of Nico’s friends. And I think he’s interested. I’ve been trying your game. The virgin ploy.”

I glanced over at Serafina, who had moved back to the foot of the bed during our conversation. She was totally engrossed in the movie. “It’s not a game or a ploy. It’s an actual thing. Waiting until marriage.”

Waving her hand she said, “Of course. Whatever. But why didn’t you ever tell me how well this works? It makes them want you more.”

Because I had absolutely zero experience in that department. Since my freshman year in high school, no guy had ever been interested in my virginity or relieving me of it. It was a nonissue.

It didn’t surprise me though that Lemon had already found a guy to crush on. She’d always had a thing for foreign men. Those same foreign men had a thing for cheating on her constantly. Which I didn’t understand, because her dad was as loyal as one of his hound dogs. Unlike me, she’d grown up with a great father. But she only liked jerks, which I would never understand. I knew this would have to play out until this Salvatore messed up, which he inevitably would, and Lemon could move on to the next lowlife.

“Momma always told me to play hard to get; I just never realized how well it works or how much fun it could be. And that Salvatore may be three pickles short of a quart, but I am going to get him to propose to me. And someday I will tell my grandchildren about the time a duke from Monterra proposed to me. Just like you’ll be telling your grandchildren about your fling with an almost king.”

Fling? “I’m not having a fling. You fling him.”

She gave me her knowing smile. “He’s not interested in me, and I already have my man all picked out. If you had the sense that God gave a tick, you’d be all over that man. If I’m not allowed to get him in your bed, then I’m at least gonna get you kissed.”