Page 18 of Some Like It Scandalous
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.
Atiara.
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. 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.
“Alright,” 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 offher 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 pacedthrough 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 newsreports 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 bothSophisticateandScantilymagazines, is 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, the grand duke travels frequently and spends a great deal of money furthering the causes closest tohis 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 gorgeous 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 at the moment 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. The irrational anger at the other woman wasn’t remotely Nikole’s fault. Didn’t make it go away though. Blowing out abreath, 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?”
