Page 28 of Some Like It Scandalous
Each subsequent day followed the same pattern—he’d be tied up for hours in meetings. When he did manage to slip away, they were interrupted time and again—his mother, his brothers, attorneys, guards.
“I know you have a lot of questions and I sincerely want to sit down and discuss them all. I have to ask for you to be patient just a bit longer.” Three times he’d said nearly the same words to her. It didn’t seem to matter how patiently she’d waited, he couldn’t make the time.
When she woke to a note apologizing that he’d had to go to Belgium, she’d been sick to her stomach. They didn’t talk, barely saw each other and she had no idea where she fit into this life.
If she even did.
When his trip to Belgium turned into a trip to France and then another to England, she’d booked an airline ticket and waited. Anna had to go back to school. Four weeks in Norway, and her finals still awaited her.
Her finals. Her diploma. Her future. He didn’t have time for her and she was running out of time on the extensions she’d had to file.
Reality sankits ugly claws in her heart and threatened to shred it in half.She’dlefthim.She’dbroken them up.
Chapter 9
Armand
By the time they finished their late lunch, Armand was in a far better mood. A mood George needed to be thankful of, considering his behavior when he’d arrived unannounced. Dressed in fresh clothes, Armand’d left a curiously quiet Anna reading through the foundation history and took the elevator down to the floor beneath the penthouse. George’s cool greeting warned of a potential temper explosion, but whereas his younger brother’s behavior typically wearied him, today he didn’t mind. He rather looked forward to the verbal assault.
He didn’t have to wait long.
“Why are you keeping her here?” George poured two glasses of wine. Far too early in the day for heavier spirits, but his brothers never noticed a clock when it came to alcohol. Armand seemed to be the odd man out when it came to that particular habit. The red came from Burgundy; he recognized the vintage as a particular favorite of their mother’s.
“Manners.” Eight years his senior, he would give his younger brother only so much rope.
Like Armand, George had changed out of his food-splattered clothing. But instead of a suit, he wore a polo shirt and slacks. Helooked ready for a golf course. The clubs in the corner suggested he planned for one as well. Peterson would discourage him, so Armand left it alone.
“I thought you were with that model—the one with the pixie cut.” The younger prince slung himself down on a chair, falling into it rather than sitting.
Armand shrugged, leaning back in his own seat and resting an ankle on a knee. “Does it matter who I’m seeing?” Since Nikole’s temper tantrum and threats, he’d been too preoccupied with the discovery of their cousin to concern himself with a new woman.
Anna’s arrival complicated everything. Normally, he’d have found a string of eligible, available young women and squired them to a few art openings and theater shows. It would get the press off his back and effectively divide the interest in Nikole’s antics. He could hardly begin dating another woman, not even for cover with Anna sharing the penthouse. Hell, he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do about the situation, but he wasn’t in a sharing mood—not with George.
“No, but Mother is concerned…”
“She is not.” He held up a hand and cut his brother’s favorite ploy off. The younger prince discovered trotting the mother card out whenever he wanted something from his older brothers worked when he was a child and Armand and Sebastian were in their teens. “In fact, she is in Paris, preparing to attend the Memorial charity ball—a ball you were supposed to escort her to.”
George grimaced. “It was all old women and rigid protocol. Not my favorite thing as you can imagine.” He drained his wineglass. “Nor is seeing my brother on ACE making a fool out of himself.”
“Worried about competition for your most-photographed-inappropriately title?” He swirled the wine in his glass. Annapreferred whites and fruity. He would ask the chef to bring up a selection for their meal that night. She didn’t want to drink in the office or at their makeshift lunch—but supper could be a sit-down meal with a white and?—
He set the wineglass down and pulled out his phone. Swiping to the text messages, he sent three and looked up to meet George’s stony stare.
“When you feel the urge to get around to the point of your unexpected visit, I’ll pay more attention to you.” The phone in his hand buzzed. Security gave the nod. A second buzz confirmed his chef was on board. The third message remained unanswered.
But he was patient.
George drained his wineglass and bounced up to his feet. He walked over to the bar and refilled it. Fingers drumming against the wood, George didn’t sit still.
It’s money…
“I need an advance on my allowance.”
Armand sighed. “What happened?”
“Nothinghappened. I just need an advance. I was in Monaco one night too many and my luck turned. Then I had to go straight to Paris and Mother’s surrounded by the rat pack of societal hangers-on and old guard—” His shoulders rolled in a shudder. “And their far too single daughters and granddaughters.”
Armand laughed. The Dickensian predictability of their mother’s matchmaking landed on him far more often than not. It was about time George got his taste of it.
