Page 3 of Royal Charmer
“No. Well, yes.” I flutter a hand in the air. “He’s not here, and we’re not married.”
His brows knit. “Why did you say you were on your honeymoon?”
I hesitate, debating confiding in a stranger. I don’t open up easily to anyone, and it’s still so painful to talk about.
I lift my palms and force some energy into my voice. “I’m a badass.” And then my chin quivers, completely destroying my credibility.
Chapter Two
Lucas
“Where are you from, badass?” I ask in an effort to hold off her tears.
“Portland, Oregon, USA,” she says gamely and takes a deep quivering breath. She’s trying not to lose it. I know the signs. You don’t get to be the world’s most eligible royal bachelor without having plenty of experience with women.
The contrast of her nerdy librarian glasses with her blond hair and lush curves caught my eye through the window a few moments ago. The breeze made her loose dress cling to her large breasts and hourglass figure. Incredibly sexy. Like if Marilyn Monroe wore nerdy glasses. It wasn’t until I pushed the door open that I realized she was dealing with a crisis. Her voice, even in distress, is a smooth rich tone that’s undeniably sexy. Why would she take a solo-honeymoon trip? The only thing I can think of is that it was paid for and she didn’t want it to go to waste. A practical sort.
I check on the tears situation. None yet, though her blue eyes are shiny through her glasses. The black seriousness of the glasses is softened by little silver hearts on the corners of the frames. “So you’ll be in the guest suite for a week?” I purposely avoid calling it the honeymoon suite under the circumstances.
“Two weeks.”
I keep my voice upbeat like a two-week solo honeymoon could be a fun adventure. “Maybe you could do a little sightseeing in France. Nantes is close by, and Paris isn’t too much farther. Of course, you could always tour Villroy, though there’s not much to see beyond sand and sea.”
She attempts to sound upbeat in return. “Yes, that was my plan. Just soak it all up, become inspired, and magically produce my next book.” Her voice takes a downturn at the end there.
“What do you write?”
She sighs. “Historical romance. Love stories set in the Regency period in England. Well, I did. I may be fired soon.” She slowly shakes her head. “My editor hated my love-triangle idea.” She gives me a rueful smile. “It’s also my real life.”
“Sorry.”
She shifts on the bench, tucking her legs under her, crisscrossed, and arranges her dress over her knees. “Enough about me. What are you up to? What does a prince do around the palace?”
“Actually, I’ve been involved with the business side of our new venture. We’re building a day spa on the east side of the island and getting started with manufacturing cosmetics using local ingredients provided by the fishing industry.” I love talking about the new business.
She brightens. “So you’re also a businessman?”
Pride has me sitting a little straighter until I remember the difficulties I’ve had in proving myself worthy of the position. I’m the third-born son, which means I was never groomed for the throne or much of any royal duties beyond some photo ops. And I fully admit to being a freewheeling partier mixing it up with A-listers, but that’s not all I am. I want to contribute to the kingdom, be part of the legacy. I should be the CEO of our new business venture. I have experience investing quite successfully in other start-up companies and serving on their advisory boards—angel investing being a hobby of mine—but here at home, I can’t make headway. The king and queen—my oldest brother, Gabriel, and his wife, Anna—started us down this path and continue to oversee it, giving me very little to do despite my steadfast devotion to the business. They should be more concerned with running the country and not split their attention between the kingdom and business matters. Anna is due with their first child in two months and will be taking time off after that. Why not let me take the reins?
It’s Gabriel who’s the problem. He thwarts me at every turn. Half the time he jumps in for issues I said I would handle, and he’s continually pulled away by his royal duties, which results in delayed decision-making and crews waiting on orders. If there were a clear role for me, a clear division of work, everything would run much more smoothly. It’s so damn frustrating.
“Yes and no,” I finally say. “I’m working on taking a greater role on the business side.”
She looks off in the distance. “I wish I had practical skills like that. I’m not sure what I’m going to do now that my career is over.”
“Why is your career over?”
She lifts one shoulder up and down. “I’m a writer and I can’t write.”
“Why not?”
She turns to me and says matter-of-factly, “Because Mason killed the muse.” She looks straight ahead. “I don’t believe in romance anymore, so I can’t write it. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay.”
She slaps a hand on her thigh. “Screw Mason! Why does he get a happy-ever-after and I get to be alone on my honeymoon, looking at the dead carcass of my career?”
“So we are talking about it.”
