The Royal Treatment: A Crown Jewels Romantic Comedy, Book 1 Read online

  “Tessa, will you be back in time for the sunset?”

  “I don’t think so. Why?”

  “There’s a lovely spot on the roof of the palace that overlooks the North Sea. I thought maybe we could share a bottle of wine and watch the sunset.”

  “I’d love that. Maybe another time?” Her face says that this is all too good to be true, which of course, it is.

  I suddenly feel like a total shit for doing this, but desperate times call for desperate measures, don’t they? To be honest, when I think of sitting up there with her, sipping wine, I actually want to do it. It sounds rather wonderful.

  Well, isn’t that a shock to the system?

  Just as we near the palace steps, she reaches out her hand and touches my arm, then stops. “Arthur, I promise that what happened this morning will remain our secret. I have no reason to tell anyone any of that.”

  “Thank you.” I search her face for the truth and see her sincerity. “I appreciate that.”

  “And as to your father, anything you may or may not have implied right now won’t make good news anyway. My observations of him will be made directly and not from hearsay. I don’t run a gossip rag.”

  I nod, and find myself absolutely riveted by her brilliant emerald eyes.

  “I’m more interested in doing the right thing than the smart thing. Maybe that makes me a fool, but I’d rather be thought a fool than be someone with low morals.”

  “I could never see you as either.” I smile down at her beautiful face, then reach up and tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. And far too soon, we find ourselves back in the palace, surrounded by people I’d rather weren’t there.

  The entire luncheon, I find myself either keeping note of the time, or searching for Tessa among the patrons, making sure she seems happy. I had her seated at a table with some very nice animal activists, not the militant ones, but the ‘give peace a chance’ ones. She seems to be getting on just fine, and the fact that I care even in the slightest about her comfort and happiness should be setting off alarm bells in my head.

  The fact is that I cannot, no matter what, stop thinking about her. Her smile, her voice, the warmth and taste of her kiss. I can still smell her skin even though I’ve showered and am in a freshly pressed suit, and I know it’s my mind conjuring her scent. She looks up at me and we lock eyes, smiling like fools at each other. Dexter is sitting on the floor with his head on her lap. Smart pig. He knows a quality girl when he finds one.

  Oh, fuck. This is bad, isn’t it? I’m supposed to be impressing her, but instead, I think I’m might be falling for the one person on this planet who would like nothing more than to see my life destroyed. Very smooth, Arthur. Highly intelligent move on your part.

  I check my watch. She’s going to leave in a few minutes, and I’m about to do something very stupid for the second time today. I take my phone out of my pocket and hold it under the table.

  Me: Any chance you want a plus one for this mysterious family obligation?

  I watch as she slides her phone off the table and discreetly reads my message. A slow smile spreads across her face and she starts typing.

  Her: Dexter?

  I chuckle to myself, hoping no one notices.

  Me: No, the other surprisingly sweet pig in the family.

  Her: LOL. You would hate it. It’s a horridly loud birthday party for my very wild but adorable twin nephews, who are turning six.

  Me: Will there be strippers?

  I hear her laugh from here, and I feel like a comedy giant who could sell out Valcourt Hall (which is absolutely insane because this is only some text flirting with someone whom I’m only text flirting with so I can get into her pants. And her good graces).

  Her: Not if you don’t count their three-year-old brother who hates to wear clothes.

  Me: He definitely does not count.

  Her: All I can promise is that there will be cheap store-bought cake with sickeningly sweet icing and beer.

  Me: You had me at sickeningly sweet icing.

  Her: Meet me at the front doors in fifteen?

  Me: I’ll be there.

  She glances up at me with a little grin, and I find myself slightly excited. This is truly odd, because I’ve never been even remotely happy about attending a child’s birthday party, even as a child. Even when it was my own.

  But it’s only because I really am under the gun to win her over before my father’s shadow comes creeping over the castle. Not at all because of that delicious kissing business from earlier.

  Nineteen

  Toy Shopping with the Prince

  Tessa

  Well, now, isn’t life funny? Two weeks ago, I was on my way to my parents’ on the bus, mud on my pants, freezing cold, and wishing I had a nice man with a little hybrid to drive me there. And now, I’m sitting in the back of a stretch limo, fantastically warm, clean and dry, next to a prince who snogged me senseless this morning, while his driver makes his way to my parents’ neighbourhood.

  I finally figured out what impossibly handsome means. It’s when a man is so absolutely handsome that it’s impossible not to stare. He’s answering emails on his phone right now, so I can gaze at him all I want and he won’t see me. Just to give you a mental image, picture a crazy hot Viking sex god wearing jeans and a light blue button-down shirt that matches his eyes. And as an extra bonus, his sleeves are rolled up three-quarters so I have a view of those muscles in his forearms.

  “You’re being rather unproductive right now,” he says without looking up.

  “Should I be working?”

  “That would be up to you, but it would be helpful if you weren’t staring at me.” He looks up and grins. “If you keep doing that, it’ll mean I’ll keep thinking about why you are staring, which will mean I’ll take much longer than necessary to reply to this email, which means that it will take that much longer before I can give you my full attention.”

  “Well, we can’t have that.” I pull out my phone and text Nikki.

  Me: Guess where I am?

  Her: On a bus on your way to your parents’ place?

  Me: In the back of a limo with Prince Arthur on the way to my parents’.

  Her: SCREEEEAAAMMMMMM! Are you serious? Stop by here on your way! Please, please, please!

  Me: No way. You’ll chain him up and keep him like that lady in that Stephen King book.

  Her: Maybe, but I promise not to hobble him. Please? We could share. There’s definitely enough of him to go around.

  Me: How’s your nose?

  Her: Good point. Don’t bring him today. Maybe in two weeks? I should be fine by then.

  Me: That will also allow you suitable time to purchase chains and duct tape.

  Her: Now, you’re talking. Wait a minute, he’s going to your parents’ with you? For the twins’ birthday party?

  Me: Yup. His idea.

  Her: He’s really pulling out all the stops to win you over.

  Me: You have no idea.

  Her: What?! Dish. Now!

  Me: Nothing, he’s just very accommodating.

  Her: OMG! HOW accommodating?

  “Ben, can you stop here, please? At this store on the right?” Arthur asks.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Me: Gotta run. Fill you in later.

  Her: You better.

  I toss my phone in my bag, suddenly feeling very guilty about both implying anything at all to Nikki and not telling her the whole truth. Being a woman is complicated sometimes.

  The car stops, and I realize I don’t know where we are. I look over at Arthur. “What are we doing?”

  “I can’t very well show up uninvited and empty-handed to a child’s birthday party.” I watch through the window as Ollie walks briskly into the store.

  “I was just going to pop some cash in an envelope.”

  He looks down his nose at me. “Really? What kind of horrible auntie are you?”

  “The kind that brings Jelly Babies every time I see them.”

  “Oh, s
o not so horrible, after all,” he says. “Jelly Babies are the world’s best candy.”

  “That they are.” A slow smile stretches across my face. Maybe we have more in common than I think.

  “You have excellent taste, Ms. Sharpe.”

  “I’m surprised you’d say that, since I don’t really like you at all.”

  “Proves my point.”

  Ollie comes back out and nods. The driver opens the door for us.

  Arthur gestures toward the shop. “Are you coming?”

  We follow Ollie into the tiny, cramped toy shop. We’re the only patrons, but if I had to guess, I’d say it’ll fill up fast if we don’t hurry. The limo with the royal flags parked out front is a dead giveaway.

  An older man stands behind the till, his eyes wide. “You’re… you’re… Your Highness.” He bows deeply.

  “Good afternoon,” Arthur says, his voice easy. “We’re in the market for some birthday gifts. Six-year-old, very wild twin boys.”

  “Yes, sir!” The man hurries over to us. “We’ve got just the thing. Came in yesterday.” He walks us over to a display of neon razor scooters and gives us a quick sales pitch.

  Arthur looks at me. “What do you think? Will this do?”

  “Only if you want to be their favourite person for the rest of their lives.”

  “Excellent. That will mean two down, five million to go.” Arthur turns to the shopkeeper. “We’ll take two. One Gooey Green and one Blaster Blue.”

  The man takes two boxes and starts for the till.

  “What should we get for the rest of the kids?” he asks.

  “Why would we get them anything?”

  “So they won’t be jealous.”

  In the next twenty minutes, we choose gifts for all my nieces and nephews (including the one who hasn’t arrived yet), Arthur poses for several pictures with the man who owns the shop, as well as his wife and mother-in-law, who happened to be in the back room having tea. We also stop at the wine store next door and pick up four bottles of very nice wine, as well as a case of beer for my dad.

  When we’re settled back in to the limo, we sit quietly for a moment, our hands nearly touching. I look down at my fingers next to his against the leather seat. He has big, manly hands that dwarf mine and make me feel like a child. When I look up at him, he’s also staring at our hands. He slowly slides his toward mine and links his pinky finger around mine. It’s the slightest of gestures, but it sets off an explosion of happiness inside my body.

  “So, give me the run down on who I’m about to meet.”

  “Sure. My parents are Ruben and Evi. My father is a mechanic, my mother is a stay-at-home… wife. I was going to say mum, but then I realized we’ve all grown up and moved out. She babysits the grandkids a lot, though—”

  “So, she’s a stay-at-home grandmum.”

  “Exactly.” I nod. “I have four brothers. I’m the only girl. The eldest is Noah. He’s a structural engineer and is married to Isa, and they have three kids, Tabitha, Poppy, and little Clarkie. Watch out for Clarkie. He’s going through a bit of a head-butting phase, so keep your… umm… sceptre protected at all times.”

  He nods. “Got it. Ruben, Evi, Noah, Isa, Tabitha, Poppy, and Clarkie, the ball-buster.”

  I laugh, impressed with his ability to recall everyone’s names. “Okay, next in line is Lars, who is a professor of astrophysics at Valcourt Tech—”

  “A total dullard, then.”

  “Yes. Especially when it comes to choosing women and raising kids.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  “Wife is Nina, who is pregnant with what she hopes is a girl. They already have four boys, including our birthday twins, Geoffrey and Josh, as well as Knox and Stephen, named for my brother’s biggest hero, Stephen Hawking. Then there’s Bram, the dentist who has never hired a hygienist he hasn’t slept with.”

  “Ah. I see.”

  “Finally, there is Finn, who is finishing architecture school this spring.”

  “Huh. So, all rather impressive career-wise.” He gives me a thoughtful look for a second, then nods once. “Now I understand.”

  “What?”

  “You grew up with four boys, all very smart, all probably loving to torture the only girl in the house. Underachieving mother. They likely thought you were also going to be a nice little housewife, and you’ve spent your entire life proving them wrong.”

  I glare at him and slide my hand away, feeling irritation rise from my toes to my arched eyebrow. “Wow. That was offensive on so many levels.”

  Arthur looks taken aback. “How so?”

  “First of all, calling my mother an underachiever for dedicating her life to her family. You’ve just insulted, like, half of the women on the planet.” He opens his mouth, but I cut him off. “Second, I don’t appreciate the little pop-psychology assessment.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend. I’m just trying to figure you out.”

  The way he says it douses almost all of the flames of anger in me, but I keep my chin out, all the same. “Well, you did offend.”

  “I wish I hadn’t because you were smiling before, and now… you’re not.” He lifts his hand and touches my bottom lip with his thumb. “It’s quite a loss for me, because I’ve become rather attached to your smile in a very short period of time.”

  Well, when he puts it that way… “I suppose your heart was in the right place.”

  “Forgiven?”

  “Forgiven.” I give him a little grin. “Plus, this gives me the upper hand again, in a very big way.”

  He narrows his eyes playfully. “Because I’ve admitted to being a Tessa’s-smile-addict?”

  “Because if I tweet your comment about stay-at-home mums being underachievers, you’ll be totally fucked.”

  “Oh, bollocks. You’re right.”

  I narrow my eyes and try for my most ominous look. “You’re mine now, Your Highness.”

  He licks his lips. “What are you going to do with me, Ms. Sharpe?”

  The car stops. I look out the window to see my parents’ house to my right. “For now, force you to spend time with my family.”

  “I’m more interested in what you’ll do to me after the party.”

  This time as I get ready to go inside, it’s with a nervous excitement that I haven’t felt since… well, maybe ever.

  Twenty

  Cheap Cake and Royal Commemorative Knick-knacks

  Arthur

  “Your Highness, please wait here so I can run a quick security assessment of the premises.” Ollie stands next to the door as Tessa gets out. Why is he talking? I’m trying to enjoy her very fine arse from this vantage point.

  “No need, Ollie. I’m sure it’s safe,” I say, following that fine arse out of the limo.

  “I’m afraid I cannot allow you to go in until we know for certain.”

  “Oh, but, it’s my parents’ house,” Tessa says. “Who would be waiting to assassinate the Prince? No one even knows we’re coming.”

  Tough girl. Have I mentioned that I’m really starting to like her?

  Ollie ignores her. “With all due respect, Your Highness, Ms. Sharpe here isn’t exactly a friendly. There’s a good chance there’s more like her inside.”

  I grit my teeth and talk through them. “Really not necessary, Ollie.”

  Tessa touches my arm. “It’s all right. I understand. I’ll go in with him.”

  “Sorry, Tessa,” I say, searching her eyes to see if she’s offended.

  She smiles. “It’s fine. Really. The kids’ll think this is a hoot.”

  I wait beside the car, feeling like a complete idiot as I watch her jog up the front steps. She opens the door, then she and Ollie disappear inside. I stand and take in the sight of a perfectly normal street lined with normal houses that are filled with normal families who have normal struggles. How magnificent it must be to be unknown.

  I see curious onlookers hold back front room curtains across the street. I give them a small smile and
a wave. Stunned smiles and waves are my reward before the front door to the Sharpe home opens and a stream of children come pouring out like milk from a spilled jug. They scream as they head straight for the limo. Grownups follow them, barreling down the steps in my direction. Fuck me. This is a little much.

  “It’s a real limo!”

  “I told you it was, you idiot!”

  “There he is! It’s Arthur!”

  “Prince Arthur, hello!”

  “Can we get a ride?”

  “No, you can’t ask for a ride, you dough head. He’s a prince. He’s not going to let your grubby bum in his limo.”

  “Tabitha! That’s not nice.”

  “He smells like farts! We can’t have him smelling up the Prince’s car like farts.”

  I burst out laughing as mayhem ensues right out on the sidewalk. I search the crowd for Tessa, only to spot her on the top step, wincing. I wave and mouth, “It’s all right.”

  She smiles as the children introduce themselves to me, and I shake their sticky little hands, one at time, memorizing their names as I go.

  Josh, who has especially hot, gooey fingers, pipes up so he can be heard over the other children. “Can we go for a ride in your car, Your Majesty?”

  “Oh, you mustn’t call me your majesty. That title is reserved for the reigning monarch.”

  Josh tilts his head, looking very confused.

  “Only my dad is called your majesty. Call me Arthur, okay?”

  “Okay,” he says impatiently. “Can we go for a ride, Arthur?”

  “If it’s okay with your par—” Before I can get the words out, the back door of the limo is swung open and all the kids pile in, followed by three men whom I assume are Tessa’s brothers.

  One of them calls out, “That’s it. No one else can fit back here.”