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

  As the door closes, I hear one of the kids shout, “Once around the park, Jeeves.”

  A burst of laughter comes from inside.

  Tessa is standing next to me now, her hand on her forehead. “I’m so sorry about that. Poor Ben.”

  “Quite all right. The privacy glass is sound-proof.”

  “Still.” She shakes her head. “You’d think they’d never met a prince before.”

  “Oh, I’m nothing. It’s the limo that’s the real star of the show.”

  We are approached by the leftover adults. I smile at the older couple before me. “You must be Tessa’s parents. Evi and Ruben, right?”

  I give them a small bow and shake Ruben’s hand. “Wonderful to meet you both.”

  Kissing Evi on her cheeks, I continue, “You must be very proud of Tessa. Few people manage to keep me on my toes the way she has done.”

  Evi blushes deeply and they both beam at me. “Yes, she’s a real pistol, this one.”

  I move along to a younger, rather round-looking woman whom I’m afraid might pee her pants, she’s so excited. “Ahh, Nina, right? There’s nothing as lovely as woman with child. The perfect symbol of hope.” I put both hands her belly and lower my head a little. “Hello, in there! Come out soon so we can meet you.”

  Ladies love that. Except, when I look up at her face, the happy mummy is not smiling. She looks rather pissed off. Now that I think about it, her belly doesn’t have that hard quality that most pregnant bellies do. It’s… squishy.

  Oh, shit.

  Wrong sister-in-law.

  If looks could kill, she’d be tried for treason. “I’m not pregnant. And I’m not Nina. I’m Isa.”

  Well, fuck me. There’s no coming back from that, is there? “Isa,” I stifle an uncomfortable laugh and pull my hands away. “I’m not wearing my contacts today so my depth perception is very much off.” That didn’t even make sense, did it? Fuckity-fuck.

  She glares at me and points to the woman standing behind her, who is trying very hard not to laugh. “She’s Nina.”

  “Right. Sorry.” Fuck. “Hello, Nina.”

  “Let’s go inside, shall we?” Tessa says.

  Oh, yes. Dear God, let’s go inside where I pray they will serve a lot of booze.

  The next hour of the party hums along without a hitch. I stand around in the kitchen with Tessa’s brothers and father while we drink beer and try to stay out of the way of sugared-up children. The ladies of the family, other than Isa—who can hold a grudge with the best of them— giggle and grin at me, offering me mini sausage rolls and asking me question after question about life in the palace (it’s busy, but at times it can be very quiet), who does my sister’s hair (a hairdresser), do I really have my own crown (yes, but I take it off when shower or go to bed).

  Tessa smiles at me from across the room, and every once in a while, mouths an apology to me. God, she’s pretty.

  When we sit down to dinner, her brother Bram pipes up. “So, Tess, are you and His Highness an item now or what?”

  “Not at all. He was just kind enough to join us for the party.”

  “Really? Because it wouldn’t be the first time Tessa’s overshot the mark with who she thinks will fancy her.”

  “Shut up, Bram,” she says quietly, her eyes firing daggers at him.

  He has a sip of beer. “Yeah, she once fell for her—”

  “Bram! That’s enough!” Evi’s voice puts the sharp in Sharpe. I sit up straight in my chair in response.

  “Arthur, I have to say I’m shocked that you’re here.” This comes from the tall, skinny one called Lars. “After everything Tessa’s written about you, I’d think you would hate her.”

  “Far from it. If a man can’t handle a little criticism, he’s not much of a man, is he?” I say, slicing into the turkey with my knife and popping a forkful in my mouth.

  “I wouldn’t expect you’d pay much attention to anything she’d have to say, anyway. Am I right?” Bram asks.

  What a little prick. “Why not?”

  “She’s not exactly the sharpest tool in the Sharpe family.” They all start snickering.

  My head snaps back, and I set my fork and knife down. “On the contrary, Tessa’s one of the most brilliant people I’ve met. And I’ve met most of the top engineers at NASA.”

  “You must be talking about some other Tessa.” Finn laughs. “This one’s a disgraced journalist who got fired and ended up reviewing camera equipment and taking the piss out of the King for a living. Doesn’t take a Lars over here to do that.”

  I stare him down for a moment, trying to regain my composure before I jump across the table and punch him in his smug face. “If you really don’t know how intelligent and insightful she is, it would seem to me that you’ve never bothered to listen to a word she’s said, or read a sentence of her writing. Quite frankly, that says a lot more about your own intellect than hers. Tessa’s brilliant. And she’s self-made, unlike me. I have nothing but the highest regard for her.”

  I glance over at her and see that Tessa is blinking back tears. She gets up and excuses herself quietly. I’m just about to get up and go after her, when her mother stands.

  Evi shakes her head at her sons. “Can’t we just have one bloody nice family dinner with the Prince without you boys acting like donkeys?”

  She gets up and follows Tessa out of the room.

  “Grandmum just swore!”

  “Why did she say we’re acting like donkeys?”

  “She didn’t. She was talking about our dads.”

  “Can we open our presents now?”

  Twenty-one

  Speaking of Arses…

  Tessa

  “Well, that was… something,” Arthur says as soon as the limo pulls away.

  “In hindsight, it was probably not such a good idea to bring you.” I cringe, thinking of the many lowlights of the party.

  “I disagree. That’s the best time I’ve had in years.”

  The look of pure amusement on his face is contagious, and I find myself grinning back at him. “My favourite part was when you were talking to Isa’s stomach.”

  He bursts out laughing and covers his face with one hand. “Why did I do that? I mean, seriously? With my hands on her belly and everything.”

  We laugh until tears are streaming down our faces.

  When I recover a little, I say, “Hello in there! Come out soon so we can see you!”

  He shakes his head. “That was bloody awful, wasn’t it?”

  “Isa will never forgive you.”

  “Are you quite sure? I thought the whole thing seemed to roll right off her back,” he says, tongue in cheek.

  “You may have lost one vote there. Too bad, because it was a guarantee.”

  “Shit. If only the kids could vote. They’d save my sorry ass.” He grins. “I really did enjoy the part when they were opening our presents. That was genuinely fun.”

  Our presents? That has a nice and yet terrifying ring. “Your presents, you mean. And it was fun. It’s my favourite part of being an aunt,” I say.

  “I can see why. It was much better than the bit when Lars connected his phone to the telly so he could show everyone the Shock Jogger video.”

  I slap my hand to my face. “Ugh. That is never going away, is it?”

  Arthur tries not to laugh. “I’d say it’s unlikely since the Auto-tune The News guys came out of retirement in your honour. I can’t believe that you’ve already got more hits than the double rainbow guy. Rather impressive, if you think about it.”

  I purse my lips together and stare up at him from under my eyebrows.

  “Oh, it’s not so bad. You look quite fetching in just your sports bra and those tight running pants. Bouncy, yet firm.”

  Mental note. Make sure to jog around the palace grounds every morning. I smile up at him and glide my index finger down the center of his face. “I’m… drunk.”

  “Me, too.” He grins. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

  �
�Yes. And quite necessary when attending a birthday party for six-year-olds.”

  “Agreed.”

  I lean my head on his shoulder again, feeling warm and safe and just the right amount of tipsy. “The kids adored you. And my parents did, too.”

  “I really like them. The kids, especially. They’re hilarious. Your parents were very welcoming, but they really don’t give you enough credit, so they lose points for that.” He lazily runs his fingers down my arm, and I feel the most delicious chills.

  “Your brothers are arses, though. The lot of them. Even the rocket scientist.”

  “Right?” I sit up and look at him. “Finally, somebody sees it.”

  “I could tell immediately.” His face grows serious. “Speaking of arses, my father will be home when we get there.”

  My eyes grow wide at his statement.

  “I shouldn’t have said that. Too much beer. Can you please forget the last three seconds?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Thank you. You’re very kind for a cruel wench of a blogger.”

  “Aww. You’re so sweet.”

  He laughs, and I totally love that he gets me. Then his eyebrows knit together and he stares at me for a long moment. Just when I start thinking he might kiss me, he clears his throat. “About my father, things don’t exactly have the same feel around the house when he’s home. You’ll find it considerably more formal. Some have described it as tense, even.”

  Uh-oh. Even my tipsy brain is picking up on the fact that we’re heading into troubled waters. I suddenly feel a little more sober. “Don’t worry about me. I can handle it.”

  “You’re not as tough as you pretend to be. I saw you tear up when your brothers were embarrassing you at dinner.”

  I glance out the window for a second, watching the blur of lights pass by. “I didn’t tear up because they were being nasty. I teared up because you were being so nice.”

  “Oh. I see.”

  I’m scared to look at him, but I do it anyway. “I’m used to them being awful to me, but having someone stand up for me was… unexpected. So, I’ll be fine as long as your father isn’t overly kind.”

  “He won’t be, which is what worries me.”

  “Don’t worry. It’s not like I expected a warm reception from any of you.”

  “You should have a warm reception everywhere you go. When I am king, I’ll make it a law. Tessa Sharpe is to be received warmly wherever she goes.”

  “Good God, you’re horribly perfect, which is something I never thought I’d say in a million years. Not to you.”

  “Well, these past two weeks have been full of surprises for both of us, then.”

  We find ourselves staring into each other’s eyes again, and again, I am mesmerized by him. I want to be looked at like this every night for the rest of my life, and if I hadn’t had so much wine, I would know enough to be terrified right now. But I’m drunk on wine, and drunk on Arthur and drunk on every swirling feeling he stirs in my body, heart and soul. It’s only been a few days, and I know better than to let myself feel any of these feelings, I promise I do. But have you ever been swept off your feet? Like, in such a way that you can’t even feel your legs because they’re weak with longing when you’re around that one guy? Because that’s how I feel right now. And I don’t ever want this feeling to disappear.

  “I need your opinion on something. I have what could quite possibly be a very bad idea, and I need to know what you think,” Arthur says, his voice thick with lust.

  I swallow hard. “You’ve probably figured out by now that I don’t mind sharing my opinion.”

  “I may have noticed.” He glances at my lips. “What if we made the limo a ‘just two people’ zone?”

  “That would definitely be a very bad idea.”

  His eyes lock on mine and heat up my entire body in an entirely magnificent way. “Agreed. We’ll be in the limo a lot over the coming weeks. It would be careless.”

  “Completely careless.” My voice has that breathy quality now that only he can draw out.

  He lowers his mouth over mine. “So, then we shouldn’t.”

  “No, we definitely shouldn’t.” I tilt back my head and close my eyes.

  Just as his lips brush against mine, Ollie’s voice intrudes over the speaker. “We’ve arrived at the castle, Your Highness. And I believe your father’s waiting for you.”

  Twenty-Two

  Cockblockers and Rat Poison

  Arthur

  Ollie can be such a cockblocker sometimes. Like now. I know my father has likely given strict orders that he wants to see me immediately, but seriously? Couldn’t he have told Ben to maybe take the long way home? Say, via France? Does no one realize how long it’s been since I’ve had my sceptre polished?

  We step out of the limo and into the dark night air. It’s an unusually warm spring evening, and Tessa clearly knows not to get too close now that we’re here. She’s put on her broadcaster voice and is thanking Ben and Ollie for accompanying us to her parents’ house. She’s a real peach, by the way. She even went outside with plates of food and a beer for each of them during the party. Later, she took out a couple slabs of that sickeningly sweet birthday cake, as well. It was the simplest of gestures, but I could see the impact that it had on them both. And I have to say, I’m more than a little ashamed that I’ve never even considered doing that myself.

  “Thanks, fellows. Good night.”

  I walk up the steps with Tessa, as slowly as possible, both of us knowing that once we reach the other side of those doors, everything will change. Already, there’s a space between us that wasn’t there before, and it is physically painful for me not to touch her. As ridiculous as that sounds, it’s true.

  When we reach the top step, I turn to her. “I’m very sorry that our night has come to such an abrupt end.” And I am. I really and truly am.

  “Me, too. It’s been a wonderful day. So much more than I ever expected.” Her smile doesn’t reach her mossy green eyes, but I love her for trying to pretend.

  “Thank you again for coming with me. Just having you there was… a once-in-a-lifetime thrill. For my mum, I mean. She’s such a fan. And for me, it was lovely to have someone there to do my fighting for me for once.”

  “The honour was mine.” There is so much I want to say at this moment, it would take me all night. But I know that in a few seconds, this door will swing open and our perfect day will come to an end.

  “Can I ask you something? Why did you stick up for me, back at the house?”

  “Because it was the truth. You are brilliant. Even though some of your arguments are misinformed, your reasoning is sound, given the information on which you have based them. You’ve managed to articulate your beliefs with a clarity that few people possess.” I smile down at her. “Besides, you’re rather easy on the eyes and an absolutely amazing kisser.”

  She grins up at me, and this time, I know she’s not just pretending to be happy. And for one perfect moment, things are just as I want them to be.

  Then, the door opens and Damien is standing on the other side with an insolent look on his face. “There you are, Your Highness. His Serene Majesty has been expecting you for some time.”

  We follow him inside and toward my father’s office. When we reach the doors, Damien stops. “I think it’s best if Prince Arthur goes in alone, miss. His Majesty has pressing business for the Prince.”

  “Certainly.” She nods. “Good night, Your Highness.”

  “Good night.” I watch as she turns the wrong way and starts walking. “Tessa.”

  “Yes?” She looks back.

  “Your room is that way.” I point in the general direction of her room.

  “Got it.”

  She spins, and I can’t help but watch as she hurries down the hall. “So, the old man is pissed at me?”

  “I did try to warn you. I’ll be in my office if I’m needed.” Damien bows, then leaves me alone to face my father.

  I take a deep b
reath, hoping to sober up in the next ten seconds. I close my eyes and silently tell myself: get the upper hand, set the boundaries early, don’t fuck up.

  Then I open the door to my doom.

  People will tell you that my father looks like a teddy bear but has both the voice and demeanour of that bad uncle in the cartoon about the lions. You know the one, Jeremy Irons played him, I think he had a scar on his face or something. Anyway, anyone who says that about my father is not wrong. He can lure you in with his friendly smile and his thick light brown hair that never wants to lay quite flat on his head. But you’d do well to remember that if you’re not careful, you could find yourself tossed off a cliff into a stampede of wildebeests. Well, not literally. But he will certainly fuck you over if the opportunity presents itself. I really should have said no to that last beer.

  So far, tonight’s reception is pretty much par for the course for as long as I can remember. I stand behind the chairs opposite his enormous, shiny walnut desk while my father sits in his high back leather office chair doing paperwork, a glass of whiskey in his right hand. He doesn’t look up at me, but continues writing. The only thing that has changed is that when this first started, I could barely see over his desk.

  I stare at all of the animal heads on the wall to the left of me. All things he has shot himself, or so he claims. I find myself staring at the buck in the dead center of the wall. His black, glassy eyes reflect back my own hollow heart when I am around my father.

  Finally, he speaks. “My son returns. I understand you were on urgent business on behalf of your cock.”

  Here we go. “Nice to see you, too, Father. Glad you had a safe journey.”

  He waves a hand at me but keeps working.

  “I am told that you and this blogger critic person have been inseparable. Really living up to your potential as far as your intelligence goes, aren’t you?”

  “I know it seems unconventional, but acting according to regular protocol hasn’t been serving us all that well in recent years. And I must say, things are going very much according to plan.”