Once Upon a Billionaire

Chapter Eleven

They spent the day walking the streets of Bellissime, hand in hand. Maylee purchased a few souvenirs, but they spent most of the time simply strolling, visiting tourist spots, and tasting confections at every dessert shop they passed. By the time they headed back to the hotel, Griffin’s feet hurt and his stomach ached from too much chocolate, but he’d enjoyed every moment of the day.

Maylee tugged her hand from his when they got to their floor and headed to her door.

He was surprised. They’d kissed several times today, and flirted even more. They’d held hands for hours. Was she not going to sleep by him tonight? He’d be lying if he didn’t admit he’d been thinking about it all day. “Is something wrong?”

She shook her head and pushed open her door. “Just need to call my Mama and do a few things.” And she disappeared inside before he could protest.

Was she blowing him off? Tired of spending all her time with him? Frustrated, Griffin tore off the hideous baseball cap he was wearing and tossed it onto the bed. He picked up his book and began to read, but irritation kept him from being able to concentrate. Instead, he got up and began to pace.

The faint sound of Maylee’s voice made him pause, and he leaned against the door adjoining their rooms. She was definitely on the phone, though her voice was pitched too low for him to make out. He sighed and returned back to the bed and picked up his book again, reading the same paragraph over and over. Why was it so important that she call her mother just before bedtime? He’d thought they’d gotten along very well today. Actually, more than just well. He’d never felt so comfortable with a woman. Normally, his relationships were one awkward scenario after another, a brief round of fucking and then eventual mutual apathy.

He could honestly say there was not an ounce of apathy as far as Maylee was concerned. In fact, he rather hated that she was gone. Did he say he hated hovering? Was that why she’d disappeared? To give him space? Because he rather liked her hovering. She listened to all of his stories and seemed genuinely interested in them, as opposed to simply humoring him. He’d even talked about his current project for at least an hour, comparing their theoretical Atlantis to Tarshish and why they were pursuing the ruins in Spain versus the Mediterranean like most assumed where Atlantis was located, if it indeed existed.

She’d seemed interested. Unless he was just bad at reading her? Perhaps he’d said something that troubled her and she wanted someone to complain to? A guilty stab made him sit up in bed. Had he inadvertently hurt her feelings again with his careless words? Hell.

Griffin got up from the bed and went to the adjoining door. He raised his hand to knock just as she opened it.

She looked at his hand in surprise, and then beamed at him. “Miss me, didja?”

He lowered his hand. “Is something wrong?”

“Nope.” She stepped into his room and shut the door behind her.

“Do we need to talk?”

“Nope,” she repeated, and began to undo the zipper on her tight jeans. “Wanna shower?”

“Together?” His cock surged to life in his jeans again.

“Yep, you and me. Just a little bit of hanky panky before bedtime. What do you think?” She gave him a sassy wink and dropped her jeans, then stepped out of them. A string bikini panty curved along her hips and the triangle of fabric in the back seemed to hug her ass more than cover it. It was a glorious sight.

“I think that is a splendid idea,” Griffin murmured, following her into the bathroom.

The bathroom in his suite was almost as large as her room. He had an enormous sunken jetted tub and a stonework shower that swallowed a great deal of the floor. He watched Maylee pad into the room, stripping off her shirt and revealing a plain beige bra that turned him on more than any lacy undergarment he’d ever seen. “You have towels, Griff?”

“Somewhere.” He wasn’t leaving this room, not while she was taking off her clothing.

She went to the counter where his soaps and shampoos were kept in a dainty basket, picked one up, and sniffed it. “Yours are different than mine. Have you been taking the extras every day?”

“Extras?”

“You know, they replace them every morning with new ones. You’re supposed to hide them if you don’t use them so you get new ones every day.”

He frowned. “Isn’t that a bit like stealing?”

“Nope. The hotel expects you to do that.” She wagged her finger at him. “I need you to start hiding the bottles every morning if you don’t use them. And the soaps. For me.”

“I can buy you soaps—”

“It’s not the same as a free hotel score,” she teased him. And she began to unhook her bra.

“I can’t believe we’re having a discussion about purloining hotel soaps while you’re getting naked,” he murmured, fascinated by her casual stripping.

She paused just as she unclasped her bra. “You’re right. You should be getting naked, too.” She let the loose bra hang on her shoulders as she approached him, a mischievous look on her face. Maylee’s hands went to his zipper and she rubbed him through his jeans. “Seems like someone’s mind is on something other than showering.”

He groaned. God, she was forward with a little confidence. He loved it. Hell, he wished he’d dragged her into his bed a week ago. “You’re a vixen.”

“Maybe,” she teased, and rubbed his cock again. “Maybe I’m just encouraging you to get out of these clothes so you can come scrub my back.”

“Is that all you want from me is a back scrub?”

“Depends on how good you are at it,” she said, and her hands went to his shirt, tugging at the hem.

“I’m the best damn back-scrubber you’ve ever met, then.” Griffin grabbed her hands in his and pulled her against him. She tilted her face up to meet him just as he leaned in to kiss her, and their lips met. Once again, he was stunned at how good it was to kiss Maylee. How her lips and tongue melded to his and those soft noises she made when he kissed her. He loved all of it. His hands stroked up and down her bare back, and then he tugged at the loose bra on her shoulders.

She shimmied out of it and then pulled away from him, breathless, those wild curls haloing her face. Her breasts gave a little bounce as she straightened, and he was fascinated by them. They were every bit as gorgeous as he’d pictured them. Her breasts were full, the curves rounded. A small pale pink nipple tipped each one, and he couldn’t help himself; he reached out and brushed the backs of his fingers over it. “You’re lovely.”

Maylee whimpered in her throat and tugged at his neck, dragging him back against her. “Kiss me again.”

He did, his tongue stroking into her mouth boldly even as he put both hands on her breasts and cupped and kneaded them as he kissed her. She moaned with pleasure, and he felt her breasts push against his hands as if begging for more. “I love touching you,” he whispered against her mouth.

“We’re never going to make it to the shower at this rate,” she warned him, her eyes full with desire.

“Oh, we will,” he said, and ran his thumb over the tip of one nipple, delighting in her shiver of response. “The only thing better than seeing these gorgeous breasts is the thought of seeing these gorgeous breasts wet and heaving.”

“I want to see you naked, too.”

He grinned at her and tugged his glasses off, placing them down on the counter. Griffin pulled off his shirt, pleased at her admiring glances and the way she reached for him. It was gratifying to know she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

“Now the pants,” she demanded.

“You’re rather bossy, aren’t you?” But he unzippped his pants and shucked them off, his boxers following. As he did, he noticed Maylee was stripping her panties off, too.

Then they were standing in front of each other, completely naked.

She put her fingers to her lips, considering his form. Then, she peeked up at him and smiled. “You’ve been hiding quite a bit under your clothes there, Griff.” Her hand moved forward to stroke his cock. “This is . . . rather inspiring.”

“So is this,” he said, and put a hand over the pale floss of her mound. How had he known she’d be just as blonde between her legs as she was on her head? She was stunning, no two ways about it.

Maylee moaned and pushed against his hand, her arm sliding around his neck.

“Do you like my touch, Maylee?” he murmured, glorying in her jerky nod of response. “You want me to go scrub your back for you now?”

The look she gave him was slightly dazed, and she kept glancing at his mouth, as if torn between kissing him and paying attention to his words. “I think . . . um . . . scrub?”

“You sure?” he teased. “Because I can keep kissing you if you’d rather.” And he flexed his palm against her mound.

“I change my vote to kissing,” she said breathlessly, and leaned in again.

Griffin lightly pressed his mouth to hers, and when she began to kiss along his jaw, he began to drag her toward the shower. “Come on.”

She followed him in, her arms still wrapped around him, her mouth moving over every inch of skin she could touch.

Somehow, he managed to untangle a hand long enough to turn on the water, and then he pulled her inside with him under the spray. He decided this was going to be a quick shower. He grabbed a washcloth from the rack outside of the shower and began to soap it up. Then he began to brush it over her rounded breasts, fascinated by the suds playing over her skin.

“Where’s my cloth?” she asked, her hands smoothing over his skin.

“I’ll do you first,” he promised.

“Won’t it be faster if we soap each other?”

The thought of Maylee rubbing him down as he washed her was a rather enticing one, and Griffin handed her his cloth, then leaned out of the shower to grab a second one. As soon as he wetted it, he turned to her and felt her soapy hand clasp around his cock.

Griffin groaned, his eyes closing. His hand went to her hair, and he dragged her mouth to his, even as her hand continued to stroke along his length. “You’re not going to let me last very long if this keeps up,” he cautioned her, even as his hips pushed against her tight, slick grasp.

“Then don’t last very long,” she teased. “I don’t mind.”

“I think you’re just distracting me from my original task,” he said, and leaned in to kiss her. As his tongue slicked over her parted lips, he placed the wet washcloth over her breast and began to rub in small, pointed circles around her nipple.

Her hands tightened around his cock and she whimpered, pushing against him.

“That’s right,” he murmured between kisses and soapy petting of her body. “You’re rather beautiful, you know that? I can’t get enough of you.”

She gave him a throaty laugh and squeezed his cock again, her fist moving up and down over him in a way that nearly sucked all the air out of his lungs. “That’s just your dick talking.”

“It’s not,” he told her, but she cut off his words with a frantic kiss of her own, and her hand began to stroke him harder and faster. He was going to come if she didn’t stop, but . . . he didn’t want her to stop. Griffin pumped against her soapy hand, and she made needy noises in her throat with every stroke to let him know how much she liked touching him, and those sounds just drove him even wilder.

He came with a hiss, his cum spurting over her hands and stomach once more.

“Mmm, I think I won that round.” Maylee gave him a delicious smile.

“Was it a contest?” he panted when he could catch his breath. “If so, you have to warn me about something like that.”

“Why?”

“So I can use everything in my arsenal to make sure I come out on top.” He pushed her against the wall of the shower, her back hitting the stonework. He pressed another hot, hungry kiss to her mouth, and it lasted so long that she was breathless when he pulled away.

Then, he slid a hand between her legs. “Now, it’s my turn.”

Her moans as she came, rocking against his hand, were rather gratifying.

Maylee woke up to the alarm clock’s caterwauling and the feel of Griffin’s arm around her. Unlike her normal slow-drag out of bed, she hopped into action almost immediately, tumbling out of bed in her haste. Excitement rushed through her. Today was going to be her surprise for Griffin. Would he be mad, or would he be delighted?

She was kinda hoping for delighted.

“Wake up,” she told Griffin, then leaned over to kiss him. “Big day today.”

“Mmm?” His hand went to her hair and he tugged her down for a longer, more thorough kiss.

She pulled away from him reluctantly and said, “We have to get going or we’re going to be late.”

Griffin sat up in the bed and rubbed his eyes, watching her. “What do you mean, late? What can we possibly have scheduled before breakfast?”

“Well, for starters,” Maylee said, bounding out of bed. She headed for the adjoining door so she could change out of his T-shirt and boxers and into her own clothing. “You’re sick again today.”

“What?” he called after her.

Grinning to herself, she ignored him and headed to her closet, dragging out her only pair of jeans she’d brought with her again and another touristy Bellissime shirt. She didn’t have many casual clothes with her, unfortunately, and today definitely did not call for a pantsuit.

Sure enough, Griffin opened the adjoining door without knocking just as she’d pulled his T-shirt over her head. He stopped, stared at her bare breasts for a moment, then shook his head as if to clear it. “What do you mean, I’m sick again today?”

“I cleared your schedule,” Maylee said, pulling on a bra and deliberately making her breasts jiggle a bit more just to watch Griffin’s gaze head there.

“You did.” He couldn’t take his eyes off her breasts, which was rather amusing.

“I did. And we have to bring breakfast with us, otherwise we’re going to be late for our flight.”

“Our flight,” he echoed, and then seemed to realize what he was saying. “What do you mean, ‘our flight’?”

“I mean, our flight into Cadiz. Well, not Cadiz directly,” she corrected. “But some airport nearby. And then we’re going to drive out to the dig and take a gander at all that stuff Jonathan keeps sending you—”

“But what about the wedding?”

“—And then we’re going to fly back here tonight to be home in time for the wedding,” she finished, and pulled her T-shirt over her head. “But we need to get going if we’re going to make it on time.”

“And my appointments?”

“Will just have to wait or get cancelled,” she said. “You didn’t want to spend the day having tea anyhow, did you?”

Griffin rushed forward, startling Maylee. But he grabbed her cheeks and pulled her in for a loud, smacking kiss. “You are the best woman I have ever met.”

She laughed. “I take it you’re fine with the schedule, then?”

“More than fine,” he said, and then ran for his room. “But let’s hurry up and get to the airport!”

Maylee grinned and slid on her jeans. “Yes, sir.”

Sixteen hours later, Maylee rode in the back of the sedan, her head cushioned in Griffin’s lap as they headed to the hotel. It had been a long day, but a wonderful one. They’d flown to Spain, drove out to the dig site and met Jonathan, who was just as pleased to see Griffin. And as the men talked, she watched happily as Griffin’s face lit up with enthusiasm. They talked about radar and digital mapping, and Maylee mostly tuned out as Jonathan brought out roll after roll of printouts and the men compared the two, pointing out new or overlooked spots that had been discovered.

Then, they’d gotten into Jonathan’s Jeep and he’d driven them to the excavation locations to show Griffin the progress that was being made. After that, it was a trip to the warehouse where the artifacts were being stored, and discussing what had been found with the archaeologists on the dig.

Maylee was mostly interested in it because Griffin was. She loved seeing his face so animated and happy as he discussed things with Jonathan. She kept out of the conversation so they could chat without having to explain to her what “deep-ground radar” was or the importance of comparing Plato’s work to the ruins they’d located. She simply picked up her knitting and worked on it so she wouldn’t stare at Griffin like a moon-eyed calf the entire time.

Because really? The man was just so cute when he was excited about something.

Jonathan was more of a mystery to Maylee. He seemed more quiet and self-contained than Griffin was, and she’d caught him giving her curious looks throughout the day, as if he couldn’t quite make out what her purpose there was. But he was unfailingly polite to her. And handsome, she admitted. Whereas Griffin had regular, aristocratic features that only flashed over to handsome when he gave her that boyish smile, there was something more dangerous and a bit reckless about Jonathan’s edgy good looks.

She decided she liked Griffin’s face better.

For his part, Griffin had been distracted, but he was still attentive to her. He held her hand when they walked about. When they stood around waiting, he’d pull her in and kiss her hair, or murmur naughty things in her ears that made her blush. He’d even done so in front of Jonathan, which had made the other man raise a curious eyebrow.

Griffin had missed his friend’s expression entirely, but Maylee hadn’t. It made her wonder if Griffin often brought women with him on his precious dig sites, and it made her feel a bit warmer to be sharing this moment with him.

They’d had to eventually leave the site when the sun went down, and they reluctantly headed to the airport to fly back to Bellissime. Still, Griffin was more content than he had been all week, and had a packet of new reports that Jonathan had given him to peruse. Maylee had put zinc on her now-sunburned nose and napped against Griffin for hours while they flew back. Even now, she could barely keep awake as they rode to the hotel, so when he’d encouraged her to put her head down in his lap, she hadn’t needed much persuading. And as she relaxed and snuggled against his strong thighs, he’d absently played with her curls.

And she’d been so utterly content.

This was the Griffin she was coming to adore. This man was not the snarling, arrogant aristocrat, but a scholar filled with enthusiasm for his work. Who didn’t mind if she didn’t hover next to him . . . but still wanted her close by so he could hold her hand or press kisses to her skin in idle moments. Who smiled at her like she’d lit the sun that day.

She could fall in love with a guy like that.

When they got back to the hotel room, he insisted on dragging her into his room. Not for sex, he told her, but just so they could sleep together. She’d half-fallen asleep before she’d even taken her pants off, and had drowsily flicked in and out of consciousness as Griffin removed her sneakers and jeans, and then crawled into bed next to her.

She could have sworn he’d said, “You are an exceedingly wonderful woman, Maylee,” just as she’d drifted off to sleep, but it might have been her imagination.

The next morning was a flurry of activity. They’d woken up earlier than usual, as Griffin had to be at the palace early for a wedding breakfast. Then, he’d have to change into his full regalia, attend the ceremony at the tiny church in the heart of Bellissime, and then endure hours of photographs before he could finally escape. There was a wedding reception that evening because Luke’s family was American and insisted on it, but Her Royal Highness Sybilla-Louise had been appalled at the thought of spending more time in the company of Americans, so she would not be attending. Neither would the queen, who was ancient and had an early bedtime.

Griffin figured that since they would not be attending, it would be safe for him to skip out on things. He’d buy his cousin Alex a nice wedding present to make up for it, maybe a chateau in the Noire Valley. He knew she rather liked the place.

But first, he had to get through the day, and it was going to be long and tedious, and he told Maylee so repeatedly while she tried to fix his tie.

She slapped him lightly on the chest. “Hold still, Your Royal Fussiness.”

“Actually, my correct title would be Viscount Fussiness, or Lord Fussiness,” he corrected, and couldn’t resist running the backs of his fingers over the curve of her breast as she leaned over him. “I’m not a royal highness in title any longer.”

Maylee wiggled away and gave his tie one last pat. “You’re all fancy now, Lord Fussiness,” she told him, but there was a smile in her voice. “And it could be worse. You could have to wear one of these ridiculous little hats.” She pointed at the powder blue feathered-and-netted confection in her pale curls.

“It’s called a fascinator,” he told her. “Everyone will be wearing one. It’s polite.”

“It looks like a quail got netted and slapped on a plate,” she grumbled. “And then smacked onto my head.”

He chuckled, because it did look a bit like that. “If I have to wear ridiculous clothes for this wedding, you do, too.”

“Yes, but I’m not in the wedding,” she teased, adjusting the tiny decorative net on her fascinator. “I’m merely a lowly servant who has no duties except to wait on you hand and foot.”

“A delectable, enchanting servant,” he corrected, unable to stop himself from leaning in to kiss her neck. “With a rather lovely pair of breasts that I can’t seem to stop touching.” He reached into her modest neckline and placed a hand over her breast, delighted that her nipple hardened at his touch.

“Now you listen to me, Lord Naughty,” she said breathlessly, and squirmed away from his hand, though she turned and snuggled up against his chest. Her fingers touched his freshly shaven chin and the slight cleft there. “If you behave yourself today, I was just thinking that we might make ample use of this lovely hotel room while you have it.”

His cock immediately hardened in his pants. “Oh?”

“Yep.” Her eyes flashed desire at him, and she lightly traced his jawline with her nails. “Think the hotel has a box of condoms we could snatch up?”

“I can’t send to the hotel for condoms,” he said hoarsely. “It’d be in every Bellissime scandal rag in the morning.”

She gave a mock pout that fascinated him, her pink lower lip gleaming and plump. “Then I guess we don’t get to have much fun tonight, do we? What a shame, because I was so looking forward to it—”

Unable to stop himself, Griffin leaned in and kissed the hell out of that sultry little mouth. Her stupid fascinator banged against his glasses, but he didn’t care. Once his lips touched hers, Maylee’s mouth was open and warm and willing, and her tongue met his with equal desire. By the time he pulled her away, she was staring up at him with a dazed look that made him want to throw her onto the bed and fuck the hell out of her, wedding be damned.

Griffin glanced over at the clock. Blast. He had to be at the royal palace within the hour. “This fucking wedding is killing me.”

She gave him a soft, sultry giggle and straightened his tie. “How about I have the driver drop you off at the palace and then I have him swing me around to the pharmacy to pick up some condoms?” Her fingers smoothed down his jacket, and then slid all the way down the front of his pants to cup his already aching erection. “Extra-large, I’m guessing?”

“You know how to flatter a man.” Griffin reluctantly removed her hand, even though he wanted to shove against it over and over until he came. “And that sounds like a lovely plan, darling. Hellish breakfast, even more hellish wedding, then fucking until dawn.”

“Until dawn?” She gave him an impressed look. “Perhaps I should buy two boxes of condoms, then.”

“Not necessary,” he told her.

“Not much stamina in the royal pole, milord?” she said in the worst copy of a British accent he’d ever heard. It was downright adorable.

He leaned in and brushed his lips against her ear. “I figure if we run out, I can just spend the rest of the evening tonguing that rather charming little pussy of yours.”

Her sucked-in breath was extremely gratifying to hear. She whimpered. “I might need to change my panties before we go to the palace.”

“Poor baby,” he said with zero sympathy, his own cock throbbing for release. As she hurried into the other room, he sat on the edge of the bed and began to count backward from one hundred.

When that didn’t work, he did it again.

Tonight was going to be worth every day of this ridiculous running around, he decided.

A short time later, they headed down to the bottom floor of the hotel. The manager met them as they emerged from the elevator, a worried frown on his face.

“Lord Montagne Verdi, there are quite a few photographers at the front of the building. I’ve arranged to have an unmarked sedan parked at the back of the hotel, and your driver is awaiting you there. If you’ll please follow me, I’ll lead you there.”

“Damn paparazzi,” Griffin said, rubbing his forehead in annoyance. “Very well.”

Maylee juggled his newly dry-cleaned ceremonial jacket in her other arm, moving to Griffin’s side. “It’ll all be over with soon, Griff,” she murmured.

He shot her a look just as the manager did, but said nothing, and for a moment, she wondered what she’d done wrong. It was just nerves, she decided. Griffin hated parading around people. He was likely to get all stiff and prickly today. She would just have to ignore it and tease him about it later.

Despite going down the back hallways of the hotel, there were still too many people lingering about. It seemed that all of the staff had turned out that day and were finding excuses to travel down the hall at the same time they were. All eyes were on Griffin, and because she was with him, Maylee. She felt stupid in her silly fascinator hat, as well as uncomfortable and out of place. Were these people looking at her and judging her because her hair was in the curls that Griffin frowned upon so much? Was her dress tucked into the back of her pantyhose? She surreptitiously felt her butt, but everything seemed okay on that end. She was just nervous.

Maylee looked at Griffin and he seemed equally tense. Poor man. Her heart swelled with affection for him, and she knew that starchy, I-loathe-everything-and-everyone look on his face masked his own unease. Sidling a bit closer as they walked down the long hall, she brushed her hand against his and attempted to take his fingers in her own.

His hand brushed off hers.

Maybe he hadn’t noticed her attempt to take his hand? She strode a little closer to him and deliberately took his hand into hers.

He pulled away and looked over at her with a frown. “Not today, Maylee.”

She blinked in surprise. “What do you mean, not today?”

He shifted, walking a little faster as if trying to remain out of her grasp. “Today, I am Viscount Montagne Verdi, and I do not hold hands.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Her cheeks burned with mortification and she avoided the gaze of the people watching them.

How utterly humiliating.

He didn’t notice her discomfort, and he said nothing. He wasn’t even looking at her. Maylee was confused, but she figured it must just be nerves.

That was what it had to be, right? He wouldn’t be cruel to her again, not after how close they’d gotten? Not after their wonderful day yesterday? He’d cuddled her and held her hand as they’d toured the dig in Spain. What was different today?

They were silent as they got into the car and drove toward the palace. The streets were crammed with people, street barricades and police officers lining the way. Bellissime flags were everywhere, and Maylee began to get caught up in the excitement of the day. They were about to see a royal wedding. Heck, she was going to see it firsthand!

Well, almost. She’d actually be waiting in the back with the rest of the staff, but that was okay, too.

The crush of people near the gates of the palace was overwhelming, and the driver’s car slowed to a crawl. “My goodness,” Maylee murmured. “Everyone’s so excited.”

“It’s not every day a princess marries an actor,” Griffin said in a dry voice.

“I suppose not.” She gave him a curious look, wondering at his mood. He sounded a bit more like his unpleasant old self.

When they got to the front doors of the palace, a guard came down the steps and the chauffeur got out of the car to come to Griffin’s door. To Maylee’s surprise, Griffin leaned over and gave her a quick, fierce kiss on the lips. “You’ll go and get the condoms?”

“I’ll go,” she agreed, and laughed at the look of pleasure on his face. That was more like the man she knew. His hurtful action earlier had to simply be nerves. “See you soon.”

And then he was gone. As he appeared from the car, she could hear the roar of the crowd grow larger and larger, and he paused to straighten his jacket, giving a faint wave before heading inside. Even if Griffin didn’t like the crowds, they liked him. What wasn’t to like, Maylee mused to herself, waiting for the driver to get back at the wheel. He was young, handsome, incredibly wealthy, and titled. And reclusive. It was a fairy tale in the making.

“Where to, miss?” the driver said once he got back into the car.

“A pharmacy,” she said, ignoring the blush on her cheeks. “And then we’ll head back to the palace, but to the servant’s entrance.” She wasn’t allowed through the front doors.

“Very well, madam.”

The drive to the pharmacy took longer than she imagined, thanks to the crowds. It was hard not to get excited by their enthusiasm. Everywhere she saw pictures of Alex’s elegant face, her engagement portrait with Luke, Bellissime flags, and little girls wearing wedding veils. This was a fairy tale day for everyone involved, it seemed, and it was so fun to be part of it.

The driver eventually pulled up to a corner building. “Pharmacy, madam.”

“Thank you. I’ll be just a moment,” she told him, and got out of the car before he could get her door for her. She hurried inside, feeling conspicuous with her hat and dress. Inside, the pharmacy was quaint, the shelves short and loosely filled with an assortment of items. There seemed to be more souvenirs at the front than actual pharmaceuticals, she thought wryly to herself, but went up and down the meager aisles, searching for condoms. It felt a little embarrassing to be buying only condoms, so she grabbed a box and then headed to the souvenir stands. She’d already purchased most of the postcards and tiny flags and a commemorative mug, but today, the stands were full of newspapers and magazines, all proudly headlining the marriage of the beloved Crown Princess Alexandra to American actor Luke Houston. One paper had an enormous picture of Luke and Alex kissing at the ball, and underneath the headline was the subhead Updates On All of the Royal Family!

Curious if Griffin was there, she picked up the thick paper and then headed to the counter. The clerk gave her a curious look, but said nothing. He rang her up and Maylee paid with Griffin’s business card that he’d given her a few days before. Then, she headed back out to the sedan.

“Back to the palace,” she announced, tucking the box of condoms into the seat next to her. When the sedan crawled out onto the crowded streets again, she picked up the newspaper and began to flip through it. There were pictures of Alex and Luke in various stages of life, which were charming. After the first ten pages of photos dedicated to Luke and the princess, the paper began to include other members of the royal family. Several pages were dedicated to the queen herself, then her children. There was Alex’s mother, a distant-seeming woman. There was the widowed HRH Sybilla-Louise, looking just as regal and incredibly unpleasant as usual. Next came the grandchildren of the queen, and Maylee paused at a man who seemed a lot like Griffin. George, Duke of Calcaire, the paper read, eldest son of HRH Sybilla-Louise. That must have been Griffin’s older brother. He didn’t look pleasant either, she decided. No wonder Griffin never wanted to spend time with his family. She looked at the pictures of George with his wife, a timid-seeming blonde with a child at her side. One page was entirely devoted to George’s notorious philandering, and Maylee felt sorry for his poor wife, who had to endure public humiliation.

But that’s not the only royal who can’t keep it in his pants, the bottom of the page proclaimed with a big red arrow indicating that the reader should turn the page. Obligingly, Maylee did so, curious.

And stopped, stunned.

There was Griffin.

Griffin, unsmiling and staring ahead at the camera, at his mother’s side in an official palace photo. Another photo of Griffin, blurry and grainy, sitting with her on the park bench and sharing ice-cream cones and kissing. Someone had been following them that day.

But the worst was a picture of Griffin at the ball, standing with a tall, beautiful woman in a low-cut dress. She was leaning in to touch Griffin’s face as Griffin was smiling at her.

He was smiling at her. At this strange, beautiful woman. The caption of the photo read, Viscount Montagne Verdi cozies up with Her Royal Highness Princess Heloise of Saxe-Gallia. Will he finally make an honest woman out of her?

The caption under her picture with Griffin, of that innocent day on the park bench sharing gelatos? Lord Verdi sows some wild oats with one of his American mistresses.

Maylee felt as if she’d been slapped in the face.

One of?

Her gaze flicked back to the picture of Griffin with the princess. Make an honest woman out of her? Her? Trembling, Maylee folded the newspaper and brought it closer so it was easy to read despite the blur of tears in her eyes.

Old friends Lord Verdi and HRH Heloise snuggle at the princess’s wedding ball. Rumor has it that the viscount returned to Bellissime specifically to request her hand in marriage, and sources say that the two have never been closer. The viscount’s family has reportedly been pushing for a match between the two royals, as it would connect the house of Bellissime with the royal house of Saxe-Gallia in a much anticipated union. The two have been friends since childhood. “It’s only a matter of time,” says a close confidant of the pair. “Mark my words. He’ll marry her when he’s ready to settle down.”

She dropped the newspaper onto the seat, repulsed. She’d been flirting with the man, undressing and showering with him. Sleeping in his bed. Kissing him. Hell, she’d gone out to buy condoms today, and all the while, he was flirting with a royal princess who he intended on marrying? Who was Maylee to him if she wasn’t his girlfriend?

With a sick lurch in her stomach, she remembered her attempt to hold his hand that morning. He’d turned her away. Not right now.

She understood what that meant. Not in public.

Not where others can see us.

Not if he was going to marry a princess.

He didn’t want to be seen with her if she was just a convenient fuck.

Maylee burst into tears.

“Madam?” The driver looked back in the rearview mirror at her. “Is everything all right?”

“Oh, sure,” she said, and only cried harder. She felt so stupid. She felt . . . crushed. She’d really thought they had something, that she’d seen who the real Griffin was underneath that starchy exterior, but now she wondered if he’d only changed because he’d wanted someone to fuck before he proposed to a princess.

It hurt so much.

“Here, take this,” the driver said, and Maylee looked up to see him passing her a small box of Kleenex through the glass partition to the back seat.

“Thank you,” she blubbered, and took the box from him. She mopped at her face, wincing at the mascara streaks appearing on the tissue. She’d have to fix her makeup before heading back to the palace. Her stomach dropped at the thought, and she dragged out a tiny mirror.

Maylee stared at her reflection for a long moment, and then ripped the fascinator out of her hair and tossed it on the floorboards of the car.

“Do you need a few minutes before we go back to the palace, madam?”

She wiped at her face again and thought, staring out the tinted window at all the gloriously happy people lining the streets, waiting for the fairy tale wedding to pass by. What a joke. Maylee balled up the tissue and tossed it down, then grabbed another, stuffing a few more into her small handbag. She’d probably need handfuls of them if she was going to try and make it through the day.

The blue cover of her passport stared back at her, sticking out of her purse. Maylee paused and stared at it. She always kept her ID and her passport on her at all times. She thought of the items back in her room. Some jeans, some souvenirs, and several outfits that Griffin had bought her because she was too embarrassing to be seen in public with . . . or to hold hands with.

That hurt so much.

She dragged out her tiny coin purse and began to dig through it, looking for something. Sure enough, sandwiched between a few Bellissime coins, she found a loose happy pill. She always kept one at hand in case of travel emergency, and it didn’t matter if it was covered in lint or expired—she popped it into her mouth and swallowed it dry.

“Can you take me to the airport?” she asked the driver.

“Yes, madam.”

“Thank you, kindly.” And Maylee gave him a teary smile.

The day had been pure and utter hell.

By the time Griffin emerged from the royal palace after the wedding and all the obligatory waving to the crowd, he was in a foul mood. The wedding itself had been a series of last-minute disasters. There were the expected issues with fittings and servants rushing everywhere, compounded with photographers and paparazzi determined to break into the grounds of the palace and police guards just as determined to pick them off before they made it up the marble steps.

The streets had been so crowded that the royal family hadn’t been able to make it to the tiny Bellissime chapel, and Alex had been so upset that she’d insisted her wedding occur inside the palace itself. So they’d had an impromptu wedding right at the base of the queen’s throne, the first in Bellissime history, much to HRH Sybilla-Louise’s dismay.

Maylee hadn’t returned with his ceremonial jacket, and she was nowhere to be found. Annoyed and tense, he’d snapped at his mother’s equerry until the man located the suit, which had been dropped off with one of the drivers. Maylee had vanished, and Griffin felt a nagging bit of worry. She must have been sick and gone back to the hotel. He hoped she was all right. The thought of that sunny smile dampened by the flu made him feel a pang of sympathy. He’d get her some chicken noodle soup on the way home, he decided, and sent the order downstairs to the palace kitchens.

By the time his cousin was safely wedded and all photographs and public appearances were done, Griffin felt wrung out and exhausted. He didn’t care about having sex with Maylee that night. She was sick, and he was tired. He simply wanted to go back to his room and hold her. Tangle his fingers in those glorious curls and tell her all about the brutality of his day. Listen to her sweet, drawling voice as she comforted him. Snuggle up against her delicious, curvy body.

His dick decided that it cared about having sex, though. Just a little. He adjusted his pants surreptitiously in the back of the sedan, eyeing the bagged container of chicken noodle soup on the floorboard that the kitchens had prepared for his ride home. There was a piece of white sticking out from under one of the seats, and he reached down to grab it.

When he realized it was a used tissue, he nearly dropped it in disgust, but the black smears on it made him pause. It looked like mascara. His heart gave a funny clench and he lifted the Kleenex so the driver could see it. “What is this?”

The man gazed in the rearview mirror. “Looks like a hanky, my lord.”

Sigh. “No, what is it doing in the back of my sedan?”

“The madam must have dropped it before she headed to the airport, my lord.”

He stilled. “Airport?”

“Yes, my lord.”

Griffin gritted his teeth. For once, he hated the rules that the well-trained staff of the monarchy followed, especially the “do not converse with the family.”

“Why did you drive my assistant to the airport?”

“She insisted, my lord. She was crying quite a bit.”

“Crying? Was everything all right?”

“I don’t know, my lord.” The man’s gaze in the rearview mirror was carefully neutral. “She left a few things in the car and I wasn’t sure what to do with them. They’re in the trunk.”

“I want to see them.”

They pulled up to the back of the hotel and Griffin hopped out, clenching the wad of tissue in his hand. “Open the trunk,” he demanded, and knocked on it in case the man was going to take his sweet time obeying.

A moment later, he heard the pop of the trunk release, and Griffin opened it, looking inside. Maylee’s fascinator was there, and the sight made his heart stop in his chest out of fear. What on earth was wrong? What made her cry and take off her hat and abandon him today? She was his assistant, damn it.

He picked her hat up, as well as a newspaper. Underneath the newspaper, there was a box of condoms. He picked it up as well, mystified and frustrated. She’d gone through with her flirty words and picked up the condoms. What had changed?

The driver came around to the back and gave Griffin a curious look, holding out his bag with the containers of chicken noodle soup. He must have seemed strange, clutching a woman’s feathery hat, a newspaper, and a box of condoms, but he took the soup from the man and paused. “Why did she want to go to the airport?”

“She didn’t say, my lord.” This time, there was a hint of reproach in the man’s face, as if it were Griffin’s fault.

And that irritated him. “Thank you,” Griffin said abruptly. He turned and stalked into the hotel.

When he passed the security guard posted at the elevator to his floor, he asked the man, “Did my assistant come back here earlier today?”

“No, my lord. Shall I ring the front desk—”

“No.” He tried to raise a hand to stop the man, but he was still clutching the box of condoms. Hell, he probably looked like an idiot. “Thank you.”

Griffin tossed his assorted parcels when he got back to his room and immediately headed for their adjoining door. Maylee’s room was just as she’d left it, her suitcase and clothing still in place, bags of souvenirs at the bottom of her closet. He picked up her suitcase and opened it. It was empty of everything except a small bag filled with hotel soaps and shampoos.

She’d left all her things behind. He didn’t understand. She’d left him without a word—abandoning her job—and she’d been crying.

Had a family member died? Was that why she’d been in such a hurry? Concern for her shook through him, and he thought of his soft, sweet Maylee devastated at the death of her mother or one of her grandparents. She had such a good, kind heart. It would crush her.

He immediately checked his phone to see if there were messages. Nothing. Perhaps she’d been too upset to leave one. Griffin pulled out his cellphone and checked it twice, then tried leaving himself a message to make sure it wasn’t malfunctioning.

Then, he dialed the front desk. “I want a driver here in the morning—a new driver,” he amended, thinking of the reproachful look the chauffeur had given him. “And I need someone to come up and pack my bags in the morning. And I need my plane chartered for a flight out in the morning. Did you get all that?”

“I’m sorry, my lord, did you say you need your bags packed—”

“Just do it,” he snapped, and hung up. Great, now he was feeling more helpless than usual. He’d fucking pack the things himself. Grabbing a suitcase, he flung it on the bed and began to shove clothes into it. He stopped when he’d only made it through his jackets and there was no more room in his suitcase. He only had two more and over half of his closet to go. How the devil had Kip managed to squeeze all of his clothing into these things?

Frustrated, he sat down on the edge of the bed and raked a hand through his hair. It was slicked down with gel as his usual style—Maylee had protested it this morning but he’d insisted, since he didn’t want to draw attention to himself—and his fingers caught in it. Damn it, he didn’t even like his own hair anymore. He needed Maylee to show him how to fix it again so he didn’t look like an idiot.

As he stared ahead, combing his fingers through his hair, his gaze fell on the newspaper. He’d picked it up without giving it a second thought since Maylee had left it in the car, and he’d just now noticed that the pages seemed to be curled and left open at a particular spot.

Griffin picked up the newspaper and flipped pages. It fell open to the middle, where someone had clearly been reading.

The two-page splash was full of pictures of him. Him with Maylee, him with that blasted Saxe-Gallia princess.

Lord Verdi sows some wild oats with one of his American mistresses.

Dried tear-stains rumpled the paper, and Griffin suddenly knew why his assistant had abandoned him.