How could I be such an idiot?
How could I be stupid enough to fall in love with a man who will always, always put his love for his country above his feelings for me?
I can’t really be that masochistic, can I?
Except I keep thinking about this afternoon in the park. Keep thinking about how I melted when he kissed me. How, for a moment, I would have let him do anything to me—even in the middle of that park, with the reporters barely held at bay.
He was the one who stopped. To protect me—to protect us—I thought. But now I’m not so sure. Now I can’t help wondering how much of what’s been going on between us is real and how much is just part of the act.
I mean, like Savvy, I get it. I understand why Garrett has to do what he does. I understand that his duty is to his country and that he has to do what is best for Wildemar above all else.
Besides, it’s not like he lied to me, not like he pretended this was anything more than a PR opportunity to get him back on the throne. Hell, that’s why I agreed, because God knows, I have no interest in actually being queen. No interest in being anything but the loud and a little eccentric owner of Va Voom Vintage.
Yet, even knowing all that, it still hurts to know to what lengths Garrett will go to secure the throne. Hurts even more to know that he—like my father—is the type to want his cake and want to eat it, too. The pain I feel is not because he wants the throne. He’s never pretended for a second that he didn’t. It’s because he wanted Savvy, too, and instead of choosing between her and the throne, he lied and snuck around in order to try to have both.
And that…that’s just not okay. Own who you are. Own what you want. But don’t use people and don’t string them along, making them think they matter when they don’t.
My whole life has been about being as authentic as I can possibly be, about being the woman I want to be and living the life I want to live. Even this publicity stunt, while fake, made sense to me, because it meant that I was helping Garrett get the life he so desperately wants. But to find out now that Garrett is just like my father, that he cares more about what something looks like than what it really is?
It’s hard to swallow and even harder to accept.
“Hey. You okay?” Savvy asks, settling down beside me on the bed. “I didn’t mean to freak you out.”
I shrug. “It’s nothing I didn’t need to know.”
“Yeah, but I feel like you’re drawing all the wrong conclusions.”
“I think I’m drawing all the right conclusions.”
“Lola, no. Garrett’s always been a complicated guy and the abduction has just made him more so. But I swear, I’ve never seen him look at a woman the way he looks at you.”
“This isn’t about how he looks at me.”
“Then what—”
She breaks off when a knock sounds on the bedroom door. “You ladies about ready to go?” Kian asks.
“Five minutes,” I answer, raising my voice so he can hear me through the door.
“Lola—”
“It’s cool, Savvy. I’m not mad at Garrett. I’m really not.”
Her gaze searches mine. “Are you sure?”
I force a smile I’m far from feeling. “Ask Garrett. When I’m mad, everyone knows about it.”
She breathes a little sigh of relief. “Okay, then. We’d better get dressed. No telling what Kian will come up with if we leave him alone too long.”
“But he’s with Garrett.”
“Trust me, that’s worse.” She rolls her eyes as she stands up and reaches for her dress. “He spends entirely too much time trying to figure out how to drive Garrett crazy. Little brother prerogative, I think he calls it.”
Chapter 28
Savvy and I get dressed in a hurry. Such a hurry, in fact, that for a few minutes at least, I’m almost too busy putting on makeup and buckling myself into my heels to think about what I’ve learned.
But that just means I’m still spinning around myself when we head back into the main part of the suite to join Garrett and Kian. Still trying to figure out why everything suddenly feels so off, when I’ve known all along just how badly Garrett wants the throne. I just never thought that determination would reveal a whole different side to him than what I’ve already seen. And I certainly didn’t think that side would be something I’m not sure I can live with.
Part of me wants to cancel—the last thing I feel like doing right now is going on a super-romantic double date with the cutest couple in existence. But canceling would be rude, and it would leave me alone with a questioning Garrett and that’s never a good thing. Especially right now, when I don’t know what I think, let alone what I want to say to him.
Which is why I paste on a smile I’m far from feeling and follow Savvy into the living room. Kian whistles long and low when he sees us, tossing me a lascivious wink even as he wraps his fiancée up in a long, sexy embrace. Garrett pulls me in for the same and I let him, doing my best to ease the stiffness out of my body.
I must not do a very good job of relaxing, though, because suddenly Garrett is brushing my deliberately styled hair out of my eyes and tilting my chin up so that our gazes meet. “You okay?” he asks, stroking his thumb tenderly across my cheek.
“Of course,” I answer. “Just tired. It’s been a long day.”
He looks immediately regretful. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even think. Do you want me to send Kian and Savvy on their way? It’s not too late to stay in.”
There’s a part of me that wants to grab onto the offer with both hands. I am exhausted—completely drained by the roller coaster of the last week and these new, unbidden thoughts that I can’t seem to stop. But staying in won’t help any of that. It’ll just mean that I’m alone with Garrett as these thoughts unspool in my mind, and then what will I do? I’m lousy at hiding my thoughts from anyone, let alone someone I care about—especially when that someone pays as close attention to everything about me as Garrett does.
Something about that thought niggles at me, but Garrett is still holding me, still watching me with a concerned look on his face. The last thing I want to do is make a big fuss in front of Kian and Savvy right now, especially since Savvy already looks like she regrets having told me anything. Or force Garrett into a discussion that I’m nowhere near ready to have.
So instead of grabbing onto the lifeline he’s just thrown me, I shoot him a sassy smile and pat his cheek. “Are you kidding me? How am I supposed to get all the dirt on you if I dodge my first chance to interrogate your family?”
“There’s not much dirt,” he says with a return grin. “Kian will be the first to tell you I’m a pretty boring guy. But feel free to dig for whatever skeletons you can find.”
“That’s right,” Kian tells me as we head toward the door. “I know where all the bodies are buried and I am open for business.”
Garrett shoots him a mild look. “Remember, that works both ways.”
Kian shrugs. “Savvy already knows about my wicked, misspent youth.”
“And loves him in spite of it,” she chimes in.
“Well, to be fair, what’s not to love?” Kian spreads his arms in a yeah, I know I’m hot gesture that should be obnoxious but is somehow just charming.
No wonder he’s gotten away with so much in his life. It’s impossible to do anything but laugh along with him when he’s so tongue-in-cheek self-aggrandizing.
He’s still hamming it up when a six-man security detail meets us in the hallway—double the princes, double the risk, I guess—and escorts us downstairs to the lobby and out the front door. A long, black limo is waiting for us at the curb and I slide in, doing my best not to make a spectacle of myself in my skintight dress. But, for the record, this whole limo thing is a lot more challenging than it looks.
“So, where are we going?” Savvy asks Kian as we pull into traffic.
“Don’t look at me,” he answers. “Garrett planned it.”
“I thought going out was Kian’s idea?” I ask in an accusatory tone that’s harsher than I intend. It gets Garrett’s attention, though, has him looking at me with questioning eyes. I hate that I sound like that, hate even more that I can’t help wondering if he was lying to me earlier. Can’t help wondering if this whole thing is just a way to get us in front of the paps again.
Which would be fine, since that’s what I agreed to. But I really, really don’t like being lied to.
“It was. But when you were getting dressed I made a few calls. Since our plans changed, I tried to come up with something I thought you would like.”
The confusion in his eyes—combined with his explanation—has me feeling like a harridan. But even that’s not enough to make me relax as we glide through the darkened streets.
I’ve been to Paris a number of times and I know the city pretty well. But I’m so lost in my head that I don’t realize where we’re going until we pull up in front of the glass pyramid.
“I thought it closed at six today.”
“It does,” Garrett acknowledges. “But I asked for a private showing.”
“You asked for a private showing of the Louvre and they just agreed?” I ask.
He grins. “I’m pretty sure they know where to find me if something goes missing. Besides, you said the Louvre is your favorite museum. I thought you might like to see the art when there’s nothing around to distract from it.”
The ice that’s been skating through my veins for the last hour melts just a little. Damn it. Just, damn it. How am I supposed to get my head on straight when Garrett keeps doing stuff that shows how well he knows me? Stuff that tells me he spends as much time thinking about me as I do about him?
We climb out of the limo, which is even more treacherous in a tight dress than climbing in, and walk past the tourists loitering in the square. Garrett and Kian are recognized—of course they are—and all around us phones are being whipped out, pics being snapped. The security guards surround us so no one can ask for a selfie, but it’s hard not to feel like a spectacle as we make our way toward the door. It’s easier to ignore than it was a week ago, but I still hate it. I have no idea how Garrett, Kian, and Savvy handle it with such equanimity.
A curator meets us at the door. He greets us in flawless English, then takes the four of us on a private tour that pretty much blows my mind. I’ve been here over a dozen times through the years and thought I knew the museum pretty well. But he shows me a number of beautiful, fascinating pieces I’ve never noticed before.
We spend nearly four hours trailing him around and listening to him talk about the various artworks. It’s the best, most amazing tour I’ve ever been on, and there’s a part of me that wants to beg to stay. It seems ungrateful, though, so I settle for casting a couple of wistful glances over my shoulder as we make our way back to the car.
“I’ll bring you back,” Garrett tells me softly as he pulls me into his side. “And next time, we can stay all night.”
My pulse jumps a little at his implication that there will be a next time, but I refuse to get ahead of myself. A few hours ago, I was freaking out about just the idea of staying around. One trip to a museum and the nebulous promise of a second doesn’t change that.
“Can we get dinner next?” Savvy asks as we settle into the car. “I’m starving.”
I realize with a shock that it’s close to midnight. No wonder my stomach’s been growling for the last two hours. Our picnic was over ten hours ago.
“Sorry about that,” Garrett tells her with a grin. “But I’ve got reservations in ten minutes that I hope will make up for the wait.”
Reservations at midnight seems a little odd, even in Paris. But since this is my first real night out with the royals, I decide to keep my mouth shut. After all, what do I know about partying with the very rich?
It seems even more odd when we pull up in front of the Eiffel Tower a few minutes later. After our experience at the Louvre, I know better than to comment about the fact that the tower closes at midnight. Instead, I let Garrett lead me to the elevator.
We wait as the last tourists of the evening disembark, then take it to the top of the tower. Two members of the security detail came ahead, so when the elevator opens onto the deck, we’re allowed to step right out.
Savvy gasps when she sees the table for four set up on the observation deck, under the stars. I know there’s a restaurant in the tower—I’ve even had Champagne in it a couple of times—but I’ve never seen a table set up out here before.
Tonight’s a far cry from our first, awkward date in that village restaurant with the truly bizarre food combinations. With the golden lights of Paris twinkling beneath us, I can’t help but feel a little like I’ve stepped into a fairy tale. But the good part of the fairy tale—with the happily-ever-after instead of the evil witch.
“Not too shabby,” Kian says as we take our seats at the table. “Looks like you do know how to wine and dine a lady when you put your mind to it.”
Garrett gives him a mild look as the hovering waiter pops open a bottle of Cristal. “I don’t believe I’ve ever been the one who had trouble with the wining-and-dining portion of the evening.”
Kian laughs. “Not my fault that some of us can close the deal without it.”
“Is that how you think of our first time?” Savvy asks in mock offense. “As closing the deal?”
“Of course not, darling.” He brings her hand to his lips. “I think of it as the second luckiest night of my life.”
“Only the second?”
“Soon to be third. Right after our wedding night and the night you agreed to marry me.”
Savvy coos at him a little, while Garrett makes a ridiculous face at me. I can’t help laughing because Kian’s right—he really is ridiculously charming when he puts his mind to it.
The rest of the night passes in a blur of food, wine, and conversation so funny that my sides hurt from how hard I’m laughing. It’s not how I envisioned tonight, certainly not how I expected it to go after my talk with Savvy earlier. But I can feel myself relaxing a little more with each intimate smile Garrett shoots me and each brush of his hand against mine. The worry is still there at the back of my mind, but I drown it out with Kian and Garrett’s funny stories and glass after glass of the best Champagne I’ve ever tasted.
By the time we make it back to the hotel at close to three in the morning, I’m drunk on Garrett and Paris and Champagne. It’s a fun feeling, light and carefree, and while normally I don’t let myself get like this when I’m out with a man, I trust Garrett to take care of me. Even through the doubts I have about him—about us—I know he’d never let anything happen to me.
Which is why I let him guide me through the hotel to our suite. Why I let him lead me into the bedroom and settle me on the bed. Why I let him kneel by my feet and unbuckle my heels before slowly, carefully sliding my dress off.
I’m not wearing anything but panties under the dress, and Garrett groans a little when he sees me. I reach for him, try to pull him up and over me, but he evades my grasping hands. Instead, he settles me back against the cool sheets with a kiss to my forehead.
“Drink some water,” he murmurs, pressing a cold water bottle into my hand before pulling the covers to my chin. As he does, his fingers brush against my nipples and the undersides of my breasts.
I arch into his touch. “I don’t want water. I want you.”
He shoots me an amused look. “Drink the water. Get some sleep. If you don’t feel like you’re dying in the morning, I will be more than happy to oblige.”
“I want to make love!” I tell him, but even I can hear how slurred the words are.
“As do I.” He grins at me from across the room, where he’s taking off his own clothes. “Tomorrow. After w
e’ve talked.”
“I don’t want to talk.”
“Yeah, I’m figuring that out about you. But you were upset about something earlier and I want to hear about it, when you’re lucid.”
I start to protest, to tell him it’s no big deal. But I know that’s a lie, even if I’m so drunk I barely remember what it is that upset me earlier. I start to tell Garrett that, but before I can get the words out, he’s sliding into bed beside me.
Wrapping his arms around me.
Pulling me against his long, lean, warm body.
Pressing kisses to my mouth, my cheeks, the top of my head.
And just that easily, I forget everything and slide straight into sleep.
Chapter 29
Garrett
I wake up in a cold sweat, heart racing, head pounding, fists clenched in the sheets as I struggle to figure out where I am. To figure out where I am and if I’m safe.
It takes longer than it should, my head filled with images and sounds I’d do almost anything to forget.
I’m headed to full-blown freak-out mode when the absence of pain finally clues me in.
Well, that, and the soft snuffle snores Lola is making next to me.
I’m in Paris. At the George V. With Lola.
I reach out a hand to be sure, sighing with relief when I feel her soft, warm skin beneath my fingertips.
I’m in Paris. At the George V. With Lola.
I repeat the words again. And again. And again. Until they finally sink in. Until my heart stops racing. Until I can finally breathe again. Only then do I let myself relax, one muscle at a time.
A glance at my phone tells me it’s barely six A.M. No wonder I feel so exhausted. We’ve only been asleep a couple of hours.
Determined to stay in bed, determined not to let all the bullshit of the past get to me, I roll onto my side and wrap myself around Lola. She murmurs something, then cuddles closer so that all of her luscious curves are pressed up against me.
It feels good. She feels good. The warmth and the softness and the sweetness of her relax me as no mantra in the world can. Wrapping an arm around her waist, I press kisses to her bare shoulder. To her neck. To the top of her spine.