Hand-Me-Down Princess (22 page)

She stared at the rice cake where it had landed on the tile floor of her kitchen. Why she had a package, she didn’t know. Probably her father’s assistant had bought it and left it as a hint for her to lose some weight. He seemed the likely culprit.

Two days, two deep dish pizzas, and three pints of ice cream later, Lizbeth ignored her ringing cell phone. Her father’s ringtone. The last thing she wanted to do was hash or rehash how she was going to find herself in a compromising position with Malachi in a few months. Or how she needed to get pregnant around the same time, no matter who the father was.

It didn’t matter to her father that she’d never even been kissed before. He assumed she and Malachi had been far closer to friends with benefits than they ever had been. In fact, he’d insinuated he fully expected them to have engaged in all but one intimate activity with each other so that,
technically
, they wouldn’t have slept together prior to the wedding that never happened.

Lizbeth had never bothered to correct his assumption.

She also knew Malachi would lose any last bit of respect he had for her if she tried to seduce him. Her phone rang again, and she almost didn’t even look at it. This time it was Malachi. She wouldn’t ignore his call.

After a brief exchange of pleasantries, he got right to the point. “I’m not sure how to ask you this, Lizbeth, but I would appreciate it if you would do me a favor.”

Like she would say no. “Of course. What can I do?”

“Could you possibly spend some girl time with my wife? I know it’s a lot to ask and you have a lot on your plate, but she could really use a friend.”

A friend.

With the wife of the man she’d wanted for herself.

The man she couldn’t say no to.

“Sure.” Lizbeth tried to hide the tone of resignation. “What would you like me to do?”

“I have no idea what women do when they have a girls’ day out or whatever. Lunch, shopping, pedicures. Whatever.” His voice softened, and she could hear the affection he had for his wife. “She’s never had any real friends, Lizbeth. You’ve always been a good friend to me, and I would appreciate it if you could at least try to do the same with Jessabelle.”

“Of course. I have nothing going on for the next few days. Have someone check her calendar and let me know when is good. Maybe send some suggestions about what she might like to do.”

“Thank you.” Relief flooded his voice. “I owe you one.” She heard voices, though she couldn’t make out the words. “I’ve got to go, but someone will call you later today.”

Before she could say good-bye, he’d hung up.

“Friends with your wife?” she muttered aloud to her empty apartment. “Sure. Why not?”

Chapter 21

“Melinda?” Yvette’s two assistants were still assigned to Jessabelle for the moment, though they still worked with Yvette, too. Malachi had told her she’d need to choose her own from the preapproved list of candidates soon.

“Yes, ma’am?” Melinda came in from the kitchen.

“What’s this ‘Girls’ Day Out’ on my schedule tomorrow?” Jessabelle was learning to check the schedule the evening before so she could plan for her day.

Melinda pulled out her own tablet. “I’m not sure, ma’am. I didn’t schedule it. It simply says you’ll be leaving for time at the spa and shopping. It doesn’t specify any more than that.”

Jessabelle closed her eyes and tried not to panic. “What about the movers coming to my father’s house?”

“I do know that was rescheduled again for two days from now.” She looked apologetic. “Prince Malachi was called to Montevaro earlier today and won’t be home until late tomorrow. I believe that is the reason why. He wanted to be there with you.”

Right. She’d been soaking in the tub and missed his call. William had suddenly taken ill, and Malachi had to step in with very little notice. “What about my appointment with Stefan?” She’d made it reluctantly and didn’t even know when it was.

“About twenty minutes from now. I just confirmed a few minutes ago. The location will be in your tablet along with directions, unless you’d like me to go with you.”

Jessabelle shook her head. “No. I’ll be fine.” No one else around to witness the humiliation when he told her how awful her hair was. Melinda had no more information on what the next day would bring, but assured her Belinda would help her get ready first thing in the morning. Using the app Malachi had shown her in the car that first day, she found her way to a small hair salon in the basement of the palace. Apparently, it had been set up for just such occasions.

“Hello?” she called timidly. The lights and radio were both on, but she didn’t see anyone.

Noises from a back room caught her attention, and she set her tablet and phone on a small table, intending to search out whoever made them. Before she could, a man emerged from the curtains. Not more than an inch or two over five foot, he was bald as a baby, except for a tiny patch on his chin.

He stopped, comb in one hand and a bottle of product in the other, and looked her up and down before speaking. “Princess Jessabelle, we must do something with your hair.” His accent betrayed him as a non-Mevendian, though she couldn’t place where.

She gave him a timid smile. “That’s why I’m here.”

“Sit.” He pointed to a chair in front of a sink. “First, we wash.”

Jessabelle did as she was told, answering his questions about what kind of shampoo and conditioner she used. He seemed to wince with every answer.

“Not good enough. I will give you product to use. You use nothing I do not give you. I know what’s best.”

She didn’t say “yes, sir” though she was tempted.

“Who cut your hair last?” he asked as he began to wet her hair down.

With her eyes closed, she answered, “I did.”

There was no answer until the sprayer stopped wetting her head. “You will not cut it again. You let Stefan take care of your hair.”

She didn’t reply but tried not to wince as he tugged and rinsed her hair. After several minutes, he wrapped a towel around her head. “You go sit in the other chair.” The black cape was wrapped around her, but he covered the mirror. “You will see when I am finished.”

It was over an hour of tugging and with a few silent tears as he combed and snipped and muttered over the condition of her hair. Before she realized what he was doing, he painted some goo on and tin foil soon covered her scalp. She ignored the slight burning and the smell in favor of silent freaking out under the dryer. The tin foil was removed, followed by a session of hair rinsing, then more tugging, snipping, and muttering. This time when he snapped the blow dryer off, he clicked something she couldn’t see and spun the chair toward the mirror.

The sound of trumpets came from his phone as he stood next to the mirror, the black cloth covering it in his hands. With a flourish, he whipped it off. “Hair fit for a princess!”

Jessabelle blinked repeatedly as she stared at the reflection in the mirror. Could that really be her? The left hand, diamond ring twinkling, lifted as hers did to touch the soft waves cascading to just below her shoulders. The strands were so soft, she wouldn’t have recognized it as her own.

“You like.” It wasn’t a question, but rather a pronouncement.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I like.”

“I will see you again in three weeks. I touch up your color and give you a slight trim. We shall fix anything that has not turned out quite as expected.” The tone of his voice told her he expected it all to work exactly as he wanted.

“Okay.” The mousy brown had been replaced, but not completely. “Did you dye it all?”

“Of course not!” he huffed. “Your natural color is quite lovely when styled properly. I merely gave it a few highlights. Next time, I may add a few lowlights as well. It augments your naturally lovely hair, not replaces it. If you had ever taken the time to have someone show you how best to take care of your hair type, you could have done this yourself many years ago.” His voice didn’t hold the censure she would have expected. “I know your mother died when you were young, and your father likely had little time or interest in teaching his little girl how to accent her natural beauty while minimizing her few flaws.” He waved a hand. “Everyone has them, even the queen and Princess Yvette, but they have learned how to encourage people to focus on the good. You shall learn the same. I will help you. So will both Belinda and Melinda. And I will help you choose a stylist and assistant I trust implicitly to help you. Will you let me do that?”

Tears filled Jessabelle’s eyes as she nodded. “Stefan, you have no idea how much I appreciate you. Thank you.”

He smiled softly at her. “It is my pleasure and my honor, Princess.”

* * *

Lizbeth glanced at her watch for the fourth time. The princess was late. Not that royalty was ever
technically
late-everyone else was unexpectedly early. But she should have been there at least fifteen minutes earlier.

A car she recognized rolled to a stop in front of the bank of windows. Dark tinted windows. Black sedan. Another one right behind it. A man with security guard proportions emerged from the front passenger side and opened the door. Lizbeth didn’t recognize the woman who emerged, though.

Sharp black knee boots, a dress swishing just above it, a spring-y, floral pattern it was really a bit too early in the season for.

Something about her seemed familiar, though. Could it really be the new princess?

“Ms. Bence?”

She looked up to see one of Malachi’s most trusted bodyguards. “Hello, Robby.”

“My apologies for our delay. The prince asked me to convey his gratitude again.”

Lizbeth gave him a weak smile. “My pleasure.” Good thing she hadn’t sent that snarky text to Malachi about his wife’s tardiness.

Robby stood to the side. “Ms. Bence, I don’t believe you have had the pleasure of meeting Princess Jessabelle. It is my honor to introduce you to her.”

The other woman had taken her sunglasses off, allowing Lizbeth to see that it was, indeed, the princess. She dropped into a small curtsy because she knew it was expected, not because she truly respected the other woman’s position as Malachi’s wife. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Your Royal Highness.” How that grated! It should have been her title!

The princess smiled, but it seemed tense. “The pleasure is mine.” The words had been repeated by rote.

They were led to a private room where their day would start. Robby and the other guards would be around but out of sight. The two women who would assist them, introduced themselves. Jessabelle seemed uncomfortable with the attention, but chose a bright pink color for her pedicure and French tips for a manicure.

They were left alone for a few minutes, so Lizbeth tried to strike up a conversation. “Have you ever had a manicure or pedicure before?”

Jessabelle spoke softly. “Only once.”

“Really?” Lizbeth had been getting them often since she was about twelve. “When?”

“Right before the wedding.”

Of course. “Did you enjoy it?”

“Not particularly.”

Lizbeth reached for the controller and turned on the massage chair before showing Jessabelle how to do the same. “Do you have any idea where we’re supposed to go shopping today?”

“No.”

“Do you have any shops you really like?”

“No.”

Monosyllabic answers. Great. She shifted in her seat. “Look, Jessabelle, I don’t know why Mal asked me to take you on a girls’ day out, but if you’re not invested in it, if you don’t want to at least try to have a good time, I’m not sure what the point is.”

Jessabelle stared at her hands. “It wasn’t my choice. I was told I was coming.”

“Then why don’t we get the mani-pedis, and you can go home?”

Silence stretched between them as the two women returned and filled the foot basins. They were left alone again a few minutes later with the gurgling of the foot baths the only sound.

“Malachi asked you to take me shopping?” Jessabelle still stared at her hands.

“He called me up the other day and asked me if I’d take you on a girls’ day out. He said you’ve never had a lot of friends because you were taking care of your father.”

“Oh.”

“Look, Mal and I have been friends for a long time. I’m happy to help him out. I’d even like to get to know you and see if we could be friends.” It surprised her to realize it was true. “But it’s going to take an effort from both of us to make that happen.”

“I would like that,” Jessabelle replied softly.

“Good. Then we’re going to need to get to know each other.” Lizbeth knew what her father would want her to do. Glean information from the new princess to use against her later. The mere thought made her more than a bit uneasy. “Tell me a little bit about yourself.”

“There’s not a whole lot to tell. My mother died when I was a child. My father’s health began to decline not long after. I spent most of my time outside of school helping take care of him or the house. He died less than three weeks after the wedding.”

Lizbeth kept her voice neutral. “He’s the one who arranged the marriage contract?”