His Royal Princess: A Billionaire Boys Club Novella (6 page)

Three Weeks Later

“It’s a royal media frenzy,” Beckee said into Luke’s ear. He sat in the backseat of the sedan that had been sent for him, and his publicist chatted his ear off, excited. “Ever since Will and Kate’s marriage, people have been nuts over royal families of any kind. The fact that Princess Alex is young and pretty and you’re freaking Luke Houston? The papers are crazy here.” He could hear Beckee shuffling things on her desk. “I’m inundated with requests for you to talk to people—Barbara Walters, Oprah, you name it. Inundated!” She sounded thrilled.

She
was inundated? She didn’t know the half of it. Luke grimaced as he glanced out the window of the slowly crawling sedan. The media was even worse in Bellissime. It seemed like photographers and reporters from every country in Europe had sent a team to try and get a photograph of him and Alex together. They pestered him at the hotel. They clustered around the doors when he went to the set. They mobbed the car every time Alex sent for him for one of their dates. People had actually started camping out in front of the royal palace gates, trying to get a picture of him (or her). He was beginning to feel like he couldn’t head to the restroom without a posse of bodyguards following him. Privacy was quickly becoming a thing of the past, and Luke had thought he would be used to it after years of climbing the rungs in Hollywood.

Turned out that dating a royal princess escalated things into an entirely different stratosphere. Hell, they even had helicopters following them around, hoping to get the scoop.

Was she worth the media frenzy?

Hell yes she was.

Alex was an utter joy to be around. He’d never met anyone quite like her. She was fun, playful, intelligent, able to hold a conversation about anything he threw at her, and always managed to surprise him. She was utterly confident in social situations, but shy when it came to him and kissing. Luke was utterly addicted to her. He dreamed about her at night, thought about her when he woke up, and was having a hard time focusing on the movie because he just wanted to spend more time with Alex. She consumed him, and he’d never been like that around other women.

Beckee continued to babble in his ear, but he wasn’t really listening. He was back to thinking about Alex, his favorite pastime. Tonight she wanted a quiet dinner alone in the palace, because they’d been mobbed at the last restaurant they’d tried to go to (despite disguises). There were royal gardens, as well, and Luke had been daydreaming about sneaking Alex away into them for a bit of late-night heavy petting. They were constantly surrounded by people, so it was hard to get intimate—though not for lack of trying on both their parts. It was like there was an electric connection between them . . . and people kept flipping the switch to Off. Damn frustrating.

“Do we want to make a comment about the superhero script you’re considering? Get the fans going?”

“Hmm?” Luke tried to pay attention. “Which superhero script?”

“There’s more than one? The big tentpole production!”

Actually, he’d gotten four in the last week, all either action- or blockbuster-type roles. He was thrilled, of course . . . and a little disappointed because he hadn’t gotten them for his acting merit, but because he was dating a princess. All of this had made him incredibly cynical about his job, and even more wary of the fans. If this was what the media would be like, maybe he’d be better off on the B-list than reaching for the A-list.

Not that he had a choice in that matter at the moment.

The sedan crawled up to the palace gates, and sure enough, there was a cluster of people waiting there. In addition to the regular photographers, there was a barricade set up and several teenage girls were holding up signs: WE HEART YOU LUKE! BELLISSIME’S FAVORITE ACTOR!

Aw, hell. “Let me let you go, Beckee. I need to go sign some autographs.”

“Go forth and conquer the people, sweetie!”

He hung up and tossed his phone onto the seat next to him. “Can we stop for a minute?”

The driver—Alex’s driver—frowned back at him. “I’m not sure that’s wise, sir.”

“It’s kind of a thing. I try not to disappoint kids. I’m just going to sign a few autographs and take a few pictures and then I’ll be back.” He figured that if anyone waited hours to see him, the least he could do was sign an autograph. Plus, it was bad karma to disappoint fans. The paparazzi? He didn’t give a shit about them, but when there were fans involved? He wanted to make them happy. He remembered being a kid and being starstruck by the big names. Hell, he remembered being starstruck his first day on the set.

The car stopped and Luke got out, waving.

The crowd of girls behind the barricade screamed, posters shaking madly. The palace guards at the gate frowned but didn’t leave their posts.

“I can only stay for a minute,” Luke called out to the crowd as cameras flashed and phones raised in the air. “I just wanted to say hi to everyone and to thank you for your support.” He moved forward and photos of him were thrust in his direction, along with Sharpies. He grabbed the first one and greeted the fan, signing the picture and then leaning in for the obligatory selfie.

Happy squeals of joy told him he’d brightened a few people’s days, and he reached for the next picture. The crowd shoved against the barricade and it wobbled, causing one of the guards to move forward. A few of the people in the back started shoving, and a camera got awfully close to his face.

“Everyone calm down, please,” Luke said, keeping his best smile on his face. “I’ll sign for everyone, okay? No pushing, please.”

“I love you, Luke!” someone wailed in the back.

“Love you, too,” he called back, and the audience broke out into laughter.

Luke signed another picture and leaned in for a selfie. The girl at the front was short, and so he squatted down by the guardrail so they could be face to face. The crowd surged again, and someone grabbed his shirt. Other hands grabbed him, and the squeals grew deafening.

A moment later, a hand yanked backward and his head cracked against the metal of the railing. A blinding flash of pain went through his head and then everything went dark.

***

“Mr. Houston’s been hurt.” Lady Margaret raced into Alex’s chamber.

Alex jerked up from her dressing table, where she’d been contemplating her phone. The queen found them unseemly, but Alex kept a private one for “just in case” and Luke liked to send her the occasional text. She’d been re-reading some of them in a lovesick moment. She tossed down the phone and tightened the sash on her silk dressing robe. She had a date with Luke soon, and was just about to get dressed. “He what?”

“He’s been hurt. He was signing autographs just outside the gates and some fans attacked him. He hit his head against the barricade and was knocked unconscious.” Margaret wrung her hands. “What should we do?”

Her heart clenched painfully.
Oh, Luke.
Please be okay
. “Take me to him.”

“But . . .” Margaret sputtered. “You’re not dressed!”

Like that mattered right now? Alex hurried out of her room and down the stairs, Margaret trailing behind her. “Where is he?”

“They brought him into the Green Parlor, I believe.”

“And the royal physician? Has he been called?”

“I don’t know—”

“Find out,” Alex barked, racing down the last few stairs and running for the Green Parlor. “And tell the palace secretary that I need him!” They’d have to make a statement of some kind before things went out of control.

She burst into the parlor a moment later, her heart hammering in her breast so loud that she thought it might break through her skin. There he was, lying on a mauve settee, his face utterly pale, limbs hanging over the edge of the seat. A guard held a bloody cloth to his forehead, and another paced nearby.

Oh, dear god.

The two guards immediately looked away as she raced to Luke’s side. “It’s a head wound?”

“Yes, Your Grace.” The one guard coughed and pointedly avoided making eye contact with Alex as he held the cloth to Luke’s head. “He hit the barricade rather hard. The crowd grew unruly very fast.”

“The doctor has been sent for,” she said, taking the cloth from the man and lifting it to peer at the wound. There was so much blood, but she knew head wounds bled a lot. She wouldn’t panic. “Has the crowd on the street been dispersed?”

“The captain of the guard is handling that right now, Your Grace.”

“Good.” She caressed Luke’s cheek, looking for other wounds, but he seemed to be all right otherwise. He was breathing regularly, too, thank goodness. Her heart stopped hammering and she began to take control. They would be looking to her. “I’ve asked Margaret to bring the doctor, and the secretary will be coming by. I want this room guarded, and not a peep of this is to spread beyond the palace. Do you understand me?”

“Of course, Your Grace.” Both guards bowed.

“One of you get some water and some fresh cloths. The other please remain outside the door. No one is to come in other than Margaret or the people that I’ve mentioned. Where is the queen today?”

“I believe she is out at a ribbon cutting, Your Grace. Your mother is on vacation in Greece.”

She nodded. Good. It was less to worry about. The smaller she could keep this, the better. “Thank you, gentlemen.”

The guards left the room and she was alone with Luke. She arranged his legs and then took off his shoes, trying to make him comfortable. There was a small embroidered pillow on a nearby chaise, but there was already one pillow under his head and she didn’t want him to move if at all possible. She fidgeted over him as she waited for fresh cloths and water—or the doctor.

This was all her fault. Alex gazed down at his handsome face and resisted the urge to press her mouth against his. Instead, she took his hand and twined their fingers together.

Things were going to have to change, that was clear.

Luke’s eyes fluttered open and he squeezed her hand. “Hey, Princess.”

“Don’t move,” she told him softly. “The doctor’s on his way.”

“I’m fine. Just a bit of a headache.” He started to get up, but Alex froze him with her iciest princess look, the one she used only in dire situations of insult. “Or I’ll lie down here and let you tend to me.”

“Better.”

By the time the doctor arrived, Alex had carefully bathed much of the dried blood from Luke’s forehead, changed into a dress that Margaret brought her, and issued a statement from the palace. The media was to be informed that Luke had taken a small tumble outside the palace gates and would be remaining on the grounds under the doctor’s care until further notice, and that the injury was not expected to be serious.

It was that whole
expected
thing that was rattling Alex. She didn’t know much about head wounds. She remained at Luke’s side and held his hand as the doctor examined him.

“You washed the head wound?” the doctor asked, frowning. “You should have left it for me. It could have caused issues if there was an abnormal amount of bleeding.”

Alex stiffened. “Is there?”

Luke squeezed her hand again. “I’m fine. Really.”

The doctor shone a penlight into Luke’s eyes and then made him follow his finger. “His pupils are the same size. Doesn’t look like a concussion. That gash will need a stitch, though, and we’ll want to supervise him for the next several days to ensure there’s no swelling in the brain.”

Swelling in the brain? Alex’s heart started thumping nervously all over again. “I want round-the-clock care for him,” she insisted. “If you have to call additional colleagues to the palace, do so. I want Luke to have the best care.”

“You’re going to break my fingers if you squeeze any harder, Princess,” he murmured to her.

Oh. She released his hand, and then fussed with the throw blanket she’d tucked around him.

The doctor nodded. “We’ll make sure he’s not overstimulated. No phones, no television, no reading for the next while. Just relaxation.”

Luke tried to put a hand to his head. “I’m shooting a movie.”

“Not right now you aren’t,” she said tartly, and grabbed his hand before he could touch the wound. Turning to the doctor, she told him, “He’s staying here until further notice.”

The doctor’s gray brows drew together. “Your Grace, I’m not sure that’s appropriate.”

She arched a brow at him. “I’m the one to decide what is appropriate or not. Am I not the crown princess?”

The doctor flushed. “Of course, but you are also an unmarried young woman—”

“This is the twenty-first century, not the first. I can stay under the same roof as a man without flinging myself upon his loins.” When the doctor’s face began to turn purple with embarrassment, she softened her voice. “Luke will be under care at all times, and we will have him constantly chaperoned. His room will be guarded and he will be accompanied everywhere. We’ll make additional statements to the press if necessary.”

“And the queen?” the doctor asked.

Alex didn’t hesitate. “The queen will of course want nothing but the best care for Mr. Houston. Now please, see to it.”

Luke just gave her a sleepy grin, as if proud of her imperious tone, and she resisted the urge to clench his hand in hers again.

A week with a head injury was a long damn week, Luke decided. Even though the doctor had cleared him for work, declaring that he was fine and the injury had been minor, Alex was insistent that he continue to take it easy. The lights in his room were deliberately low, and he wasn’t allowed visitors, his phone, the Internet, television, or scripts to read.

Other than the head injury . . . it was kind of nice. The incessant buzz of Hollywood had dimmed, and in its place was Alex. She was there to have breakfast with him every morning, she took her meals at his side and ate the same bland things he did, and since he couldn’t do much, she kept him company and they talked. He napped a lot, but mostly they talked.

He never got tired of hearing her voice, her husky, sweet laugh. He was falling for the woman, and that could be a problem. She was out of his reach, and even if she wasn’t . . . he had a movie to finish.

A movie that he really needed to check in on.

Luke was in a palatial bed in one of the palace suites normally reserved for visiting royalty. A dozen pillows were propped behind his back, and a fluffy blanket covered his legs. He was in pajamas that Alex’s personal shopper had purchased for him, and his things had been retrieved from the hotel. He was well rested, though itching for a workout, and as comfortable as he could possibly be.

Alex was at his side, curled up in a chair, stifling a yawn, and writing a few notes to give to staff later. She was always awake, he’d noticed, and wondered if she was getting enough sleep.

Luke reached over and nudged her with his hand. “Tired?”

“Mmm? No, I’m fine.” She gave him a bright smile. “I might have another cup of tea, perhaps.”

Yeah, she’d been mainlining tea like he did coffee. “I feel fine. You know that, right?”

“One of the doctors said that you should probably relax for another week—”

“And all the other doctors said I was fine. Really, Alex. Even my stitch is gone. See?” He pointed at the tiny red slash on his brow, where the wound had been.

Her full lips pressed together, unhappy.

“Can I have my phone?”

“Absolutely not.” She gave him a stubborn look.

“I need to talk to Nick.”

“I already talked to Nick. They’re delaying shooting while you get better.”

He sighed, frustrated, and then nudged her again. “You’re bossy.”

“I’m the crown princess.”

Luke settled back in the pillows. “So I don’t get a say in things?”

Her expression softened a little, and Alex looked uncomfortable. “Luke, it’s not that I’m trying to be overbearing. It’s just—”

“I know, Princess. It’s just frustrating. I promise you I’m fine. My head hasn’t hurt since that day and meanwhile you’re running yourself ragged trying to take care of me.”

“I’m not,” she protested, straightening in the chair.

“You are.” He patted the bed next to him. “Why don’t you come and curl up next to me? We can nap together.”

She bit her lip, her gaze on the bed. A hint of a flush touched her cheeks. “If someone sees us—”

“If someone sees us, they will see two exhausted people sleeping next to each other, fully clothed. And they will think nothing of it.”

Alex hesitated a moment longer. He patted the bed again, and she slowly got up, closing her notebook. “I’m not getting under the covers.”

“That’s fine.”

She moved to the side of the bed and sat gingerly. So prim, his princess. Luke shifted over a little and indicated she should move in closer to him. She glanced at the door to his room, then slipped her shoes off and crawled over the bed to him.

And, holy fuck. He was glad the blanket over him was thick so it could hide his erection. Just that small moment of her crawling toward him? That was going to live in his fantasies forever.

This had been the longest he’d dated someone without even getting to second base. All they’d done was kiss. And while kissing Alex was amazing, he was craving more intimacy with her. Maybe now was the time to approach it. He was only human, after all.

She snuggled in next to him, tucking her head against his shoulder, and he felt the curve of her breast against his side. Her arm went to his waist and she gave a small sigh.

“Better?” he asked, voice husky. His cock ached at her nearness.

She nodded and poked his rib with her finger. “You need to sleep, though.”

“Of course.” He closed his eyes and pretended to relax. Truth was, he couldn’t. Not with her warm, sweet body pressing against his, the scent of her shampoo in his nose, the tickle of her hair against his skin. He could tilt his head just a little and then they’d be face-to-face. He could brush his lips against hers and pull her against him and let her know that he was willing to take things to a whole new level if she was.

The soft sound of gentle breathing interrupted his thoughts.

“Alex?” he whispered, glancing down at the woman curled against him. Her eyes were closed, her mouth slightly slack. She slept on.

Damn. Of course, now that he’d decided to put the moves on her, she would pass out against him. In the next moment, though, he felt guilty. She was exhausted from nursing him and worrying over him. She was entitled to a little sleep. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and pulled her close against him. He ignored the way his body reacted and settled in, relaxing.

His dick would just have to wait a little longer. Some things were worth waiting for, and Alex was definitely one of them.

***

Alex woke up from her nap, disoriented. She was warm and felt delicious, a pair of arms holding her close. Her cheek rested on a broad chest.

Luke.

She yawned, trying to peep over his chest at the clock.

“It’s late,” he murmured. His arms tightened around her.

He was awake? Oh, mercy. Alex sat up, gazing down at him. “I . . . Have you been awake long?”

“Awhile.” Luke’s mouth tugged at the corners in a smile. “You were so tired I didn’t have the heart to wake you up.”

“Nonsense. You’re the patient here. You—”

He put a finger to her lips, jolting her into silence. “I may be the patient, but it’s not right for my princess to exhaust herself trying to take care of me.”

Her nipples pricked at his words. His princess? He made her sound like . . . something he wanted to keep. Something cherished and valued and adored. Alex licked her lips and gazed down at him. The look on his face was soft, but there was a sensual hint to his gaze that made her body go alert. As she hesitated, his hand slid up and down her arm, caressing her.

“You all right?”

Was she all right? The man she loved had a head injury and . . . Oh.

She was in love.

Dumbfounded, Alex stared down at him. Had she always been a little in love with Luke? Even when she hadn’t known him, he’d seemed the epitome of her male ideal—handsome, witty, charming, and polite and kind in his off-screen interviews. Getting to know him had only reinforced her high opinions of him, and . . . yeah. She was definitely head-over-heels for the guy.

Before she could think twice about it, she leaned in and kissed him, her lips brushing against his in a gentle caress.

Luke groaned, and his arms went back around her, pulling her down against him. His tongue slicked into her mouth, and then she was lost in the kiss, her mouth hungrily fixing on him. With rough hands, he dragged her over him until her hips cradled his, and she felt the firm press of his . . . privates pushing against her. Alex gasped against his mouth, but she didn’t want to stop. All of this was wonderful and exciting and exactly what she wanted. Involuntary, her hips rocked against him, and she was pleased to hear his low groan. She could make him feel good, too.

“You’re so fucking sexy, Princess.” His hand went to her hair, even as his mouth plundered hers with deep, stroking, wet kisses. “And you’re mine, aren’t you, Alex?” His other hand moved up and down her arm, rubbing her, as if wanting to touch her more and not quite sure he had permission.

“All yours,” she breathed against his mouth. “I belong to you, Luke.” It felt thrilling and oddly powerful to say the words.

The breath hissed out of him and his hand slid to her breast, cupped it gently. “Been waiting weeks to touch you. It’s been a damn torture, but every moment with you is worth it, Alex. I’m addicted to your smiles, the smell of your shampoo, the way that you make everyone feel important, that damn dimple of yours . . .” His thumb flicked over her taut nipple, sending shockwaves through her body. “Tell me I’m not the only one who’s going crazy at not being able to get a few moments alone together.”

“You’re not.” Her hips rocked against him again. She wanted to crawl under the blankets with him. She wanted to press her overheated, naked skin against his. She wanted—

Someone knocked at the door.

Alex jerked to her feet, rolling off of Luke and stumbling to the far side of the bed. She scrambled to her chair and picked up her notebook, one hand smoothing at her hair. Oh, dear lord. Did she look like she’d been kissing him? Were her nipples evident through her sweater? She clutched the notebook to her chest to hide them, just in case. “Enter,” she called. To her relief, her voice was steady.

Luke fell back on the pillows, running a hand through his tousled hair. His expression was bland, too. Such good actors, the both of them.

One of the nurses entered the room with a meal tray. “Just coming in to check on you. How’s your head?”

“It’s fine,” Luke crossed his arms over his chest. “Just fine.” He sounded irritated.

Alex jumped to her feet. “I really should go. I have a few things to get done before the evening runs away.” She gave Luke a polite smile and hoped he could see the frustration in her face as the nurse passed by. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

He nodded at her. “See you then, Princess.”

She turned and swiftly stalked away, out of the room and down one of the long, echoing halls of Bellissime Palace. Her mind was whirling full of naughty thoughts, but one thing was becoming crystal clear to her.

She wanted to take things to the next level with Luke. She wanted to be in his bed. It was time to stop being the prudish princess everyone thought she should be and take what she wanted.

***

Late that night, after everyone in the palace had gone to sleep, Alex was awake. She was thinking about Luke.

More specifically, she was thinking about the secret passage that led out of her room. One of the rooms it connected to? Luke’s chamber.

No one but the royal family knew about the passage. And her mother was gone, and Grandmama was too old and set in her ways to go poking around at night.

Alex could see Luke. Sneak into bed with him. They could just cuddle like when they’d napped earlier, because that had been amazing. Or . . . they could do more. She was ready for a lot more. And she suspected Luke wouldn’t need much convincing. But she hesitated, torn between what she wanted and what was proper. Royal princesses didn’t throw themselves at men, even if it was the modern era. Going to him went against every bit of decorum she’d ever been taught. If it got out, there’d be a massive scandal. She’d be destroyed in the papers. Bellissime would be a laughingstock. The scandal would last for years, if not decades.

But . . . no one would find out. Luke’s room was private, it was late, and no one knew about the secret passage.

She fiddled with the ties on her silk robe, uncertain. What if she went to him and he turned her down? Or worse, he didn’t turn her down . . . and then told everyone in Hollywood about the time he slept with a royal princess? If she did this, she had to be sure about him.

And she had no way of being sure. It’d be a leap of faith.

Her hands trembled and she knotted and unknotted the sash of her robe, hesitating. Was she ready to leap? What would happen if she never did?

She might end up a virgin princess all her life, a la Queen Elizabeth of England.

She might end up marrying someone who she didn’t love, like her mother and her grandmother before her, just because it was expected.

Or . . . she could leap.

Alex checked her hair in the mirror one last time, then hit the switch for the secret panel. This was her life, and she was going to claim it and the man she wanted. If she hesitated . . . she’d be stuck in the same loveless rut she was always in, and she was tired of that.

She wanted to take a chance on Luke.
Please, please don’t prove me wrong about you.

Alex kept a flashlight by the door to her room and she clicked it on and headed down the narrow secret passage, her mind whirling. Would Luke be asleep? Should she let him sleep since he had a head wound? The doctors said he was fine, but was she pushing him because sex with him was what she wanted? Had she come on too strong earlier? Would he think her vulgar if she approached him now?

Goodness, she needed to get out of her own head. She was going to make herself crazy before she ever got to her destination. She gave herself a little tap on the cheek to clear her mind and swung her flashlight at the hidden doors that led to different rooms, looking for the Imperial Suite, where Luke was ensconced. She hesitated again. Was this a mistake? Once she showed up in his room, asking for sex . . .

Well, there was no going back from that, was there? She had to make absolutely sure that this was what she wanted. Alex shone the flashlight on her feet, wiggling her toes in her slippers. One step forward, or turn away.

She stepped forward.