Prince's Proposal (The Exiled Royals 1) (3 page)

Ray jumped out of bed, his exhaustion gone as if by magic. All he could feel was panic shooting through his veins and adrenaline pounding in his heart. He could not be seeing what he thought he was seeing.

There was no way he’d gotten so intoxicated that he’d married a cocktail waitress. It wasn’t that Mel wasn’t attractive or funny or amazing. She was all of those things, but he was distinctly
not
the marrying type.

That was precisely why he’d been exiled from his kingdom in the first place. None of this made a damn bit of sense. He didn’t understand how it could be that the fiery brunette was standing before him wearing an expensive platinum band along with a priceless family heirloom on her left finger.

At least Mel seemed as confused and frustrated by the whole thing as he was.

“We have to get this annulled!” Mel practically shouted.

He blinked back at her and started to open his mouth. Then he looked down at himself and realized he was clad only in black silk boxers. He rushed to the dresser and pulled out a pair of sweat pants. There was no way he could concentrate enough to formulate a plan if he was partially naked and Mel kept leering at his chest.

He tied off the drawstring of his pants and said in an even tone, “There’s no way we can do that.”

She snorted and held her ring-laden finger up higher toward him as if he’d somehow missed it before. “Oh, I think we need to. I can’t just be married to some guy whose last name I can’t even remember.”

“Kharmin,” he huffed, barely stopping himself from explaining it was an old family name as well as one fit, literally, for a king.

“Fine. I am
not
Melissa Kharmin. I’m Melissa Speights, and this is not my life. Look, I’ve worked here for five years. I know the rules. This has happened before. People get too relaxed with the champagne, they see Elvis in the chapel, say a few half-hearted vows, and then everything is a mess in the morning. Hell, it’s why we have a notary on staff so we can undo these “oopsie” moments.”

“No,” he said, his voice low and firm. He paced with deliberate strides. He tried to keep his regal bearing as he worked through his panic. “You don’t understand. I can’t get this annulled. I need this to be a real marriage on my record. I won’t be eligible for anything if I have a divorce or annulment or general failure like this.”

“What...are you running for office?” she said, flinging her arms in the air with such force that he could almost imagine her flapping them and taking off in flight.

“Not exactly.”

She frowned and he didn’t know how to make her understand, make her believe him, but he had to start somewhere, so he offered her the truth: “I’m Raymond Charles Edmund Kharmin III.”

“Yes, very fancy.”

“Then I wish you were better up on current events. I’m the prince of Yagovia.”

In retrospect he shouldn’t have been so blunt; he hadn’t expected her to faint with the news.

Melissa had to stop waking up in these confusing situations.

First she’d woken up dressed up in a teddy in the best suite in the casino. Now she was coming to like some antebellum southern belle in Ray’s arms. He was leaning over her, his eyes wide and his breath warm and inviting on her cheek. She blushed and pursed her lips. Her instincts took over, and her desire to kiss him short-circuited the other, more rational thoughts and plans she was sure she’d had just a few seconds before.

Then she remembered the last thing he’d said, and all her passion cooled as if a bucket of water had been thrown over her. She pushed away from him, maneuvered herself to her feet, and put her hands on her hips.

“Okay, so tell me another lie.”

“It’s true,” he said, handing her phone over to her from the nightstand. “Google me.”

She rolled her eyes. “This is the most pathetic stunt I have ever heard. Are you kidding me?”

Mel almost dropped the phone in her shock. She’d never been one to keep up with international news. If it wasn’t in the grocery tabloids or on
E!
then she wasn’t likely to have seen it at all.

But there it was in in black and white, an article from about six months ago in the freaking
Washington Post
. Ray really was the prince and oldest heir to the crown of the small European country of Yagovia. And, there was more.

She set her phone down and glared at him. “It says here that you’ve been exiled and disinherited.”

Ray let out a sharp breath and ran his hands through his long black locks. Mel chased back the burning urge to reach out and touch his hair. Damn if it didn’t look soft.

“That’s temporary,” Ray said.

“Are you sure? Because CNN and the BBC and . . ..”

“My father and mother are traditionalists at heart. They won’t want to leave the rule of the country to my sister, Serena.”

“Oh, so you’re not only a lying creep who takes advantage of drunken women, but you’re also a sexist pig. Amazing!” she said, turning to go.

He reached out and grabbed her left shoulder and waited till she faced him again. “No, I’m just stating a fact. Yagovia has many enemies, some from long before the Iron Curtain was drawn. They will only respect a strong, masculine ruler.”

“Great for you. Not so great for Serena.”

“The shame will be too great for my family if they discover my womanizing has gone so far as to have a fake marriage.”

“Wait, let me make sure I understand. You can be exiled for a while, but you can’t have a Brittany Spears marriage?”

He shrugged, and she regarded him, studying his face to check one last time if this was all some kind of joke or odd royal hazing. It didn’t seem to be; the creases in his brow were real and so was the concern and desperation brimming in his eyes.

“If they find out that I’ve married in haste and then become a laughing stock, I’ll lose any chance I’ll ever have for the crown.” He opened the closet and pulled out a shirt and a pair of slacks. “I need to clear my head, so I’m going to have a nice, bracing shower and then I’ll call my friend Gregory; he’ll know what to do in this situation.”

“Huh?”

“He’s our family barrister – a lawyer – I guess is what Americans call them. Anyway, my point is I’ll figure out what we can do in order to make this situation the least inconvenient for both of us. Gregory will know the minimum time required to legally resolve this and still allow me to meet royal protocol. Please, just give me time.”

She wanted to object, really she did. A drunken mistake didn’t bind her to him. Mel had her own life, her own goals, and she didn’t need royal intrigue. Of course, that meant all she had was an empty trailer, an ornery ancient cat, a collection of Lean Cuisines and
Buffy
DVDs.

To be honest, she was possibly the most boring person on the planet, and if this only meant a few weeks until they untangled everything, then it couldn’t hurt. The guy was clearly freaked and desperate, and it would be cruel to refuse to go along.

Just a few weeks until legal loopholes could be jumped through, and it would all be fine.

Totally.

Sighing, she squeezed his hand, and offered him a small smile. “Call your attorney friend and figure it out. In the meantime, I’ll be hunting for my clothes.” Just then, her stomach rumbled, a loud gurgling noise that echoed across the room. Blushing, she stepped back and shrugged. “I guess I’m hungry.” 

He surprised her by cupping her cheek and, and for just a moment she wished that they could start over with a real date, and that they could relive those moments from last night that, so far, neither of them could remember. Except the part when they got married, of course.

But that wasn’t her life.

“I know a place. We’ll get food, and then we’ll fix this; I promise,” he said

She forced herself to smile as he disappeared into the bathroom. Ray shut the door before too long, but she did get a delicious glimpse of his well-muscled glutes as he slipped his sweatpants down his hips. Damn doors for being so solid, that was all she was saying.

More confused than ever, Mel gathered up the clothes that she found littered all over the bedroom floor. After she’d pulled on her skirt and white button up, she yanked out her phone and dialed the only person she wanted to hear from this morning. She was so glad that Brandy answered by the second ring.

“Oh my God!” her friend squealed on the other line. “I thought with the way you were hanging all over Raymond last night that you’d be asleep for days!”

“How much did you see?”

“Honey, a ton! You guys set the craps table on fire, had the best roll I’ve seen in a decade working here, and
then
you headed off to the better bar near the lobby. It looked hot and heavy to me.”

“I was hoping,” Mel said, glancing down at her rings, which felt heavier by the second, “that this was all something with a rational explanation.”

Brandy snorted on the other end. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about. Seems to me that the rational explanation is that you landed yourself Mr. Tall, Dark, Rich and, okay, sometimes an Asshole,” Brandy purred. “You’re living every waitress’ dream. We all wish to hit it really big in this city. So enjoy the long weekend. I’ll even cover you on Monday. I mean, I’ve never seen you really relax. You earned it.”

Mel hesitated, wanting to ask her friend if anyone knew anything about her marriage, but a bigger part of her was afraid to say too much. If rumors started to spread, would they affect Ray negatively? Would they spread in spite of their best efforts and cost him his throne?

Instead, she sighed and asked an easy question. “Have you ever seen those quickie weddings with Elvis get annulled? I mean, that’s not hard is it?”

“Wait, are you saying . . . ?”

Mel hesitated. She was dying to tell Brandy everything, but her intuition held her back. “No, no, he just asked me about it because he saw people coming out of the chapel last night dressed like the Beatles circa Sergeant Pepper, and he wanted to know how often that bullshit stuck.” 

“Well, it’s legal, so those people? Total fools on the hill. But, I’ve heard it’s not hard to undo a mistake. Seriously, if you got married, I
so
need to see the ring!”

“No, it’s…uh, it’s not like that,” Mel hedged. “Look, we’re about to head to breakfast. I’ll call you later.”

“You better, and again, don’t worry about Monday. I got that covered.
One
of us should be actually living. Have a good morning, hon.”

“Thanks,” she said, and hung up. 

The new information didn’t help much, it only confirmed for Mel that she and Ray were beyond hot and heavy for the public. All she knew now was that it was her prince’s move, and he had to figure out a way to get them out of this mess.

The first thing Ray did was hop into the shower and turn the water to cold. He hoped that would wake him up and clear his head. His mouth tasted like the contents of a sewer pipe and a good tooth brushing would come next. Still, with all the alcohol that had been pounding through him last night – enough, apparently, to make him forget his own damn wedding – he was a mess.

He felt awful, and had fuck all clue how to do or fix anything. The bracing water was his consolation. He picked up the soap and started to lather himself off. The sight of Mel first thing in the morning had left him with a raging hard on.

He had to admit that yanking on his sweats had also been a defense, a way to keep from being too obvious in front of her. She was clearly panicked, and more than that, seemed to want nothing to do with him. That was a killer for a man’s ego.

Still, when he spied her breasts bouncing underneath the thin lace of her teddy, all he wanted to do was push her up against the wall and claim her then and there.

He closed his eyes and imagined her under him, the pert lines of her mouth, and her gorgeous, full lips. He imagined that mouth swallowing him up to his balls.

As he pumped his lathered hand over the length of his cock, Ray focused on Mel, and on her Cupid’s bow mouth. He pumped until his knees went weak under him with orgasm, all the while seeing her enchanting brown eyes looking up at him. His sperm shot in a fluid jet from his dick and he moaned, and then bit his lip, hoping Mel hadn’t overheard him.

God, Mel, the things you do to me.

When he was done, he quickly and efficiently cleaned himself and grabbed a towel. After a thorough tooth brushing and shave he felt almost human again, even if he was desperately hungry. He picked up his cell phone and dialed Gregory, one of his oldest friends and one of the head barristers for his family’s estate.

It seemed as though it took forever for Gregory to answer, and, in the interim, Ray almost had a heart attack.

“Raymond, old friend, it’s been far too long. After six months in the States, I was beginning to think you’d forgotten my number.”

“I haven’t,” Ray said, having the decency to feel contrite. It had been a rocky half-year and the only people he’d kept in contact with were his equally screwed cousins, Alexander and Xavier. He was always afraid his family would tap or record incoming calls. Low profile had been best while he was nursing his wounds. “It’s just complicated.”

“For the record, my friend, my line is clear. I also have more respect for you than to report you directly to your mother.”

“Mother is the one who came up with this insane and unfair punishment.”

“Well, she’s yearning for grandchildren, and, to be fair, the spectacle you made with the Hiltons…”

“Someone has to be on my side!”

“I am on your side, old friend. But even you have to admit you were pushing your luck.”

“Well, now I’ve up and broken it. I’m sick of being stranded in America, and I’d like to be back home in the palace, where I belong. But I need your help to do that.”

“Well, if you can prove yourself responsible, I’m sure your mother and father can be negotiated with.”

Ray sighed and looked at himself in the mirror. His shoulders couldn’t be slumping that badly, could they? It had to be his imagination. “I might have blown the ‘being responsible’ part.”

“What do you mean?” Gregory asked, all humor draining from his voice.

“I mean that I got married. I’m in Vegas, and there was a lot of champagne involved, and I woke up this morning to find my mother’s engagement ring, and an actual wedding ring, on a woman’s hand!”

“A woman?”

“Well, my wife, at least for now. Her name is Melissa Speights.”

“American, I assume?”

“Yes,” he said, not sure if he could trust Gregory not to mock him.

“Damn it! You can’t just get it annulled today. There are rules. If you ever want to prove to your parents that you’re ready for the crown – and that you’re no longer a womanizer – then you’re going to have to play the marriage out.”

“I suspected as much. Do you know how long I have to go along with everything?”

“There are some precedents from the 1930s – from your great-great uncle. The minimum a marriage must last for you to stay in your family’s good will, and
in
their will, is one month.”

Ray shook his head. “I was hoping for something a little less drastic.” 

“Sorry, you have a whole month to go for it to be a legitimate marriage in the eyes of the court. Or...you
could
request permission for an annulment from the king. I’m sure that will go well for you.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“I’m merely relating facts to you. Thirty days to go, and then I’ll help you draw up the dissolution paperwork myself.”

“I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Can you live without the throne of Yagovia?” Gregory asked. “So you only wine, dine and spend time with one woman for a month. So what? That’s what the rest of us do. Maybe you’ll enjoy domesticity. And, think of it this way, it’ll be a novelty, something to try for the first time in your life – a new experience.”

“No, you don’t understand. Melissa is special. I don’t want to drag her through that. She’s honest and passionate, and she deserves more than a farce for a month.”

“Look, you do this, and you’ll eventually be prince again, and then king. I’m sure once you’re back in the bosom of your family, you’ll be able to reward her. Keep up the deal, and everything will be fine. I promise. I’ll handle everything.”

“Great, so this is all about deals and the letter of the law.”

“Well, what else is it supposed to be about? Love?”

Ray hesitated and glared at the cell, frustrated, but it was his mess. He’d gotten himself into it, and he had the responsibility to get himself back out. Gregory was trying to help and only telling him what he’d mostly already suspected. Still, he felt that he was dragging Melissa down, and that pained him.

“Not love, just business. Thank you for the advice. I’ll be in touch.”

Clicking off his phone, he slipped on his boxers and sweatpants. If it had to be this way, then at least it was only a month. He’d figure out a way to get home to Yagovia, to claim his kingdom as his own, and then he’d send her a check or jewels – some kind of restitution. Besides, how bad could being stuck with someone for a month – a mere thirty days – really be? 

As he walked out of the bathroom, he reconsidered his self-reassurances. In front of the big mirror next to the vanity in the bedroom, Mel appeared to be trying to pop a zit.

Jesus, it’s going to be a long thirty days….