Waking Up in Vegas (10 page)

Rebekah clapped her hands in delight. “Great idea. Let’s have some fun!”

It was well past bewitching hour when Max made his escape through the pantry window. With the late night reception, the kitchen staff had worked late and he’d had to wait until they were finished cleaning up and the kitchen was empty.

He scraped his knee on the window ledge as he slid through. This was ridiculous. He was sneaking around to visit his own wife. She should be in his room and in his bed right now. Preferably naked.

Tonight he was going to lay all his cards on the table and tell her everything. Even the dirty linen and the stuff they’d managed to keep out of the papers. And he very much intended to use the upcoming referendum to blackmail her into staying in Westerwald, if that’s what it took.

Let her think this was all a marriage of convenience. It wouldn’t matter. His parents’ marriage had been arranged and they’d been devoted to each other, the sordidness of his mother being pregnant with another man’s child when they married aside.

As soon as he could be sure Phoenix wasn’t going to do another runner, he would set up a meeting with Albert. If the coronation worked out as well as the tourism council believed it would, then the prospect of a royal wedding ought to make his cabinet’s day.

Since it was Friday night and the streets were far more crowded than usual, he had to take a circuitous route to get to Phoenix’s apartment.

In the little courtyard before her apartment, a teenage couple sat intertwined on a wooden bench half hidden by a draping vine. He grinned. Seems like love was in the air tonight.

Angry indie rock music pumped from Phoenix’s apartment. He took the stairs two at a time to knock on her door. It was a long moment before she answered. While he waited, the couple on the bench below paid him no attention. He didn’t blame them. When he was with Phoenix the rest of the world had a tendency to disappear too.

She opened the door and the music was instantly deafening. Then she leaned against the doorjamb, blocking his way, arms crossed over her chest.
Oh-oh.

He cast a glance over his shoulder. “May I come in?”

“If I don’t let you in, will you have me arrested, Your Highness?”

Shit.

He attempted levity. “Not unless you enjoy the idea of handcuffs.” From the look on her face, humour clearly wasn’t going to do it. “Or unless you want your neighbours asking questions.”

She opened the door wider and stepped back. He crossed the threshold and shut the door behind him.

Phoenix kept her arms crossed over her chest and didn’t budge. She clearly had no idea what it did to her cleavage. And the anger flashing in her deep, dark eyes got completely the opposite reaction going in him. She was even more beautiful when she was angry.

The music battered over them. He nodded to the MP3 player hooked up beside the bed. “We need to talk.”

She moved to turn it down and he sat on the bed, beside an open suitcase with half its contents strewn across the duvet. “You’re leaving?”

Since there was no other place for her to sit, and she obviously wanted to keep her distance, she remained standing. “How about I talk and you shut up?”

He nodded.

“So the ‘family business’ is basically running the kingdom?”

He didn’t answer.

She glared at him. “Okay, you can talk now.”

“It’s not a kingdom, it’s a duchy.”

If she had lasers in her eyes, he’d be toast.

“And since you effectively conned me into marriage and won’t get a divorce, I am now the…Arch Duchess of Westerwald?”

“Officially, that’ll only be after the coronation. Until then you’re just a Princess.”

Most women would have got a kick out of being a Princess. Not Phoenix. She pressed her lips together tightly. “And when exactly were you going to tell me this?”

“I did tell you. On our wedding night. Though I’d like to point out…”

She held up her hand. He shut up. Stunning as she was enraged, he didn’t think a murder rap for killing the head of a European state would go down too well for her.

She began to pace. “Have you ever heard of a Princess called Phoenix?”

“It’s not your real name.” That earned him another glare.

He waited with all the patience he could muster as she continued her pacing. She needed to burn off a little of her anger, he realised. Perhaps wine would help. He held up the bottle he’d brought, a crisp white, a much finer vintage than the unfinished bottle he’d left in her tiny kitchenette the night before. “Do you want a glass?”

“On top of the five tequilas I’ve already had, that probably wouldn’t be a good idea.”

He could do with a shot himself. “Do you have any left?”

She stopped her pacing. “I’m sure the Rose and Dragon will be more than happy to serve you one.”

His sense of humour failed. She’d been in the town pub all night? Doing tequila shots on a Friday night, with at least half the young men in the town? His chest pulled tight and his hands fisted. If any man had touched her, he’d kill them with his bare hands.

Enough with humouring her. It was time to take command. He rose. “Okay, it’s your turn to sit and shut up, and let me talk.”

She turned mutinous eyes on him, but he wasn’t having any of it. Their gazes locked for a long heated moment and what passed between them wasn’t all anger.

She gave in first and sat on the edge of the bed.

That was better.

“When I met you, I had no expectation whatsoever of becoming Arch Duke. I had a great life in California and I wanted you in it. My job has changed but nothing else has. I still want you in my life. I
need
you in my life.”

“But it’s not just a job, is it? It’s a way of life. And I made it pretty clear from the beginning that I didn’t want to be married.”

“That’s not how you felt the first day we met,” he reminded her gently.

A storm raged in her eyes. “Stop saying that! That wasn’t me. It was the medication.”

“Of course it was you. It’s not like you were on Rohypnol. You still had free will and you chose to marry me. And somewhere underneath all the attitude, I believe you’d make the same choice again, if you’d only give yourself half a chance.”

“However I may or may not have felt when I married you, I definitely don’t want to be married to the ruler of a country. I’ll make a really lousy Princess. I’m way too selfish.”

“I have a selfish streak too. I couldn’t care less what kind of Princess you are, as long as you’re a good wife.”

She arched an antagonistic eyebrow. “And what constitutes being a good wife?”

“Be my friend and my lover. Be honest with me. Exactly as you were the week we spent together in Vegas.”

The flicker of her eyes as she looked away was barely perceptible. “Haven’t you heard the phrase
what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas
? Nothing that happened that week was real. It was a bit of fun and now the fun is over.”

“It doesn’t have to be. Look at this as another adventure.”

She bit her lip. “So if it doesn’t work out, I’m free to leave?”

That wasn’t quite what he had in mind. “You won’t want to leave.” He had to keep faith in his family’s legacy. He didn’t believe in sorcery but there hadn’t been an unhappy royal marriage in Westerwald since the seventeenth century, and that wasn’t going to stop with him.

He sucked in a deep breath. “I know what I’m asking you is pretty big. I know you don’t trust what’s between us, and I’m asking you to take a leap of faith. You’re going to need to learn to trust me.”

“Why should I?”

He’d promised her the truth. Even if it killed him to admit it. “I wasn’t raised to rule. Not the way Rik was. I’ve pretty much done whatever I wanted all my life and never applied myself to anything. I don’t know that I can do this.”

He’d never admitted it out loud. Not even to his mother in that emotional, turbulent encounter before she’d done what Rik had done, what Phoenix had done: turned tail and run.

“Then don’t. Surely there’s someone else who can take the job?”

He shook his head, breathing out slowly. Too many nights these last two months he’d lain in bed at night in a cold sweat wondering how long it would be before they found him out to be a fraud. Worse, that he’d make a terrible decision and fail the people of Westerwald.

“I’m the last of the line.” He paused to make sure he had her attention. “But when I’m with you I feel like a better person. As if I can do anything. I need you by my side – at least until the coronation is over. I’m not only asking for me. I’m asking for all of Westerwald.”

She frowned, confused.

“My family’s name is mud right now. Since Rik has been proven to be illegitimate, everyone in the world now knows my mother was pregnant with another man’s baby when she married my father. That their marriage was solid and happy for thirty five years no longer matters. The secrets and lies have done their damage.” To more than just the nation. Those secrets had destroyed his faith and he still hadn’t recovered. He doubted Rik had either, wherever he was. Their mother had known the DNA tests would be done. She’d known, and she’d done nothing to fore-warn any of them.

He pushed away the unwanted thoughts and played his last card. “There are a lot of people calling for the monarchy to be abolished.”

She crossed her arms over her chest again. He was more easily able to resist the effect this time. These were serious matters and it was hard to get aroused with the weight heavy on his shoulders.

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it? If they get rid of the whole Arch Duke thing, you can go back to California and the life you want to live.”

The temptation tore at him. If only he could walk away, go back to the States with Phoenix and pick up where they left off. It wasn’t the first time the turmoil had raged inside him, but the battle had never been so hard fought.

After a long moment, he shook his head. “It doesn’t work that way. My ancestors have ruled this region for nearly a thousand years. There is no way I’m going down in history as the Prince who lost it all. The monarchy will not fail. Not on my watch.”

“So what does this have to do with me?”

“If I can get through the coronation and win the people to my side, then when the government re-opens in September and the republicans call for a referendum on the monarchy, they won’t have a leg to stand on.”

She set her hands on her hips. “I repeat: what does any of this have to do with me?”

“The press are all over me at the moment. One whiff of another scandal and there’s a chance the referendum will go ahead. Getting a divorce would definitely constitute a scandal. However, dating a pretty girl will boost my image. It’ll give the people hope and show them there’s a future and not just a past. So I’m asking you not to file the papers. I’m asking you to stick around and be my girlfriend for a while.”

She resumed her pacing and he understood she needed time to think. He left her to it, and moved to the kitchen to open the bottle of wine he’d brought, pouring a generous glass. He needed the alcohol, even if she didn’t.

When he returned to the room, Phoenix stood at the window, looking down over the town to the river below. He could see it as a ribbon of silver even from here. She faced him. “Why me? If you want to avoid scandal, there are other women far better suited to playing your girlfriend. What if the paparazzi rake through my background? It’s not as if I have the most lily white past.”

“Because you’re my
wife
. I don’t want anyone else but you.” He practically growled. Didn’t she get that she was special? That there was no other woman for him? “Your past won’t matter. Everyone will adore you.”

“How do you figure that?”

“You make friends easily. One smile and every waiter who’s ever served you falls in love with you.”

“What if the press find out about our marriage?”

A marriage was less scandalous than a divorce, but he knew that wasn’t what she was asking. She was wondering how she’d be able to get out of the marriage once it went public. He sipped the wine, but it did nothing to remove the bitter taste from his mouth.

What had happened to the starry-eyed Phoenix who’d said ‘yes’ when he went down on his knees? Or had she been nothing more than a product of a bad mix of champagne and medication?

“They won’t find out.” He said it with a great deal more certainty than he felt, and it worked. She uncrossed her arms. He grinned at the sign of weakening.

“It’s no wonder we don’t have royalty in the US. It’s so darned complicated.”

The exhilarating rush of victory surged through him.

“I’ll stay in Waldburg for a while, at least until your coronation. But…” She held up a hand, commanding his attention. “I have three conditions.” She held up her index finger. “I want this marriage kept secret. Don’t think you’re going to keep me here by leaking the news to the media. I want you to promise you’ll do everything in your power to keep it between us. I don’t mind being your girlfriend but that’s as far as it goes.”

There went that plan, shot down in flames. “I promise.”

Second finger. “I’m not moving into any palace and I’m not giving up my job. If … and only if … the truth leaks out and you need a convenient wife on hand, will I give up any of my freedom.”

He frowned. That was not part of his plan but he’d live with it … for now. But he was definitely done with sneaking in and out the pantry window.

She raised a third finger. “The moment your coronation is over and your popularity is secured, I reserve the right to leave.”

He would never force her to do anything against her will, though the mere thought of losing her again choked him. Slowly, he nodded.

She smiled. “Then we can get a nice quiet divorce and you can find yourself a more suitable princess. I’m sure there’ll be more than enough willing maidens to help you get over your heartbreak at being dumped.”

Not bloody likely. “That won’t be necessary. You won’t want to leave.” He set down his wine glass and crossed the room.

A smile lifted the corner of her mouth. “Still so cocky?”

“You bet.” He swept the suitcase and its contents off the bed and tumbled her onto it. As his lips met hers, he felt her shiver in response. “And now we’ve agreed you’re going to be around for a while, it’s time we start on the adventure part of this arrangement.”