Chapter 1
Malcolm
Dear Alice,
Well, I hope you’re happy. My entire bloody life is imploding, and you’re off God knows where, leaving me to chart a course all on my own. You know how hopeless I am at directions.
I’ve, of course, taken on a new assistant since these arseholes won’t tell me where you are, but she appears entirely incapable of reading my mind. She’s called Victoria, and her skirts are too tight—which normally wouldn’t be an issue, so I must be coming down with an illness of some sort.
But you clearly can’t be bothered with minor issues like my health or my impending ascension to the throne of an entire sodding country, so I don’t know why I’m even bothering with this letter. I hope whatever it is you’re doing is worth abandoning me in this state.
Sincerely,
Prince Malcolm
P.S. If nothing else, please respond with the name of your perfume. I find the scent soothing and am confident having a bottle nearby will help with my nerves. It has absolutely zero to do with me missing you.
I read the letter over again and cursed for the tenth time in as many minutes before crumpling the sodding thing into a ball. It belonged with all the others, so I tossed it in a perfect arc right into the oversized vase occupying too much space in the corner of my office. What kind of person required such a ridiculously large receptacle for flowers anyway? Last I checked, we weren’t living in Jurassic Park. If Alice were here, she’d undoubtedly have a detailed explanation to satisfy my curiosity. But she wasn’t, so I returned my attention to the emails Victoria had marked as urgent and put my former assistant firmly out of my mind.
Again.
“How many times do I have to tell you? I had a crisp lodged in my throat.”
“I see.” My brother folded his hands on his lap as he surveyed me from across the room, his gaze far too suspicious for my comfort. “And exactly what kind of crisps were you consuming thirty seconds before addressing an entire ballroom of donors who were enjoying a gourmet—and very crispless, I might add—meal?”
“Walkers Cheese and Onion, naturally. Any more ridiculous questions?” I did my best to meet his eyes, but he’s been known to read me better than anyone—well, almost anyone. So I might have wavered the smallest bit.
“Just one.” Leo leaned forward in his chair, casually resting his elbows on his knees like the smug bastard I’ve always known him to be. “Are you absolutely sure your inability to speak in front of these people had nothing to do with, say, some escalated level of stress you’re experiencing of late?”
“Me? Stress?” I added a mocking chuckle for good measure. “The world has never known a cooler cucumber than the one standing before you, dear brother.” My shoulder rested against the threshold to the sitting room, reinforcing my innate composure. “I am steady as Eddie—nay, chill as Bill.” I raised my chin, confident I was communicating the appropriate vibe.
His only response was another, “I see.”
Bugger.
Leo unfolded himself from my favorite armchair—the one I knicked from Grandfather’s old palace offices—and approached in his dress slacks and loosened tie and shirt. I maintained my cucumber-ness. “Because no one would blame you for letting the pressure get to you, Mal. It’s not every day that a man goes from leading a carefree life of—well, whatever it is you do—”
“The word you’re looking for is women,” I interjected, causing his brow to furrow in confusion—or was that frustration? “A carefree life doing women.” I forced the corners of my mouth to lift, though I was feeling anything but cheerful.
Leo shook his head as if clearing his ears of water. “Right. As I was saying, it’s not every day a man goes from a carefree life of… whoring… to assuming leadership of a nation.”
Not that he needed to know, but it had been bloody ages since I’d fucked anyone. Clearly, there was something dreadfully wrong with me, but Leo couldn’t help, much as he got off on all his bloody intellectual gymnastics. I was beginning to fear no one could help—apart from Alice.
I hoped the sharpness of my responding exhale conveyed my annoyance. “Yes, Leo, I am aware of the events in my own sodding life, and I have it handled. So, thank you for your concern, but the only problem I have is with Walkers for making their crisps so irresistible, I cocked up a simple speech to the hospital donors.” I pushed off the wall. “But, as you already know, Clara wrested control of the situation, and the evening was salvaged. End of story.” I was done with this little interrogation. “I don’t know why you insist on hounding me like this. It’s been two days. Don’t you have a girlfriend to befoul?”
And, just as I knew it would, my mention of the fair Ruby transformed my brother’s expression from one of thinly veiled impatience to something more closely resembling a drunk Labradoodle on roast night. Sorry bastard.
I crossed to the bar trolly and swiped a bottle of my favorite Laphroaig, leaving Leo to his no-doubt filthy fantasies. Not that I could blame him entirely. Ruby was a gorgeous girl—and well-equipped to ruffle Leo’s overly-starched feathers. In fact, she was quite possibly the best thing to ever happen to my brother, and the fact that she provided loads of entertainment for me as well was the proverbial icing on the cake. The woman possessed balls arguably bigger than either of us Baxter twins, but luckily for Leo, they came in a tall, honey-haired package with legs longer than a giraffe’s and a smile as charming as Deepika bloody Padukone. As they say, we’d already put a fork in my brother, because he was truly done.
But not with the current topic, it seemed. “She’s left for North Carolina early, I’m afraid, so my attention has been freed and can be focused entirely on you until I leave for D.C. this afternoon.”
I spun on my heel, almost spilling my newly poured glass of whiskey. “But she promised to repair the sticky clutch on the Shelby. What am I expected to do now?”
Leo’s eyes rolled predictably. “It truly is a crisis, but couldn’t you possibly drive one of the other dozen cars in your bloody garage?”
My responding scowl went unacknowledged. The GT350 was my favorite of the ladies this month, and I’d been looking forward to a drive over to Rostana Bay to catch the last of the waves with my mate Nolan before the weather turned too cool—and I became consumed by official duties. “Don’t be ridiculous. None of them will do. I’ll need to ask Wes to repair it instead—although I believe he may have mentioned something about his daughter’s wedding, so I should be quick about it.”
A vein in Leo’s forehead threatened to rupture. “You’d honestly ask a man to be late to his own daughter’s wedding just to avoid grinding a few gears on a heap of metal?”
My lips curved easily at that. “Don’t let your girlfriend hear you refer to it as a heap of metal or you’ll find yourself with balls bluer than Cookie Monster.” I feigned grabbing my balls with an added, “Nom nom,” just to watch him squirm.
He appeared to run out of steam as he swiped a rough hand through his hair. “I’m not an idiot, Malcolm.”