Christmas With Her Secret Prince
Nina Singh
Her last-minute plus one… Waitress Melina Osmon is dreading attending her work Christmas ball alone for the first time since her ex took everything from her. But a little Christmas magic brings her a saviour in the form of mysterious, gorgeous Ray…who has a secret of his own!
Her last-minute plus-one...
A prince in disguise!
Waitress Melinda Osmon is dreading attending her work Christmas ball alone for the first time since her ex took everything from her. But a little Christmas magic brings her a savior in the form of mysterious, gorgeous Ray. Yet the happy ending of Mel’s festive fairy tale is uncertain—Ray is Crown Prince Rayhan al Saibbi and soon he must choose: Mel, or duty to his kingdom.
NINA SINGH lives just outside of Boston, USA, with her husband, children, and a very rumbunctious Yorkie. After several years in the corporate world she finally followed the advice of family and friends to ‘give the writing a go, already’. She’s oh-so-happy she did. When not at her keyboard she likes to spend time on the tennis court or golf course. Or immersed in a good read.
Also by Nina Singh (#uc0f2ef26-0c5b-54e9-a156-6a3687cb6e1a)
Miss Prim and the Maverick Millionaire
The Marriage of Inconvenience
Snowed in with the Reluctant Tycoon
Reunited with Her Italian Billionaire
Tempted by Her Island Millionaire
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).
Christmas with Her Secret Prince
Nina Singh
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-07834-4
CHRISTMAS WITH HER SECRET PRINCE
© 2018 Nilay Nina Singh
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To my two very own princes.
And my two princesses.
Contents
Cover (#u9a0e7e86-8d39-5414-aa32-91872c3f2cfe)
Back Cover Text (#u3e3246aa-bd91-5812-8fdc-e0bdbd2cbd52)
About the Author (#ucbe6d06d-7e6f-54a2-9b90-a577dc9baf35)
Booklist (#u2a13358a-781c-5ea4-bfee-5e2d96051ae9)
Title Page (#ue9519a14-002d-5d9b-b8bc-de7cb29638b7)
Copyright (#ubdf5e955-1b51-50c9-b7f6-ff75fb0023cf)
Dedication (#u66b296f2-4942-57aa-9428-f4390201cc2d)
CHAPTER ONE (#u6cde4c8d-892e-5ca6-ad3f-136784e6cd8c)
CHAPTER TWO (#uf3a92f17-167f-5771-b151-4a2b33a77bb3)
CHAPTER THREE (#udb435da9-24da-583c-8a7b-3480807b7599)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#uc0f2ef26-0c5b-54e9-a156-6a3687cb6e1a)
PRINCE RAYHAN AL SAIBBI was not looking forward to his next meeting. In fact, he was dreading it. After all, it wasn’t often he went against his father—the man who also happened to be king of Verdovia.
But it had to be done. This might very well be his last chance to exert any kind of control over his own life. Even if it was to be only a temporary respite. Fate had made him prince of Verdovia. And his honor-bound duty to that fate would come calling soon enough. He just wanted to try and bat it away one last time.
The sun shone bright and high over the majestic mountain range outside his window. A crisp blue stream meandered along its base. The pleasant sunny day meant his father would most likely be enjoying his breakfast on the patio off the four-seasons room in the east wing.
Rayhan found his father sitting at the far end of the table. Piles of papers and a sleek new laptop were mixed in with various plates of fruits and pastries. A twinge of guilt hit Rayhan as he approached. The king never stopped working. For that matter, neither did the queen, his mother. A fact that needed to be addressed after the events of the past year. Part of the reason Rayhan was in his current predicament.
This conversation wasn’t going to be easy. His father had been king for a long time. He was used to making the rules and expected everyone to follow them. Particularly when it came to his son.
But these days the king wasn’t thinking entirely straight. Motivated by an alarming health scare Rayhan’s mother had experienced a few months back and prompted by the troublesome maneuverings of a disagreeable council member, his father had decided that the royal family needed to strengthen and reaffirm their stability. Unfortunately, he’d also decided that Rayhan would be the primary vehicle to cement that stability.
His father motioned for him to be seated when he saw Rayhan approach.
“Thank you for seeing me, Father. I know how busy you are.”
His father nodded. “It sounded urgent based on your messages. What can I assist you with, son? Dare I hope you’re closer to making a decision?”
“I am. Just not in the way you might assume.”
Rayhan focused his gaze on his father’s face. A face that could very well be an older version of his own. Dark olive skin with high cheekbones and ebony eyes.
“I don’t understand,” his father began. “You were going to spend some time with the ladies in consideration. Then you were to make a choice.”
Rayhan nodded. “I’ve spent time with all three of them, correct. They’re all lovely ladies, Father. Very accomplished—all of them stunning and impressive in their own unique way. You have chosen well.”
“They come from three of the most notable and prominent families of our land. You marrying a prominent daughter of Verdovia will go far to address our current problems.”
“Like I said, you have chosen well.”
The king studied him. “Then what appears to be the issue?”
Where to start? First of all, he wasn’t ready to be wedded to any of the ladies in question. In fact, he wasn’t ready to be wedded at all.
But he had a responsibility. Both to his family and to the kingdom.
“Perhaps I shall choose for you,” the king suggested, his annoyance clear as the crisp morning air outside. “You know how important this is. And how urgent. Councilman Riza is preparing a resolution as we speak to propose studying the efficacy and necessity of the royal family’s very existence.”
“You know it won’t go anywhere. He’s just stirring chaos.”
“I despise chaos.” His father blew out a deep breath. “All the more reason to put this plan into action, son.”
The plan his father referred to meant the end of Rayhan’s life as he knew it. “It just seems such an archaic and outdated method. A bachelor prince choosing from qualified ladies to serve as his queen when he eventually ascends the throne.”
His father shrugged. “Arranged marriages are quite common around the world. Particularly for a young man of your standing. Global alliances are regularly formed through marriage vows. It’s how your mother and I wedded, as you know. These ladies I have chosen are very well-known and popular in the kingdom.”
Rayhan couldn’t argue the point. There was the talented prima ballerina who had stolen the people’s hearts when she’d first appeared on stage several years ago. Then there was the humanitarian who’d made the recent influx of refugees and their plight her driving cause. And finally, a councilman’s beautiful daughter, who also happened to be an international fashion model.
Amazing ladies. All of whom seemed to be approaching the king’s proposition more as a career opportunity than anything else. Which in blatant terms was technically correct. Of course, the people didn’t know that fact. They just believed their crown prince to be linked to three different ladies, and rumors abounded that he would propose to one of them within weeks. A well-calculated palace publicity stunt.
“As far as being outdated,” the king continued, “have you seen the most popular show in America these days? It involves an eligible bachelor choosing from among several willing ladies. By giving them weekly roses, of all things.” His father barked out a laugh at the idea.
“But this isn’t some reality show,” Rayhan argued. “This is my life.”
“Nevertheless, a royal wedding will distract from this foolishness of Riza’s.”
Rayhan couldn’t very well argue that point either. The whole kingdom was even now in the frenzied midst of preparing for the wedding of the half century, everyone anxious to see which young lady the prince would choose for himself. Combined with the festivities of the holiday season, the level of excitement and celebration throughout the land was almost palpable.
And Rayhan was about to go and douse it all like a wet blanket over a warming fire.
Bah humbug.
Well, so be it. This was his life they were talking about. He wanted to claim one last bit of it. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. Not this time. But this was a new experience for him. Rayhan had never actually willingly gone against the king’s wishes before. Not for something this important anyway.
“Well, I’ve come to a different decision,” he told his father. Rayhan made sure to look him straight in the eye as he continued, “I’ve decided to wait.”
The king blinked. Several times. Rapidly. “I beg your pardon?”
“I’d like to hold off. I’m not ready to choose a fiancée. Not just yet.”
“You can only postpone for so long, son. The kingdom is waiting for a royal wedding... We have announced your intention to marry. And then there’s your mother.”
Rayhan felt a pang of guilt through his chest at the mention of the queen. She’d given them all quite a scare last year. “Mother is fine now.”
“Still, she needs to slow down. I won’t have her health jeopardized again. Someone needs to help take over some of the queen’s regular duties. Your sisters are much too young.”
“All I’m asking for is some time, Father. Perhaps we can come to a compromise.”
The king leaned toward him, his arms resting on the table. At least he was listening. “What sort of compromise did you have in mind?”
Rayhan cleared his throat and began to tell him.
“Honestly, Mel. If you handle that invitation any more, it’s going to turn into ash in your hands.”
Melinda Osmon startled as her elderly, matronly employer walked by the counter where she sat waiting for her shift to begin. The older woman was right. This had to be at least the fifth or sixth time Mel had taken the stationery out simply to stare at it since it had arrived in her mailbox several days ago.
The Honorable Mayor and Mrs. Spellman request the pleasure of your presence...
“You caught me,” Mel replied, swiftly wiping the moisture off her cheeks.
“Just send in your reply already,” Greta added, her back turned to her as she poured coffee for the customer sitting at the end of the counter. The full breakfast crowd wasn’t due in for another twenty minutes or so. “Then figure out what you’re going to wear.”
Melinda swallowed past the lump in her throat before attempting an answer. “Greta, you know I can’t go this year. It’s just not worth the abject humiliation.”
Greta turned to her so fast that some of the coffee splashed out of her coffeepot. “Come again? What in the world do you have to be humiliated about?”
Not this again. Greta didn’t seem to understand, nor did she want to. How about the fact that Mel hadn’t yet moved on? Unlike her ex-husband. The ex-husband who would be at the same party with his fashionable, svelte and beautiful new fiancée. “Well, for one thing, I’d be going solo. That’s humiliating enough in itself.”
Greta jutted out her chin and snapped her gum loudly. “And why is that? You’re not the one who behaved shamefully and had the affair. That scoundrel you were married to should be the one feeling too ashamed to show his face at some fancy-schmancy party you both used to attend every year when you were man and wife.”
Mel cringed at the unfiltered description.
“Now, you listen to me, young lady—”
Luckily, another customer cleared his throat just then, clearly impatient for a hit of caffeine. Greta humphed and turned away to pour. Mel knew the reprieve would be short-lived. Greta had very strong opinions about how Mel should move along into the next chapter of her life. She also had very strong opinions about Mel’s ex. To say the older woman was outraged on Mel’s behalf was to put it mildly. In fact, the only person who might be even angrier was Greta’s even older sister, Frannie. Not that Mel wasn’t pretty outraged herself. A lot of good that did for her, though. Strong emotions were not going to get her a plus-one to the mayor’s Christmas soiree. And she certainly was nowhere near ready to face the speculation and whispery gossip that was sure to greet her if she set foot in that ballroom alone.
“She’s right, you know,” Frannie announced, sliding into the seat next to Mel. The two sisters owned the Bean Pot Diner on Marine Street in the heart of South Boston. The only place that would hire her when she’d found herself broke, alone and suddenly separated. “I hate to admit when that blabbermouth is right but she sure is about this. You should go to that party and enjoy yourself. Show that no-good, cheating charlatan that you don’t give a damn what he thinks.”
“I don’t think I have it in me, Frannie. Just to show up and then have to stare at Eric and his fiancée having the time of their lives, while I’ll be sitting there all alone.”
“I definitely don’t think you should do that.”
Well, that was a sudden change of position, Melinda thought, eyeing her friend. “So you agree I shouldn’t go?”
“No, that’s not what I said. I think you should go, look ravishing and then confront him about all he put you through. Then demand that he return your money.”
Melinda sighed. She should have seen that argument coming. “First of all, I gave him that money.” Foolishly. The hard-earned money that her dear parents had left her after their deaths. It was supposed to have been an investment in Eric’s future. Their future. She had gladly handed it to him to help him get through dental school. Then it was supposed to be her turn to make some kind of investment in herself while he supported her. Instead, he’d left her for his perky, athletic dental assistant. His much younger, barely-out-of-school dental assistant. And now they happily cared for teeth together during the day, while planning an extravagant wedding in their off-hours. “I gave it to him with no strings attached.”
“And you should take him to court to get some of it back!” Frannie slapped her palm against the counter. Greta sashayed back over to where the two of them sat.
“That’s right,” Greta declared. “You should go to that damn party looking pretty as a fashion model. Then demand he pay you back. Every last cent. Or you’ll see him in front of a judge.”
Mel sighed and bit down on the words that were forming on her tongue. As much as she longed to tell the two women to mind their own business, Mel just couldn’t bring herself to do it. They’d been beyond kind to her when she’d needed it the most. Not to mention, they were the closest thing to family Mel could count since her divorce a year ago.
“How? I barely have the money for court fees. Let alone any to hire an attorney.”
“Then start with the party,” Greta declared as her sister nodded enthusiastically. “At the very least, ruin his evening. Show him what he’s missing out on.”
Nothing like a couple of opinionated matrons double-teaming you.
Mel let out an unamused laugh. “As if. I don’t even have a dress to wear. I sold all my fancier clothes just to make rent that first month.”
Greta waved a hand in dismissal. “So buy another one. I tell you, if I had your figure and that great dark hair of yours, I’d be out shopping right now. Women like you can find even the highest-end clothing on sale.”
Mel ignored the compliment. “I can’t even afford the stuff on sale these days, Greta.”
“So take an advance on your paycheck,” Frannie offered from across the counter. “We know you’re good for it.”
Mel felt the immediate sting of tears. These women had taken her in when she’d needed friendship and support the most. She’d never be able to repay their kindness. She certainly had no desire to take advantage of it. “I can’t ask you to do that for me, ladies.”
“Nonsense,” they both said in unison.
“You’d be doing it for us,” Greta added.
“For you?”
“Sure. Let two old bats like us live vicariously through you. Go to that ball and then come back and tell us all about it.”
Frannie nodded in agreement. “That’s right. Especially the part about that no-good scoundrel begging you for forgiveness after he takes one look at ya.”
Mel smiled in spite of herself. These two certainly knew how to cook up a good fantasy. Eric had left her high and dry and never looked back even once. As far as fantasies went, she was more likely to turn a frog into a prince than receive any kind of apology from her ex-husband.
“I don’t think that’s going to happen anytime soon.” Or ever. Mel reached down to tighten the laces of her comfortable white tennis shoes. She had a very long shift ahead of her, starting with the breakfast crowd and ending with the early-evening dinner guests.
“You won’t know unless you go to this ball.”
She couldn’t even tell which of the ladies had thrown that out. Mel sighed and straightened to look at them both. Her bosses might look like gentle, sweet elderly ladies, complete with white hair done up in buns, but they could be relentless once they set their minds to something.
“All right. I give.”
They both squealed with delight. “Then it’s settled,” Frannie declared and clasped her hands in front of her chest.
Mel held a hand up. “Not so fast. I haven’t agreed to go just yet.”
Greta’s smile faded. “Come again?”
“How about a deal?”
“What kind of deal?”
“I’ll go out after my shift and look for a dress.” Though how she would summon the energy after such a long day was a mystery. But she was getting the feeling she’d hear about this all day unless she threw her two bosses some kind of bone. “If, and only if, I come across a dress that’s both affordable and appropriate, I’ll reconsider going.”
Frannie opened her mouth, clearly about to protest. Mel cut her off.
“It’s my only offer. Take it or leave it.”
“Fine,” they both said in unison before turning away. Mel stood just as the bell for the next order up rang from the kitchen. She had a long day ahead of her and it was only just starting. She was a waitress now. Not the young bride of an up-and-coming urban dentist who attended fancy holiday balls and went shopping for extravagant ball gowns. That might have been her reality once, but it had been short-lived.
Little did the Perlman sisters know, she had told them something of a fib just now when making that deal. She had no expectation that she’d find any kind of dress that would merit attending that party in a week.
The chances were slim to zero.
His driver-slash-security-guard—who also happened to be a dear childhood friend—was very unhappy with him at the moment. Rayhan ignored the scowl of the other man as he watched the streets of downtown Boston outside his passenger-side window. Every shop front had been decorated with garlands and glittery Christmas decorations. Bright lights were strung on everything from the lamp poles to shop windows. Let his friend scowl away, Rayhan thought. He was going to go ahead and enjoy the scenery. But when Saleh took yet another turn a little too fast and sharp, he found he’d had enough. Saleh was acting downright childish.
To top it off, they appeared to be lost. Saleh had refused to admit he needed the assistance of the navigation system and now they appeared to be nowhere near their destination.
“You know you didn’t have to come,” Rayhan reminded the other man. “You volunteered, remember?”
Saleh grunted. “I clearly wasn’t thinking straight. Why are we here, again? At this particular time, no less.”
“You know this.”
“I know you’re delaying the inevitable.”
He was right, of course. Not that Rayhan was going to admit it out loud. “I still have a bit of time to live my life as I see fit.”
“And you decided you needed to do part of that in Boston?”
Rayhan shrugged, resuming his perusal of the outside scenery. “That was completely coincidental. My father’s been eyeing property out here for months now. Perfect opportunity for me to come find a prime location and seal the deal.”
“Yes, so you say. It’s a way to... How do the Americans say it? To kill two birds with one stone?”
“Precisely.”
“So why couldn’t you have come out here with the new soon-to-be-princess after your engagement?”
Rayhan pinched the bridge of his nose. “I just needed to get away before it all gets out of control, Saleh. I don’t expect you to understand.”
Not many people would, Rayhan thought. Particularly not his friend, who had married the grade-school sweetheart he’d been in love with since their teen years. Unlike Rayhan, Saleh didn’t have to answer to nor appease a whole country when it came to his choice of bride.
Rayhan continued, “Everywhere I turn in Verdovia, I’m reminded of the upcoming ceremonies. Everyone is completely preoccupied with who the heir will choose to marry, what the wedding will be like. Yada yada. There are odds being placed in every one of our island casinos on everything from the identity of the next queen to what flavor icing will adorn the royal wedding cake.”
Saleh came to a sudden halt at a red light, a wide grin spread across his face.
“What?” Rayhan asked.
“I placed my wager on the vanilla buttercream.”
“I see. That’s good to know.” He made a mental note to go with anything but the vanilla buttercream when the time came. If he had any say on the matter, that was. Between his mother and the princess-to-be, he’d likely have very little sway in such decisions. No doubt his shrewd friend had made his bet based on the very same assumption.
“I don’t understand why you refuse to simply embrace your fate, my friend. You’re the heir of one of the most powerful men in the world. With that comes the opportunity to marry and gain a beautiful, accomplished lady to warm your bed. There are worse things in life.”
Saleh overlooked the vast amount of responsibility that came with such a life. The stability and prosperity of a whole kingdom full of people would fall on Rayhan’s shoulders as soon as he ascended. Even more so than it did now. Few people could understand the overwhelming prospect of such a position. As far as powerful, how much did any of that mean when even your choice of bride was influenced by the consideration of your position?
“How easy for you to say,” he told Saleh just as the light turned green and they moved forward. “You found a beautiful woman who you somehow tricked into thinking marrying you was a good idea.”
Saleh laughed with good-natured humor. “The greatest accomplishment of my life.”
Rayhan was about to answer when a screeching noise jolted both men to full alert. A cyclist veered toward their vehicle at an alarming speed. Saleh barely had time to turn the wheel in order to avoid a full-on collision. Unfortunately, the cyclist shifted direction at precisely the same time. Both he and their SUV were now heading the same way. Right toward a pedestrian. Saleh hit the brakes hard. Rayhan gripped the side bar, waiting for the inevitable impact. Fortunately for them, it never came.
The cyclist, however, kept going. And, unfortunately for the poor pedestrian woman, the bicycle ran straight into her, knocking her off her feet.
“Watch where you’re going!” the rider shouted back over his shoulder, not even bothering to stop.
Rayhan immediately jumped out of the car. He ran around to the front of the SUV and knelt down where the woman still lay by the sidewalk curb.
“Miss, are you all right?”
A pair of startled eyes met his. Very bright green eyes. They reminded him of the shimmering stream that lay outside his windows back home. Not that this was any sort of time to notice that kind of thing.
She blinked, rubbing a hand down a cheek that was rapidly bruising even as they spoke. Saleh appeared at his side.
“Is she okay?”
“I don’t know. She’s not really responding. Miss, are you all right?”
Her eyes grew wide as she looked at him. “You’re lovely,” she said in a low, raspy voice.
Dear heavens. The woman clearly had some kind of head injury. “We have to get you to a doctor.”
Saleh swore beside him. “I’m so terribly sorry, miss. I was trying to avoid the bike and the cyclist was trying to avoid me but he turned right toward you—”
The woman was still staring at Rayhan. She didn’t acknowledge Saleh nor his words at all.
He had a sudden urge to hold her, to comfort her. He wanted to wrap her in his arms, even though she was a complete stranger.
Rayhan reached for his cell phone. “I’ll call for an ambulance.”
The woman gave a shake of her head before he could dial. “No. I’m okay. Just a little shaken.” She blinked some more and looked around. Her eyes seemed to regain some focus. Rayhan allowed himself a breath of relief. Maybe she’d be all right. Her next words brought that hopeful thought to a halt.
“My dress. Do you see it?”
Did she think somehow her clothes had been knocked off her upon impact? “You...uh...you are wearing it still.”
Her gaze scanned the area where she’d fallen. “No. See, I found one. I didn’t think I would. But I did. And it wasn’t all that pricey.”
Rayhan didn’t need to hear any more. Unless she was addled to begin with, which could very well be a possibility, the lady had clearly suffered a blow to the head. To top it all off, they were blocking traffic and drawing a crowd. Kneeling closer to the woman sprawled in front of him, he lifted her gently into his arms and then stood. “Let’s get you to a hospital.”
“Oh!” she cried out as Rayhan walked back toward the SUV with her embraced against his chest.
Saleh was fast on his heels and opening the passenger door for them. “No, see, it’s all right,” she began to protest. “I don’t need a doctor. Just that gown.”
“We’ll make sure to get you a dress,” Rayhan reassured her, trying to tell her what she clearly needed to hear. Why was she so focused on clothing at a time like this? “Right after a doctor takes a look at you.”
He gently deposited her in the back seat, then sat down next to her. “No, wait,” she argued. “I don’t need a doctor. I just want my dress.”
But Saleh was already driving toward a hospital.
The woman took a panicked look out the window and then winced. The action must have hurt her injuries somehow. She touched a shaky finger to her cheek, which was now a dark purple, surrounded by red splotches.
Even in the messy state she was in, he couldn’t help but notice how striking her features were. Dark, thick waves of black hair escaped the confines of some sort of complicated bun on top of her head. A long slender neck graced her slim shoulders. She was curvy—not quite what one would consider slim. Upon first glance, he would never consider someone like her his “type,” so to speak. But he had to admit, he appreciated her rather unusual beauty.
That choice of words had him uncomfortably shifting in his seat. He stole a glance at her as she explored her facial injuries with shaky fingers.
Now her right eye had begun to swell as an angry, dark circular ring developed around it. Rayhan bit out a sharp curse. Here he was trying to enjoy what could very well be his last trip to the United States as a free man and he’d ended up hurting some poor woman on his first day here.
Perhaps Saleh was right. Maybe this whole trip had been a terrible idea. Maybe he should have just stayed home and accepted his fate.
There was at least one person who would be much better off right now if he had.
CHAPTER TWO (#uc0f2ef26-0c5b-54e9-a156-6a3687cb6e1a)
SHE WOULD HAVE been much better off if she’d just ignored that blasted invitation and thrown it away as soon as it arrived in her mailbox. She should have never even opened it and she definitely should have never even considered going to that godforsaken party. Her intuition had been right from the beginning. She no longer had any kind of business attending fancy balls and wearing glamorous gowns.
But no, she had to go and indulge two little old ladies, as well as her own silly whim. Look where that had got her—sitting on an exam table in a cold room at Mass General, with a couple of strange men out in the hallway.
Although they had to be the best-looking strangers she’d ever encountered. Particularly the one who had carried her to the car. She studied him now through the small window of her exam room door. He stood leaning against the wall, patiently waiting for the doctor to come examine her.
Even in her stunned shock while she lay sprawled by the side of the road, she hadn’t been able to help but notice the man’s striking good looks. Dark haired, with the barest shadow of a goatee, he looked like he could have stepped out of a cologne advertisement. Though there was no way he was some kind of male fashion model. He carried himself with much too much authority.
His eyes were dark as charcoal, his skin tone just on the darker side of dessert tan. Even before they’d spoken, she’d known he wasn’t local.
His looks had taken her by surprise, or perhaps it had been the blow she’d suffered, but she distinctly remembered thinking he was lovely.
Which was a downright silly thought. A better description would be to say he looked dangerous.
Mel shook off the fanciful thoughts. She had other things to worry about besides the striking good looks of the man who had brought her here. They’d called the diner after she’d been processed. Presumably, either Greta or Frannie was on her way to join her at the hospital now. Mel felt a slight pang of guilt about one of them having to leave in the middle of closing up the diner for the night.
She would have frowned but it hurt too much. Her face had taken the brunt of the collision with the reckless cyclist, who, very rudely, had continued on his way. At least the two gentlemen out there hadn’t left her alone and bleeding by the side of the road. Though now that meant she would be saddled with an ER bill she couldn’t afford. Thinking about that expense, coupled with what she’d paid for the evening dress, had her eyes stinging with regret. In all the confusion and chaos right after the accident, her shopping bag had been left behind. Mel knew she should be grateful that the accident hadn’t been worse, but she couldn’t help but feel sorry for herself. Would she ever catch a break?
A sharp knock on the door was quickly followed by the entrance of a harried-looking doctor. He did a bit of a double take when he saw her face.
“Let’s take a look at you, Miss Osmon.”
The doctor wasted no time with his physical examination, then proceeded to ask her a series of questions—everything from the calendar date to what she’d had for breakfast. His unconcerned expression afterward told her she must have passed.
“I think you’ll be just fine. Though quite sore for the next several weeks. You don’t appear to be concussed. But someone will need to watch you for the next twenty-four hours or so. Just to be on the safe side.” He motioned to the door. “Mind if I let your boyfriend in? He appears to be very concerned about you.”
“Oh, he’s not—they’re just the—”
The doctor raised an eyebrow in question. “I apologize. He took care of the necessary paperwork and already settled the fees. I just assumed.”
He had settled the bill? A nagging sense of discomfort blossomed in her chest. This stranger had paid for her care. She would have to figure out how to pay him back. Not that it would be easy.
The physician continued, “In any case, if he’s the one who’ll be watching you, he’ll need to hear this.”
“He won’t be watching me. I have a friend—”
Before she got the last word out, Greta came barreling through the door, her springy gray hair still wrapped tight in a kitchen hairnet.
“Yowza,” the older woman exclaimed as soon as her gaze landed on Mel’s face. “You look like you went a couple rounds with a prizefighter. Or were ya fighting over a discounted item at The Basement? Their shoppers can be brutal!”
“Hi, Greta. Thanks for coming.”
“Sure thing, kid. I took a cab over as soon as we heard. You doin’ okay?” She’d left the door wide-open behind her. The two strangers hovered uncertainly out in the hallway, both of them giving her concerned looks.
Mel sighed. What the heck? May as well make this a standing room–only crowd. After all, they were nice enough to bring her in and take care of the processing while she was being examined. She motioned for them to come in. The taller, more handsome one stepped inside first. His friend followed close behind.
“The doctor says I’ll be fine,” she told them.
The doctor nodded. “I also said she needs to be monitored overnight. To make sure there are no signs of concussion or other trauma.” He addressed the room in general before turning to Mel directly. “If you feel nauseous or dizzy, or if over-the-counter medications don’t seem to be addressing the pain, you need to come back in. Understood?”
“Yes.”
He turned to the others. “You need to watch for any sign of blacking out or loss of balance.”
Greta nodded. As did the two men for some reason.
The doctor gave a quick wave before hastily walking out.
Mel smiled awkwardly at the two men. It occurred to her she didn’t even know their names. “Um... I’m Mel.”
They exchanged a glance between them. Then the taller one stepped forward. “I’m Ray. This is Sal.” He motioned to his friend, who politely nodded.
More awkwardness ensued as all four of them stood silent.
“I’m Greta,” the older woman suddenly and very loudly offered.
Both men said hello. Finally, Greta reached for Mel’s arm. “C’mon, kiddo. Let’s get you dressed. Then we’ll call for a cab so we can get you home.”
Ray stepped forward. “That won’t be necessary. We’ll take you anywhere you need to go.”
Ray sighed with relief for what must have been the hundredth time as the old lady directed them to the front of a small eatery not far from where the accident had occurred. Thank goodness that Mel appeared to be all right. But she was sporting one devil of a shiner on her right eye and the whole side of her face looked a purple mess.
For some inexplicable reason, his mind kept referring to the moment he’d picked her up and carried her to the car. The softness of her as he’d held her, the way she’d smelled. Some delicate scent of flowers combined with a fruity shampoo he’d noticed when her head had been under his nose.
“This is our stop,” Greta declared and reached for the door handle.
Ray immediately got out of the car to assist Mel out onto the street. After all, the older woman looked barely able to get herself moving. She’d actually dozed off twice during the short ride over. Ray hadn’t missed how Mel had positioned herself to allow Greta to lean against her shoulder as she snored softly. Despite her injury. Nor how she’d gently nudged her friend awake as they approached their destination.
Who was taking care of whom in this scenario?
How in the world was this frail, seemingly exhausted older lady supposed to keep an eye on her injured friend all night?
Ray would never forgive himself if Mel had any kind of medical disaster in the middle of the night. Despite his reassurances, the doctor had made it clear she wasn’t completely out of the woods just yet.
“My sister and I live in a flat above this diner, which we own and manage,” Greta informed him around a wide yawn as the three of them approached the door. She rummaged around in her oversize bag for several moments, only to come up empty.
“Dang it. I guess I left my keys behind when I rushed over to the hospital.”
She reached for a panel by the side of the door and pressed a large button. A buzzer could be heard sounding upstairs. Several beats passed and...nothing.
Mel offered him a shy smile. Her black hair glistened like tinsel where the streetlight hit it. The neon light of the diner sign above them brought out the bright evergreen hue of her eyes. Well, the one that wasn’t nearly swollen shut anyway. The poor woman probably couldn’t wait to get upstairs and lie down.
Unfortunately, she would have to wait a bit longer. Several more moments passed. Greta pressed the button at least half a dozen more times. Ray wasn’t any more reassured as they continued to wait.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the sound of shuffling feet could be heard approaching as a shadow moved closer to the opposite side of the door. When it finally opened, they were greeted by a groggy, disheveled woman who was even older than Greta. She didn’t even look fully awake yet.
It was settled. There was no way he could leave an injured woman with the likes of these two ladies. His conscience wouldn’t allow it. Especially not when he was partly responsible for said injury to begin with.
“I’m glad that’s over with.” Saleh started the SUV as soon as Ray opened the passenger door and leaned into the vehicle. “Let’s finally get to our hotel, then. I could use a long hot shower and a tall glass of something strong and aromatic.” He reached for the gearshift before giving him a quizzical look. “Why aren’t you getting in the car?”
“I’ve decided to stay here.”
Saleh’s eyes went wide with shock. “What?”
“I can’t leave the young lady, Saleh. You should see the older sister who’s supposed to watch Mel with Greta.”
“You mean Greta’s the younger one?”
“Believe it or not.”
“Still. It’s no longer our concern. We’ve done all we can. She’ll be fine.” He motioned with a tilt of his head for Rayhan to get in the car.
“I’m going to stay here and make sure of it. You go on ahead and check us into the hotel.”
“You can’t be serious. Are you forgetting who you are?”
Ray bit down on his impatience. Saleh was a trusted friend. But right now, he was the one close to forgetting who he was and whom he was addressing.
“Not in the least. I happen to be part of the reason that young lady is up there, sporting all sorts of cuts and bruises, as well as a potential head injury, which needs to be monitored. By someone who can actually keep an eye on her with some degree of competence.”
“Your Highness, I understand all that. But staying here is not wise.”
“Don’t call me that, Saleh. You know better.”
“I’m just trying to remind you of your position. Perhaps I should also remind you that this isn’t an announced state visit. If these ladies were to find out who you are, it could leak to the rest of the world before morning. The resulting frenzy of press could easily result in an embarrassing media nightmare for the monarchy. Not to mention Verdovia as a whole.”
“They won’t find out.”
Saleh huffed in exasperation. “How can you be sure?”
Ray ignored the question as he didn’t really have any kind of adequate answer. “I’ve made up my mind,” he said with finality.
“There’s more to it. Isn’t there, Rayhan?”
Ray knew exactly what his friend meant. The two had known each other their whole lives, since they were toddlers kicking around a sponge soccer ball in the royal courtyard. He wouldn’t bother to deny what his friend had clearly observed.
“I saw the way you were looking at her,” Saleh threw out as if issuing a challenge. “With much more than sympathy in your eyes. Admit it. There’s more to it.”
Ray only sighed. “Perhaps there is, my friend.” He softly shut the car door.
Ray was asleep on Frannie and Greta’s couch. Mel popped two anti-inflammatory pills into her mouth and then took a swig of water to swallow them down. Her borrowed nightgown felt snug against her hips. It belonged to Greta, who could accurately be described as having the figure of a very thin teenage boy. A description that didn’t fit Mel in any way.
The feel of her nightwear wouldn’t be the only thing bothering her tonight, Mel figured. The man lying in the other room only a few feet away would no doubt disrupt her sleep. Had she ever felt so aware of a man before? She honestly couldn’t say, despite having been married. He had such a magnetism, she’d be hard-pressed to put its impact on her into words. Everything about him screamed class and breeding. From the impeccable and, no doubt, expensive tailored clothing to the SUV he and his friend were driving around in, Ray was clearly not lacking in resources. He was well-mannered and well-spoken. And judging by what he’d done earlier tonight, he was quite kindhearted.
Ray had feigned being too tired to travel with his friend to their hotel across town and had asked the Perlman sisters if he could crash on their couch instead. Mel wasn’t buying it in the least. First of all, he didn’t seem the type of man to lack stamina in any way. No, his true intention was painfully obvious. He’d taken one look at Frannie, studied Greta again and then perused Mel’s battered face and decided he couldn’t leave her in the care of the elderly sisters. None of them questioned it. Sure, Ray was barely more than a stranger, but he’d had ample opportunity if his motives were at all nefarious.
Besides, he hardly appeared to be a kidnapper. And he definitely wasn’t likely to be a thief looking to take off with the Perlman sisters’ ancient and cracked bone china.
No, he was just a gentleman who’d not only made sure to take care of her after she’d got hurt, he’d insisted on hanging around to keep an eye on her.
She crawled into the twin bed the Perlman sisters kept set up in their spare room and eyed the functional sleigh-bell ornament taken off the diner Christmas tree that Greta had handed her before going to bed. She was supposed to ring it to arouse their attention if she felt at all ill during the night. As if either sister had any chance of hearing it. Frannie hadn’t even heard the much louder door buzzer earlier this evening. No wonder Ray had insisted on staying.
She felt oddly touched by his thoughtfulness. Not every man would have been so concerned.
She tried to imagine Eric going out of his way in such a fashion under similar circumstances. Simply to help a stranger. She couldn’t picture it. No, Ray didn’t seem at all like her ex. In fact, he was unlike any other man she’d ever met. And his looks! The man was heart-stoppingly handsome. She still didn’t know where he was from, but based on his dark coloring and regal features, she would guess somewhere in the Mediterranean. Southern Italy perhaps. Maybe Greece. Or even somewhere in the Middle East.
Mel sighed again and snuggled deeper into her pillow. What did any of her speculation matter in the overall scheme of things? Men like Ray weren’t the type a divorced waitress could count among her acquaintances. He would be nothing more than a flash of brightness that passed through her life for a brief moment in time. By this time next week, no doubt, he wouldn’t give the likes of Melinda Osmon more than a lingering thought.
“So did she even find a dress?”
“I guess so. She says she lost the shopping bag ’cause of the accident, though.”
“So no dress. I guess she definitely isn’t going to the ball, then.”
“Nope. Not without a dress. And not with that crazy shiner where her eye is.”
What was it about this dress everyone kept talking about? Ray stirred and slowly opened his eyes. To his surprise it was morning already. He’d slept surprisingly well on the lumpy velvet-covered couch the sisters had offered him last night. Said sisters were currently talking much too loudly in the kitchen, which was off to the side of the apartment. Clearly, they didn’t entertain overnight guests often.
His thoughts immediately shifted to Mel. How was she feeling? He’d slept more soundly than he’d expected to. What if she’d needed something in the middle of the night? He swiftly strode to the kitchen. “Has anyone checked on Mel yet?”
Both ladies halted midspeech to give him curious looks. “Well, good morning to you, too,” Greta said with just a touch of grouchiness in her voice. Or maybe that was Frannie. In matching terry robes and thick glasses perched on the ends of their noses, they looked remarkably similar.
“I apologize. I just wondered about our patient.”
The two women raised their eyebrows at him. “She’s our patient now, huh?” one of the women asked.
Luckily, the other one spoke before Ray could summon an answer to that question. “She’s sleeping soundly. I sneaked a peek at her as soon as I woke up. Breathing nice and even. Even has some color back in her face. Well, real color. Aside from the nasty purple bruise.”
Ray felt the tension he wasn’t aware he held slowly leave his chest and shoulders. One of the women pulled a chair out for him as another handed him a steaming cup of coffee. Both actions were done with a no-nonsense efficiency. Ray gratefully took the steaming cup and sat down.
The small flat was a far cry from the majestic expanse of the castle he called home, but the sheer homeliness and coziness of the setting served to put him in a comfortable state of ease, one that took him a bit by surprise. He spent most of his life in a harried state of rushing from one activity or responsibility to another. To be able to simply sit and enjoy a cup of coffee in a quaint New England kitchen was a novel experience. One he was enjoying more than he would have guessed.
“Damn shame about the dress,” Greta or Frannie commented as she sat down across him, the other lady joining them a moment later after refreshing her mug. He really needed one of them to somehow identify herself or he was bound to make an embarrassing slip before the morning was over about who was who.
“Can someone tell me what the deal is with this dress?” he asked.
“Mel was coming back from shopping when you and your friend knocked her on her keister,” the sister right next to him answered.
“Frannie!” the other one exclaimed. Thank goodness. Now he just had to keep straight which was which once they stood. “That’s no way to talk to our guest,” she added.
Ray took a sip of his coffee, the guilt washing over him once more. Though technically they hadn’t been the ones to actually run into Mel—the cyclist had done that—he couldn’t help but feel that if Saleh had been paying better attention, Mel wouldn’t be in the state she was in currently.
“She lost the shopping bag in all the confusion,” Frannie supplied.
“I’m terribly sorry to hear that,” Ray answered. “It must have been some dress. I’ll have to find a way to compensate for Mel’s losing it.”
“It’s more what she needed it for.”
Ray found himself oddly curious. When was the last time he cared about why a woman needed an article of clothing? Never. The answer to that question was a resounding never.
“What did she need it for?”
“To stick it to that scoundrel husband of hers.”
Ray found himself on the verge of sputtering out the coffee he’d just taken a sip of. Husband. Mel was married. It really wasn’t any of his business. So why did he feel like someone had just landed a punch in the middle of his gut? He’d met the woman less than twelve hours ago for heaven’s sake. Had barely spoken more than a few words to her.
“He’s her ex-husband,” Greta clarified. “But my sister’s right about the scoundrel part.”
“Oh?” Ray inquired. For the second time already this morning, he felt like a solid weight had been lifted off his shoulders. So she wasn’t actually married currently. He cursed internally as he thought it. What bit of difference did it make where he was concerned?
“Yeah, he took all her money, then left her for some flirty flirt of a girl who works for him.”
That did sound quite scoundrel-like. A pang of sympathy blossomed in his chest. No woman deserved that. What little he knew of Mel, she seemed like she wouldn’t hurt another being if her life depended on it. She certainly didn’t deserve such treatment.
“Before they got divorced, Mel and her ex were always invited to the mayor’s annual charity holiday ball. The mayor’s daughter is a college friend of both of theirs. This year that no-good ex of Mel’s is taking his new lady. Word is, he proposed to her and they’ll be attending as doctor and fiancée.”
Frannie nodded as her sister spoke. “Yeah, we were trying to convince her to go anyway. ’Cause why should he have the satisfaction? But she had nothing to wear. We gave her an advance on her paycheck and told her to find the nicest dress she could afford.”
Ray sat silent, taking all this in. Several points piqued his interest, not the least of which being just how much these ladies seemed to care for the young lady who worked for them. Mel was clearly more than a mere employee. She was family and so they were beyond outraged on her behalf.
The other thing was that she’d been trying to tell him right there on the sidewalk about how important the dress was, and he hadn’t bothered to listen. He had just assumed that she’d hit her head and didn’t know what she was talking about. He felt guilt wash over him anew.
“I still wish there was a way she could go.” Greta shook her head with regret. “That awful man needs to know she don’t give a damn about him and that she’s still going to attend these events. With or without him.”
A heavy silence settled over the room before Frannie broke it with a clap of her hands. “You know, I got a great idea,” she declared to her sister with no small display of excitement.
“What’s that?”
“I know she don’t have anything to wear, but if she can figure that out, I think Ray here should take her.” She flashed a brilliant smile in his direction.
Greta gasped in agreement, nodding vehemently. “Ooh, excellent idea. Why, he’d make for the perfect date!”
Frannie turned to him, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. “It’s the least you can do. You did knock her on her keister.”
Greta nodded solemnly next to him.
This unexpected turn proved to take him off guard. Ray tried to muster what exactly to say. He was spared the effort.
Mel chose that moment to step into the room. It was clear she’d heard the bulk of the conversation. She looked far from pleased.
Mel pulled out a chair and tried to clamp down on her horror. She could hardly believe what she’d heard. As much as she loved the Perlman sisters, sometimes they went just a tad too far. In this case, they’d traveled miles. The last thing she wanted from any man, let alone a man the likes of Ray, was some kind of sympathy date. And she’d be sure to tell both the ladies that as soon as she got them alone.
For now, she had to try to hide her mortification from their overnight guest.
“How do you feel, dear?” Greta asked.
“Fine. Just fine.”
“The swelling seems to be going down,” Frannie supplied.
Mel merely nodded. She risked a glance at Ray from the corner of her eye. To his credit, he looked equally uncomfortable.
Frannie stood suddenly. “Well, the two of us should get downstairs and start prepping for the weekend diner crowd.” She rubbed Mel’s shoulder. “There’s still fresh coffee in the pot. You obviously have the day off.”
Mel started to argue, but Frannie held up a hand to stop her. Greta piped up from across the table. “Don’t even think about it. You rest and concentrate on healing. We can handle the diner today.”
Mel nodded reluctantly as the two sisters left the kitchen to go get ready for their morning. It was hard to stay aggravated with those two.
Except now she was alone with Ray. The awkwardness hung like thick, dense fog in the air. If she was smart, she would have walked away and pretended not to hear anything that was said.
Of all the...
What would possess Greta and Frannie to suggest such a thing? She couldn’t imagine what Ray must be feeling. They had put him in such a sufferable position.
To her surprise, he broke the silence with an apology. “I’m so terribly sorry, Mel.”
Great, he was apologizing for not taking her up on the sisters’ offer. Well, that got her hackles up. She wasn’t the one who had asked him to take her to the ball.
“There’s no need to apologize,” she said, perhaps a little too curtly. “I really had no intention of attending that party anyway. I hardly need a date for an event I’m not going to. Not that I would have necessarily said yes.” Now, why had she felt compelled to add that last bit?
Ray’s jaw fell open. “Oh, I meant. I just—I should have listened when you were trying to tell me about your dress. I didn’t realize you’d dropped your parcel.”
Mel suddenly realized her mistake. He was simply offering a general apology. He wasn’t even referring to the ball. She felt the color drain from her face from the embarrassment. If she could, she would have sunk through the floor and into another dimension. Never to be seen or heard from again. Talk about flattering oneself.
She cleared her throat, eager to change the subject. Although this next conversation was going to be only slightly less cringeworthy. “I was going to mention this last night, but you ended up staying the night.”
“Yes?”
“I know you paid for my hospital visit. I have every intention of paying you back.” Here was the tough part. “I, um, will just need to mail it to you. It’s a bit hard to reimburse you right at this moment.”
He immediately shook his head. “You don’t need to worry about that.”
“I insist. Please just let me know where I can mail a check as soon as I get a chance.”
“I won’t accept it, Mel.”
She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “You don’t understand. It’s important to me that I pay back my debts.” Unlike her ex-husband, she added silently.
He actually waved his hand in dismissal. “There really is no need.”
No need? What part about her feeling uncomfortable about being indebted to him was he unable to comprehend? His next words gave her a clue.
“Given your circumstances, I don’t want you to feel you owe me anything.”
Mel felt the surge of ire prickle over her skin. She should have known. His meaning couldn’t be clearer. Ray was no different than all the other wealthy people she’d known. Exactly like the ones who’d made her parents’ lives so miserable.
“My circumstances? I certainly don’t need your charity, if that’s what you mean.”
His eyes grew wide. “Of course not. I apologize. I meant no offense. I’m fluent, but English is my second language, after all. I simply meant that I feel responsible for you incurring the fees in the first place.”
“But you weren’t responsible. The cyclist was. And he’s clearly not available, so the responsibility of my hospital bill is mine and mine alone.”
He studied her through narrowed eyes. “Is it that important to you?”
“It is.”
He gave her a slight nod of acquiescence. “Then I shall make sure to give you my contact information before I leave so that you can forward reimbursement at your convenience.”
“Thank you.”
Ray cleared his throat before continuing, “Also, if you’ll allow me, I’d love to attend the Boston mayor’s annual holiday ball as your escort.”
CHAPTER THREE (#uc0f2ef26-0c5b-54e9-a156-6a3687cb6e1a)
MEL BLINKED AND gave her head a small shake, the action sending a pounding ache through her cheek straight up to her eye. In her shock, she’d forgotten how sore she was. But Ray had indeed just shocked her. Or maybe she hadn’t actually heard him correctly. Maybe she really did have a serious head injury that was making her imagine things.
“I’m sorry. What did you just say?”
His lips curved into a small smile and Mel felt a knot tighten in the depths of her core. The man was sinfully handsome when he smiled. “I said I’d like to attend the ball with you.”
She gently placed her coffee cup on the table in front of her. Oh, for heaven’s sake. She couldn’t wait to give Frannie and Greta a speaking-to. “You don’t need to do that, Ray. You also didn’t need to cover my expenses. And you didn’t need to stay last night. You’ve done more than enough already. Is this because I insist on repaying you?” she asked. How much of a charity case did he think she was? Mel felt her anger rising once more.
But he shook his head. “Has nothing to do with that.”
“The accident wasn’t even your fault.”
“This has nothing to do with the accident either.”
“Of course it does. And I’m trying to tell you, you don’t need to feel that you have to make anything up to me. Again, the accident yesterday was not your fault.”
He leaned closer to her over the table. “But you don’t understand. It would actually be something of a quid pro quo to take me to this ball. You’d actually be the one doing me a favor.”
Okay, that settled it. She knew she was hearing things. In fact, she was probably still back in Frannie and Greta’s guest room, soundly asleep. This was all a strange dream. Or maybe she’d accidentally taken too many painkillers. There was no way this could actually be happening. There was absolutely nothing someone like Mel could offer a man such as Ray. The idea that accompanying her to the ball would be a favor to him was ridiculous.
“Come again?”
“Allow me to explain,” Ray continued at her confused look. “I’m here on business on behalf of the king of Verdovia. He is looking to acquire some property in the Boston area. The type of people attending an event that the mayor is throwing are precisely the type of people I’d like to have direct contact with.”
“So you’re saying you actually want to go? To meet local business people?”
He nodded. “Precisely. And in the process, we can do the two-birds-killing.”
She was beginning to suspect they both had some kind of brain trauma. Then his meaning dawned on her. He was misstating the typical American idiom.
“You mean kill two birds with one stone?”
He smiled again, wider this time, causing Mel’s toes to curl in her slippers. “Correct. Though I never did understand that expression. Who wants to kill even one bird, let alone two?”
She had to agree.
“In any case, you help me meet some of these local business people, and I’ll make sure you stick your ex-husband.”
She couldn’t help it. She had to laugh. This was all so surreal. It was like she was in a completely different reality than the one she’d woken up in yesterday morning. “You mean stick it to.”
“That’s right,” he replied, responding to her laugh with one of his own.
For just a split second, she was tempted to say yes, that she’d do it. But then the ridiculousness of the whole idea made her pause. It was such a harebrained scheme. No one would believe Mel and someone like Ray were an actual couple. An unbidden image of the two of them dancing close, chest to chest, flashed in her mind. A curl of heat moved through the pit of her stomach before she squelched it. What a silly fantasy.
They clearly had nothing in common. Not that she would know with any real certainty, of course. She didn’t know the man at all.
“What do you think?” Ray prompted.
“I think there’s no way it would work. For one thing, we’ve barely met. You don’t know a thing about me and I don’t know a thing about you. I have no idea who you are. How would we even begin to explain why we’re at such an event together?”
A sly twinkle appeared in his eye. “That’s easy to fix. We should spend some time getting to know each other. Can I interest you in breakfast? I understand there’s an excellent eating establishment very nearby. Right downstairs, as a matter of fact.”
Greta seated them in a corner booth and handed him a large laminated menu. The giant smile on the older woman’s face gave every bit the impression that she was beyond pleased at seeing the two of them at breakfast together. Though she did initially appear quite surprised.
Well, Ray had also surprised himself this morning. He’d had no idea that he’d intended to ask to take her to the mayor’s ball until the words were actually leaving his mouth. Saleh would want to throttle him for such a foolish move. Oh, well, he’d worry about Saleh later. Ray’s reasons were sound if one really thought about it. So he’d exaggerated his need to meet local business leaders, considering he already had the contacts in Boston that he needed. But Mel didn’t know that or need to know that. And what harm would it do? What was so wrong about wanting to take her to the ball and hoping she’d have a good time there? Between the terrible accident yesterday and what he’d found out this morning about her past history, she could definitely use some fun, he figured. Even if it was only for a few hours.
Why he wanted to be the one to give that to her, he couldn’t quite explain. He found himself wishing he’d met her under different circumstances, at a different time.
Right. He would have to be a completely different person for it to make an iota of difference. The reality was that he was the crown prince of Verdovia. He’d been groomed since birth to be beholden to rules and customs and to do what was best for the kingdom. He couldn’t forget this trip was simply a temporary respite from all that.
This ball would give him a chance to do something different, out of the norm, if he attended as an associate of the royal family rather than as the prince. After all, wasn’t that why he was in the United Sates? For one final adventure. This was a chance to attend a grand gala without all the pressures of being the Verdovian prince and heir to the throne.
He asked Mel to order for them both and she did so before Greta poured them some more coffee and then left their booth, her smile growing wider by the second.
“All right,” Mel began once they were alone. “Tell me about yourself. Why don’t you start with more about what you do for a living?”
Ray knew he had to tread carefully. He didn’t want to lie to her, but he had to be careful to guard his true identity. Not only for his sake, but for hers, as well.
“You said something about acquiring real estate for the Verdovian royal family. Does that mean real estate is your main focus?” she asked.
Ray took a sip of his steamy beverage. He’d never had so much coffee in one sitting, but the Boston brew was strong and satisfying. “So to speak. I’m responsible for various duties in service of the king. He’d like to expand his American property holdings, particularly in metropolitan cities. He’s been eyeing various high-end hotels in the Boston area. I volunteered to fly down here to scope out some prospects and perhaps make an agreement.” Technically, he was telling her the complete truth.
Mel nodded. “I see. You’re definitely a heavy hitter.”
That wasn’t an expression that made immediate sense to him. “You think I hit heavy?”
“Never mind. Do you have a family?”
“My parents and two younger sisters.”
“What would you tell me about them?”
This part could get tricky if he wasn’t careful. He hated being on the slim side of deceitful but what choice did he have? And in the overall scheme of things, what did it hurt that Mel didn’t know he was a prince? In fact, he’d be glad to be able to forget the fact himself for just a brief moment in time.
“My father is a very busy man. Responsible for many people and lots of land. My mother is an accomplished musician who has studied the violin under some of Europe’s masters and composes her own pieces.”
Mel let out a low whistle. “Wow. That’s quite a pedigree,” she said in a near whisper. “How’d you end up picking such a high-profile career?”
He had to tread carefully answering that one. “It was chosen for me,” he answered truthfully.
She lifted an eyebrow. “You mean the king chose you?”
He nodded. Again, it was the complete truth. “There were certain expectations made of me, being the only son of the family.”
“Expectations?”
“Yes. It was a given that I would study business, that I would work in a career that led to the further wealth and prosperity of our island kingdom. Otherwise...”
The turn in conversation was throwing him off. Mel’s questions brought up memories he hadn’t given any consideration to in years.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/nina-singh-6405934/christmas-with-her-secret-prince/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.