A Princess Next Door (Rothman Royals Book 1) (3 page)

“Just go to buy a suit tomorrow.”

“I hate shopping.” He was scowling, and it was clear that
shopping was just as distasteful to him as banquets were. “But I guess I’ll
have to. You don’t want to come and pick something out for me, do you?”

“I will, if you want me to.” Next week was the last week of
school, and then the following was exam week. But I only had one final to take,
since the other classes culminated with major projects, and I’d turned in the
last of my projects that morning. The final exam in Modern European History I
could do in my sleep, so I had absolutely nothing I needed to do until
graduation except sit through a few boring classes. “But how hard can it be to
pick out a suit.”

“It can be hard. Believe me.”

I laughed. “Then I will help you. I’m sure you will look
very handsome in a good suit.” I’d mostly been teasing, although I knew for
sure that Jack would look breathtaking in a suit.

“You think so?” he asked, his voice a little huskier than
before.

I was suddenly trapped by his gaze again. “Yes. I do.”

He leaned a little closer. “Just so you know, I really want
to kiss you.”

I gulped, my skin breaking out in a little bumps from my
excitement and rising desire. I tried to speak but couldn’t say anything.

He gave me a little smile and stepped back. “Just letting
you know.”

***

The next day, I was leaning against
a wall in the dressing room of a department store, waiting for Jack to try on a
suit.

We’d gone to a big shopping center not too far away, and I’d
tried to get him to go into one of the nicer men’s stores, but he flat-out
refused anything that looked too “rich and fancy.” So we’d settled on a
department store that I knew carried a wide selection of decent designers.

Jack had grumbled the whole time we’d browsed the men’s
department, and he’d frowned at the three suits I’d picked out for him to try
on. I would have been offended by his reaction, but I knew his problem was with
the idea of a suit rather than the particular choices I’d made for him.

“How long does it take for you to put on a suit?” I asked
through the door, after I’d waited for what felt like an excessively long time.

“The first one was too tight in the shoulders,” he replied
gruffly.

“I could go get you a different—”

“I didn’t like it anyway. This one is okay. I guess.”

I tried not to chuckle at how aggrieved he sounded. He was
such a nice, agreeable guy. Who would have expected for him to put up a fuss
about something as simple as wearing a suit?

“Well, let me see it,” I told him. When he didn’t reply, I
added, “Jack. Open the door.”

He did as I said with a stifled grumble, and I stared at him
as he stepped outside.

He looked incredibly handsome in the well-made black suit.
It fit over his broad shoulders and athletic body exactly right, and he looked far
more polished and sophisticated than he normally looked.

“Well?” he demanded with a frown, when I did nothing but
stare.

“It’s great,” I managed to say, forcing my eyes back up to
his face. “You should get that one.”

He tugged at the collar of the shirt I’d picked out for him
to wear with the suit. “Does it have to be so uncomfortable?”

I smothered a teasing laugh. “Once you have to wear bras and
high heels, then you can complain about uncomfortable clothes.”

Jack perked up at my comment—probably at the mention of
bras. “Are you going to try on any of those today?”

I laughed out loud. “Definitely not.”

“Are you sure? I’d be happy to tell you how you look in
them.”

“I think I’m well enough stocked in bras and heels for the
moment. Change clothes again, and we’ll buy your suit.”

It didn’t take long for Jack to change into his jeans and
T-shirt, so soon we were standing in a short line at the register. Jack was
still occasionally complaining about the suit he had to wear, and I was leaning
against him without thinking anything about it. His hand was resting on my
back, and it felt strangely familiar—like it should have been there all along
and I’d been missing it all this time.

I was telling myself to straighten up and not get ideas I
could never indulge in when I noticed two teenaged girls who’d been browsing
through the jewelry department nearby.

They weren’t looking at jewelry now. They were looking at
me.

Their expressions immediately made me nervous. I’d seen
those looks before—usually in Europe where it was more likely for someone to
recognize me. I turned my head so they couldn’t see my face as clearly, but I
kept glancing toward them through my hair.

They were both looking at something on one of their
phones—their eyes shifting from the screen of the phone and up to me over and
over again.

I felt a chill of bleak anxiety.

I’d made it this far with no one recognizing me. Surely it
wasn’t going to all fall apart now.

No one in the States had even heard of Villemont, much less
recognized the oldest princess of the royal family. No one here cared about me
at all, and I’d enjoyed the feeling of anonymity for the first time in my life.

I straightened up and turned my back on the girls, praying
they’d give up and move on.

Jack’s expression changed as he studied my face. “What’s
wrong?”

“Nothing.” I smiled up at him, hoping he wouldn’t notice the
girls.

He noticed them. A frown deepened on his face as he stared
in their direction, over my shoulder. “Do you know those girls?”

I glanced back, as if I hadn’t been aware of them before.
“No. I don’t think so. Why?”

“They’re staring at you.” He scowled in their direction, and
I was pleased to see that it scared them off. They turned away from us and
focused on the jewelry again, both of them giggling a little nervously.

Jack looked like he was going to say something else, but
fortunately it was our turn at the cash register, so he was distracted by
paying for his suit.

I tried to push the episode out of my mind, but I couldn’t
help but wonder how teenagers in Minnesota could possibly know who I was.

***

We were on our way back to the car
when I noticed a large store at the end of the strip to our right. “That’s your
store, isn’t it?”

Jack glanced over at the sporting goods store. “It’s not
really mine.”

“It’s one of the stores for your company?”

“Yeah. It is.”

“It’s huge.”

“We’ve grown a lot in the last ten years.” He sounded
casual, as if the growth of the business wasn’t all that important, but I knew
he worked very hard. He hadn’t just inherited his position as head of the
company. He’d more than earned it. When his father had died, there had been
five stores, and now there were eleven, spanning three different states.

“Let’s go in.” I’d never actually been into one of his
stores, since I wasn’t in the habit of buying sporting goods, but I suddenly
wanted to see it. I wanted to know more about him.

“Why bother?”

“I want to,” I said, widening my eyes as I looked up at him.
“Why won’t you go?”

“There’s always a big production when I go in.” He cleared
his throat, and evidently my pleading expression helped make up his mind. “All
right. Fine. We can go in. But don’t blame me if there’s a big hoopla.”

“Why would there be a hoop-la?” I’d never actually heard
that word before, but I thought I understood it from context.

“Don’t ask me. But there always is.” As he muttered, he took
my arm and steered me toward the store.

I understood what he meant by hoopla when we stepped inside.
An elderly man was acting as a greeter, but he recognize Jack immediately. “Mr.
Watson!” he exclaimed, his mouth breaking out in a smile. “Welcome, Mr. Watson!
We weren’t expecting you.”

“I’m just doing some shopping for fun,” Jack explained,
glancing around almost nervously, as if he expected some sort of onslaught.
“Don’t mind me.”

The man evidently didn’t take the last comment seriously. He
was calling out for Martha, who was evidently the manager on duty, and the
woman came running over with what looked like genuine excitement.

We ended up being greeted by nearly every employee in the
store, and Martha gave us an extended tour—which I understood to be for my
benefit, since Jack clearly knew his way around.

Jack kept giving me sheepish looks, as if apologizing for
the excessive attention, but I didn’t mind at all. I was often treated to this
sort of response when I entered establishments in Villemont, but it wasn’t
exactly the same.

People paid me and my family attention purely because of who
we were, because of our positions. But these people in the store weren’t just
sucking up to Jack. It was more than evident that they all sincerely liked him,
and they were pleased by his presence when they weren’t expecting him, as if
he’d done them a favor by coming to visit.

It made me strangely happy—this evidence that Jack was liked
and respected by so many people, from the manager down to the teenager who
worked in the stock room.

He deserved it. He was such a good man. I was so glad that
people other than me had recognized it too.

So I was feeling far fonder than was good for me and had
somehow ended up holding onto Jack’s arm as we were finally leaving the store.

“I told you,” Jack murmured dryly. “Hoopla.”

“I thought it was so nice. They all love you so much.”

He shrugged off the comment, but I could tell he’d kind of
liked it.

He was about to say something else when a college-aged
couple across the parking lot stopped suddenly and pointed at us.

Pointed at
me
.

They’d somehow recognized me too. Twice in one day.
Something was definitely going on.

“What the hell?” Jack muttered. “It’s like they think you’re
someone famous or something. Who do they think you are?”

A wave of cold fear washed over me. I could tell him now
that I was a princess of a tiny European country. Part of me wanted to confess
so I didn’t have to continue keeping this secret. But as soon as I told him, he
would look at me differently, treat me differently. Everyone always had all my
life. It was only here, where I could be anonymous, that I’d been treated like a
normal girl.

And I didn’t want Jack to treat me differently. I liked how
he treated me now. Like I was a real person, not just a princess.

“I have no idea,” I managed to say, pulling on his arm to
get him to keep walking toward his car. “Let’s get home. You’ve got your
banquet tonight, remember?”

“I remember.” He was still frowning toward the young couple,
but then he turned back to me with a look that was almost sly. “You’re coming
with me, aren’t you?”

I gasped. “What?”

“I’ll feel better about the whole thing if I have a date.”

“And you want me to go?”

“Of course. You picked out the suit, so you should probably
see it in action.”

I tried to make myself say no, but I simply didn’t want to.
I only had two more weeks with Jack as it was. I wanted as much time as I could
get. “Okay. I’ll go.”

***

When I got home and checked my
texts, I discovered why multiple people had recognized me in one day.

My brother, Henry, had sent me a message.
Mother’s been
at it again. Plotting to make sure you come home.
Then he sent me a link to
an article about the Rothman family in a popular magazine—focusing particularly
on the oldest princess who was going to college in Minneapolis. There were two
photos of me, one on a horse and one from a formal event where I’d been wearing
a crown.

I cringed at the number of times the article had been
shared. It was making the rounds on social media. No wonder I’d been recognized
twice. I was almost surprised more people hadn’t noticed.

My first instinct when upset was always to call my sister,
Victoria, who is just a year younger than me. I dialed her number and waited,
but she didn’t pick up. I left a short message and felt a twisting in my
stomach. She hadn’t picked up my calls a lot lately. I couldn’t help but wonder
why.

Then my mind returned to the more pressing anxiety.

What if Jack found out I was a princess? I felt kind of sick
but tried to reassure myself with the fact that he spent very little time on
social media, and he wasn’t the kind of guy who would read that magazine.

I couldn’t help but wonder what he’d think if he found out,
but I already knew the answer.

He hated wearing a suit. He hated going to banquets. He
hated any sort of hoopla or excessive attention.

There was no way in hell he’d want to hook up with a
princess.

Later that evening, as the banquet
was wrapping up, I was finally starting to relax.

I’d been on edge all night, always waiting for someone to
recognize me, but no one appeared to do so. Jack acted exactly as he always
had, and none of the well-dressed people who approached us to chat treated me
as anything other than Jack’s date.

The formal part of the banquet was over—it had been one of
those annual ceremonies for a business association Jack belonged to, and he’d
had to attend because he was presenting the award for volunteer of the year—and
I’d wandered over to look out a window on my own because Jack had gotten pulled
into a private work discussion.

I’d made it through the evening. Nothing disastrous had
happened. And I’d enjoyed seeing how much the other attendees liked and respected
Jack, no matter how uncomfortable he was in his new suit.

I was starting to daydream about staying on a couple of
extra weeks to go to the Renaissance art seminar my professor had told me about
yesterday—and spend time with Jack a little longer—when I felt an arm slip
around me from behind.

“Your hair looks darker pulled up that way,” Jack murmured
against my ear.

He shouldn’t be touching me the way he was, but I liked it
too much to pull away. “Yes. I, uh, had some more low lights put in.”

My hair is naturally blond like the rest of my family’s, and
I’d always worn it very long. But I’d cut it to shoulder-length and added some
low lights to make it darker when I moved to the States, thinking it might make
me look different. That afternoon, after I’d gotten the text from Henry, I’d
made a last minute appointment at a salon to darken my hair even more, and then
I’d pulled it up in a tight bun at the nape of my neck so I’d look as different
as possible from those pictures online.

So far, it seemed to have worked.

“Well, you look gorgeous either way,” Jack said. I could
hear a smile in his voice.

I sighed and lowered my hands to his arms, thinking I would
pull them away from me. But once my hands reached his forearms, they couldn’t
do what they were supposed to do, so I ended up just holding onto him.

“What’s the matter?” Jack asked, when I didn’t say anything.

“Nothing.”

“Something has been wrong with you this evening. You’ve
been…I don’t know, on edge or something.”

I’d hoped he wouldn’t notice my low-level of anxiety, but
evidently that hope was futile. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not because everyone thinks we’re together, is it? You
know how people are. If you’re someone’s date, they assume you’re a couple. But
it doesn’t mean—”

“I know,” I interrupted, turning back to look at him. “It’s
not that at all.”

“Then what’s the matter?” He’d kept his arms around me when
I turned around, so now he was hugging me gently, staring down at my face.
“Amalie, I want to know.”

I wanted to tell him. So much. But it would change
everything and take away these last weeks I had with him. “You’re imagining
things,” I said, smiling teasingly to lighten the words.

“I can tell when something’s wrong.”

“Can you? You don’t know me that well, you know.”

“Yes, I do. I know you very well.” He was smiling too, but
the look in his eyes was still sober. He was serious about this, and it made my
chest ache.

“We’ve been neighbors for a year and friends for less than a
month. You can’t know everything about someone else in that length of time.”

“I know enough. Ask me anything about yourself.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Ask me a question about you, and I bet I’ll get the right
answer.” His mouth was curling up at the corner now, proving his sober mood was
lifting.

“What’s my brother’s name?”

“You can’t ask me about something you refuse to tell me. I’d
know the answer to that if you’d ever opened up about your family.”

That was true. Entirely fair. So I didn’t argue with his
objection. Instead, I asked, “What’s my favorite color?”

“Pink,” he said immediately. “It’s the color you wear the
most.”

I gave him a playful scowl, since he’d gotten the answer
right. “Who’s my favorite writer?”

“Jane Austen.”

I gasped. “How did you know that? I’ve never talked to you
about books.”

He was chuckling now, his eyes taking on that soft look I
loved. “But I’ve looked at your bookcase, and I saw which books got the place
of honor between those fancy bookends.”

“Damn it,” I muttered, feeling far more affectionate than I
should and trying to hide it. “Okay, you’ll never get this one. When did I lose
my virginity?”

I’m not sure why I shifted the topic to sex. Or maybe I did
know. But I recognized that smolder in his eyes, and it prompted a responding
feeling in me.

“When you were nineteen,” he murmured thickly, after a few
moments.

My whole body jerked. “How could you possibly know that?”

He laughed uninhibitedly, pulling me into a brief hug. “It
was just a guess. I’m as surprised as you that I got it right.”

“But how could you guess?”

“I told you. I know you. You’re careful, and you’re private,
and you’re really guarded about your heart. I figured you’d lose your virginity
later than some other women, but you don’t seem like the traditional type, so I
didn’t think you’d wait a really long time. It was just a guess.”

 I gazed up at him, marveling that he actually did know me
as well as he claimed. I hadn’t thought anyone but my family knew me that well.

And there were even some doubts about my family.

“What else do you know about me?” I asked, slightly
breathless.

He cupped my cheek with his big, warm hand. “I know that
you’re torn between what your family expects of you and what you really want to
do. I know you don’t want to betray them, but that you also don’t think what
they want for you is right. I think, at heart, you believe in doing what’s best
for you, so I think you’re going to stay for that seminar.”

My eyes blurred over slightly. “I wish I could.”

“You can. You just have to be brave enough to do it. You’re
braver than you know yourself to be, so I think you’re going to stay.”

My knees almost buckled from the wave of feeling that rushed
over me. “Maybe I will.”

Jack was smiling as he tilted his head down to very gently
brush his lips against mine. “If you need any help or encouragement, I’m your
man.”

***

The following evening, I was sitting
on the floor of Jack’s apartment, leaning back against his couch and eating a
piece of pizza.

I’d eaten more pizza in the last month than I ever had in my
life.

That was because of Jack.

This evening, I was dressed comfortably in yoga pants, a
tank top, and a thin oversized blouse that I hadn’t buttoned up. Jack never
dressed up for me so I figured there was no sense in dressing up for him.

I liked being comfortable. Growing up, it had only been in
private when I’d been able to be comfortable.

The television was on at the moment because Jack wanted to
see the score of a game.

I’ve never been a big fan of sports, except for football—or
soccer as they call it here in the States—and that was only because my brother,
Henry, had played all his life. But Jack liked to watch sports on TV, and I saw
no reason not to let him at the moment.

I wasn’t paying any attention to the television anyway. I
was still thinking about the painful conversation I’d had with my mother this
afternoon, when I’d told her I was staying for two extra weeks to take the Renaissance
art seminar.

“Stop brooding,” Jack said out of the blue. His eyes never
strayed from the television screen, where an announcer was babbling enthusiastically.
“You told her. The worst is over.”

“I’m not sure it was the worst. Once she has time to think
it through, she’ll come up with some plot to get me to change my mind.”

Jack’s eyes shifted briefly to my face. “Is she really that
manipulative?”

“Manipulative doesn’t even come close.”

“Nothing you can do about it, then. Just let her do her thing,
and you do your thing.”

“It’s not as easy as that. She doesn’t let herself be
ignored.”

“That’s not the real problem.”

“What’s the real problem?”

“You feel guilty, like you betrayed them or something.”

I sighed, realizing he was right. Of course I felt guilty. I
loved my family, and I wanted to make them happy—even my mother.

It was just that what they wanted from me wasn’t going to
make
me
happy.

“And you’re scared because you’ve never lived without a
safety net.”

I sucked in a quick breath as he added the comment in an
almost lazy tone. “What do you mean?”

He met my eyes. “What do you think I mean? You’ve always had
a fall-back plan, a safety net. And it’s scary to think of living life without
it.”

“It’s not about that. It’s about not wanting to hurt my
family. I love them, you know.”

“I’m not saying you should cut them out of your life
completely,” Jack added, studying my face, as if searching for what I was
thinking. “You can keep trying to make them understand. But I don’t think you
should let them make you do something that doesn’t feel right for you.”

“I know. I’m trying not to. It’s just…hard, when you were
raised to believe your whole purpose was duty to your family.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, and the corner of his mouth
twitched up. “Your family is really kind of different, aren’t they?”

I couldn’t help but laugh, feeling better for no good
reason. “Uh, yes, they are.”

Jack smiled at me before he turned back to focus on sports
again. I noticed his shirt looked new. It was a short-sleeved gray crew-neck,
and I was sure I hadn’t seen him wear it before. It looked good on him,
stretching across his broad shoulders and making him look more well-dressed
than his old T-shirts. Even his dress shirts were usually slightly wrinkled. I
decided he should wear shirts like this one more often.

I had seen his jeans before, though. They were Jack’s
favorites. They fit his trim hips, muscular thighs and long legs perfectly—not
too tight or too baggy—and the denim had grown soft and thin from constant
wear. He even had shoes on this evening, something he never wore in his own
apartment. I might have thought he’d made an effort in his appearance tonight,
but he looked bristlier than normal.

“Did you shave this morning?”

He blinked and idly rubbed his lower face with one hand—I
could hear the grate of his whiskers against his fingers. “I think so.”

“It doesn’t look like it.”

He gave a half-shrug. “I always shave. Sometimes twice a
day.”

“When you have a hot date?”

That made him shift his eyes to me, his expression changing
almost imperceptibly. “Yes. That’s usually when I shave twice. Why?”

“I don’t know. I was just wondering.”

His attention was focused on me completely now, and the
expression in his brown eyes grew warmer. “Just so you know, hanging out with
you is as hot as it gets for me.”

Something about the way his voice thickened unsettled me. I
leaned back, away from him. “We don’t do anything hot.”

“Maybe. But the more time I spend with you, the better my
chances are of taking you to bed.”

I gulped and flushed hotly. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t touched
me. All he’d done was look at me with that lazy, smoldering look.

But it was enough to make me melt into the floor. “You
shouldn’t talk like that,” I mumbled, letting my loose hair fall over my
shoulder so I could use it for a little cover.

His lips widened into an amused grin. “Why are you
embarrassed? I’ve told you all along I’m interested in you.”

“I know. But I told you there’s no future.”

His expression relaxed into a half-smile. “Do you hear me
asking for a future? I’m not suggesting we’re destined to be eternal soul
mates.”

“You just want to have sex?” I stared at him, hardly able to
process that this big, sexy man was sitting beside me, acting like it was normal
to discuss whether or not we should sleep together.

He leaned forward, evidently having forgotten about sports
completely. It was a minor victory, but one I was quite pleased about.
“Whatever we do,” Jack said matter-of-factly, “we do it honestly, being
up-front about our intentions.”

I was breathing more quickly now, and my cheeks were still
painfully warm. He was talking like it was going to happen, like we were going
to…

And I was getting nervous and excited, as if I believed it
too.

“I’m not sure…” I swallowed hard. “I’m not sure I want to.”

“Don’t lie to me—or to yourself. We both know you
do
want to.”

I sucked in a sharp breath, torn between indignation and
rising excitement.

Then he added with another wry smile, “But I get it. Having
sex with me would blow your mind, and you might not ever get over it. I
understand not wanting to take the chance.”

I burst into laughter at his unexpected words. “Would you
stop it?” I gasped, reaching out to put a companionable hand on his chest. “You
arrogant man.”

We were smiling at each other now, and the smile went on
until something changed in the mood between us. My hand grew still on his shirtfront,
the soft texture of the cotton oddly sensual, particularly when paired with the
solid strength of the chest beneath it. I fisted my hand unconsciously, my
fingers clenching around a handful of fabric.

When I realized what I was doing, I flattened my hand again
immediately and slid it down toward his belly in a friendly stroke.

His abdomen was hard too. All of him was hard. And big. And
masculine.

And so different from anything else I’d ever known.

I jerked my hand back and stared at the television, trying
to slow my breathing. When I glanced over at him at last, I saw his gaze had
turned hotter than ever.