Paris and the Prince: A BWWM Billionaire Romance (Royal Weddings Book 1) (7 page)

Q
ueen Catriona was
the first of the royal family to become aware of what was happening in Paris, and that was only because her assistant was addicted to trashy gossip websites, or as Celia liked to refer to them, “the voice of the people.”

Usually, Queen Cat would just tune Celia out as she rambled on about whatever celebrity nonsense was in the news that day. But today, when Celia rushed in to the Queen's dressing room in a state of total panic, Cat was forced to pay attention.

“Cat... I mean, Your Highness! I saw! I mean... Did you see? Have you heard? I can't believe! Has anyone told you?”

Celia was practically turning blue from lack of air as she spewed forth a torrent of questions that assumed Cat had a knowledge of whatever Celia was rambling about. She did not.

“Celia, for god's sake. Calm down. Clearly, I have no idea what it is you're talking about or I'd be as... fluttery as you. So please take a few breaths and tell me what is going on.”

Celia shoved her tablet in Cat's face with a shaking hand, and when Cat saw the headline, she collapsed into the chair in front of her vanity.

Royal Prince Steps Out on Fiancée with Unknown American!

Catriona looked up at Celia with the wide eyes of a deer caught in the headlights of a Mac truck. From the look on Celia's face, her usual lust for gossip had been hampered by the personal connection this particular bit had to her own life. Cat looked at Celia for some sort of lifeline.

“Is this true? Or is this just some made-up scandal by an internet smut rag? Surely it’s made up. This must be one of those—what is it called? Photo-shop things?”

Celia shook her head vehemently, tears welling in her eyes. Dalvana had always prided itself on its lack of scandal, and its commitment to the old ways of conducting themselves as a royal family—not like those trashy British royals who were in and out of the tabloids, or worse, the royal family of Monaco, who were one step above trailer trash in her estimation.

For generations, while the royals of Dalvana had been joined through arranged marriages, they had been happy. They had loved each other, and if they hadn't loved each other, they had at least respected one another and put on a good face in public. Cheating was never even considered, let alone acted upon. And while Alexander and Whitney may not have been married yet, it wouldn't change anything about the way the citizens would react to this when word officially got out.

“This isn't one of my gossip sites, my Queen. It's a slightly more reputable news site from the States, and they have... a lot of pictures.”

Cat slumped down in her chair, her head in her hand, not even remotely prepared for the tawdriness of the pictures, let alone an entire article full of her son’s disgrace. With a sigh of defeat, she reached out a hand for Celia's device.

“Just let me read it. I might as well get it over with.”

The first picture Cat saw was of Alexander in casual wear, the kind of clothes he never got away with wearing when he was on diplomatic missions. He had a girl in his arms, a young black woman, a very pretty girl in a carefree and voluptuous sort of way, but a girl who was without a doubt
not
the poised, pale and near-skeletal Whitney.

Alexander was kissing her on the head, and even with his sunglasses on, even with only half of his face visible, Cat could tell that her son was blissful with this girl in his arms.

Catriona looked at Celia, and she could tell they were both thinking the same thing.

Alex never looked happy. Dutiful, strained, and put-upon, yes. Polite, bored, distracted, and diplomatic, yes. But happy? Euphoric? Never.

But he did in these pictures.

When Cat started reading the article, she felt her stomach drop. She could practically hear the phone ringing in her husband's office.

Parisians were shocked today when they saw Prince Alexander of Dalvana snuggling up to a woman who WASN'T his royal fiancée, Whitney Bishop-St.Claire of Estia. Spotted in the famous Jardin des Plantes, the popular prince was seen embracing a mysterious woman with an American accent.

Prince Alexander's actual fiancée, Whitney Bishop-St.Claire, is also currently in Paris for the premiere of her first clothing line at Fashion Week. Word from the scene is that the line was a huge hit and attended by some of the most popular fashion insiders!

We've reached out to the Royal Family of Dalvana for comment and haven't heard back... More news as it develops.

Catriona set the tablet on her lap and looked up at Celia with a look of pure exhaustion.

“Is any of this true? Did anyone contact us for comment?”

Celia shook her head sadly.

“I haven't heard anything. And I put in a call to the press secretary to see if they know anything about this woman. They are scrambling to find out whatever they can.”

Cat stood up from her vanity and wrapped her silk robe around her shoulders as she began to leave the room. Celia chased after her immediately, but Catriona held up her hand to stop her.

“I'm going to talk to my husband. You should stay here. It's not going to be pretty.”

P
aris took in a deep
, long breath of the delicious sea air, and she felt her head begin to swim with the luxuriousness of it. Even with her hair wrapped in a luxurious silk scarf, she could feel of the wind whipping around her as the Audi R8 convertible sped down quaint seaside roads made her feel as if she were in an old movie, a romance of which she was the star in spite of her humble beginnings. Even as Paris thought back to the events that lead her to this moment, they felt so foreign, she could scarcely believe it, as if she were leading someone else's life.

After Alex and Paris had left the botanical gardens and returned to the hotel to get ready for dinner, Alex had come out of the bedroom with his phone in his hand and a funny look on his face. Despite the fact that she was sipping from a wide-rimmed glass of brandy, something about the panic in his eyes... it made her own stomach flip-flop in a way that was entirely foreign to her.

Paris was used to the panic she felt before a big exam or a practical lab experiment, but getting stressed out over a man was well-beyond her standard emotional capabilities. Yet, looking at Alex, holding his phone, clearly wracked with fear, Paris felt sick.

But then, Alex took a deep breath, and smiled that dazzling smile at Paris, sending all of her worries flittering away from her mind. Alex walked over, poured himself a brandy, then sat down next to Paris on the plush couch.

“So, I have a kind of crazy proposition for you. I just got a call that my services are needed in Arcachon. It's a small seaside city near Bordeaux. Would you... be interested in accompanying me there? Just for a day or two? We'd be back in plenty of time for you to make your classes. We don't even have to take a plane. It's only a five hour drive from here.”

The excitement in Paris' eyes and pure happiness in her smile filled Alex with a guilt that he couldn't have expressed with words, even if he'd been able to share everything with her.

When Alex had returned to his phone, there was just enough battery power left for him to read an email from Whitney...

You bastard.

The show was a disaster.

I don't know where you are, but I will find you if I have to go to every hotel in Paris and threaten every bastard concierge from one end of the city to another.

You are going to pay for this, Alexander. And I don't mean with money.

~W

Alex didn't know much about Whitney, but he knew one thing: she didn't bluff. She was probably already tearing her way across Paris, leaving a trail of terrified service industry workers in her wake. It wouldn't be long before she darkened the doorstep of the Manoir, and it wouldn't matter how much Alex attempted to bribe the hotel staff with... Whitney's rage was a far more effective truth serum than any amount of money Alex could shell out.

So, staying was not an option. However, the Lennox family had long been in possession of many different properties throughout Europe, and it just so happened that one home was in Arcachon, a conveniently located short drive away from Paris, away from Whitney and her anger.

But now, with the brilliant sun setting, illuminating the sky in the most gorgeous shades of pink and orange, turning the water a perfect shade of purple, Alex felt his panic melting away. Paris had fallen asleep in the passenger seat, so she didn't see the small placard at the end of driveway bearing the family name...

La Villa Lennox, PRIVÉ

Alex punched eight numbers into the code box, opening a massive iron gate, as if it were waving “hello” to an old friend. The crunch of the gravel under the Audi roused Paris from her slumber, and she yawned and stretched as the villa came into view. Even through her sleepy eyes, what she saw, bathed in setting sunlight, took her breath away...

T
he house
, if you could even call it just a “house,” was like nothing Paris had ever seen in her life. It almost looked like a miniaturized castle, covered top to bottom in soft white stones, and peppered with huge windows, each with its own tiled mosaic decorating it. A tower on the right side of the house featured floor-to-ceiling windows, each with their own balcony. In fact, the whole house was covered in balconies, all of which had their own different views of the ocean or the villa's natural swimming pool, or the gorgeous grassy acres of wooded land.

From the driveway, Paris could just make out the canopied outdoor bed, which overlooked the pool. When Paris went to speak, she was worried that she might not be able to form proper words.

“Alex... this place... it's like a dream! How do you... What are we even doing here?”

Alex put the car in park and jumped out of the R8, hoping to deflect any other questions as he mumbled, “Oh, you know how it is. Family, friends... whatnot.”

No,
she thought wryly,
I most definitely do NOT know…

Paris tried to argue, but she was still too in awe of everything around them to think up the right phrases. She just crawled out of the car and stared up, jaw agape, at the house. With both of their bags slung over his shoulder, Alex walked up beside Paris and took her hand in his own.

“It's getting pretty cold out here. Would you like to go inside? Maybe start a fire? Or we can just stand out here all night, if you'd prefer.”

Paris gently punched Alex's shoulder before he leaned over and kissed her softly on the cheek. Paris was still so distracted by the beauty of the house's facade that she barely noticed as Alex unlocked the front door and punched in an elaborate alarm code. It wasn't until Alex pulled her inside the house that she became aware of how completely different the internal design of the house was from the outside.

The furniture and art were modern and bright, dazzling shades of teal and brown that set off the beautiful hardwood floors. Soft grey curtains accented every window, giving the main rooms a cozy warmth that Paris wanted to melt into.

As Alex set down the bags and went about lighting the two main fireplaces in the living room, Paris began exploring the rest of the downstairs. First, she wandered into the kitchen, a wide-open space with a dual-view fireplace and sparkling stainless steel appliances. Large double windows with weathered shutters flung open filled the spaces over the sink and stove, bathing the room in the soft light of the setting sun that was reflecting off the ocean.

Next, Paris found herself in a magnificent library. Built-in mahogany bookshelves took up every space on the wall, except for the area occupied by a gorgeous marble fireplace and one huge window, which looked out over the lawn.

Antique rugs and leather arm chairs decorated every inch of the room, and a few family photos in opulent frames were scattered across table tops.

Paris picked up one of the photos: three young boys, close in age and remarkably similar in appearance, riding horses on a beach as a handsome man ran alongside them, laughing. She couldn't help but notice that the oldest of the boys looked strikingly like a smaller version of Alex...

Paris found her thoughts interrupted when Alex poked his head in the library.

“Hungry? I can make us some dinner if you'd like.”

Paris smiled and nodded her head, distracted from her thoughts of the picture by her suddenly ravenous appetite.

A
lex had called ahead
to the skeleton staff that was in residence when the family was not in town, asking them to air out the house and supply it with everything he needed. He had then asked them to make themselves scarce. The staff were well trained, and did not ask any questions. Royalty was mercurial if nothing else, that was certain.

Paris quickly discovered that Alex was as skilled in the kitchen as he was at everything else. She sat at the bar, head resting on her hands, and watched as Alex chopped and sautéed and broiled.

The warm kitchen was filled with the smells of roasting chicken and rosemary and garlic, making Paris' mouth water. They sipped large glasses of thick burgundy wine, and talked quietly as the moon rose higher over the ocean in the distance. The rich wine on her empty stomach was making her bold, and she took advantage of it.

“So tell me the truth, Alex. You're a world-renowned international spy, aren't you? Do you have a license to kill? Or are you a skilled art thief? Or the illegitimate son of some reclusive billionaire?” Paris teased him, but she was serious about wanting answers. “You can't really just work for the government? Can you?”

Alex smiled softly as he refilled Paris' wine glass. He didn't want to lie to her, but it was getting more and more difficult to remain vague.

“I swear, Paris. I am just government official. My position just comes with certain... perks.”

Paris looked around the kitchen, glancing through to the beautiful living room, and taking in the magnificent views from the kitchen windows.

“Perks? An upgrade to Economy Plus on international flights is a 'perk.' This... this is heaven, Alex. I’m expecting 72 virgins to arrive next.”

Alex's warm laugh filled the room as he leaned over to pull the roast chicken out of the oven. The smell of it was so overwhelming, Paris felt all of her curiosity melting away, and giving way to pure hunger. Alex set the chicken on the counter, filling plates with sautéed vegetables, chicken, and thick French bread. As he set the plates down on the bar, he handed Paris a fork and grinned.

“I promise I am not lying to you.” He was looking at her very seriously, looking into her eyes. “I do work for the government, and this house belongs to another government official, but I am allowed to use it. Now, do you want to talk about my incredibly boring job all night or do you want to eat?”

Paris believed he was telling her the truth—but she also sensed it wasn’t the
whole
truth. He was still hiding something from her, but she could be patient… she would get the answers from him eventually, some way or another.

O
nce the table was cleared
, the dishes were washed and put away, and the last of the wine had been drunk, Paris stretched her arms out wide, yawning so big it enveloped her. Alex reached out and tousled her hair, and Paris playfully slapped him away, but she found herself yawning again.

Full of delicious dinner, her head swimming with wine, suddenly, Paris could barely keep her eyes open. Alex kissed her softly on the head before he swooped her up from the bar stool, wrapping her arms around his neck and tucking his hand under knees. She sleepily let her head rest on Alex's shoulder as he walked toward the stairs leading to the tower room.

“I thought the prince was supposed to rescue the princess from the tower... Not take her there,” Paris muttered sleepily, still awake enough to tease him.

Alex felt a pang of guilt at Paris' choice of words.
If only she knew...
he thought.

“Not this time, princess. The tower is the only place fit for a beautiful princess like you.”

When they reached the top of the stairs and Alex used his foot to open the door, Paris saw what he meant. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of the room in front of them. She had never seen anything like it in her life.

Situated on the edge of a peninsula, the bedroom had a 360 degree panoramic view of the ocean and the nature preserve surrounding them. Floor-to-ceiling windows, as well as a pair of French doors leading out to a balcony, filled every space.

The bedroom looked as if it had been lit with pure starlight, so bright was the moon over the ocean, beams streaming in from the skylights above. A king-sized bed backed up to one set of windows, giving the illusion that it was almost floating in midair. The bed was covered in thick purple blankets and quilts, with dozens of pillows piled high against the cool glass. Set on gold nightstands were gently flickering candles, which filled the room with the scent of night-blooming jasmine.

As the moonlight and jasmine filled her senses, Paris became acutely aware...

No one would be sleeping tonight.

He laid her gently on the bed, as if he was laying a goddess upon an altar. Alex's hands were magic on her body as they caressed the contours of her shoulders and traced the length of her spine.

He slowly, worshipfully, began removing her clothing. She moved to help him, and he stopped her.

“Shhh…” He placed one finger gently on her full lips as she moved to protest. “Let me have the pleasure. I want to see you—every inch of you. I want to unwrap you, like a present.”

Paris let herself be maneuvered, this way and that, as he gently undressed her. He rained kisses on each limb he exposed, and then made his way to her belly, loving every inch of her full hips and curves.

Alex began his similar ministrations to her breasts, and his dancing fingers lingered over the curve of her stomach, and then delved deeper. Paris was almost certain she'd died and gone to heaven.

Alex lowered himself to his knees, hands skirting the outside of her hips. She almost begged him to touch that most secret, sacred space–the tender nub between her thighs.

“You’re wet.” Alex smiled. She wanted him as much as he wanted her.

Society told her that she should feel ashamed of exposing herself this way, of allowing her less-than-perfect body to be seen in all its glory, and yet here she was sprawled shamelessly and enticingly, an open invitation to the stranger who had claimed her as his own.

“You are so fucking beautiful, do you know that?” Alex whispered softly, his husky voice filled with longing. His hands were still slipping between her thighs, and Paris' knees begin to tremble.

Paris reached for him as he straddled her, finding his cock swollen inside his trousers. She leaned back, Alex's strong arms encircling her, and she turned her head to him. Alex's mouth descended on hers and she groaned softly as he claimed her tongue.

His hand trailed down, softly playing with her left nipple so that the little bud hardened in pleasure.

“Oh, God," she whispered into his ear.

Alex looked down at her, smiling devilishly as he lowered himself once more to play with the soft curls at the entrance to her pussy.

Paris placed her hands lightly on his head as he leaned forward to put his mouth against the swollen clit and her delicate petals. She gripped his hair with her fingers, gasping for air as she said, “Oh please yes, just like that."

She arched her back and he played with her, torturing her with pleasure. She took in deep, rattling breaths, and let out a little air as his hands reached up and wrapped around her breasts.

She spread her legs shamelessly to allow Alex greater access. His tongue flicked over her little bud, her cleft an open invitation to him. Paris jerked against him, her movements causing his cock to grow ever harder.

Alex slid two fingers up her pussy. It was so tight and she could feel the tremors starting low in her belly as he gently played with her channel. Paris bucked wildly against him, her grip never leaving his hair as she moaned her pleasure at his onslaught. Alex's tongue was a delight on her soft flesh as he explored every crevice.

He flicked his tongue back and forth as fast as he could, and Paris began to squirm as Alex placed his hands beneath her ass and lifted her up to devour her more completely. His entire mouth was on her and she gasped.

Her orgasm overtook her, surprising her with its strength, and she raised her head as she moaned. She cried out with her release as his tongue worked feverishly over her engorged clit. Alex's fingers were teasing her pussy as he thrust first one then another finger in her slit. And then when she thought she could take no more he thrust another digit deep into her soaking wet pussy and she thrust her hips back and forth against his questing hand.

Paris cried out in joy and her body bucked beneath him.

What happened next was nothing that she expected. She was coming down from her orgasm but he didn’t allow her any respite. Alex lifted himself over Paris, and she looked at him, wide-eyed with hunger, begging him to fill her completely.

He positioned her hips so that they lined up with his, and with a sure thrust his spear found its sheath. She gasped again, marveling at the breadth and width of him. She had never felt so filled and so stretched, his cock filling every inch of her pussy as if she had been made specifically for him.

Alex lowered his head and gave one of her nipples a quick lick, as her full breasts swayed tantalizingly below him like ripe cherries waiting to be plucked. The thrusting jolts of his hips took on an even rhythm that shook her to her core, and Paris was shocked to find herself shuddering again in an unexpected orgasm, almost as she was coming off the waves of her previous one.

Alex looked deep in her eyes and his hand went to her face, drawing her chin up so that she could stare into his eyes. His cock continued its even thrusting deep within her pussy. “I have never wanted anyone the way I want you.“ He looked at her seriously making sure that she understood what he was saying. “I don’t think I could ever stop wanting you.“

Paris seemed to have lost her voice, but she smiled shyly, surprised that she could still feel shyness as exposed as she was spread-eagled underneath one of the most handsome men she had ever met.

Alex resumed playing with her breasts as he thrust hard into her, moving from one to the other, drawing gently on the tight little buds. She moaned, low and heavy, her breath coming in staccato gasps as she felt the thick head of Alex's cock pushing against her over and over again.

As their bodies moved in unison, Paris shuddered and gasped as he thrust with more urgency. Alex lowered himself onto her, his hot breath against the nape of her neck.

They moved as one, and they moved against each other, grasping for one another. The two were gasping for breath as their climaxes were near. Alex quickened his pace in direct response to Paris' wild hip movements, and Alex grunted as he plowed deep into her pussy.