PRINCE CHARMING: A Secret Baby Stepbrother Romance (2 page)

“Only for you, Mom,” she replied with a light laugh. The few others on the plane disembarked, and Olivia followed her mother. “Just wait ‘til you see it,” she whispered over her shoulder. “You’ll understand why the island is nicknamed ‘Jewels.’”

Her mother made it to the door and down the few steps to the tarmac. Olivia took one last deep breath and descended the steps. The air definitely did not smell like home, and she felt a weight settle on her chest. It was fresh, though, and clean. The sky was a brilliantly clear, light azure and without a cloud. Everywhere she looked was lush emerald fauna. Palm trees lined the tarmac, and tall grass sprang up where the concrete ended, dotted with crimson and canary tropical flowers with petals as big as her hands.

“Olivia,” Melinda called, and she hurried to catch up, straightening her skirt. “King Lamont, Prince Quincy, this is my daughter, Olivia.”

She froze. Her face turned a bright shade of red, and Olivia raised her eyes to see two men staring kindly back at her. One was older, with white and grey hair speckling the black at the temples. The young man next to him had eyes that matched the palm trees behind him, maybe a shade or two lighter. His hair was black like his father’s and gelled into short spikes. To her surprise, she spotted several tattoos up and down his arms and one on the back of his hand. Olivia tried to tilt her head to see it until her mother cleared her throat.

“Sorry,” she said quickly and fell into a clumsy curtsy. “Pleasure to meet you, Lamont… I mean, King Lamont.” Her face burned even more until she heard the man laugh.

“It’s alright, Olivia. You can call me Lamont.” He reached out and placed his hands on her shoulders. "I am delighted that you and your mother are officially becoming a part of our family. Welcome to your new home.” He pulled her close and kissed one cheek, followed by the other.

Olivia relaxed a bit. He had a gentle smile, and when he turned to look at her mother, Olivia saw the love in his eyes for her. He took Melinda’s hands in his and pulled her close for a kiss.

“Quincy,” the prince said as he stepped forward and kissed Olivia the same way, though his kisses lingered longer than his father’s had. “At your service while you are here with us.”

“Thank you,” she said, frowning when her voice came out a bit rough. She could still feel his lips lingering on her cheek and fought the urge to reach up and touch it. When she looked up at him, the smile froze on her face. Up close, he was even more attractive than she’d originally thought. There was a dimple when he smiled, but only on the left cheek, which matched the smirk he wore on his lips. Not a mean one… no. That was just the way he smiled.

“I believe the valets are fetching your bags,” he said. “Would you like to ride with me in my Jeep? The palace is not far, and I would like you to see some of the island on the way.”

Olivia nodded slowly, realized she was staring, and hurried to look away. “Yes, you’re wonderful—I mean, that would be wonderful,” she corrected as she mentally kicked herself. “Where is your Jeep?”

Quincy smirked again and stepped aside. “Right this way.”

“Mom, I’ll see you back at the palace?”

“Of course, dear. Have a good time,” Melinda said, barely glancing in her direction.

Her mom was in heaven, and Olivia vowed to be supportive. She walked beside Quincy as he ambled to a bright red Jeep parked nearby. A few men in dark suits stayed close, and when they got into the Jeep, they jumped into another one behind.

“Your bodyguards?” Olivia asked.

“Unfortunately. Don’t worry, they’re yours now too.” He leaned over to open the glovebox, his hand lingering longer than necessary by her knee. Her breath caught, and she glanced at him. “So no misbehaving, my dear princess.”

“Who would misbehave?” Her words were breathy as he pulled his hand back, brushing her leg before he slipped on his sunglasses and started the car.

Quincy grinned wider as he put it in drive and started down a narrow road into the trees. “It’s been known to happen occasionally. Don’t tell me you don’t like to have fun now and again?”

“Of course I do,” she said, glancing out the open Jeep. Through the trees, she caught glimpses of the ocean and sandy shores, but the view was just a tease. Every winding turn in the road pulled her farther away from it, and she shifted in her seat, trying to see. When they made a left turn, the view disappeared completely. “Damn.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” she muttered and settled back, watching the fauna around her.

The flowers were as large as her head. Violets, pinks, and oranges passed by, close enough for her to reach out and grab one. Maybe she
would
be able to get her portfolio painted this summer. She’d been on the island for five minutes and was absorbed in the colors around her, like nothing she’d ever seen before. The vast array of shades and hues were new to her, because in Nebraska, everything was wheat and corn, yellow and brown. Dull.

“Have you ever traveled?” he asked. She realized he had no accent. His father did, but not him.

“No… I mean just around the Midwest,” she clarified. “Where’s your accent?”

“Why? Would I be sexier with one?”

Olivia’s mouth fell open for a second until she realized he was joking and laughed with him. “No, just curious.”

“My mother was English, so I was raised a native-speaker. I learned French more as a second language. My accent sort of fell away between the two, I guess. Every now and then it comes out,” he said with a half shrug.

“Like when?”

The Jeep slowed to a stop, idling in the road, waiting for him to choose a left or right turn. Olivia looked both directions before meeting his eyes. He was staring at her.

“Usually when I’m very passionate about something.”

She swallowed hard as he looked away and turned to the right. Olivia was so focused on his face and his words that she hardly noticed when the trees disappeared and the Jeep came to a stop again. The wind blew a bit harder, messing up her hair. He unbuckled and hopped out, nodding to the other direction when she questioned him.

“Look for yourself, princess.”

Olivia turned and gasped. Hands moving on their own, she unbuckled her seatbelt and hopped down from the Jeep, her flats crunching in the stones and sand. They had driven to the top of a cliff that overlooked what must be the entire island. It stretched out before her in beautiful shades of bright cerise and chartreuse, coral and amethyst, and every shade in between. Each house that popped up here and there was colored, standing out from the fauna around it as they led to the heart of the island.

A large stone structure jutted up in the center of the island, but it didn’t look cold. Instead, the stone was sand in color and beautiful as it stood sentient over the city. The building wasn’t terrifyingly large as she’d feared, but it fit the island and blended into the natural beauty as if some giant had built the castle out of sand. She turned a bit and felt her heart leap at the sight. There was the ocean she’d been longing to see, with its white beaches catching each wave. This high up, she could hear them come in one after the other, crashing like thunder in the distance. She could only imagine what it would be like down there, feeling that water wash over her feet and smelling the crisp salt on her skin.

“You like the view?” Olivia jumped. She’d forgotten she was not alone. Quincy stood beside her, hands on his hips. “Have you not seen the ocean before?”

“Not until today. It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

“Of course. Now then, I’m afraid we must head into the city, but I promise your feet will be in that sand. Come,” he promised and held out his hand. Olivia took it without thinking, and both of them paused. His hand tightened around hers for a breath before he let go and cleared his throat.

They strode back to the Jeep in silence, and Olivia tried to keep her eyes off the man who was going to become her stepbrother.

Chapter 2

After driving Olivia to the palace, Quincy let the servants show her to her new room. She still wore that dreamy look on her face, and he felt himself growing fond of this woman very quickly. He’d noticed her straining to see the ocean while he drove and had thought she’d enjoy the view from the cliff. He didn’t realize how much he’d enjoy seeing such a look on her face.

Quincy tossed the Jeep keys to the valet and went inside as well. His rooms were down the hall from Olivia’s. His parents had always hoped for more children to fill them, but they’d been unlucky in that area. Quincy was an only child and had been alone with his father since his mother passed away when he was ten, a dark time. Quincy had turned into a bit of a rebel, and his father retreated into himself—until Melinda suddenly appeared in his life. Quincy still remembered seeing his father’s face after the first day he’d spent with that woman. He hadn’t seen a look like that in the king’s eyes for years, and that woman had done it in one afternoon.

When they’d first been introduced, Quincy had meant to tell Melinda how thankful he was that she’d appeared in their lives, but he’d never got the chance.

“Ah, sir, there you are,” Pascal, his personal servant and friend, said as Quincy entered his grand rooms. “I trust the ladies of the palace are settling in nicely?”

“Guess so. The soon-to-be princess is down the hall,” he told him as he stretched, grabbed a fresh mango from the bowl on the nearby table, and headed out to his balcony. It overlooked the courtyard of the palace and the central fountain made of glass tiles that caught the sunlight. Palm trees swayed gently in the island breeze, and the scent of the fresh blooms hit his nose. His gaze slid to another balcony to the right of his and at an angle. Olivia’s balcony. Sadly, her doors were closed, as were the curtains.

“Something the matter, sir?”

“Hmm? Oh no, nothing. Just wondering what this summer will be like.”

Pascal stood beside him, frowning. “Planning how to ruin your father’s parties?”

“No, actually, just wondering about this Olivia, is all.”

“Soon-to-be Princess Olivia. I think they’ll add a nice appeal to the palace. Bring some life back into it,” Pascal nodded. “Add a feminine touch.”

Quincy frowned. “I happen to like it just being us men.”

His servant raised a brow and straightened. “That’s not what your face says, sir.”

“And what does my face say?”

“That you are dying to talk with that woman again. But first, your father has requested you meet him in his study. He would like to go over what is expected of you the next few months.”

Quincy groaned. He hated when his father held his little meetings. As if the crown prince didn’t already know what to do. He just didn’t want to do it. There was a difference. His father was worried about the wedding plans, and the last thing Quincy would do was ruin his father’s happiness. Drive him insane as all good sons should, yes, but not ruin the wedding.

He ate the rest of his mango and walked out of his room. He passed several more servants in the halls. They stopped and bowed their heads as he passed, and he smiled and greeted each and every one by name. He’d been taught to do that since he could talk. He might be a rebel, but he did not go so far as to mistreat the household. Never piss off the person who did your laundry or made your bed. That was just asking for trouble.

A few bodyguards stood outside his father’s study and opened the door for their prince as he approached. “Father,” he said, bowing his head. “You wished to speak with me?”

“Ah, yes, come in. Have a seat, Quin.”

Quincy moved to sit in front of his father’s grand, hand-carved desk. It had been at the palace for generations and was as old as the place itself. Quincy had always admired it, just like he admired the man who sat behind it. Well, most days. His father stared at several papers laid out before him, mumbling under his breath.

“Kings do not mumble,” Quincy said, earning a glare from his father.

“And princes do not tell their kings what not to do,” he said, but there was a hint of a smile on his face. “Nearly finished.” Quincy leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs, slouching. “I can still see you. Sit up straight before you hurt your back.”

“I don’t know… I’m quite comfortable.”

His father’s pen scratched across the heavy paper as he signed it. He pressed a button on his desk. A moment later, a door to the right side opened and the king’s second in command, Marcel, appeared.

“My Prince, Quincy,” he said, bowing his head to him, then the king. “The announcement is signed and ready?”

“Yes, but hold onto it for a moment, please. I must confer with the prince on several matters.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” Marcel said. He exited the same way he entered.

As the door closed, Quincy’s eyes narrowed as he turned to his father. “Confer with me on what?”

“The wedding.”

“Your wedding? I think you want to speak with your future wife on those matters, Father. I’m afraid I don’t know the first thing about place settings or flower arrangements.”

His father sighed as he got to his feet. “I meant your wedding, Quin.”

Quincy sat up as he stared at his father. “I thought we’d been through this. I’m not ready.”

“That is not for you to decide anymore,” Lamont informed him. “Quin, you are twenty-three, the perfect marrying age. There are plenty of suitable bachelorettes ready for you to take their hands, many of whom are daughters of very powerful and very wealthy parents.”