PRINCE CHARMING: A Secret Baby Stepbrother Romance (4 page)

As she stifled a yawn, Lamont smiled and laid down his fork. “Olivia, you may feel free to turn in for the night. It’s been a long day.”

“I don’t mind,” she said. “I don’t want to be rude.”

“Please, I insist. We shall see you first thing in the morning.”

Olivia stood, grateful for a reason to leave the table. She kissed her mother’s head before saying good night to the king and prince. She left the dining room and made her way through the palace and back up to her room. It was still early in the evening, and though she was exhausted, she knew she wasn’t going to be able to fall asleep so easily.

She wandered around the halls, admiring the masonry of the old palace. The stone was old but well-maintained and cool to the touch. Wooden beams rose up the walls and to the ceiling overhead, carved and decorated with images of palm leaves. Everywhere she looked, there was such wonderful artistic detail. She wanted to get her sketchbook and sit there for hours, taking it all in. The courtyard was one place she wanted to see up close, but it was dark and she had a feeling the sunlight increased its beauty. That would be a sight she’d save for tomorrow morning.

The way to her room was lined with portraits of old monarchs—kings and queens, their children, even a few horses and dogs. One day, her face would be hung up there as well, which was insane. To think future generations would walk down this hall and see Olivia’s and her mother’s faces.

“I guess stranger things have happened,” she muttered to herself.

On her way to her room, she passed another door. The servants had told her Prince Quincy’s rooms were beside hers around the turn. Glancing up and down the hall to make sure she was alone, Olivia went to the doors and turned the handles. They swung open quietly, and she stood on the threshold. Curiosity finally got the better of her and she stepped inside, leaving the doors opened behind her.

“Payback for the panties.” She looked around his rooms and wondered what embarrassing things the prince might be hiding.

His rooms were relatively clean, which he probably didn’t do himself. She’d never get used to having servants picking up after her and waiting on her hand and foot. It was weird. Her mom seemed to enjoy it, but not Olivia. There were too many people.

She ran her hands along the bookshelf that stretched the length of the far wall, reading titles she recognized and wondered if he’d ever cracked the books open. A bowl of fresh mangos sat on a nearby table and beside that, a stack of folders tossed carelessly down so their papers were spilling out. She knew she shouldn’t, but a bit of a photograph stuck out and she saw half of a woman’s face. Olivia flipped open the first one and stared at the image. The woman was young, and when she moved the photo aside, a full background on her filled the paper. Princess. The woman was a princess from a small European nation.

Olivia frowned as her hands twitched, not sure why it bothered her. She flipped open the second one and the third. Wealthy families, elite social members, another princess. Why did he have all these folders?

Then it hit her, and she backed away from the table. Possible wives. Of course he would have to marry someone in his league. It made sense, but from the looks of it, it wasn’t going to be his choice. She’d seen a bit of pent up frustration earlier when he’d walked into her rooms. Was it because of this?

Knowing he could return any second, she tucked the folders back where they had been and hurried out of his rooms. The doors closed just as silently as they’d opened, and Olivia walked quickly to her room. The whole time, she couldn’t stop her hands from twitching at her sides. She needed to draw something, or to paint. There was too much going on inside her mind to deal with unless she could let it out the only way she knew how.

Thankfully, she’d brought a few small canvases, and when she reached her room, she pulled one out of a black carrying case and retrieved the paints from her suitcase.

Why did it bother her so much to think of him with another woman? He was going to be her stepbrother, for God’s sake! But though she knew it to be wrong, a voice in the back of her mind said there was nothing wrong with that. No blood relation. No reason she couldn’t feel what she felt every time he walked in a room. It was only their first day together. How the hell was she going to survive him for an entire summer?

***

Quincy didn’t enter his rooms until later that night after making it through the rest of dinner, dessert, and a few very annoying looks from his father at the mention of weddings happening later that year. Melinda had, of course, been talking about hers, but his father had hinted at Quincy’s several different times.

It was going to be a ridiculously long summer of Quincy trying to dodge the possible bachelorettes his father would invite to the island, and, even worse, the ones that lived on the isle. He was sure they would attend every function possible to get a glimpse of the single prince up for marriage.

Pascal had greeted him at the door, but he’d waved his servant away. He was not in the mood for idle chitchat or having someone tell him over and over again that the sooner he decided on a woman and got a wife, the sooner the king would leave him alone… for a while. Then the king would be demanding grandchildren to ensure his line. And one day very soon, Quincy would be expected to become the King of the Isle Bijoux.

“There is no way I can be a king yet,” he muttered to the night air as he stepped out onto his balcony. “No way in hell. Not yet.”

Things had been happening very quickly lately, and Quincy had a hard time keeping up. He enjoyed his late nights at the club, drinking and flirting with the local girls. He never brought any of them home, but having the freedom to go out and do that was what Quincy was worried about losing. Being the king meant being responsible for the entire island and everyone on it. He leaned on the railing of the balcony and breathed in the salty air as it blew through the courtyard. It was humid again, but he was accustomed to it. The air did not bother him.

He watched as the servants finished their duties for the day and wandered to their quarters within the palace walls. All of this was his. All these people. He heard someone curse and glanced to the right to see his soon-to-be-stepsister out on the balcony. Olivia.

An easel was set up in front of her, and she sat on a tall stool in front of a large canvas. The canvas itself looked like an array of colors, but from this distance, he couldn’t make out what she worked on. Quincy took a bottle of wine from his personal stash and headed out of his room to the balcony. He’d figured out how to climb from one balcony to the next when he was about ten.

Quincy picked up the small leather bag he always kept handy nearby for times like these, stashed the wine in it, and climbed up on the railing. The ledge of stone that stretched around the entire courtyard was wide enough for him to fit his foot sideways, and up above, stones jutted out so he could hold them and scuttle to the next balcony. The only time he didn’t do it was when everything was slick from recent rains. One time, he’d nearly plummeted straight down, and though he might not die from the fall, a broken back or leg was not something he wanted to deal with.

He made it around the corner and to Olivia’s balcony. She had stepped inside, muttering under her breath, and he took it as his chance to hop over the railing. A moment later, she stepped back out.

“Evening, Olivia.”

“What the hell?” She jumped back as she yelled, and her eyes widened. “Prince Quincy, how did you get in here?” She glanced over her shoulder, and he followed her look to the closed door. “Where the hell did you come from?”

“I have my secrets,” he said with a shrug. “Care for some wine?”

She watched him pull the bottle out, and he motioned at the canvas before them. It was a rendering of the view they had seen from atop the cliff earlier that day. Her technique was beautiful and the colors were nearly perfect.

“You sounded frustrated. Why? This looks fantastic.”

“It looks alright,” she said as she stared at it, too. “I can’t get the colors right for the sea and the grass. I think the altitude messed with my paints.”

The way she scrunched her face up at it made Quincy smile, and he felt a flutter in his chest. “It is possible, I guess, but then I am not a painter. I am, however, a great procurer of fine wines.”

“Sure, why not?” she replied and set her brushes down. “I guess… Come in?”

He grinned as he followed her inside, remembering what happened the last time he was in her rooms. Sadly, all her clothes and undergarments appeared to have been put away. “Are you settled in well enough?” he asked as she took two glasses from the side table and handed them over.

“I guess so. I still feel like I’m on vacation, though,” she said.

“In a way you are, aren’t you? The summer is your only time here?”

She took the glass he offered and stared down into the depths of red wine. “Maybe, maybe not.”

“You think you might stay?”

“I don’t know yet. I still have a bit of schooling left to do, but my mom’s going to be here, and I’m not sure how I feel returning to the States as a princess. How would that even work?”

Quincy sipped his wine as he tried to read her face. She was worried, but there was something else there. Did she have a man back at home waiting for her? He’d thought Melinda said Olivia was single, and the thought of another man near her made his hand clench dangerously tight around the glass.

“I do not know. I’m certain you’d have your own small guard detail.”

She choked on her wine. “Seriously?”

“No. No offense to your future princess status, but we’re not exactly a large country,” he said. “I’m sure half the world doesn’t even know we’re here.”

“I didn’t either, ‘til mom came home with her news.”

“And you’re not happy for her?”

Olivia sipped her wine as she wandered around the room. “I am. Your dad’s great and she’s really happy, but I don’t know what this means for me.” She stared at him for a long moment, and Quincy wondered what she was thinking. “I thought you brought the wine over for your own sake.”

Now it was his turn to look surprised. “What do you mean? I’m sure you won’t be that bad of a princess.” He laughed but stopped when her eyes fell and her cheeks turned red. “What did I miss?”

“Nothing… You didn’t miss anything.”

“Oh no, you don’t get to just say that and then not tell me,” he said as he set down his wine glass. “Olivia, we’re going to be siblings soon. You can tell me anything. Why would I need a bottle of wine?”

She shifted from one foot to the other as her cheeks turned even redder. “I may have gone into your room, trying to find something embarrassing to make up for the underwear thing,” she confessed quickly.

Quincy still didn’t follow and laughed. “So? If I wanted people to stay out of my room, I would lock the door more often.”

“Well, I’m sure you didn’t want me to see the folders.”

For a second, he wasn’t sure what she meant. “Ah, those folders. Yes, well, it’s not exactly a secret amongst the islanders, so I guess there’s no harm in you knowing it, too. Cheers then, to two weddings this year!” The words were bitter as he swallowed the rest of his wine and poured another glass.

Olivia reached out a hand, but it fell back to her side before it reached him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring it up.”

“No, I’m not upset at you,” he assured her. “I’m going to have to face it sooner or later.”

Silence fell over them until Olivia moved closer and clinked her glass against his. “Well, at least for now, you have a drinking buddy to get you through.”

Quincy smiled. “That I do. Come then, future sister of mine, let us drink to our soon-to-be-sibling lives of secrets and rivalry,” he teased, but even as the words left his lips, he felt a slight pang of regret in his chest. What it meant, he had no idea.

Chapter 4

Sun streamed in through the wooden blinds the following morning, and Olivia rolled over, trying to bury her head under the covers. A moment later, they were suddenly yanked from her bed. “What the hell?”

“Good morning, miss,” a woman with a heavy French accent said as she stood at the foot of the bed. Olivia frowned when she saw her blankets in the woman’s arms. She was young, maybe a few years older than Olivia, and had a smile on her face that wavered between being amused and polite.

“Morning. Was that necessary? Who are you?”

“I am Allete, miss, your personal servant while you are here on the Isle of Bijoux.”

“Oh, right… Well, I’m not used to having a servant,” Olivia said as politely as she could. “I really don’t know what to do with one… I mean you. Or any of this.”

“Of course, miss, but I’m afraid I am here for you no matter what, as are these other ladies,” she said and clapped her hands once. Four more women of varying ages came through Olivia’s bedroom door, and she cringed inwardly. “We are your ladies-in-waiting.”

Olivia nodded as she screamed inside her mind.
What the hell did Mom drag me into?
“So you all will be around me, all the time?”

The women smiled before they moved around the room, opening the blinds and the doors to the balcony to let in the fresh morning air. Allete set Olivia’s blankets back on her bed and walked to the wardrobe across the room.