The Princess and the Player

“Because now there’s a possibility that after the wedding, I might be able to focus on getting my wife pregnant instead of worrying about how to hold my head so the crown doesn’t fall off.”

Serafia laughed and she and Gabriel apparently forgot about Bella because their conversation was clearly not meant for outsiders.

“Hey, you guys, what do we do now?” she called loudly before things progressed much further. Geez, didn’t they ever give the lovey-dovey stuff a rest? “We need to know if this is for real, preferably before the coronation. But who would be the legitimate heir if it’s not you?”

God, what a mess. Thankfully, she wasn’t in Alma, potentially about to be swept into a much larger scandal than any she’d ever created on her own.

“Juan Carlos,” Serafia confirmed. “Of course. If Rafael’s line is not legitimate, the throne would fall to his sister, Isabella. I don’t think she’d hesitate to pass it to her grandson. It’s perfect, don’t you think? Juan Carlos has long been one of the biggest advocates of the restoration of the monarchy. He’ll be a great king.”

Gabriel muttered his agreement. “Bella, send me the letters overnight, but make copies of everything before you do. Can you send them tonight?”

“Sure.” It wasn’t as if she had anything else to do.

And that was how an Alman princess with a broken heart ended up at an all-night Kinkos on Fifth Avenue, while her so-called friends drank her vodka and ruined her furniture.

When she got home, she kicked them all out so she could be alone with her misery.

* * *

JFK Airport had it in for James. This was the ninth time he’d flown into the airport and the ninth time his luggage had been lost.

“You know what, forget it,” he told the clerk he’d been working with for the past hour to locate his bags. “I’ll call customer service later.”

After two delays at Heathrow, all James wanted to do was crawl into a hole and sleep, but he’d spent close to thirty-six hours already trying to get to Bella. He wasn’t flaking out now.

The car service ride to the address Gabriel had given him took another forty-five minutes and he almost got out and walked to Bella’s building four times. He worried his lip with his teeth until he reached the building and then had to deal with the doorman, who of course wasn’t expecting anyone named James Rowling.

“Please,” he begged the doorman. “Buzz Ms. Montoro and tell her I’m here.”

It was a desperate gamble, and she might very well say, James who? But he had to see her so he could fix things. He might be too late. His father might have ruined everything, but he had to take this shot to prove to Bella that she could trust him. That he’d absolutely planned to tell her about Maisey but everything had happened too fast.

“No need. Here I am.”

Bella’s voice washed over him and he spun around instantly. And there she was, wearing one of those little dresses that killed him every time, and he wanted to rush to her to sweep her up in his arms.

But he didn’t. Because he didn’t understand why she’d left Alma without at least letting him explain what was happening with Maisey or why his life had spiraled out of control so quickly that he’d managed to lose her or why just looking at her made everything seem better without her saying a word.

“Hi,” he said, and then his throat closed.

He’d practiced what he’d say for a day and a half, only to buckle when it mattered most. Figured.

“Hi,” she repeated, and glanced at the doorman, who was watching them avidly. “Thanks, Carl. It’s okay.”

She motioned James over to the side of the lobby, presumably so she could talk to him with a measure of privacy. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to talk to you.” Obviously.

Off kilter, he ran a hand over his rumpled hair. Now that he was here, flying to New York without even calling first seemed like a stupid plan.

But when his father had smugly told him that he’d taken the liberty of informing Bella about Maisey, James had kind of lost it. And he’d never really regained his senses, especially not after his father made it clear that Bella wasn’t interested in a bloke with an illegitimate child. As though it was all sorted and James should just bow out.

That wasn’t happening. Because if Bella was indeed no longer interested in him because of Maisey, he wanted to hear it from Bella.

“So talk.” She crossed her arms and he got another clue that things between them had progressed so far past the point of reasonable, there might be no saving their relationship. He was on such unfamiliar, unsteady ground, it might as well be quicksand.