To Marry a Prince Page 8

Landry had already decided that when the dress arrived from Detali she would simply slip it in with the other dresses for consideration. She had no plans of telling Malayka who had designed the dress until the woman expressed how much she loved it. Landry was banking on that reaction, especially after meeting twice with Detali to look at the design. It was a totally original dress, which would immediately appeal to Malayka. A one-of-a-kind was just what the princess should be wearing. Landry was certain that’s how Malayka would feel and she’d better be right or she would certainly be losing her job.

  “Are you listening to me?”

  Landry lifted her head as Malayka raised her voice. She did not appreciate being yelled at. This wasn’t something Landry had needed to tell the people she worked with, even though some of her clients were rumored to have a diva complex. Of course, the relationship with her and her clients tended to go a lot smoother when her assistant Kelli was with her, but that wasn’t possible for this trip. Malayka insisted on Landry coming alone.

  “Yes,” Landry replied. “You’re thinking that we should have approached Eleni Verenzia about a dress. However, after the last episode where you returned four original pieces from her, she’s not inclined to work with us again.”

  Landry said us but really Eleni just did not want any of her original designs worn by Malayka. Landry had warned Malayka against the unreasonable demands she’d required of the designer.

  Clearly annoyed now, because she was undoubtedly hoping to chastise Landry for her lack of attention, Malayka waved her left hand, that huge chunk of gem on her ring finger catching the sunlight. Luckily, Landry had her sunglasses on so the glare didn’t bother her too much. Still it was a reminder of something she’d been trying desperately to push out of her mind.

  “If she wants to hold a grudge over something so trivial then so be it. I have other options,” Malayka quipped.

  “Yes. You do,” Landry said as she exchanged an email with Detali’s daughter because the woman did not like computers herself. The dress would be ready tomorrow. Detali wanted to deliver it to the palace personally, but Landry’s response had been that she would come into town to pick it up. Malayka had a spa day scheduled for tomorrow while Rafe attended to all-day meetings, which meant that Landry would have those hours to herself.

  “Do you know where Cheryl is? I thought she was coming to this meeting as well. I told them that I changed my mind and now I want them here before I select my outfits. I mean, it makes perfect sense that when we talk about what I’m going to wear that my makeup artist and hair stylist be here as well. The full package has to be on point at all times,” Malayka remarked as she used a peach hand towel that matched her bikini to dab at imaginary sweat on her forehead.

  “I thought Cheryl and Amari would be here as well. I sent them each a text last night about the time we would be meeting,” Landry said because she knew Malayka would want to know if she’d done her part. Another person may have found it hard to deal with the new Malayka, but Landry was thick-skinned in this arena. She knew the worst-case scenario where her clients were concerned and she also knew the line she’d drawn in her mind for work. And there definitely was a line. Malayka, luckily, had not crossed it just yet. So Landry continued to work without letting the woman’s complaints and comments worry her.

  Besides, it was too beautiful on this island to be stressed about anything or anyone. Even the prince who had gotten her all hot and bothered last week and then left her standing—unfulfilled—in the changing room. That, she definitely did not want to think about while sitting by the pool.

  She’d been doing a good job at ignoring both Malayka and thoughts about the prince until a shadow approaching out of the corner of her eye caught Landry’s attention. She didn’t bother to turn because she knew who it was from the way her body had instantly warmed.

  * * *

  “There was an accident. Igor apparently lost control of the car and ran off the road down a small embankment,” Kris said without preamble when both Landry and Malayka had looked up upon his arrival.

  Malayka moved first, jumping up quickly, the top of her bikini moving just as fast, exposing her breasts. Kris managed to turn to face Landry just in time.

  “Rafe? Oh my God, Rafe? Is he alright?” Malayka asked.

  Landry had already skirted around where Kris stood to stand in front of Malayka, attempting to fix her top, he surmised.

  “Tell me about Rafe. What’s happened to him? You tell me right now!” Malayka demanded.

  Landry faced him then, still blocking Malayka.

  “Is he alright?” she asked, her eyes wide, voice just a little shaky.

  Kris didn’t like the way Landry sounded and he didn’t know why he’d asked where she was the moment he’d returned to the palace. Ingrid had readily told him as she’d been assigned to keep an eye on Landry for him. So instead of going to his office or calling for his brother and sister, he’d come to find her.

  “My father is safe,” Kris replied and gritted his teeth so tight his temples throbbed.

  “Oh my...oh,” Malayka began and dropped down onto the lounge where she’d been seated, a hand clutching her chest. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. He’s safe. Okay, so where is he? I know that Igor was driving him today.”

  “I thought your father’s driver was Rex,” Landry said.

  She hadn’t even looked back at Malayka, but continued to stare at him.

  “Rex was ill. Some sort of stomach virus, Dr. Beaumont told us late last night. My father had a meeting at the mines this afternoon and since Rex still wasn’t feeling better, he assigned Igor to drive him.”

  “I knew he was with Igor. That big oaf almost killed my Rafe. Where is he, Kris? You tell me right now. I have a right to know!”

  She’d stood again and this time had pushed past Landry until she was standing directly in Kris’s face. He liked it better when she was a distance away.

  “My father and Jose Realto, the mine supervisor, have been friends for a very long time. Two days ago Jose became a grandfather for the first time. He and his wife, Juanita, invited my father to a celebratory dinner. And that’s why my father was not in the car when Igor drove off the road.”

  “Then where the hell is he?”

  She was much shorter than Kris’s tall frame. Her wavy hair had been pulled back from her face and she wore large round-framed sunglasses that looked too big for her small stature. And she was loud. This wasn’t the first time he’d witnessed this and Kris knew it wouldn’t be the last. Still, this was the woman his father loved, the one that would soon be the princess of this island. He almost flinched at the thought.

  “Maybe you should tell her so she can go see him,” Landry said, reminding him that she was still there and that he’d much prefer talking to her.

  Looking over Malayka’s shoulder Kris found surprising relief at seeing Landry staring at him, her sunglasses now removed as she clenched them in one hand.

  “He’s in the infirmary, on the lower level of the palace with Dr. Beaumont. Igor is down there being treated. They believe he has a concussion and a broken arm, but other than that he will recover.”

  “Well, I’m certainly glad he will recover since he’s the one who drove off the damn road!” Malayka continued, before pushing past Kris this time and heading toward the house.

  Kris rubbed a hand down the back of his head and let out rugged sigh.

  “He’s okay,” he heard Landry say. “That’s good that your father was not injured and Igor will recover.”

  He nodded, words clogging his throat at the moment. He didn’t know which words and that was a problem. There should be no problem speaking. He should know exactly what to say to everyone, at all times.

  She touched his arm and Kris looked at her and nodded.

  “Alright, well that’s a good thing,” she continued.
“He’s safe and he’s unharmed. So why don’t you just take a deep breath and let that sink in.”

  What was she talking about?

  Kris couldn’t answer that question either because he was busy doing as she’d suggested.

  “The call came just as I was leaving our attorney’s office. I drove straight to the scene because the officer told me my father was not in the car. The car is totaled—it’s a miracle that Igor is even alive,” he told her.

  She continued touching his arm, this time moving her hand up and down in a motion that should not be so soothing. Yet, it was.

  “They’re going to do a complete investigation and keep me abreast of everything.” He nodded again. “So that’s it. The prince is fine. Igor is fine.”

  “But you’re not,” she said quietly.

  Kris did not respond for what seemed like endless moments.

  “Have you ever had a normal dinner, Your Highness?”

  “Stop calling me that,” was his immediate reply. It was in the wrong tone, but he was agitated and frustrated, though, none of that was her fault. Still, she quickly moved her hand from his arm.

  “My name is Kristian,” he told her after forcing himself to calm. “You can call me Kris.”

  She looked like she might actually argue with him, but instead gave a slight hunch of her shoulders and then continued.

  “Have you ever had a fully loaded pizza and a beer for dinner, Kris?” she asked.

  Why was she talking about food? Was she asking him on a date?

  While he was coming up with more questions instead of answering her, she continued.

  “I’m sure you’ve never been asked on a date,” she continued. “But I don’t count this as a real date. You need to unwind after this emotional jolt. I know, because when my father fell off a ladder as he tried to change some filter in the church basement, I was hysterical. For the twenty minutes that the doctors thought he might need a hip replacement, I was a nervous nutcase. Those were my brother’s words, not my own assessment, by the way.”

  Yellow was her color, Kris thought absently as he continued to watch her talk. The white pants she wore were fitting every curve of her hips and bottom, but it was the off-the-shoulder yellow top that made her eyes seem brighter, her cheeks just a little higher. Yes, he liked her in that color.

  “But once the doctors said he was going to be alright without surgery,” she continued, as if she had no idea he was assessing every tiny nuance of her. “I was so relieved I returned to my condo and ordered a whole pizza with all the toppings and grabbed a six-pack of beer. I’d never been a beer drinker before but I felt like I needed something extra that night. I only drank one—gave the other five to my brother the next morning—but the pizza, I completely devoured it.”

  She gave the smallest smile just as she reached out to touch his arm again. Why did her touch alone calm him in a way that no amount of slow breathing or confirmations from Rafe had been able to do?

  “I think it can help you too,” Landry finished with a tilt of her head as she looked up at him.

  “It might,” Kris said. “But I’m guessing that having you with me might be the bigger consolation.”

  He said it. He meant it. And it was done.

  After a complete security check of the car and an extra mechanical check by Tajeo, Kristian and Landry were seated in the backseat headed to a trattoria located on the outskirts of the town.

  “I’ve had pepperoni pizza before. Sam likes it with extra cheese. When she was young and had tea parties, she always had pizza to go along with it. Roland and I weren’t invited to the parties, but we snuck into the kitchen and stole slices of pizza before Ingrid had a chance to put them on a platter the way Sam had requested.”

  Kris had no idea why he’d told her that.

  No, that was wrong. He knew why he’d told her, just like he knew why he’d sought her out instead of any of the members of his family. He might not like the answer, but he was certain he now knew for sure.

  “My sister, Paula, likes pepperoni too. We can get the meat lovers’ pizza with extra cheese if you prefer,” she offered.

  They were only a couple feet apart. Close enough for him to reach out and take her hand, to have something to hold on to for just a moment. He needed that, but he refrained.

  “No. This was your idea so I’m going to try everything you suggest. The loaded pizza with a beer,” he answered and then looked over to her.

  She was nodding, a smile on her face. “You’re gonna love it,” she told him.

  Kris managed to smile in return as he wondered, what if? His thoughts circled back to why he’d sought her out today, why he’d wanted to see her and only her during this emotional time. Could he possibly? No. He wasn’t falling for her. He couldn’t be.

  * * *

  “You’re picking most of the toppings off your pizza,” Kris told her, unable to hide the amusement from his tone.

  With all the wonderful places to eat with his favored Caribbean cuisine, Kris found himself quite comfortable seated at the center table in the trattoria. Tajeo had gone in ahead of Kris to let the owners know that he was there. After a ten-minute wait while two patrons finished their meal, settled with the waiter and walked out, Kris stepped out of the car. He waved Tajeo off when he reached to open the door for Landry. Kris opened it himself and offered her his hand. She took it, smiling up at him as she climbed out of the backseat.

  “So gallant,” she said. “A girl can certainly get used to this treatment.”

  “A woman should always be treated with the utmost care and respect,” he told her as he continued to hold her hand in his.

  She did not respond to that, which was a surprise since she usually had a response to everything.

  Once inside, they were seated, and Landry enthusiastically placed their order. Tajeo had locked the front door himself and stood there while the staff waited on them only.

  “I don’t really like the sausage,” she admitted in reply to his statement about the pizza. “Or the black olives.”

  Kris finished chewing the last bite of his second slice. “Then why order a pizza with everything on it?”

  “Because it sounds bold and decisive. Like, I dare you to call me a picky eater,” she told him and took a bite of her second slice that now only had pepperoni, ham, red onions and green peppers.

  Kris was allergic to mushrooms so they’d requested a pizza without them.

  “You didn’t like people calling you names?” he asked.

  She shook her head and used her napkin to wipe her mouth before she spoke. “I didn’t like my brothers doing anything they wanted and assuming that I couldn’t. So whatever they did, I did it too. Sometimes I did it better. But I could not eat raw onions on a hot dog with ketchup. The smell was revolting. The one time I tried, I ended up with my face in the toilet. The next time my mother cooked hot dogs, my brother Geoffrey said I couldn’t have any because I was a picky eater. They called me that every time we sat down for a meal for the next month.”

  Kris couldn’t help but smile at that story because it reminded him a lot of how Roland used to treat Sam. “You do know that it’s a brother’s job to taunt his sister. Is Geoffrey older than you?”

  “Yes, I know that’s a brother’s job. I also knew how to get back at them, as a sister. I let the air out of the tires on all of their bikes,” she replied triumphantly. “Four brothers older than me and a younger sister. My parents always wanted a big family.”

  “Sounds like you had some interesting times,” Kris said as he reached for another slice.

  He liked the pizza. The beer was just okay. He had a better selection back at the palace, but he would not think of offending the owners by not emptying his glass. Kris was very aware of how nervous the owner looked as he directed his staff to wait on him and L
andry. It wasn’t every day that the crown prince brought a date to this little spot. In fact, this had never happened before.

  “Did you have interesting times when you were a kid?” she asked before taking another bite.

  Kris picked up his napkin and wiped his fingers before sitting back in his seat. He contemplated the question, wondering just how he should answer. How much should he tell? How much was too much?

  “Did you taunt your sister and beat up your little brother?” she continued with a chuckle. “I cannot imagine you doing either, but I could be wrong.”

  She wasn’t wrong. Not entirely.

  “Sam hates spiders,” Kris began, the memory startlingly fresh in his mind. “One day when my father was away and I had some time to myself, I spent the entire day walking the property, going into the wooded area just beyond the palace walls. I collected a jar full of spiders.” He shrugged.

  “I’m not sure I was thinking of what I’d do with them at the time, but when I returned to the house Sam was having one of her dinner parties. She was always hosting a party in the palace.”

  “She had to entertain herself,” Landry offered.

  “I guess so. For this one party she wanted Roland and I to attend and she asked us to dress up. I was tired of dressing up. I wanted to eat dinner in my shorts and T-shirt and to keep on the tennis shoes I was wearing even if they were covered in dirt.

  “Ingrid insisted that I change. Let’s make your sister happy today, she’d said. I didn’t want to make anyone happy that day. I wanted to make myself happy.” Kris lifted his glass and took a sip of the second beer the manager had quietly brought to him.

  “I knew that my mother would not like it if she found out that I’d disobeyed Ingrid. And my father would totally lose it if he found out that I’d attended a dinner dressed in shorts and a T-shirt. So I changed and I went down to the main dining room, which had been decorated in pink-and-yellow ribbons. Dolls had been set in each of the chairs at the table except the ones left empty for me and Roland. I sat down and I ate the ridiculous pink cake and sipped the lemonade. Then, when Ingrid walked into the kitchen and Sam was up tending to one of her dolls, I took the jar that I’d slipped into the pocket of my suit jacket and set it in Sam’s chair. I removed the lid and then I returned to my seat. I’d just finished my lemonade when Sam screamed.