PRINCE CHARMING: A Secret Baby Stepbrother Romance (6 page)

“I know what you meant, Olivia. I can only hope one of those women is not as shallow as they all look.”
If only one of those women was you
. The thought crossed his mind so suddenly, he paused. Then Quincy resumed walking, as if he hadn’t realized something great and terrible at the same time.

“Here it is,” he said hurriedly, to push those dangerous thoughts away.

They passed under another archway over the street with metal gates simply for decoration. The courtyard they entered was one of the best places in the city. It was where Quincy would often go despite his father’s assumption that he only hung out at clubs. He turned to see Olivia’s reaction and was not disappointed. Her eyes moved across the street painted in various shades of tans and whites that trailed into blues to look like the ocean that surrounded the island. The walls that lined the sides showed scenes of palm trees and large pink and purple hibiscus flowers, vines trailing up with small white blooms. Off in the distance was the best painting of all. The water crashed against the rocks which were set against a jaw-dropping saffron and vermillion sunset so well-painted that it looked real.

“Who did all this?” Olivia asked quietly beside him. She turned in a circle, taking it all in.

“A local artist my father found about a decade ago. He did most of the city and died last year, but we do a good job of keeping everything looking fresh.”

She nodded in agreement as she turned again, but the smile fell from her face and she hung her head. “Why do they keep doing that?”

Quincy thought she was talking about the bodyguards on their radios, but when he turned, he saw a group of women, young like Olivia, glaring at her as she stood so close to him. He smiled at them and waved. Instantly, they grinned and giggled.

“They think I’m courting you,” he said quietly.

“What?”

“I’m single, remember? All the women on the island want the attractive prince.”

“Then maybe you should tell them we’re not dating so they stop looking like they’re going to jump me.”

“I don’t know. This could be quite entertaining,” he said as he rubbed his chin.

“Quincy,” she warned. “Seriously? As your future sister, if you don’t tell them the truth, I fill find a way to embarrass the hell out of you.”

“How’s that?”

She crossed her arms over her chest, and a mischievous glint appeared in her eyes. “Don’t worry. I’ll come up with something. Do you want to take that risk?” Olivia was no longer the sweet woman from Nebraska but something else entirely. He felt as if he stared at a bit of himself—a prankster and someone who did not back down.

He grinned widely at her, bowed his head, and turned to the young women and everyone else gathered in the courtyard. “If I may have everyone’s attention, please?”

The people quieted and stopped to listen to their prince, even though their gazes returned to Olivia again and again.

“I know many of you have heard that my father, King Lamont, will be taking a new wife this summer. Olivia,” he said as he motioned to her, “is the future queen’s daughter and therefore the new princess. Please welcome her to our lovely island kingdom.”

Quincy reached back and took Olivia’s hand to pull her forward as the crowd applauded and cheered for her. They started to move towards them, and each one wanted to shake hands with the new princess. It had been a long time since they’d had one on the island, and Quincy could tell they were quite excited to meet this woman from US. He worried how she would handle such a crowd, but Olivia took it in stride as she shook each one of their hands and smiled in greeting. She even went so far as to ask their names and what they did on the island.

When the group of young women approached, now all smiles and curtsies, Olivia actually pulled them aside to speak with them on their own.

“Are you girls in classes right now?” she asked.

“We are, princess,” the brunette with dark tanned skin said with a smile.

“Let me guess, you’re a painter and you draw. Pastels or charcoal?”

“Charcoal,” the girl said with a laugh. “How could you tell, princess?”

Quincy leaned closer, too, curious.

“The paint that’s still in your hair,” she told the brunette, “and the charcoal that always stains your fingers, no matter how hard you scrub. I’m a painter, too.”

The girls smiled even wider and started talking with their friends excitedly in French. He could tell Olivia had no idea what they were saying, but they turned back to her, bouncing on the balls of their feet, as the brunette asked if they could show her something.

“You are new to the island. You need to know where to buy the best paint!”

“That would be perfect! All mine were ruined on the way here.” Olivia turned to Quincy. “Well, Your Highness, what do you say? Slight detour to a paint shop?”

Quincy glanced at the bodyguards. His head man, Theo, stared at the girls long and hard before he asked for the address of the shop. They told him, and Quincy watched him pull out his cell phone and bring up the GPS.

“Your Highness, Princess, we may proceed to the paint shop,” he said finally. He turned back into the silent sentry Quincy was accustomed to.

“Well then, ladies,” Quincy said, “lead the way.”

The girls led them through the streets, giggling as they walked beside Quincy, but when they reached the shop, they said they had to go to class and hurried off. Olivia waved until they disappeared, saying she was happy to know there were other artists in the city. He told her there were many, she would just have to find them. He held open the door for her, and she stepped inside. If Quincy thought he’d seen Olivia excited before, he was wrong. The moment they stepped into the art supply store, the light in Olivia’s eyes brightened and she bounced as she walked up and down the various aisles stacked with paints made right there in the shop.

“These colors! I could never get anything like this back home,” she said as she brushed her fingers gently over the tubes and bottles before her. She picked one up and Quincy saw her face fall when she noticed the price. “Damn. That’s not going to work.”

An old man with white hair that stood out against his tanned and weathered skin made his way towards them and bowed his head. “Prince Quincy! I am glad to see you here, Your Highness. What can I help you with today? Does your lady friend need paint, or perhaps your father has commissioned another great work?”

Quincy rattled his brain for the man’s name but couldn’t remember it, though he’d seen him bring supplies to the palace painter numerous times. “I’m sorry, my good man, I have misplaced your name today.”

The old man grinned until his eyes crinkled. “Sebastian, Your Highness.”

“Sebastian, of course. My father always speaks highly of your paint quality. Now then, I would like you to meet the soon-to-be Princess Olivia. She is a painter and is in need of some new supplies.”

Sebastian grinned, but Olivia tugged on his sleeve. “Don’t get his hopes up,” she whispered as they turned away from the man. “I can’t afford his paints.”

“Didn’t anyone tell you? You are officially rich now,” Quincy told her and turned back to Sebastian. “I’m afraid I do not know what she needs, but she would be more than delighted to tell you.” He motioned at the shelves, and Olivia stared in shock.

Sebastian pulled out a pad of paper and pen to write down her order. It took a minute, but Olivia pointed out the colors she’d liked. The next hour was spent walking around the shop as she talked about colors and quality, dry times, and textures. Quincy stood by the door and watched with a smile on his face. By the time Olivia was finished and Sebastian rang up the total, he thought the new princess would keel over from a heart attack. Quincy stepped forward and pulled his card out from his wallet.

“Don’t worry,” he told Olivia. “That’s nothing compared to what I’ve spent on nights out.”

Sebastian laughed. “Yes, and the whole isle knows about those nights out, Your Highness.”

Quincy shrugged as he tucked his card away. Sebastian told them their purchase would arrive at the palace by that evening, and the two royals headed for the front door where their bodyguards and servants stood under the awning.

“Where did those clouds come from?” Olivia said. She stared up at the quickly darkening sky and down at her white blouse. “Crap.”

“We’ll make it before the rain hits,” he said. “Though rain might not be such a bad thing in your case.”

She shot him a look as he held open the door for her, and they hurried back down the street as the first bolt of lightning shot across the sky and booming thunder chased it.

Chapter 5

Contrary to Quincy’s words, they did not reach the palace before the rain fell, and man, did it fall. Torrential waves soaked them head to toe in seconds. Olivia wanted to wring his neck by the time they made it inside, dripping on the floors as she stomped to her rooms. Her blouse was a bit see-through, and the bra underneath hadn’t helped a damn.

“We will get you out of those wet clothes very quickly, miss,” Allete said beside her.

“You’re soaked, too. Please, go get yourself changed. I can handle myself.”

“No, I must see to you first,” Allete insisted.

Olivia stopped and shook her head. “As princess, I am telling you to go change before you catch a cold. I will be fine, I promise.” She could tell Allete wanted to argue more, but the woman finally sighed and curtsied before heading back down the hall towards her own rooms in the servant’s wing.

“You know she means well,” Quincy said as he caught up to her.

“Stop following me,” she said and quickly put her arms back across her chest.

Quincy grinned at the movement and that damn left dimple appeared, making Olivia’s eyes dart to it. He pointed to the left, and she followed his hand. “We’re standing outside my rooms, Princess.”

She turned around to stalk to her own rooms to change. The minute the rain had wet her shirt, she’d felt his eyes on her chest and saw the glimmer of longing in his eyes. Did he want to kiss her? Pull her close and hold her under an awning as the storm raged around them? Or maybe that was just her thoughts of him.

“Stupid. You are being absolutely stupid,” she muttered as she pushed open her doors, closed and locked them. The last thing she wanted was for him to barge in while she was changing.

First, she headed to the bathroom to grab a towel; she stripped her clothes off, dried her body, and attempted to deal with her mess of hair. The rain had made it go flat, and it was nothing more than a tangled mess. She glanced around for her hairbrush, but it wasn’t in the bathroom. Cursing, she saw it on her nightstand. Not even thinking, she rushed across the wood floor to grab it, but it was slick and she slipped and fell hard on her elbow.

“Damn it!” Pain ricocheted up her arm as she winced. At least no one had been around to see that not-too-graceful move by the future princess. She tried to get up, but the floor was so slick, her hand slipped out from under her and she fell back again, cursing even louder.

She lay there with a towel around her head and stared up at the ceiling. Laughter bubbled up until there was a knock at her bedroom door. Her laughter stopped, and she struggled to pull the towel over her naked body and get up again but failed and slipped for a third time. “Yes?”

“Just wanted to make sure you were alright. Sounds a bit violent in there.”

Quincy. Really? “I’m fine!” she called back. “Just slipped is all. Nothing to worry about.”

“Are you sure? Do you need help?”

“No,” she said as she managed to get almost to a standing position, but she took one step forward and slipped again. A few more words came out of her mouth that would make her mother blush. “What the hell are these floors made out of?”

“That’s it. I’m coming in to help you.”

“No! You can’t!” Olivia panicked as she looked around for anything to throw on, but nothing was close. “The door’s locked!”

“I’ve been picking locks since I was seven,” he said.

“I’m uh… I’m not exactly decent,” she called instead, and there was silence on the other side of the door. “Quincy? You still there?”

She thought she heard laughter, and he said, “Are you… uh, without clothes, Princess Olivia?”

“It’s not funny, you bastard,” she snapped. “I think I sprained my elbow.”

“Fine, I’m coming in to help you. I will close my eyes, I swear it.”

She wanted to argue with him, but this was getting ridiculous. Her elbow throbbed, and her whole arm had started to tingle in pain. “Fine, but if you look I’m going to rip out your eyes!”

“Threatening the crown prince? That’s not a good way to start your reign,” he jested. There was a rattling at the door, and Olivia heard the lock click. “My eyes are closed, just guide me with your voice. It’d be tragic to step on you.”

“That’s not funny,” she said, and he turned in her direction. He’d already changed into fresh clothes—simple slacks and a tight, white t-shirt—but Olivia took in every inch of him as he moved towards her, eyes shut tight. “You’re close, just be careful. The floor’s still wet.”

“How far away am I?”

“A few feet,” she said and held out her hand as she told him to hold out his towards the floor. “Walk forward a bit more and, hey great, you found me,” she said. “Now help me up.”