Prince's Proposal (The Exiled Royals 1) (9 page)

The last thing she’d expected when she walked into the house was to find it filled with flowers.

There were roses on every available counter or bit of floor space. There were red ones, of course, but there were also dark black and violet and blue, all the colors you could imagine and some, even she knew, that were as rare as hen’s teeth. Standing in the center of all of this was Raymond, dressed in a gorgeous tuxedo that hugged every defined line of his chest.

Melissa stumbled, convinced that she must be imagining all of this.

It wasn’t possible.

She’d stormed out of Yagovia a week ago and now the love of her life – yes, she could admit that – was standing before her with a flower shop’s worth of roses and a basket full of cinnamon rolls?

“Okay, is this some weird performance piece? Wait, I know, this has really been
Punk’d
all along and Ashton Kutcher is revamping the franchise by playing jokes on royalty. I completely get it!”

He shook his head and strode over to her. Setting down the basket, Raymond swept her up in a bear hug and held her tightlyto his chest. His scent was the same as eve
r
– that fresh and crisp aftershave and the spearmint he favored. He was her clean, kind gentleman.

“I missed you.”

“You came back,” she said, and then she pulled back quickly. “No, that doesn’t make sense. You can’t give up the throne, your whole damn birthright, for me.”

He placed his hand gently on her cheek. Melissa reveled in his soft but firm touch. “It wasn’t worth it without you. I don’t care about being king if I have to be alone. I want a family, and I choose you.”

“Then how did you afford the duds?”

“I still have some pull. I was allowed some funds to find adequate private accommodations,” he finished, handing her the basket. “So would you like a cinnamon roll?”

She stared at him, mouth agape and eyes wide. His question was such a non sequitur that she stupidly stood there wondering about his preoccupation with pastry. 

“Huh?”

He grinned with that look that could melt women’s panties everywhere, she was sure. “Here,” Ray added, handing her the largest one. “Just take a bite.”

“Fine, but I feel like Alice in Wonderland here, you know, ‘Eat me’ and ‘Drink me,’ yeesh!”

She bit into the bun and had to admit he’d done well with her recipe. Taking a second bite, she amended her conclusion. She’d bitten into something hard. At first, she assumed it was part of an eggshell, but it didn’t feel like it; it was too elongated.

Reaching into her mouth, she felt the coolness of metal as she pulled the mystery item from her lips. There was the same platinum band that had gotten him into this mess in the first place.

Ray smiled and took it from her. He dropped to one knee before her. “Would you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me for real?”

She frowned but held out her hand. “I know it was a Vegas quickie wedding that your parents disapproved of, but it was still legal.”

He rose and kissed her. Oh, she’d missed this, the way her body so easily melted into his, and the feel of his hardness against her hips.

“Actually, I have to show you something,” he said.

“What?” she said, feeling as if she was on the set of a gameshow and that she’d never stop being asked to see what was behind doors number one to a million.

He pulled out his phone and pulled up a file. “Gregory and his research team found this on the cameras at
The Lucky Seven
. Don’t ask me how. That’s a lawyer for you. Anyway, just watch.”

Confused, she watched the CCTV footage before her. It was grainy and gray, but she could still make out as a large and fairly aggressive man tried to put his hands on her at the main bar.

She pushed him off twice before Ray came up and subtly slipped the ring on her hand and kissed her. The other man, a flat out creep, got the message and, while hunching in on himself, shook Ray’s hand and scurried off. There were a few more minutes of Ray buying her a drink and then they went off, his arm over her shoulder, to somewhere else in the casino.

“So, we must have gone to the marriage chapel afterward.”

“No, he subpoenaed all the CCTV footage from that night. We eventually left for another place, but we never went near the chapel. I must have bought the second ring as a joke or to make up for eventually having to take back my mother’s ring, but there was no ceremony.”

“It’s not a funny joke,” she said, sniffling. “I just…so we were never even Vegas tacky married?”

He laughed and kissed her again, his tongue promising an amazing night ahead. “No, but I’d truly like to be. Will you marry me, Melissa Speights? I know it won’t be the life a princess would have, but…”

She grinned, her eyes filling up with joyful tears. She kissed him back and said, “It’s what we’ll have together, and we’ll even be able to remember it, so it’ll be perfect for us.”

The chapel at
The Lucky Seven
was the perfect place to have the ceremony. He’d offered her something classier. He still had some money, after all, but Mel had asked for a place where her coworkers, Brandy and Jimmy, could feel a full part of everything.

Besides, there was something right about remembering the ceremony this time around that they’d always assumed they’d had. That and, after years of being his mother’s son, worried about making the correct impressions when it mattered, it was fun to put on just a casual suit and tie and let a very different type of king put his blessing over their union.

He was standing at the front of the aisle, Elvis’s cape glittering in his eyes and his sister to the right of him at the altar. She was one of only two family members who’d answered his invite. Serena, being the lovely, caring baby sister she was, told him flat out on the phone that she’d have to be held down by the palace security or blasted off in a rocket to space to keep her from coming.

The other relative, well, that was his first cousin, Alexander Godonov. He had once been destined to be the crowned prince of Lavinia, but he was now just as exiled as Raymond. His mother, Queen Catherine, had banished him and made his younger brother, Simon, next in line for the throne instead. Raymond felt badly for his cousin. The other man’s gambling habit meant that he ate through his stipend quickly every month, and spent the rest of it in hard straits.

Still, they were family and he’d rather have the ones who cared most about him here, than the wealth and pomp that accompanied the relatives who placed conditions on him. The music was still playing, and Brandy wasn’t yet at the altar either. Ray assumed that there was some last minute bride and maid of honor ritual going on in the dressing rooms that he wasn’t privy to.

It shocked him, though, when his sister held up her hands and signaled to the head of the chapel to turn off the “Blue Suede Shoes” riff blaring over the loud speaker.

Confused, he frowned at his sister and tipped his head questioningly. “You’re not going to tell me now that you’re pulling your support. That would be a cold trick, sis.”

She grinned and only gestured to the main entry hall. Instead of his bride, Ray found that his cousin was leading his mother up the aisle and that the king was trailing behind them. He blinked, and then rubbed his eyes. It had to be an illusion, some kind of mirage. Less than six months ago, they’d kicked him out of Yagovia for good.

There was no way they were coming to bless his marriage to such a “commoner.”

“Mother,” he said, surprised but also relieved to have her hugging him tightly. “I don’t understand.”

She pulled back and smiled at him, her expression one that the Mona Lisa in all her inscrutable glory would have envied. “Serena and Gregory told us how well you’ve been doing, managing a lot of the business and entertainment bookings for
The Lucky Seven
, the stability you’re using to help Alexander, and how happy Melissa’s made you.”

“Son,” his father said, shaking his hand. “We made a mistake. We set you loose in the world and then were upset when you found your own path.”

His mother nodded and continued, “We should have known that you weren’t necessarily going to find the life we’d have preferred for you, but we’re glad you found one, and that you’re no longer the boy we worried about last year.”

It was hard to swallow. He’d never felt this choked up in his life. Honestly, until this day, he couldn’t recall either of his parents saying they were proud of him. And the truth was, until then, he hadn’t been someone they
could
be proud of. Grinning broadly, he wrapped both his parents in a huge bear hug and helped them to their seats.

Taking his place back in the aisle, he beamed at his sister and cousin as “Only Fools Rush In” started to play over the speaker and Brandy marched down the aisle. She grinned back at him as she took her place at the left side of the altar. Then, it was time. The bridal march blared – that one concession to tradition besides the color of Melissa’s sundress – and everyone stood as his bride glided down the aisle.

She was radiant.

She was always radiant, especially now that she smiled so much. Melissa was beaming boldly back at all of them, and he waved to his once and future wife, amused at the wide shock on her face when she passed by the king and queen. She bowed to his mother and father and chuckled when his mother whispered something in her ear.

Curious, Ray arched an eyebrow at her but she waited until she was standing next to him before she spoke.

Leaning close to him she said, “Your mother wanted you to know, just in case you were unclear, you’re more than welcome to be king of Yagovia one day.”

He laughed, and hugged her and then his sister. “I’ll have to ask Serena first. Maybe we can time share a nation.”

Serena chuckled. “You focus on getting married, and we’ll talk arrangements later, brother.”

Ray smiled and took his bride’s hand in his own. His heart was lighter than it had ever been, even before his exile. He had the love of his family, both his birth family as well as the woman he loved, not to mention her eclectic circle of friends. He had choices to stay here or claim the throne he’d always wanted, and he had the excitement of another life on the way.

His grin broadened when he spied her sundress. There was just the slightest hint of a curve over her belly. Melissa, after all, was only three months along, and only someone who knew her usual trim shape would realize that she was expecting. So far, they hadn’t told anyone; they were still waiting a week or so for the first trimester to be over.

But as he listened to Elvis talk about unity and love being patient and kind, in a terrible not-at-all Memphis drawl, and looked out at the people he loved, Ray understood that now was as good a time as any. After they were pronounced man and wife, and once the reception was in full swing, he was more than determined to give good old “grandma” and “grandpa” an even bigger surprise than they’d already bargained for.

Despite himself and his efforts, Ray couldn’t quite keep his composure. He chuckled again, eliciting a stern glare from Elvis. Melissa quirked her chin toward him. That was it. Even if it was out of order, he couldn’t resist her delicious lips or soft skin. He kissed her, glad that this would be just one of many, many more.

“What?” she asked.

Grinning, he whispered, “I can’t wait to give everyone a very big gift.” He ran his palm over her stomach.

She smiled back. “Agreed, my prince. And you know what?”

“What?”

“Being independent is highly overrated.” Then, she turned back to Elvis and added, “Now, let’s get this over with. We have a life to start.”

End of Part One

Part Two Out Late July 2015

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Book 1: The Russian’s Resistant Lover
(FREE Excerpt Below!)

Book 2: The Russian’s Assertive Lover

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Excerpt From The Russian’s Resistant Lover (Book 1 of the Tonov Triplets Series)

“Go fuck yourself,” Valov Tonov shouted over his shoulder.

“Excuse me!” She said, matching pace with him. “All I want to do is ask you a few questions.”

He sighed. He already knew what would happen. As the big, bad mafia boss, anything he said would immediately be used to turn him into a villain and defame him in the press. It didn't matter that he was most likely more honest than most politicians were.

“I do not talk to the media,” he said.
Not even ones as sexy as you.
The reporter following him was sexy; there was no doubt about that. Her coffee-colored skin looked as smooth as silk and her big, brown eyes and full lips were just as alluring as her generous breasts and hips, which seemed to be bursting out of her expensive designer clothes. She was definitely a vision, even though she was two heads shorter than he was and carried around the biggest purse that he had ever seen. He had to admit she was damn fast, even under the weight of that bag.

“Look,” she said breathlessly as she struggled to keep up with him. “This is Bangor, Maine. No foreigners go unnoticed here, especially the rich ones with thick, Russian accents. There are already rumors and reports about you being part of the Russian mafia.”
He raised an eyebrow at her and she quickly held up her hands in defense. “I'm not saying you're evil,” she quickly said, as if being part of the mafia and being evil was the same thing. “But your silence, refusal to cooperate with the press and the authorities, and the coincidental drop in crime since your arrival here has rumors flying.”

“What’s your name, again?”

“Rae St. Germaine. Listen, I’m giving you a chance to tell your side of the story, give yourself a human aspect for the people. This will help end the discrimination against you and your family, and it will help everyone in Maine better understand your culture.”

“It will also help sell newspapers,” Valov said. “Last time I checked, the
Bangor Daily News
was in trouble. If it doesn't get a lot of sales fast, then there will be a huge drop in sponsorship deals and there will be no funding to keep your office in repair, let alone your salary paid.”

“You're right,” the woman said, suddenly moving in front of him and blocking his path. “And that's the exact argument I used to convince my boss to let me pursue this story. You honestly think I wouldn't want to clear your name?”

He smirked at her, looking her up and down. “How do you know you have the correct person?” he asked. “Maybe you've confused me with one of my brothers. In case you haven't heard, we look a lot alike.” They were identical, actually but neither of his brothers would talk to the press either. They knew better than that if they wanted to stay alive.

“Everyone knows who you are, Valov,” she said. “You're the one who has a constant scowl and wears the designer suits. Also, you're the one with tattoos on your wrists,” she said, looking pointedly at the edges of his shirt cuffs where the tattoos were plainly visible.

Valov nodded.
She’s done her homework.

“Although all three of you are never seen in anything other than suits. Even in summer, you wear long-sleeved shirts. Why is that?”

Too many questions
. That was something he would never tell her, let alone let her print. Not if he had something to say about it. But he was careful to keep his anger in check. With seventy-degree weather in October, there were more people than usual on the sidewalks of downtown Bangor and the last thing he wanted was to draw attention to himself. Negative attention especially.

“I still haven't agreed to an interview,” he said after taking a couple deep breaths. “But if it will get you to leave me alone, then I will answer questions for thirty minutes and thirty minutes only. Meet me at
The Hyde
. Eleven PM. Tonight. I'll have a limo pick you up at the Bangor Daily News office.”

She raised an eyebrow, her face so indignant it was almost cute. “A nightclub?” she asked. “I'm not one of your girls and I'm not conducting this interview at night in a club in the sketchy part of town.” That wasn't why she was objecting though, and Valov knew it. She was objecting because the interview would be in his territory, not hers. He would have the power, and if he were going to talk to the press at all, then he would need that power.

“Take it or leave it,” he said.

She glared at him. “I'll take it.”

Excerpt From The Russian’s Resistant Lover (Book 1 of the Tonov Triplets Series)