“You’re lying.”
“Ask her yourself.” He walks fluidly to where the two young women stand.
The blonde has positioned herself in front of my angel, and while she’s strong, I can tell they’re both afraid of what’s happening here. I can’t help wondering who they are and how they’re related to this traitor. I have to believe an explanation exists I can accept.
My uncle fills in the blanks. “Your majesty, Rowan Westringham Tate, I’d like to introduce you to Miss Zelda Benedict and Miss Ava Wilder.” He leans closer to me, and I flinch away. “Miss Benedict is the heir to Lux Benedict of San Angelo.” He pauses as if waiting for me to understand. “Texas.”
“How do you do,” I give them a little bow, but my anger is barely controlled below the surface. “I don’t see how this changes my direct order.”
“If you please.” He gestures for me to walk ahead with him. I only comply out of simple curiosity.
“Miss Benedict recently inherited a quarter of a billion in oil from her late uncle. Your mother thought it would be a nice idea if the two of you spent some time together.” He glances back over his shoulder and smiles. “In case anything happens.”
As angry as I am with Reginald, when I glance back and see Ava, the fist of anger in my chest loosens slightly. I know Reggie’s schemes. I kicked him out for conspiring with Hubert against my father, but unlike Hubert, I know my uncle still desires independence for Monagasco. It’s in his blood. Also, lurking in the back of my mind is the notion that time spent in Miss Benedict’s presence equals time spent with Miss Wilder.
“Where are they staying?”
“They currently have rooms at the Fairmont.”
Nodding, I look down and clear my throat. My mind wanders from the sea of females in the ballroom to the one I found lingering in the moonlight, drinking in the sound of the waves, just like me.
“I’m willing to overlook your audacity this time.” When my sharp gaze meets Reginald’s gloating expression, I have to fight the urge to pop him in the mouth. “Only because I know you’re loyal to Monagasco.”
“I live to serve my country.” He does a little bow.
I push past him, returning to where the blonde Miss Benedict stands with her friend Miss Wilder. Our close proximity stirs the desire only momentarily cooled in my chest, and I have to force my eyes away from the lovely brunette.
“Miss Benedict, forgive my rudeness. I’m delighted to welcome you.”
Ava steps away, taking my insides with her, but her friend smiles and nods her head as she bows. “It’s an honor, your royal highness.”
My eyes have followed Ava when I realize what Zelda just said. “Call me Rowan, please.”
She straightens, and her blue eyes meet mine. “Then you must call me Zee.”
Her voice commands my attention. She’s smart. I like that. Although her friend has stolen my fascination, getting to know Zee Wilder might be interesting. I’ll see what Reggie has in mind for this partnership and if there’s any way I can help the country while pursuing what I really want.
Two Princes
Zelda
Sometimes I wonder if Ava and I are truly related. Stepping out of the sleek black Mercedes into the blinding strobe of camera flashes at the entrance to the Royal Sports Club, I feel like a fish who just leaped out of her bowl.
I can barely breathe. I can’t see a thing, thanks to the paparazzi. The bustier bodice on my black tulle and satin formal gown is pinching me in half. I know I’ll walk like I’m in a body brace through the crowd of nobility—that is, if I can stay upright on my too-tall stilettoes.
My sister, by contrast, sweeps out of the Town Car in her flowing dusty-rose gown as if she were born in this scene. I swear, she seems to move in sparkling slow motion, and as she turns to smile at me over her shoulder, her dark hair swirls around her arms in a shiny curtain. A ripple of whispers passes through the crowd as everyone tries to figure out who we are.
Reggie is right behind us, nearly bumping into me as I lean down to adjust my heel.
“Watch it!” I have to grab his arm to keep from falling.
His smile is plastered, and he looks straight ahead. “Hold steady. Every single one of those flashes is a photograph. You don’t want to look like a shrew on tomorrow’s gossip sites—or constipated.”
Freezing a smile on my face, I lower my leg, push back my shoulders and make my way as quickly as possible to the entrance. The sooner we’re off this freakin red carpet, the better.
“What happened to Miami?” Reginald huffs once we’re safely in the building and out of the strobe lights. “You waltzed through that casino like a supermodel on a catwalk.”
“I was wearing a romper and platforms. You’ve got me in a corset and stripper heels.” I gasp, straightening a pinch of skin near my ribcage. “I’m starving, and this damned dress is too tight.”