Catharine & Edward (7 page)

He watched her teeth bite her bottom lip in concentration. Her right hand shifted inside the dress, while her left hand tried to manipulate the beads – and, by proximity, her breasts – from the outside.

She failed.

He knew it when he heard the soft clink of pearls on the floor and her eyebrows shot up. She pulled her hand free and bent over to pick it up. The sight of her heart-shaped ass nearly caused him to groan out loud.

You don’t deserve her
, he reminded himself.
She deserves better than you
.

Catharine’s phone rang and she straightened, the pearls now in her hand. As she turned to him, he had a vision of himself fucking her while she wore only those pearls.

God damn him.

He cleared his throat. “Why don’t you get the phone and I’ll order you some tea?”

Her mouth creased into a fucking adorable frown. “Tea? I had some with dessert.”

“You need more. You’re out of it.”

She rolled her shoulders back, then flipped her hair over her shoulder so it settled behind her in a long, dark, shimmering line. “I am not out of it.”

He couldn’t help the grin that twitched onto his face. “You are.”

“Am not.”

“Are.”

“Not.”

“Are.”

“Enough.” She waved her hand in front of her. Damn it if her haughtiness wasn’t adorable, too. “I am perfectly fine. I’m not even slurring my words.”

“You don’t when you’re drunk.”

“What?”

He stepped closer, even though he knew he shouldn’t. “You’re probably the only woman I’ve ever met who doesn’t slur her words when she’s drunk.” His voice was too low, too soft. “Always proper, always prim. Never a word or hair out of place.”

“That’s not true. You’ve just never seen me first thing in the morning. I’m quite ugly before I fix this up.” She gestured to her face, drawing a circle around it in the air.

“You forget; I’ve seen you in the morning, too. You’re beautiful.”

She gasped.

“Really fucking beautiful.”

Her body melted, the haughtiness and veneer slipped away to reveal the woman underneath. “Edward.”

Her phone rang again, shattering the moment and the haze that surrounded them. He cleared his throat and stepped back. “Phone, My Lady. I’ll get the tea.” He turned towards the small kitchen and began to assemble a small tray.

He couldn’t help listening; it was part of his job, after all, to hear everything and reveal nothing.

“Philip?”

Edward almost crushed the delicate teacup in his hand at the sound of Philip’s name on her lips.

The man she might end up marrying just to appease her mother.

Jesus.

He got his anger under control and listened more closely to Catharine’s side of the conversation.

“I’ve just seen your missed calls. Why have you been calling me repeatedly tonight?” A pause. “Well, that’s not an emergency. It’s no reason to call–” Another pause. “Philip, really. I was just having dinner with my family.” An exasperated sigh. “I can’t say I care for this behavior at all.” Pause. “Of course, I accept your apology. Yes, all right. No, I can’t. We’ve got some things going on and I’ll be unavailable for the next several days.”

Edward really didn’t like the way Pretentious Philip was pushing her around. She was a goddamned princess; she deserved better than a clingy asshole with controlling tendencies, a trait he was seeing more and more of in Philip. He pulled out his own phone and sent a few quick messages while she finished up her call. He’d done a basic investigation into Philip recently, but now it was time to dig deeper.

Philip was too much of an asshole not to be hiding something.

“Well, you can call and leave a message, and I’ll get back to you when I can. Philip!”

His entire body went on alert at her raised voice, and he forced himself to stand still. She wasn’t in immediate danger from a phone call, even if he did want to rip the damn phone from her hands and say a few choice words to her caller.

“This is part and parcel of dating a royal,” Cat said. “Things like this happen. No, I can’t disclose what’s going on, nor would I to anyone but my husband.” She sighed again, clearly done with the conversation. “I’ve got to go. I just haven’t got time for this right now. We’ll talk later. Good night.” She let out a grunt of frustration and stomped his way, eventually pausing in the kitchen doorway. “You needn’t worry about the tea. I assure you, I’m more than awake now.”

He wanted her soft and loose again. He knew exactly how to get that, yet he didn’t make a move.

She turned a moment later and continued stomping down the hall to her bedroom.

C
at
and her family had walked mostly en masse to the bunkers hidden beneath the palace. Few knew where they were, despite the fact they’d been used extensively over the centuries to hide during times of war and strife.

The bunkers were quite extensive. A control room monitored security and situations in the palace and beyond, while several conference rooms, kitchens, bedrooms, and more lined the halls. The bunkers were built to last and house an army, if needed.

With the size of their royal family, they were an army in and of themselves.

A separate Situation Room was located in another area of palace and was used for day-to-day security situations. The bunkers were used when something more severe and lengthy may be at play.

She, along with everyone else, were hoping Marcello was simply being overly cautious by sequestering them there; no one wanted a long and lengthy seclusion underground, away from the citizens and people they were bound to protect.

As they’d walked, Cat had linked arms with Grace who, in addition to being her future sister-in-law, was also one of her oldest friends. Cat could rely on her to keep her secrets and provide sound advice about Edward. “I need to talk with you, just us,” Cat whispered.

Grace raised a delicate eyebrow. “All right. Just give me a signal and we’ll steal away to one of the conference rooms.”

“As soon as we can manage it.”

Once inside, and after the thick, steel doors closed behind them, Cat took a few deep breaths. She never suffered from claustrophobia, unless she was locked in an underground bunker.

“Are you all right, My Lady?” Edward asked from behind her.

She wished she wasn’t so easy to read. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

“My pleasure, My Lady.” As he walked away to the control room, she realized his voice was a calming balm on her.

Inside the bunker, he wouldn’t need to stay close to her in order to protect her; she still wanted him there all the same.

She signaled to Grace, who was whispering to Marcello on the other side of the room. Marcello played with a loose strand of Grace’s hair before tucking it behind her ear. He kissed her cheek and whispered to her, she nodded, and he, too, went in the direction of the control room.

“What’s going on? Well, besides the obvious, I mean,” Grace asked once they were inside the conference room.

Cat plopped into a chair. “I’m so confused and I don’t know what to do.”

Grace took a seat besides Cat. “About what?”

Cat looked around, then whispered. “I like Edward.”

Grace looked confused. “He seems to be a good sort of man. I know Marcello respects him a great deal.”

“No, Grace. I
like
him.”

“Oh. I see. Does he know?”

“I’ve been kissing him since Christmas, so I’m pretty sure he does.”

Grace’s eyes widened. “You mean you’ve–”

Cat shook her head fervently. “Nothing like that, not yet anyway.” Cat told Grace about what happened at the Holiday Ball, and how they’d stolen moments ever since.

“What about Philip? I thought you were seeing him?”

Cat scrunched up her nose. “Do you know what Philip is? He’s appropriate. He’s nice, well, sometimes, anyway,” she added as she recalled his phone call earlier. “I can see my parents liking the match, but kisses with Philip don’t feel anything like kisses with Edward do.”

Grace smiled. “And how do kisses with Edward feel?”

Cat sighed dreamily. “Soft and hard at the same time, full of fire then ice, then a slow burn back to heat. I could kiss him forever.”

Grace chuckled. “I know the feeling.”

“I’m not supposed to marry for love, you know.”

“Says who?”

“Society, my parents, everyone.”

“Alex is marrying the woman he loves.”

“He got lucky.” Cat exhaled. “I gave up on luck years ago.”

“Oh, Cat.”

“You know about Mama’s ridiculous edict, that I’ve got to get engaged before Alex and Rebecca get married.”

“Cat,” Grace began, looking troubled, “you’re not going to do something foolish, are you?”

“Depends upon how you define foolish. Would foolish be taking a risk with Edward, when he may be interested in the woman, but not the princess? Would foolish be continuing to see Philip to appease Mama, potentially even faking an engagement?” Cat shook her head.

“How do you know Edward’s not interested?” Grace asked quietly.

“Before dinner, we had a moment. A few moments. I told him about Mama’s edict, then he pushed me away. He told me he was going to see me through this situation, then perhaps resign or transfer somewhere else.”

“Catharine Victoria Santoro di Valleria.”

Cat blinked. “Why are you ‘full naming’ me?”

“Because you can be quite thick sometimes.”

Cat’s mouth dropped open and Grace smiled. “Of course he’s pushing you away. You’re a princess who has been told to get engaged within the next four months. He’s aware of the impact a romance would have on both of you.”

“I know that, but he’s not even willing to try. It doesn’t matter who I marry now. Alex has got Rebecca, they’ll have kids. Valleria doesn’t need me as a spare heir anymore.”

“You’re not that naïve. You know it will always matter who you marry, though that doesn’t mean you couldn’t be with Edward.”

“I’m in my mid-thirties. I don’t have time to wait any longer. My eggs are already giving up on me, I can feel it.”

Grace gave her a small smile; neither she nor Marcello had told anyone they were trying to conceive, nor would they unless it happened. “I know exactly what you mean. I’m sure whatever you’re feeling, Rebecca’s feeling it more.”

“Speaking of, have you noticed anything with her?”

“She does seem a little more, well, emotional, I suppose. Hardly surprising when you consider her wedding dress was butchered in front of her, and her wedding to the world’s most eligible bachelor is mere months away.”

“I guess. I have a feeling there’s something else going on.”

“Alex will suss it out.”

“I’m sure.”

The door opened and the rest of the family came filtering in. Grace gave Cat’s hand a squeeze and leaned close. “Are you going to be all right?”

Cat nodded, and watched as Edward entered the room. “I’ll make do. I just need some time alone with him, that’s all.”

Marcello went to the head of the room. “Thanks for making it to the bunker on time. I wanted to give you an update before everyone heads off to sleep.”

Marcello tapped the large screen behind him and brought up several images. “This is Sacheverelle,” he said as he pointed to one image, then shifted to another. “That’s his contact, Muffy Kori, and, yes, that is her name. She’s a Vallerian socialite. Bitch, by all accounts.”

“I can attest to that,” Alex said, his hand laced with his fiancée’s. “I met her years ago at a charity event. She looked quite different then, however. I made it clear that, despite her repeated attempts, I wasn’t interested.”

“Did she used to have blonde hair and a less ample, er, everything? I’ve met her before as well.” Nate, his arm draped over Charlie’s chair, looked straight into Charlie’s narrowed eyes with a grin. “I, too, made it clear that I wasn’t interested.”

Marcello shook his head. “Jesus. I bet Lorenzo and Ethan have had to brush her off, too.”

“You sure Lorenzo brushed her off?” Nate asked.

“No, but I’m hoping he did. Let me run her older picture by them and see if that jogs their memory.” Marcello took a few moments to tap swiftly on his phone, then kept it in his hand as he waited for replies.

Marcello gestured to Edward. “Bash eventually got out of Sacheverelle that he knew Muffy. A socialite like her is always in the papers, and he’s taken quite a lot of photos of her over the years. A few of them were of her in compromising situations, and were worth quite a bit.”

Marcello pointed to a series of Muffy’s photos and news clippings on the screen. “Muffy’s been making the rounds in the society columns for years while she’s searched for a rich husband.”

“You don’t think she behind this, do you?” Charlie asked. “Someone who’s in that position usually has money and means. I don’t know what she would gain by watching and listening to us. She also doesn’t look like someone plotting something nefarious, though that doesn’t mean anything.”

“That’s what we think, too. Based on what we learned from Sacheverelle, we don’t think she’s the ringleader, doesn’t have the brains to run it. We do, however, think she is working with whoever is in charge, and we think they’re also in the upper ranks of Vallerian society, just like Muffy.” Marcello’s phone buzzed and he glanced down. “Ethan and Lorenzo had run-ins with her, but never took her up on her offer.”

“Any ideas who’s running the show?” Nate asked.

Marcello swiped across the large screen to bring up a fresh view. “That’s where my theory comes in. These are the three leading anti-monarchist groups in Valleria. I know no one wants to hear me say this, but I’ve recently learned our dear cousin Gerald was affiliated with one of them.”

Cat gasped along with her family, again except for Alex and their father, who clearly already had this piece of information. Gerald had been responsible – either directly or indirectly – of almost killing Rebecca, Alex, Nate, and their father over the last several months.

“That doesn’t make sense,” Cat said. “Gerald wants the throne, almost killed some of us to get it. He wants the monarchy in place so he can rule it. Why would he align himself with anti-monarchists?”

“Perhaps he thought the best way to get it might be to work with the enemy,” Nate chimed in. “Gerald’s locked up, and tight. He has no communication and his cell is monitored constantly. I don’t think he’s behind this.”

“We’ve thought that sort of thing before, my son,” Gabriel said, his lips tight under his salt-and-pepper mustache. “However, I do think one of these groups is more likely to infiltrate the palace.”

“Any word on my missing employee, Andre?” Charlie asked.

Marcello shook his head. “Sorry, no. We’re still searching. It’s possible they’ve kept him alive to use him.”

Charlie bit her lip for a moment, then released it. “Do you, I mean, is it possible he was a member of one of those groups and I just didn’t know it?” Nate’s arm tightened around her.

“There are no indications that he was affiliated with any of these anti-monarchist groups.”

“So you can’t confirm.”

“Sorry, Charlie, I can’t.”

“And we don’t know who Muffy’s working with?” Alex asked. “Has anyone seen her recently? Who’s her latest flavor of the month?”

“I’ve seen her,” Cat said, then blinked when she realized she’d just spoken without thinking about it first. “I must have just remembered. That dinner we hosted back in early February, when Nate and Charlie came back from Australia. Do you remember?”

“Jesus,” Nate said as he ran a hand over his face. “She was in that silver getup, wasn’t she?”

Charlie huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “You mean that barely-there getup. I’ve seen swimsuits that covered more.”

“So have I,” Nate murmured. “You wore those sorts of swimsuits on our trip, as I recall.”

Charlie playfully elbowed him in the stomach. “Shut it. What I mean is, that was a dinner to celebrate the successful negotiation of a trade deal. The sort of dress she wore was inappropriate for that event.”

“That sort of dress is always inappropriate,” Genevieve said. “Now that you mention the dinner, I seem to recall she was accompanying Sir Brighton that evening.”

“An English ‘Sir’ or a Vallerian ‘Sir’?” Grace asked.

“Both, really,” Genevieve said. “The man must be at least seventy and he had her on his arm, grinning like a lech the whole time. He has both English and Vallerian blood. Nothing royal that I can recall, but he’s considered upper class.”

“Tavin’s got more royal blood in him than Brighton does,” Alex said, referring to his chief of staff who was a distant royal relation, before he faced Marcello again. “Brighton’s not much of a monarchist in the UK, either, is he? I seem to recall some comments he’s made. It wouldn’t surprise me if he felt the same about us.”

“Do you think it’s realistic that a seventy-year-old man would be capable of masterminding something like this?” Genevieve asked.

“I think he could be persuaded if his hot, new wife had anything to say about it, if that’s what Muffy eventually becomes,” Nate piped in.

“You’d know,” Charlie muttered.

“There’s only one woman who’s going to be my hot, new wife someday and that’s you, Charlotte dear.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Charlie muttered, but she did it with a small grin.

Genevieve, who clearly had superhuman hearing when it came to the relationships of her children, perked up. “Are you both engaged?”

“No,” both Charlie and Nate said together.

Genevieve deflated. “I thought for sure you’d come back from Australia engaged.”

Nate simply gave her an even smile. “We came back with a much more permanent symbol of devotion: matching tattoos.”

Genevieve’s eyes widened. “What? Another tattoo? Oh, Nathaniel. And now you’ve marred Charlotte’s skin as well.”

“I like his tattoos,” Charlie said defensively. “And I like mine, too.”

Genevieve sighed. “Well, what tattoo did you get this time? I hope at least it was something classy.”

Charlie chuckled. “It was better. They’re matching vines that twine over our sides, where our scars are. We’ve got each other’s names etched on a leaf. There are a few other names we chose, along with some blank leaves for the future. Our tattoo is meaningful to both of us. I doubt Muffy’s means anything to her.”

Marcello’s eyes narrowed. “Muffy’s got a tattoo?”

“I know it’s unlikely she could hide things with that poor excuse for a dress she was wearing at the dinner, but she covered it with makeup. I ran into her in the washroom where she’d taken off her whole dress.”

“Really?” Nate teased. “Do tell?”

Charlie elbowed him less playfully this time. “Shut it. The reason she took off the dress was so she could cover the tattoo with more makeup. Since the tattoo’s on her ass, she needed the mirror to see it and couldn’t do the cover up in one of the stalls.”