Authors: Heather Long
“You can’t do this.” He tried to argue.
“I can, and I will. Now you have four hundred dollars a week.”
“This is
insane
. I have no interest in going to school.”
Unflinchingly, Armand met his anger with cool impartiality. “Three hundred per week. Continue at this rate, and you will need to find a part time job in order to eat.”
“You can’t force me to do this.”
“Two hundred.”
No
. Armand refused to bend and, from the look on Richard’s face, all of the earlier threats had already come to fruition. George would check his accounts, but he already knew what he would find.
“As you wish, Your Highness.” Bile burned in his throat, and fury curdled his stomach. Humiliated didn’t begin to cover his emotional state.
“Excellent. Read, review, choose.” Unforgiving and unyielding, Armand motioned to the folders. “Alert me to your decision before supper is served tomorrow evening or I will make it for you. When you leave after the holiday, you will be flown to your selected destination. Security will make the necessary arrangements. We’re finished. You may leave.”
Not trusting himself to speak, George nodded and left, folders in hand. What little pride he still possessed demanded he keep his temper in check until he reached the privacy of his suite.
His pride, apparently, was all he had left.
P
enny Novak had
to pee and not a dignified little tinkle. No, instead she suffered a thighs glued together, awkward dance of desperation to avoid wetting herself kind of need. Frustrated and uncomfortable, she hunted for a bathroom in the oversized museum her brother-in-law invited her to for the holidays. In her effort to explore, she’d gotten turned around and, so far, none of the doors she’d opened possessed a fundamental necessity of civilized existence—namely, a toilet. Who built a house like a maze, and why didn’t they have signs? Wasn’t it a hotel when some royal family wasn’t renting it out? Did they have an app for it? Maybe a downloadable
you are here, run to here
if you need to urinate
guide?
I am going to piss myself, and won’t that impress the blue-bloods?
She hobbled down the hall and opened another ornate wooden door. A sitting room—oh, but a pair of double doors inside opened into a bedroom. Bedroom meant bathroom.
Practically hop-running, she weaved around the furniture, through the darkened bedroom and into the—
thank God
—open and utterly unoccupied bathroom. It only took her a couple of minutes to finish her business then she sagged in relief. While she washed her hands, she studied the crown moldings. Marble countertops and porcelain fixtures decorated the room, all tasteful, yet artfully crafted—she could admire the construction. The sculpting on the wall sconces were particularly attractive. French influences showed in the almost
fleur
-
de
-
lis
pattern of the ivy, but harder lines suggested a German sculptor. Dark paint accented the column work—almost Viking with iconography reminiscent of the Urnes Church portal, clearly representing a doe in the swirling knot work—all of which combined to create a striking effect. Architecture wasn’t her thing, normally, but she could admire the—
A door slammed in the outer room. Then glass shattered on a far wall. Vocal cursing followed the break. After drying her hands on a towel, Penny stuck her head out of the bathroom. The bedroom remained empty.
Was the chateau haunted? Another curse—this one distinctly masculine, vaguely European and somewhat familiar—verified no, not haunted. A light next to the sofa had been turned on, casting deep yellow glow across the furniture. Arms folded, she continued to the double doors splitting the bedroom from the sitting room. One of the Dagmar men stood with his back toward her, suit jacket stripped off and tossed over the back of a sofa.
Not her brother-in-law or Sebastian. That left only George, but she hadn’t seen him in months. Another curse—at least she thought it was a curse, since he wasn’t speaking English. The young Dagmar glared at three folders, which lay on the table in front of the room’s bar, as he downed a tumbler full of amber colored liquid.
“The urge to ask if something vexes thee is really strong,” she said after he finished his drink. He let out an oath and spun to face her.
“What are you doing in my suite?” Apparently, no one hit the youngest Dagmar with a charm stick on his way out. “I know I didn’t enter the wrong rooms.” Or the polite one for that matter.
“I had to pee. Someone forgot to include a Marauder’s Map in my check in materials.” One of the dark blue folders lay open. She recognized the brochure and welcome letter from New York University. Hadn’t she read he was going to school in California in one of the tabloids? Maybe Anna told her, but Penny couldn’t recall which.
“Miss Novak—”
“Penny.”
“I would appreciate it if you would show yourself out. I’m not fit to receive guests at the moment.”
Okay, so maybe he missed the charm stick and the polite stick, but they’d still managed to shove one up his ass. Raising her hands in mock surrender, she retreated. “Showing myself out.” The attitude lasted her as far as the door, where she stole a glance back to find him once again staring at the folders, shoulders rigid. “Or I could have a drink with you, and you can curse the folders some more. I can get pretty creative with the language.”
Glaciers were warmer than the stare he favored her with. “Miss Novak—”
“Penny.” Damn, stiff and slow. Poor boy missed all the family jewels.
“Miss. Novak.” Apparently he had no interest in being friendlier. “This matter doesn’t concern you. Have you no concept of privacy?”
Shortening the I in the word privacy didn’t dilute the formality of his response, but it did crack her up. Fighting to keep her lips from twitching, she shrugged and took a couple steps toward him. “Sure. I also know when someone is pissed. Privacy…”
Short ‘i’ and pinkies up, bitches
. “…doesn’t help when you’re angry. It merely makes you lonely and leaves you with no one to vent to.
I,
on the other hand, am a terrific listener, just ask Anna. I also have absolutely no vested interest in the outcome, unless it has to do with my sister. It doesn’t, right?” Probably a good thing to check first.
Frowning, George shook his head in a quick negative. “Not at all.”
“Brilliant! Then you can tell me all about the crime committed by your blue folders. Do a girl a solid, and pour me a drink first?”
“Why?” Blunt and so completely without tact, but very real.
Better.
“Because I have to go back out there and figure out where I took a wrong turn then find my family. Once I do, I get to listen to a recitation of how the brothers Novak continue to excel in the world while I, as pampered baby of the family, failed to develop the responsibility gene.” Mocking herself, she made a gagging noise then grinned. “So you would actually be helping me out with the diversion and drink. And it is, after all, all about me.”
Still staring, his frown eased into something akin to bewilderment. “Who are you?”
He probably meant it as a rhetorical question, but she decided to answer anyway. “Penny Novak, artist, student extraordinaire and desperately thirsty. Drink?” Because really, she understood why royalty spent most of their days blitzed. She’d only had three days with her family in the lap of luxury, and she was ready to kill herself.
Shaking his head, he retrieved a fresh tumbler from the bar and filled it with amber liquid before passing the drink to her. “Miss—Penny. Would you care to have a seat?”
Smiling, she cradled the drink to her chest and nodded.
Much better
. “Join me.” The sitting room included two love seats and two armchairs, all deeply cushioned, arranged in a circle for conversation. Choosing a love seat within view of a suit of arms—
who had armor in their bedroom
?—she slid off her shoes and curled up in the corner, bare feet tucked beneath her. George studied her and, for a moment, she feared he would continue to brood by the high arched stone window frame. Finally, he settled on the love seat opposite her with a sigh.
“Thank you.” She winked then took swallow of the amber alcohol. No idea what he’d given her, but it whatever it was tasted smooth. Too smooth. She took a longer drink, not at all displeased at the warm, fuzzy feeling spreading through her belly. “Damn. Royalty does have its privileges.”
“So I’ve heard.” The dryness in his voice didn’t diminish her good mood.
“All right, you made me my drink and invited me to stay so graciously. I’m all yours. Hit me with your problems.”
His eyebrows raised fractionally. “Why would I do that?”
“Because,” she said, raising one finger. “I’m a terrific listener.” She raised a second finger. “I’ve got no horse in this race.” With the addition of a third finger, she grinned. “You need to vent. So spill. Tell Penny all your problems.”
“You’re an unusual woman.”
Royal speak for pain in the ass. Good thing she spoke the language and excelled in her chosen profession. “Thank you.”
He paused with his drink halfway to his mouth, surprise in his expression. “You’re welcome?”
“Deflecting and delaying means you’ll end up pouring me a second drink.” Shaking her sweater sleeve up some, she glanced at her watch. “Since supper will be served promptly at seven, we have a few hours.”
“Miss Novak.”
Damn, two steps forward, three steps back.
“I spent the last fourteen hours on a flight from Los Angeles. I need to shower and rest if I am to be presentable for supper.”
Seriously?
Penny snorted. “You flew here on a private jet, one that I happen to know has a bedroom. Chances are good you slept on your flight, took a shower, then ate a gourmet meal before they ushered your pampered butt into a limo and drove you to this museum. If you really want to shower and pretend you’re so exhausted, no skin off my nose.”
But I don’t think so. You look too damn lonely.
Strays. She had a bad habit of picking them up. Pedigree’d or mutt, didn’t matter. Need was need. Another long drink of the alcohol increased the heat in her middle. Definitely fine liquor, whatever it was. George, however, didn’t respond. Instead he finished his drink before he rose and walked over to a pair of double doors that opened to the outside. Unlocking them, he swung them inward and allowed a wash of frigid air to flood the room.
“Holy hell on a cracker.” She folded her arms against the abrasive chill. “What are you doing?”
“Clearing my head,” he said, and walked out onto the glittering veranda. Someone had swept the stone balcony clear of snow. Despite his lack of jacket, however, he didn’t shiver. If anything, he seemed a little less rigid.
Folding her arms and wishing the mohair sweater was a little thicker, Penny chewed the inside of her lip. She’d met George on a handful of occasions—mostly formal events like Armand proposing to Anna, their wedding, and a couple of New York events she’d crashed.
Okay being on the invitation list precludes crashing, but so not my scene.
George was a charmer, usually fun and funny.
“Of what? Too much fine living?” Okay, that was bitchy even for her. But, really, George should be her ticket to having fun on this trip. Dark and broody did not equal fun in her opinion.
Pivoting sideways, he gave her a long look. “You are particularly insulting.”
“No, I’m bored.” She rubbed her arms. “And freezing.”
“You do not have to stay.” He nodded toward the door. “Take a right when you exit and head to the staircase. From there, you can descend to the main level and portrait galleries. I’m sure you will find your way from there.”
“Wow.” Penny pursed her lips. After setting her drink aside, she bounced up from her seat to retrieve the three folders.
“What are you doing?”
“I have four older brothers, an older sister, and parents who all believe I don’t know my ass from a tea kettle.” She flipped the first folder open. The North Carolina school offered degrees in business and more. “I thought you were attending UCLA?”
“Translation, please?”
Glancing up from the papers, she raised her brows. “You need me to translate
I thought you were attending UCLA?
Are you slow? Is that why you’re transferring schools?”
The corner of his mouth curved upward.
Aha.
The man did remember how to smile. “No, I’m not slow. The first part of your statement about not knowing your ass from a tea kettle.”
“Oh, that.” She waved her hand and ditched the North Carolina school to check the next one. “I’m the baby of the family. I’m not dependable, but I’m reckless, and cavalier. My opinion holds no value.” The second school was in Minnesota.
Ugh. Too close to Kansas
. Dismissing it, she flipped to the last one.
“Your family says that to you?” Mild outrage colored his tone as he came in from the frigid tundra and closed the doors.
“Of course not. They’re too polite but, trust me—when your opinion is dismissed and you get blown off enough, you recognize it for what it is. Not that I care.” She preferred the freedom her family’s lack of faith provided. “You need to go to this school.” She waved the folder. “It’s perfect. Great population, access to the arts, awesome alumni clubs and you can find a party every night on the rows. Perfect. It’s also about three thousand miles from your brother. What more could you ask for?”
She held the folder out to him and nodded when he accepted it. “Okay, so there’s your major crisis of the afternoon resolved. Now, what do you do around here for fun? I’m bored.”
“Ski, typically, though I’m sure there will be some grand parties in the valley this week. We’re not to attend, however.”
“Why not?” Seriously, she was supposed to spend her whole week confined to the Castle Hell hearing about how fabulously her brothers were doing and how Anna was her mother’s dream come true—albeit ten years late, but whatever. If she had to sit through another stuffy, formal meal where the servants did everything except actually spoon feed her, she would scream. What she wanted was a burger and a beer—not necessarily in that order.
“Because we’re here for a family holiday. The gates are closed. We will not admit guests and we will not attend parties.”
“Not even one?”
Just kill me now.
“No.” He gave her a faint smile and closed the folder. “If you attend one, then you must attend all of them or it will be seen as a snub. Armand wanted a family gathering. What he wants, he gets.” George shrugged.
“Well, you know what?” Penny stretched and slid her shoes back on. “That doesn’t work for me. I’m a grown ass woman who wants to go find a party. If I can find a car, I’ll sneak you out in my trunk.” Crossing the room to the door, she paused to glance at him. “You know, if you can unwind enough to get the stick out of your ass. See you later, Georgie.”
Escaping doom and gloom central, she considered his directions to go right and down the stairs and went left. She’d rather explore and find her escape routes than get trapped into a baby discussion or a
so, Penny, when are you going to stop playing at your education and settle on a degree
chat. Shuddering, she almost ran down the hall.
Anything was preferable to that. Even sad, lonely, and stuffy Prince George.
B
y four
, George showered and dressed in his evening suit. He descended the stairs to meet his family for drinks preceding supper. As expected, Sebastian and his fiancée, Meredith, held court right alongside Armand and Anna. Pausing at his mother’s side, he pressed a dutiful kiss to her cheek before accepting a glass of wine from the footman attending the proceedings. It seemed they were limited to immediate family.