Page 39 of Princessa
Chapter 23
Everyone’s going to adore her.
To pass time amid the six-hour drive to Andorra, I filled Arabella in on some things we’d never discussed.
Like, for instance, how Andorra may be small in size but bountiful in culture and heart. I also put her at ease regarding concern over a potential language barrier, assuring her that everyone—king, queen, and household staff—spoke fluent English, French, and Spanish, even though the official language is Catalan, a derivative of Spanish. Born in Spain, my mother’s first language was Spanish and Dad—an Andorra native whose family came over from France—spoke French as his first language.
Additionally, I broke down details of household staff, including my favorites, the bunch I referred to asTheUsual Suspects:
Mya, Dom: married.
Charles, Nicola: also married—parents to their sassier-than-ever preteen daughter, Simone.
They may have been employees, however the lot of them had become close to me over the years.
Of course, I also filled her in on my least favorite—Gaspard—the forever and always pain in my ass.
As we approached Andorra Palace, I couldn’t decide who out of the two of us was more hacked by nerves—me or the knock-out beauty perched beside me.
Yet, none of that mattered; without a measure of doubt, I felt certain Arabella would win both of my parents over.
I just hoped they’d win her over.
When I called my mother to explain I’d met someone, the only thing she told me in response was, “Bring her here.”
Arabella didn’t know she’d be the first woman to ever come to the palace with me.
My life too had been pretty sheltered.
Most didn’t realize it wasn’t until I attended university that my wings were clipped, allowing me to fly freely about the fuck-em-and-leave-em realm commonly known as: brooding bachelorhood. I’d even moved out of the palace and into the royal cottage—okay, a rather large cottage on palace grounds, but still—in an effort to live out my bachelor years properly.
Knowing I’d some day berequiredto settle down with someone, made me rebel, act out against the notion of being tied down to just one woman. I was young. Foolish. Yet, through it all, I made a promise to myself that if I’d ever come across mykismet amor, to never let her go. Up until a few weeks ago, no such woman had crossed paths with me. I’d been sailing around, hopeless, thinking I was destined to a loveless marriage, a loveless life.
People say everything happens for a reason.
Each of those everythings—the things that brought Arabella and I to Royale Resort France at the same time—resulted in what I hoped to be an “us.”
Andorra Rule dictated I should be married before or by the end of my thirty-fifth birthday and if not, I shall marry my betrothed, someone King and Queen approve of, or—my true love.
One thing Andorra had right: love trumps any prearranged marriage and so long as King Matteo and Queen Isadora approved of said true love, all prearrangements would be wiped clean.
Arabella knew nothing of the caveat, the ultimate exception to the rule, and I purposely kept it from her with a plan to make her privy at the right moment.
“Try not to be nervous or be put off by staff who will most certainly wait on you hand and foot.”
“Okay, I’ll try my best.” Her smile was reserved, glazed with uncertainty. “Although, I sort of grew up with people waiting on me hand and foot.”
“That’s true,” offered Camille. “In fact, I don’t believeThe Princess of Savannahknows how to scramble an egg.”
Arabella, whose arms were folded over her chest, brows arched in defiance, said nothing in her own defense.
“It’s okay, baby”—I lightly pinched her cheek—“I know how to scramble eggs. I can make bacon and toast too.”
Laughter rattled the car as we pulled up to the palatial building that housed all my childhood memories. Lined up to greet us wereThe Usual Suspects—faces equally painted with grins—all seemingly eager, awaiting our arrival.
Unbuckling my seat belt, I leaned over, lips grazing the side of Arabella’s sensual neck. “Welcome to Andorra Royal Palace, baby.” I couldn’t fight the smile that crept up on my face if I tried.
“It’s magnificent, Grayson, and just about everything I imagined a palace to be, and more.” Long lashes fluttered as she stared in awe at the four-story, seventy-thousand-square-foot centuries-old mansion surrounded by lush flower gardens and protected by a fifty-foot high gate. The gate was there for mere semblance, not because crime could ever be an issue in Andorra—one of the safest places on Earth.
