Charlene Sands - The Montoros Affair - The Princess and the Player / Maid for a Magnate / A Royal Temptation

“Did you hear that?” she asked with a cocked head.

“Uh, no.” He’d been too busy soaking in the sight of a beautiful woman against the backdrop of the deep maroon walls and dark furniture. “What was it?”

“The sound of success.”

She smiled and that heavy feeling in his chest expanded a tad more, which had been happening with alarming frequency all day. Unfortunately, the coping mechanism he’d used last night—grabbing Bella and sinking into her as fast as possible so his mind went blessedly blank—wasn’t available to him at this moment because a workman from the municipality was on his way to restore the water connection.

It was a minor miracle the workman had come out on short notice, given the typical local bureaucracy, but once James had mentioned that he was a representative for the Montoros, everything had fallen into place.

He’d have to make himself—and his distinctive green car—scarce. Just as he’d done this morning when the bloke from the electric company had come. But it was fine. The time away had given him an opportunity to talk through strategy with his sports agent, who mentioned a possible opportunity with Liverpool. No guarantees, but some shifting had occurred in the roster and the club needed a strong foot. Brilliant news at an even better time—the sooner James could escape Alma, the better.

“Yep,” he said and cleared a catch from his throat. “Only twenty-seven rooms to go.”

They’d started on the downstairs, focusing on the kitchen and great room, plus the servant’s quarters past the kitchen, where they intended to sleep tonight if the bed they’d ordered arrived on time, as promised. A lot had been accomplished in one day but not nearly enough.

Once they got the master bedroom upstairs cleaned up, James planned a whole silk-sheets-and-rose-petals-type seduction scene. He owed it to Bella since she’d been such a good sport about sleeping in the room designated for the help.

One thing he immensely appreciated about Bella: she joked around a lot about being high maintenance but she was the furthest thing from it. And he knew a difficult, demanding woman when he saw one, like his last semipermanent girlfriend, Chelsea. She’d cured him of ever wanting to be around a female for more than a one-night stand, a rule which he’d stuck to for nearly two years.

Until Bella.

Since he couldn’t lose his mind in her fragrant skin for...he glanced at his watch and groaned...hours, he settled for a way-too-short kiss.

She wiggled away and stuck her tongue out at him. “Yes, we have a lot of work left. But not as much as we would have if you hadn’t made all those calls. You’re the main reason we’ve gotten this far.”

The hero-worship in her gaze still made him uncomfortable, so he shrugged and polished an already-sparkling crystal bowl with the hem of his shirt so he had an excuse not to look directly at her. “Yeah, that was a brilliant contribution. Hitting some numbers on my phone.”

“Stop being such a goof.” Hands on her hips, she stepped into his space, refusing to let his attention linger elsewhere. “You’re a great person. I’m allowed to think so and don’t you dare tell me I can’t.”

That pulled a smile from him. “Yes, Your Highness.”

“Anyway,” she drawled with an exaggerated American accent, which only widened his smile, as she’d probably intended. “When I was cleaning the fireplace, I realized I really need to call my father. We can’t ignore the press release about my engagement to Will much longer.”

Though she kept up her light tone, he could tell some stress had worked its way into her body. Her shoulders were stiff and a shadow clouded her normally clear eyes.

“Maybe we can wait,” he suggested, and laced his fingers with hers to rub her knuckles. “Tomorrow’s soon enough.”

“I kind of want to get it over with.” She bit her lip, clearly torn. “But I also really like the idea of procrastinating.”

“Why?” he asked, surprising himself. He’d meant to say they should wait. Why do today what you can put off until tomorrow?

He, of all people, understood avoiding conflict, especially when it involved an overbearing father. But the distress evident in the foreign lines around her eyes had to go and he would do whatever it took to solve the problem.

Maybe it wasn’t a good thing for him to encourage her to wait. Maybe she needed to get the confrontation over with. But how would he know if he didn’t ask?

“My father really wants me to fall in line, like Gabriel did. When Rafe abdicated, it was kind of a big deal.” She sighed. “I get that. I really don’t want to cause problems because of my own selfishness.”

“But you’re not,” he countered. “How is it a problem that you want to choose the bloke you marry?”

“Because my father says it is.” Her mouth flattened into a grim line. “That’s why I want to put off dealing with all of this. I’m just not ready for all of the expectations that go along with restoring the monarchy. I mean, I always knew our family had come from a royal line, but that was so long ago. Why is it so important to my father all of a sudden?”

She seemed a little fragile in that moment so he pulled her into his arms, shushing her protests over the state of her cleanliness.

“I wish I could tell you why things are important to fathers,” he murmured. “Mine has yet to explain why it’s so horrifying to him that I don’t want a job at Rowling Energy. Becoming a world-class football player might make some dads proud.”

“Not yours?” she whispered, her head deep in his shoulder.

Her arms tightened around him, which was oddly comforting. What had started as an embrace he’d thought she needed swiftly became more precious to him than oxygen.

“Nah. Will’s his golden boy.”

“Why don’t you want to work at Rowling?”

It was the first time anyone had ever asked him that.

Most people assumed he wanted to play football and there was little room for another career at his dad’s company. But even now, when he had few choices in continuing his sports career, he’d never consider Rowling an alternative.

His father wasn’t the listening type; he just bulldozed through their conversations with the mindset that James would continue to defy him and never bothered to wonder why James showed no interest in the family business.

“It’s because he built that company on my mother’s grave,” he said fiercely. “If she hadn’t died, he wouldn’t have moved to Alma and tapped in to the offshore drilling that was just starting up. I can’t ever forget that.”

“Is someone asking you to forget?” she probed quietly. “Maybe there’s room to take a longer view of this. If your father hadn’t moved to Alma, you wouldn’t have discovered that you loved football, right?”

“That doesn’t make it okay.” The admission reverberated in the still house and she lifted her head to look at him, eyebrows raised in question. “I love football but only because it saved me. It got me out of Alma at an early age and gave me the opportunity to be oceans away. I can’t be on the same small island as my father. Not for long.”

When had this turned into confession time? He’d never said that out loud before. Bella had somehow pulled it out of him.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly and snuggled back into his arms, exactly where he wanted her.

“I’m sorry you’ve got the same issues with your father. But there’s always gossip in a small town. We’re going to be dealing with a scandal over the press release once someone catches on to us shacking up in this love nest. But I support whatever decision you make as far as the timing,” he told her sincerely, though he’d be heavily in favor of waiting.