Waking up in Vegas

Chapter Ten



At the polite knock on the door of his study, Max looked up. Albert stood in the doorway. No doubt come to check Max had been a good boy and done his homework. Max suppressed a sigh and waved the man in. “I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.”

“There is something we need to discuss that couldn’t wait.”

“And you couldn’t call?”

“This isn’t the sort of thing we could discuss on the phone. You made the papers this morning.”

“I seem to make the papers quite often these days. Was there anything in particular that caught your attention?”

“This.” With a flourish, Albert set the morning paper down on the desk between them.

Max glanced at the lurid headline and the over-sized picture beneath it. A grainy picture taken through the window of a tour bus, of an indistinguishable couple entwined in a kiss. “That brought you haring up from Neustadt?”

“No, this did.” Albert laid another picture beside it. This one was less grainy, a colour photograph in close up of Max and Phoenix as they headed towards the wine cellar, oblivious of the curious eyes of the tourists in the coach. “I managed to keep this one out of the papers.”

Max frowned. “We’re holding hands. So what?”

“This girl you’re with is wearing the Waldburg ring around her neck.”

Max arched an eyebrow. He might have been an outward picture of restraint, but inwardly he began to seethe. “The ring is mine and I’m free to give it to anyone I want.”

“But in many people’s eyes that is tantamount to an engagement!”

Max allowed himself a very real grin. “Yes, I thought so myself.”

“You cannot possibly intend to marry this girl!”

“Woman,” Max corrected. “Why not?”

“She is completely unsuitable. Did you not look at the folders I gave you?”

Max pulled the offending folders from the red box on his desk. “You mean these incomplete, poorly researched documents? You’d rather I marry a recovering drug addict?”

Albert’s gaze narrowed. “How do you know that?”

“You might want to put a tabloid reporter or two on the Intelligence payroll.”

“Be that as it may, you still cannot marry a girl you picked up in a Las Vegas motel.”

The blood roared between Max’s ears and it was only with great effort he remained seated. “You want to bet?”

Albert’s face turned an unhealthy shade. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. “Before you do anything rash, you should read this.” He placed another folder on the desk between them.

Max picked it up and flipped through the pages. It was a long, long moment before he had his voice under sufficient control to speak again. “Let me make sure I understand you…” He spoke slowly and deliberately. “You had my girlfriend investigated, without my knowledge? On what grounds?”

Albert looked only slightly put out. “You asked me to look for her. Besides, who you marry is a matter of national concern.”

“No, who I marry is my own business. This is an invasion of my privacy. Our privacy.” Max rose from the chair, drawing himself to his full height. “Who I date, who I sleep with or who I marry is of no concern to anyone but myself. Is that clear?”

“Would you bring Westerwald into disrepute?”

“This isn’t the seventeenth century, Albert. It’s not a crime to marry someone from the other side of the tracks.”

“Are you aware her parents never married? That she never finished high school? Or that she has a conviction for possession of cannabis? Before you get too serious about this girl, perhaps you should find out more about her.”

He didn’t need to know anything more about Phoenix. He already knew everything that was important. Max rose from the chair, standing to his full height. “The same constitution that gives every citizen the right to privacy applies to me too. You want to change the laws? By all means try. I think your electorate will stand for it even less than I will.”

Phoenix’s soft laugh echoed in his head. It was time for that reality check. “If you think for one moment I’m going to be more malleable than my brother and you’re going to control me, you’d better think again. I make my own decisions. Is that clear?”

Albert’s eyes narrowed but he nodded. “Yes, Your Highness.”

Max resumed his seat. “Now that you’re here, I’d like to discuss a few ideas Phoenix had for encouraging our young people to stay in Westerwald.”

Albert looked as if he’d sucked a particularly sour lemon. Swallowing his satisfaction, Max pulled out the notes he and Phoenix had put together in the early hours of the morning. If he could entice Phoenix to stay, then anything was possible.

Days blurred into one another, passing more quickly than Phoenix could have imagined. By day she worked in the café, serving drinks to tourists who often came for the pleasure of gawking at her – or maybe hoping Max would drop by to visit her again but in that they were disappointed.

Much as she wanted to avoid the press, she couldn’t. The wretched photographers were everywhere. She learned to ignore them, but every morning she flipped through the newspapers in the café, holding her breath until she was sure their secret was still safe.

Nothing else was, though. The press raked through her past and uncovered every sordid moment, including a few Facebook photos she’d be happy never to see again.

It was a relief when a fresh news story broke, something about a senior government official caught with a mistress in a Paris love nest. The journos lost interest in her and life in the café returned to normal. Or as normal as life could be in a town gripped by coronation fever.

It was the nights Phoenix lived for. Golden, summer evenings when she and Max explored the countryside on their bikes, visiting vineyards and racing along the country roads with the wind in their faces. Sometimes they picnicked in their tiny secluded garden, discussing the coronation plans or debating his nation’s future. They chose menus for the gala dinner, wrote Max’s coronation speech and laughed over a tabloid’s speculation that Max had already broken the heart of his American waitress and moved on.

One evening Claus and Rebekah joined them for dinner, to discuss plans for the big concert. Rebekah squeed at the news of the band that would headline the show. “They were my favourite band growing up!”

“Mine too,” Phoenix said, suppressing a smile.

“The lead singer, Johnny, is to die for, isn’t he? I used to have his poster up on my wall, right above my bed.”

Claus laughed indulgently at his wife’s enthusiasm and turned to Phoenix. “I don’t suppose you happen to have a convenient ex with connections in pyrotechnics? Because I could really use help with sorting the coronation fireworks display.”

Phoenix ignored Max’s dark expression. “Sorry, can’t help you with that.”

But the best part of every day were the hours they spent in bed, exploring one another, teasing, limbs entangled, hearts racing. Phoenix had never been so happy.

“This is how it can be forever.” Max lifted the chain around her neck and cushioned the ring in his palm. “All you have to do is move this to your finger.”

Phoenix turned her head away. “There’s no such thing as forever.”

On the morning of the concert, Phoenix woke to the sound of rain against the windows. She buried her head beneath the pillows, not wanting to know. So much for the land of fairy tale happy endings.

“It’s ruined!” she wailed.

“No, it’s not. The groundsmen will lay out ground covers to keep the yard from turning to mud and the weather will clear by evening,” Max answered, unperturbed as ever.

“How can you be so sure?” She peeked out from beneath the pillow.

“Because I have a hotline to the met office. Don’t worry. We’ve been doing this for centuries. That same yard used to be a tiltyard for jousting tournaments and people would come from all over Europe to attend. You don’t think a spot of rain would bother the knights?”

She smacked him with the pillow. “Stop with the centuries thing already. I get it. Your family have a lot of history. Don’t let it go to your head.”

“That’s why I need you, so you can keep cutting my ego down to size.” He slid his arms around her waist and cushioned her against him.

“I don’t!”

“Really? You keep telling me you can’t wait to get away from me. How am I supposed to feel about that? It’s a week to the coronation. Are you going to stay after that?”

She wasn’t prepared to answer. She didn’t have any answer he’d want to hear. She didn’t even know if she’d make another week. She couldn’t stay much longer without losing her heart. Already she was way more involved than she should be.

Any more involved could lead to disaster. What if the press found out some of her secrets? Max would never forgive her for lying to him. She knew better than anyone how his trust had been shaken, how he felt betrayed by those he loved. She couldn’t bear to hurt him any more than he’d already been hurt, and every day longer she spent with him, the greater the risk grew that he would find her out. That he’d feel she’d betrayed him.

So she buried her head in his shoulder, breathing him in, saving up the memories to treasure later, when he was no longer around. “You’ll get over it. You have enough confidence for three grown men.” At least, she hoped so. He was going to need it. “I smell breakfast. Let’s get up.” She tried to leave the bed but Max pulled her back.

“Not so fast.” He nuzzled her neck. “Not before I’ve had a chance to kiss you properly.”

The bacon was barely warm by the time they reached the dining room where invisible servants had set out breakfast this morning. Grey light fell through the mullioned windows turning the room murky, settling a gloom that the warm yellow lights of the overhead chandelier couldn’t quite dispel.

Or perhaps it was because, in spite of Max’s kisses, the thought of her imminent departure still insisted on intruding.

When he left, to greet the first of the visiting dignitaries to arrive for the coronation, Phoenix paced the Solar. Whenever Max wasn’t around, the walls seemed to press in on her, like a cage. In spite of the discreet luxury, the royal apartments were exactly that – a cage. She couldn’t go out without attracting attention. And with Rebekah’s parents back in town for the coronation, and helping out in the café, she had nothing better to do than watch television.

Phoenix hardly ever watched television.

She leaned on the wrought-iron railing of the balcony and looked out over the terraced vineyards. The sky was leaden, pressing down, but at least the rain had stopped. A chill breeze teased at the fronds of her hair. She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of wet earth, the scent of adventure and exhilaration, of everything she craved.

Well, nearly everything.

Somehow Max had wormed his way in at the top of the list of things she craved. There was no way she was going to be able to leave now without heartache. But she still had to do it. A little heartbreak now was better than a lifetime of pain later. She needed to get away, to say goodbye, before it became impossible.

But right now, she needed to get out of this apartment. Her bike and the freedom of the open road, called her.

Downstairs in the Great Hall, where a reception was to be held before the concert, the no longer invisible servants scurried around, polishing armour, scrubbing floors and setting up a bar at the far end of the hall beneath the minstrel gallery.

Phoenix wandered over to take a look. “Not like that,” she said to the youth packing bottles onto the shelves behind the bar. She slid beneath the bar flap. “There’s a skill to packing a bar so the barmen can find everything they need quickly.”

And before she knew it, the bike ride was history and she was stocking the bar, filling ice trays, cleaning glasses and slicing lemons, on a first name basis with half the servants working around her.

“You really shouldn’t be doing this,” the bar manager said, scrutinising her handiwork with approval.

“Nonsense. What else do I have to do? Get my nails done? No thanks.” It was much better to be active. Sitting alone in the royal apartments was no fun. Being here, amongst the electric buzz as the castle geared up to open its doors to the public, was.

“There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

She turned to face Claus. “You found me.”

“I have a job for you to do, if you’ll follow me.”

She smiled. A real purpose at last.

Claus led her to his office in an ante-chamber behind the hall. “Max will greet the guests as they arrive at the reception. In the past, his mother always stood by his father and helped him. Max will need you to do the same.”

This was certainly the last thing she’d expected. “That’s a really bad idea, Claus. People will think…” She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence. She didn’t need to. It was obvious what the world would think if she stood beside Max as his equal, as his partner.

“People already think. After all, you wear the Waldburg ring over your heart.”

Her hand flew to the chain around her neck. “I can’t!”

How could she explain to Claus that it wasn’t what the rest of the nation thought that mattered? Max would think… he would hope.

Claus’ level gaze met hers. “It’s not that difficult. I’ve made some notes on the guests, and I’ll coach you. They will be announced as they enter and all you need to do is say a few personal words to each person to make them feel special. It’s a simple memory trick.”

If only all memories were that simple. “Did Max put you up to this?”

“He’s already got a lot on his shoulders. I didn’t want to burden him with this too.”

When he put it like that, it was hard to refuse.

She and Claus were still bent over the guest list when Max returned. She felt the familiar pull in her stomach and looked up. He leaned in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. He wore a pair of dark jeans slung low on his hips and a dark long-sleeved turtle neck shirt that clung to his torso, and her heart kicked up a beat at sight of him.

He pushed away from the doorjamb. “I can’t leave you alone for a moment without you getting into mischief, can I?”

A guilty flush crept up Claus’ neck as he looked from Max to Phoenix. “I was just preparing Phoenix for the meet and greet this evening.” His eyes grew clouded. “I hope I haven’t presumed too much?”

Max’s self-satisfied smile showed how much he approved of Claus’ presumption. And Phoenix’s complaisance. She pushed the papers away and stood, her irritation levels rising. She had a score to settle with Max. But she managed to smile sweetly for Claus’ benefit. “It was either work or run away.”

If Max sensed the tension in her tone, he didn’t show it. The dimple flashed in his cheek as he looked at Claus. “Then I owe you a huge debt of gratitude for keeping my…girlfriend…busy today.”

Claus laughed. “She’s a natural. You really should marry her, you know.”

Max’s amused gaze met and held Phoenix’s. “Yes, I really should.”

She frowned. “It’s getting late. We need to get ready for the reception.” She grabbed Max’s arm and propelled him out the office and towards the back stairs the servants used to reach the royal apartments. As soon as they were out of earshot, she hissed, “You didn’t tell me the significance of this ring. Now everyone believes we’re engaged.”

“It doesn’t matter what anyone thinks. I gave you that ring because you’re my wife.”

“That’s easily remedied.” She stalked off up the stairs, too angry to speak. If Max thought he was going to trap her here with a stupid ring, then he could think again. Because she was no Rapunzel to stay stuck in a tower.

Despite the fact that the stage had been set up on the far side of the castle, the thump of the warm-up act’s music vibrated in the floor beneath Max’s feet as he welcomed his guests. No-one else seemed to notice the discordant pulse beneath the babble of voices in the Great Hall but to Max it thrummed through him.

Beside him, Phoenix was all smiles, charming his guests with just a few words. She was a quick study, her memory for names and faces was excellent and wearing the same elegant teal cocktail dress he’d bought for her in Vegas, she was a knock-out. His guests loved her. She’d even won over Albert.

But beneath the bright smile and easy grace, something was wrong.

She might be at his side, as his partner, but he was losing her and he had no idea what more he could do to hold on to her.

The Hall was now filled with people, the concert organisers, local celebrities and the sons and daughters of Westerwald’s rich and famous. And the headlining rock band too, clustered around the bar. Probably not the best place for performers about to go on stage.

With their duty at the door done, Max shepherded Phoenix through the crowd. He needed a drink and perhaps alcohol would take the edge off her restlessness.

“Would you like a drink?” He had to shout to be heard over the din.

“Anything, as long as it doesn’t have champagne in it.”

He leaned on the bar counter and waved for the barman’s attention. “Two margaritas.”

One of the rock band peeled away from the bar and moved towards them. Max recognised him as the drummer.

“As I live and breathe, if it isn’t Phoenix Montgomery! Hey, Johnny, look who’s here,” the drummer called over his shoulder to the band’s lead singer, an icon and pin-up the world around. Johnny looked around and was instantly on his feet, moving to sweep Phoenix off her feet and wrap her in a tight hug. Max found himself shouldered aside.

She laughed. “Hey Mick, Johnny. I’m surprised you recognised me. I must have been about fifteen or sixteen last time I saw you.”

Johnny grinned. “Fifteen. But look at you. All grown up and legal now.” He set Phoenix down but kept an arm around her shoulder. Max forced his fists to unclench.

“How could we not know your face, luv? You’re unforgettable,” Mick chimed in.

It was the first time Max could remember seeing her blush. She also looked happier than he’d seen her all day. As if finally remembering him, she held out a hand to him. “Mick, Johnny, this is Max.”

Johnny let go of Phoenix’s waist to shake Max’s hand and Max took the opportunity to insert himself into the space between them.

“My father toured with them one summer,” she explained.

So she’d meant a whole lot more than posters on the wall when she said they were her favourite band.

“Time to get on stage, gentlemen.” The man who interrupted wasn’t a middle-aged rocker like the others. He was around Max’s age, dark-haired and dark-eyed in that suave Latino way that girls swooned over. “Hello, Phoenix.”

Not another bloody admirer. Phoenix had more groupies than the band, it seemed. Max wasn’t used to having so much competition for any woman’s attention. And he certainly wasn’t willing to share Phoenix’s attention. He wrapped a possessive arm around her waist.

“Hello, Rafael.” Her tone was decidedly cooler than it had been with the band. So this then was the ex-boyfriend who’d put the concert together at such short notice.

Max smiled, but he kept a firm hold on his wife. “Thank you very much for helping us out.”

The other man’s eyes hadn’t left Phoenix’s face. “I’d do anything for Phoenix, and she knows it.”

Max resisted the urge to growl. “Don’t you have a concert to supervise?”

Rafael nodded, spared one last, lingering look for Phoenix, and turned on his heel to follow the band through the crowd that was dissipating fast as everyone hurried to their seats.

“Your drinks,” said the barman, pushing the drinks across the counter towards them.

Phoenix ignored him to glare at Max. “What was that all about?”

“What?” he asked, aiming for innocent.

“That Neanderthal ‘this is my woman’ thing you were doing?”

Anger spiked through his veins, so hard and fast that for a moment he lost all sense. “Because you are mine. You are not available. It seemed as if everyone needed to be reminded of that. You included.”

“You don’t own me, Max. If there’s one thing I know about our marriage ceremony, it’s that there’s no way in hell I vowed to obey you.”

She’d been insistent that night too. He drew in a deep breath and fought to get his own temper back under control.

Sparks shot from her eyes. “This was a mistake. It was a mistake back in May and it’s still a mistake. No amount of time is going to make us more compatible or more suited to each other.”

What the hell had brought this on? “We are perfectly compatible. Or do I need to remind you?” He lifted her chin, his intention to kiss her clear but she pulled away, taking a step back.

“In bed, yes. But in every other way we’re completely different. You can trace your family back a thousand years. I never even met my grandparents. You have duties and responsibilities and I don’t even own a goldfish.”

“That’s all superficial. We match in every way that counts.”

“You need heirs, and I don’t want children.”

Her words fell like lead between them.

Okay, that was a biggie. He wanted a family with her. He wanted to give her the family she’d never had. Yet, she’d rejected it out of hand, without even knowing what she was losing out on. He swallowed against the hard lump in his throat.

This was starting to feel like a losing battle. What hope did he have of reaching her, when she’d spent so many years hardening her heart?

Even though he knew that beneath all those layers, beneath all the hardness, lay a passionate, vibrant heart full of love. He’d known it the first night they met, and he’d been trying to get back there for months, but it seemed he’d been attempting the impossible. Like her father, she’d turned running away into an art form.

She took another step back. Away from him. He felt the divide open between them, a gaping chasm that he had no idea how to cross.

“This is neither the time nor place. We can discuss this later. Right now, we have a few thousand people waiting for us to take our seats so the concert can start.”

Phoenix downed her margarita and nodded. “Okay, I’m ready.”

The acoustics in the outer bailey were incredible and the band was still as thrilling on stage as they’d been a decade earlier, but Phoenix found it impossible to focus on the concert. She longed for another margarita, anything to take the edge off her volatile emotions and taut nerves.

While Max appeared to have forgotten their tiff and seemed to be enjoying the show, she couldn’t. She should have been happier. For weeks she’d helped plan this night and it was a phenomenal success.

Too phenomenal a success. It had been so easy to stand beside Max and to smile and greet the new arrivals at the reception. The same skills that had brought her years of free drinks from strangers in bars had Max’s guests eating out of the palm of her hand. Even that stuffed-shirt prime minister had cracked a smile for her.

Who could have guessed that a lifetime of moving on, of having to make friends in every new town, would give her exactly the skills she’d need to be a princess?

But just because she could do the job, didn’t mean she should.

Max would be far better off with a woman at his side who wouldn’t bring him or his family into disrepute. If the press ever found out about her drug conviction, she couldn’t even imagine the fall out in this conservative little country. And she never wanted Max to look at her the way he’d looked that night when he’d spoken of his mother’s secrets. Angry, hurt, betrayed. She couldn’t do that to him.

No, it was better for Max and it was better for her that they called this whole thing off before any of that got out.

He could sign those divorce papers waiting for him in California and she’d happily file them for him. Well, maybe not happily, but she’d do whatever had to be done to keep his reputation safe. And hopefully no-one would ever connect the ‘Max Waldburg’ on their marriage certificate to a foreign prince.

She heaved a sigh. She’d have to force him into it. She knew better than anyone that once Max was focussed on what he wanted, he was unstoppable. He always got what he wanted and he wouldn’t let her go.

She’d have to leave when he least expected it, without saying goodbye, or he’d talk her out of it. And she wasn’t placing any bets on her ability to withstand his persuasion.

The band moved into a ballad and in the yard below the royal box lighters sparked into action, a sea of tiny lights waving in time to the music. The words of the familiar love song wrapped around her. Moved by the music and the poignant lyrics, her heart ached.

Max wrapped his arms around her and leaned his chin on her shoulder and they swayed to the music. Phoenix closed her eyes, leaning back into him, drawing on his strength. But her mind was made up. She’d take this one last night with him, and tomorrow she’d pack her bags and slip away.

Her head might be on board with the plan, but her heart was an altogether different matter. It wasn’t nearly so easy to convince and she didn’t hold out much hope of keeping her heart as safe or undamaged as Max’s reputation. All she could do now was prevent herself falling any further than she already had.

His heat filtered through the elegant tuxedo he wore, through the much thinner layer of her dress, suffusing her in a lust-filled haze. No. The ‘L’ word was no longer Lust.

It was Love.

She loved Max and she’d do anything for him. Including leaving him.