After driving Olivia to the palace, Quincy let the servants show her to her new room. She still wore that dreamy look on her face, and he felt himself growing fond of this woman very quickly. He’d noticed her straining to see the ocean while he drove and had thought she’d enjoy the view from the cliff. He didn’t realize how much he’d enjoy seeing such a look on her face.
Quincy tossed the Jeep keys to the valet and went inside as well. His rooms were down the hall from Olivia’s. His parents had always hoped for more children to fill them, but they’d been unlucky in that area. Quincy was an only child and had been alone with his father since his mother passed away when he was ten, a dark time. Quincy had turned into a bit of a rebel, and his father retreated into himself—until Melinda suddenly appeared in his life. Quincy still remembered seeing his father’s face after the first day he’d spent with that woman. He hadn’t seen a look like that in the king’s eyes for years, and that woman had done it in one afternoon.
When they’d first been introduced, Quincy had meant to tell Melinda how thankful he was that she’d appeared in their lives, but he’d never got the chance.
“Ah, sir, there you are,” Pascal, his personal servant and friend, said as Quincy entered his grand rooms. “I trust the ladies of the palace are settling in nicely?”
“Guess so. The soon-to-be princess is down the hall,” he told him as he stretched, grabbed a fresh mango from the bowl on the nearby table, and headed out to his balcony. It overlooked the courtyard of the palace and the central fountain made of glass tiles that caught the sunlight. Palm trees swayed gently in the island breeze, and the scent of the fresh blooms hit his nose. His gaze slid to another balcony to the right of his and at an angle. Olivia’s balcony. Sadly, her doors were closed, as were the curtains.
“Something the matter, sir?”
“Hmm? Oh no, nothing. Just wondering what this summer will be like.”
Pascal stood beside him, frowning. “Planning how to ruin your father’s parties?”
“No, actually, just wondering about this Olivia, is all.”
“Soon-to-be Princess Olivia. I think they’ll add a nice appeal to the palace. Bring some life back into it,” Pascal nodded. “Add a feminine touch.”
Quincy frowned. “I happen to like it just being us men.”
His servant raised a brow and straightened. “That’s not what your face says, sir.”
“And what does my face say?”
“That you are dying to talk with that woman again. But first, your father has requested you meet him in his study. He would like to go over what is expected of you the next few months.”
Quincy groaned. He hated when his father held his little meetings. As if the crown prince didn’t already know what to do. He just didn’t want to do it. There was a difference. His father was worried about the wedding plans, and the last thing Quincy would do was ruin his father’s happiness. Drive him insane as all good sons should, yes, but not ruin the wedding.
He ate the rest of his mango and walked out of his room. He passed several more servants in the halls. They stopped and bowed their heads as he passed, and he smiled and greeted each and every one by name. He’d been taught to do that since he could talk. He might be a rebel, but he did not go so far as to mistreat the household. Never piss off the person who did your laundry or made your bed. That was just asking for trouble.
A few bodyguards stood outside his father’s study and opened the door for their prince as he approached. “Father,” he said, bowing his head. “You wished to speak with me?”
“Ah, yes, come in. Have a seat, Quin.”
Quincy moved to sit in front of his father’s grand, hand-carved desk. It had been at the palace for generations and was as old as the place itself. Quincy had always admired it, just like he admired the man who sat behind it. Well, most days. His father stared at several papers laid out before him, mumbling under his breath.
“Kings do not mumble,” Quincy said, earning a glare from his father.
“And princes do not tell their kings what not to do,” he said, but there was a hint of a smile on his face. “Nearly finished.” Quincy leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs, slouching. “I can still see you. Sit up straight before you hurt your back.”
“I don’t know… I’m quite comfortable.”
His father’s pen scratched across the heavy paper as he signed it. He pressed a button on his desk. A moment later, a door to the right side opened and the king’s second in command, Marcel, appeared.
“My Prince, Quincy,” he said, bowing his head to him, then the king. “The announcement is signed and ready?”
“Yes, but hold onto it for a moment, please. I must confer with the prince on several matters.”