5. Xander

CHAPTER 5

XANDER

T he vibrating is driving me up a wall. It’s a low hum that seems to have a way of driving straight to the deepest parts of my brain.

All I want is to turn it off, but my arm is trapped under the beautiful woman beside me.

Amy sighs and rolls over, her hair fanning out around her and reflecting some of the golden light streaming through the open window.

The roll is just enough to get my arm loose. I slide it out and stumble out of bed, reaching for my boxers and pulling them on.

The vibrating stops for a minute before it starts again, this time louder than ever.

Groaning, I rifle through the piles of clothing and sheets on the floor, tossing a pillow to the side and rummaging through the pockets of my pants until I find my phone.

“What is it?” I say, voice a low growl as I head for the patio doors.

Atticus sighs. “Good morning to you too, cousin. What a lovely day it is. Don’t you think that on a day like this, you would’ve been at the morning meeting instead of making your public image worse?”

I shut the door behind me, careful not to make too much noise. “I don’t think that I’m out here destroying my public image.”

“Then what do you call spending the night with a woman?”

“Are you having me followed?” My tone is sharp, cracking down the line like a whip.

It wouldn’t be the first time my advisors have sent men around to follow me, but most times sneaking out avoids the feeling of being watched.

Atticus scoffs, and someone says something in the background of the call that I don’t catch. “No. We’re not having you followed, even though you managed to sneak out yet again. I just know you, and I know that when it comes down to it, a tiger does not change its stripes.”

“What are you saying?”

“That you have no interest in being anything other than what the media portrays you to be, and it’s a disgrace to the person I know you are.”

“You don’t know anything about the person I am,” I growl. “Nobody does, because you all think that I would rather spend my time sleeping around than doing my job.” I stare out at the waves, wishing that I could walk into them and disappear forever.

Maybe get swept to some faraway land where I’m not the king.

A place where nobody knows my name. Not a single person other than me gets an opinion on my life.

It would be better than the hell I’m currently navigating.

“The meeting is why I called.” Atticus’s voice is strained, someone still trying to talk to him in the background. “I know that you think marriage is a horrible idea, but it’s the only option we have. Opinion polls on you and your performance as king are lower than ever, and we don’t have time to waste.”

“Jorge is the one whispering in your ear right now, isn’t he?” I scoff, stepping off the patio and into the cold sand, not yet warmed by the sun. “You know I don’t think marriage is the right way to win over the people, so why does it continue to be a suggestion?”

“Because, at this point, it’s the only thing that might work.”

I sigh and glance over my shoulder at the patio doors, the outline of Amy’s body sprawled in the bed just barely visible.

If there has to be a marriage, it may as well be with someone I get along with.

She’s the first person in a long time I felt like I could be myself with. There weren’t any expectations tied to me being the king.

To her, I was just Xander.

“If I agree to this marriage plan — and I’m not saying that I will — then Jorge needs to take several steps back from my life. No more trying to control everything. I have a life to live, and I can’t have him inserting himself into whatever happens between me and my fiancée.”

“Does that mean that you’re going to start taking this seriously?” Atticus sounds hopeful. “Please tell me that you’re going to do this so I can tell Jorge to get out of my hair. Whenever you’re being difficult, I’m the one that has to listen to him.”

Someone in the background who sounds suspiciously like Jorge calls Atticus what sounds like a glass hole.

I snort and lean back against one of the posts holding up the little awning. “I’m going to consider it. I have a woman in mind. She might be willing to help me.”

It’s not like Amy has anything to lose. She’s trapped at a job she hates, and she says her life is falling apart. Maybe if I make her a good enough offer, she would be willing to help me out.

Biting the inside of my cheek, I glance inside at her again.

Jorge would be pissed if I showed up with an American on my arm. Frankly, it would be worth it just to see the look on his face.

“I’m going to spend the day with this woman and see if she’s willing to play along with the charade. If she is, then maybe you’ll see her later this evening.”

Atticus laughs, and there’s a heavy thud in the background. “All right, well, I’ve abandoned Jorge to be his miserable self. I’m going to go speak with the crown attorneys and have them draw up the contracts.”

“Don’t bother drawing up anything yet. I don’t know if she’s going to agree to this. It’s insane, and we barely know each other.”

“We’ll have them draw up the basics. Six-month engagement. Two-year marriage. After that, you can decide whether to call it off or not.” Atticus chuckles, and I can just imagine the smug look on his face right now. “She’ll probably get sick of you sooner, so we’ll have to make the divorce package good.”

“Hold off on anything too concrete,” I say, my tone stern. “I don’t know what she’s going to want out of this, and I’m not going to force her to agree to terms without hearing her conditions.”

“Good luck with that.”

“I’m hanging up on you now. We can debrief about the morning meeting later.”

He snorts. “Sure, hang up on me because you have your own morning meeting to debrief for.”

I end the call without giving him a reply.

There is no way that Amy is going to agree to this. No woman in her right mind would ever consider pretending to be engaged to a man she just met.

And then I have to tell her that I’m the king.

I groan and head back inside. Amy is still asleep on her stomach, her arms shoved beneath the pillow and one leg hooked up high.

I grab the menu from the little dresser in the corner, looking through the options before placing an order with the kitchen.

Sighing, I sit back in the chair and scroll through the latest policy change the advisors are trying to push through. Most of them have voted against free meals in school as it would mean cuts to their year-end bonuses.

I should fire them all and hire people with an actual interest in the economy of the country instead of their own pockets.

It’s not the first time the thought has crossed my mind since taking over the throne.

My vision blurs, headache growing stronger as I get to the bottom of the forms before scrolling back to the top to go through them again.

There’s a knock at the door and Amy yawns. Her eyelashes flutter against her high cheekbones, but she doesn’t move, soft snores filling the room again.

Setting the phone to one side, I get up and open the door, nodding to the man who brings the cart into the room.

“Your Majesty.” He bows slightly, looking down at the ground.

I grab my wallet and pull out a large tip, pressing it into his hand. “You didn’t see me here, understood? I’m nothing but a figment of your imagination.”

The man smiles and nods, pocketing the couple hundred dollars and scurrying down the hall. I shut the door behind him, sliding the latch into place while I wonder how long it’s going to take him to tell someone else that I’m here.

I’m going to have to leave sooner than I planned.

Amy sits up in bed as I wheel the cart into the middle of the room. “What is that?”

“Thought you might like some breakfast.” I pull the lids off the food, revealing eggs Benedict and a mountain of bacon and waffles. “Wasn’t sure what you were going to like, so I got a little bit of everything.”

I pull off another lid, fruit piled in little ramekins beneath.

Amy shuffles to the edge of the bed, her hair a wild mane around her, the white sheet wrapped around her body. She clutches it to her chest, her lips still a little swollen from last night.

I swallow hard, picking up one of the orange slices. “So, there are some things I probably need to tell you.”

She removes the last lid, gasping when she sees the perfect little chocolate croissants beneath it. “You’re in the witness protection program and now that I’ve blown your cover, you’re going to need to leave?”

Chuckling, I pop the orange into my mouth. It tastes bitter, though that could be the worry over what I’m about to ask her.

Once everything is out in the open, she’s going to think that I’m crazy. I doubt that she’s going to want to ever see me again.

And that would be a shame.

“Worse.” I give her a wry smile, gaze flickering around the room. “I’m the king of Katastinia.”

She bursts out laughing, the sound warm and friendly, urging me to laugh with her past the sense of dread that’s swirling inside me right now. “Okay. That was a good one.”

“It’s not a joke.” I clear my throat. As I turn to grab my phone to show her proof, her eyes burn into the back of my head.

“I thought you said you worked in human relations?” she says, her tone accusatory.

I turn back around with my phone in my hand, pulling up Katastinia’s main news website. As I scroll to the article on my being crowned king, a pit opens in the bottom of my stomach.

This was a bad idea. I should have told her goodbye and left.

Ordering her breakfast and trying to warm her up to the thought of pretending to be engaged to me is probably the worst idea I’ve ever heard.

No. That my advisors have ever had.

Although, some of the blame is to be put on me.

At least there’s an end date to this arrangement — if she agrees.

The site loads, and I pass her the phone. “All the information is here, but if you want more proof, I’m sure you could look me up online and see all kinds of other articles about me and my family.”

Amy sits back on the bed, propping her feet up on the frame. Her gaze flickers across the screen as she reads the article.

I know what she’s seeing right now. News that I took over the crown after the death of my brother. A picture of me at my coronation. More comments about how I’m eager to serve the country and do what’s best for them.

Amy finishes reading and hands me back the phone. “So you’re telling me I slept with the king of a country last night. Does this mean that security is going to be showing up at my door soon and making me sign all kinds of paperwork?”

Wincing, I nod. “Probably. If my advisors figure out where I am, they’re going to be on their way with NDAs in hand.”

Her eyes widen and she gets up from the bed, pacing from one side of the room to the other. “There is no way this is happening right now.”

“Well, it is.” I put the phone to the side. “I’m the king of Katastinia. I should’ve told you last night when you asked what I did, but it was nice to meet someone who didn’t know who I am for once.”

“It would’ve been nice to know who you are.” Amy stops her pacing, spinning on her heel and snatching a piece of bacon from the cart. She takes an angry bite, chewing as she resumes her trek across the room. “This is ridiculous. As if I needed my life to be more complicated.”

“I’m sorry.”

She brandishes the piece of bacon at me like a sword. “No you’re not. If you were really sorry, you would’ve told me who you were right away.”

“You’re right.” I cross one leg over the other, my hand on my ankle as my foot bounces. “But I need something from you.”

“Oh, first you lie to me and now you need something from me?” She scoffs and shoves the rest of the slice of bacon into her mouth.

“If there was anyone else I could ask, I would, but there’s not.”

She gives me a flat look. “I find that hard to believe, considering you live in a country where people literally have to do what you want.”

I grit my teeth, scrubbing a hand over my jaw. “I guess you’re right about that.”

“I know I am.” She sits down on the edge of the bed. “What do you need?”

“A fiancée.”

Amy’s eyes nearly bulge out of her head, all the color draining from her face. “Excuse me?”

“A fake fiancée,” I say, rushing the words out as fast as I can.

She laughs until tears roll from the corners of her eyes. “Are you high right now?”

“No.” I get up and drag the chair over to sit in front of her, less than a foot of distance between our knees. “I know this sounds insane, but I need help. My people hate me because I’m not my older brother and I have a terrible reputation.”

“That’s not a selling point.” She stops laughing, her smile fading. “Why is your reputation so bad? Did you kill someone?”

“No!” I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to search for the right words to explain everything to her.

It’s got to be a delicate balance of not scaring her off while convincing her I need her help.

“I’ve slept with a lot of women.”

Amy chuckles darkly. “Great. The first thing I’m doing when I land in New Jersey is to get an STD test.” She looks at me with glassy eyes. “You know, something like that might have been nice to know last night. I probably should’ve asked, but here I was, this idiot who thought she met a nice guy on a beach. Someone who didn’t want anything from her, and yet here you are, one more person who wants something from me that I don’t think I have to give.”

Yet, there’s this look in her eyes as the tears dry that makes me think she might agree to help me.

“I’m clean.” I cross the room and grab my phone, pulling up my most recent test results and passing them over to her. “And before you, I hadn’t slept with anyone in months. I was busy with my brother’s death and taking over the throne.”

“I’m sorry about your brother.” She presses her lips together, takes the phone and looks at the test results before handing it back to me. “Why do you need some foreigner to pretend to be your fiancée?”

“Because you don’t treat me any differently even though I’m the king. Even now that you know, you’re still giving me hell like I suspect you would give any other person.”

The corner of her mouth twitches. “Flattery isn’t going to get you anywhere.”

I shrug, sitting down in the chair. “It can’t hurt.”

“What do I get if I agree to this asinine plan of yours? And I’m not saying that I will. I’m just considering it since my life is as dry as the Sahara and I could use some fun.”

Her cheeks turn a brilliant shade of pink as she gets up and goes to stand near the patio doors.

As she stands with her back to me, spine stiff, I can’t help but admire her curves. Maybe it would be a better idea to get back in bed with her and call this whole thing off.

“If you agree to do this for me, I’ll fund your bakery. Anywhere in the world.” I grab the rest of my clothing from the ground and get dressed as I speak, needing to be able to make a quick getaway if she refuses.

Amy turns around, her mouth dropping open. “Really? You would do that?”

“Yes. If you agree to be my fake fiancée and then marry me, you can have a bakery, all costs covered. It would be good press for you too. We would have to do interviews, and I could tell everyone watching about the bakery you plan to open.”

Amy shakes her head. “If I do this, I wouldn’t want you to talk about the bakery. I would want to know that it’s successful because I’m good, not because my fake husband is the king.” She clutches the sheet a little tighter. “How long would we have to be married?”

“We’d be engaged for six months, and then we would have to be married for two years. Long enough to make it look like we did love each other, but we had problems and just couldn’t work them out.”

“And what problems do you think we’d have?” Her smile is teasing as she turns around, opening one of the doors and leaning against the doorframe.

The warm breeze blows in around her. As it does, the sheet billows out around her, the slit opening and showing off her long legs.

“I think we’d decide that I was too invested in my job as king, and though you love the country, it’s become too much for you to handle. I’m an absent husband at best.”

“Ah, is that another part of why your reputation is so bad?”

I roll my eyes. “Not quite. I’ve never been married before, and serious relationships have never been my thing.”

“You’re not going to cheat on me if we get into this.”

“Does that mean you’re going to do it?”