Page 42 of Princessa
Chapter 25
As a lover of fairy tales, back home I’d collected a library full of romantic movies.
My favorites were all based on charming princes who met and fell in love with, whom I called nothing-special girls—girls who lived an ordinary life, had no social status, yet were ultra outgoing and enchanting. The two would make their love for each other work against all odds, eventually get married, then live their happily-ever-after lives together as prince and princess.
Besides sharing common endings, every one of those movies sported scenes where the unassuming leading lady stepped into an extravagant palace and sauntered about, blown away by its opulent décor, the old-century ambiance, and the sweet-tempered and humbled staff.
Prancing around Andorra Palace, butterflies cartwheeling in my stomach, I felt as though I were starring in my own royal love story in the making.
“And this is where Prince Grayson lived out his youth until he moved into Seville Cottage well over ten years ago.” Nicola palmed the bedroom door open, then stepped to the side as Mya led the way in, while I followed close behind.
The bedroom—at least one-thousand square feet—seemed like something a young prince would retreat to: light blue walls, a mahogany four-poster bed with its matching furniture, and shelves lined with rows upon rows of classic books that I tried to picture a young Grayson reading.
There was an en-suite bathroom and a closet with loads ofAndorra Academylogo’ed prep-school uniforms, all neatly posted in the same direction, still pressed and ready to be worn.
Something taped to one of the closet walls caught my attention. An old, almost faded, poster of a bikini-clad Salma Hayek.
Oh, Lord.I blushed.
She was all boobs and wet hair, looking like there was more on her mind than going for a leisure swim on the beach. I snickered, imagining a teenaged Prince Grayson using his walk-in closet as a place to get his rocks off at the sight of the sultry actress.
Nicola—who was fair-skinned—turned beet red when she spotted the poster. “Oh, my. I guess that’s one we failed to remove.”
“So, there were more?” I chuckled.
“At least two more in the bedroom.” She covered her mouth to stifle a giggle as Mya trotted over, took one look at the poster then laughed too. “But who could blame him?” added Nicola. “She’s pretty.”
“Beautiful,” corrected Mya. “Just like you, Arabella.”
Like a winter furnace, heat warmed my face, and I honestly didn’t know what to say other than, “Thank you.”
Nicola closed the door behind us as we walked out of the bedroom. “You’re the first he’s brought here, to the palace, you know.”
Unsure if I heard correctly, I turned to Nicola then to Mya and said, “I’m sorry, what?”
Mya shoved her hands into the front pockets of her crisply ironed apron. “It’s true. Until today, Prince Grayson has never brought a woman home.”
Nicola rocked back on her heels, lip kicked up to the side. “So, like I said, you’re the first, which is sort of a big deal.”
My half-smile was the result of me being a little freaked out and a whole lot of flattered. “Oh, I hardly knew that.”
“I thought I might find you all around here.” Grayson’s voice caused us all to jump, making it appear as though we were up to no good. “Staying out of trouble, I presume?” His hand splayed across my back, the touch delivering a shockwave of heat throughout my body.
“Yup, we were just in your old bedroom where I got a glimpse of the Salma Hayek poster on your closet wall.”
His head fell back in laughter. “Ah, you found my teenage crush.” He didn’t get all flushed from embarrassment like I expected him to. Instead, he smiled that cool, unaffected smile, moved in closer, and whispered, “She’s got nothing on you, Bella.”
Nicola and Mya must have heard because all they did was let out a collective, “Aww.”
Saying thank you for giving me a tour, I hugged Nicola and Mya, before they scattered about, presumably off to their normal duties.
Grayson clipped my forehead with a kiss. “C’mon, beautiful. Let’s go rescue Diamond from Luna and Simone. Then we can head to the cottage, rest up, and change for dinner with the king and queen.”
Assuming all went well with his meeting, I couldn’t be bothered bringing it up. I figured if all exploded, he wouldn’t have been as collected as he seemed. Plus, on the casual stroll over to his cottage, hands entwined, Diamond fast asleep in her carrier, it was entertaining to tease him about his half-naked Salma.
Seville Cottage, located on Palace grounds, was nowhere near what I conjured up in my head. The quaint one-story house was white with blue trim, and—of all things—a white picket fence.
A lavish garden with to-die-for roses of every shade—red, pink, white, yellow, and a rarely seen majestic blue—bordered the home. It was picture-perfect, like one of those fancy pads featured on home-and-garden television shows, post makeover.
