The Royal Romantics

Did her father know what had happened last night? He always knew everything. Was he disappointed in her? Or had he summoned her here today to insist on a bodyguard? Whatever it was, his assistant had said it was urgent. So urgent she’d left one of the world’s leading dress designers standing open-mouthed in the bridal boutique.

She steeled herself with a deep breath, straightened her back, and knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

She opened the door and stepped in.

Her father stood in the bay window, which overlooked one of Neustadt’s numerous squares, a leafy oasis amongst the eighteenth-century buildings, his back to her and his hands clasped behind his back, like a king surveying his domain. Which wasn’t far off.

Victor Thomas Adler, Twelfth Count of Arelat, former Supreme Court Judge and new head of the nation’s Intelligence Service, wielded almost as much power in the little European nation as the Archduke or the Prime Minister.

He turned as she closed the door behind her. “Thank you for coming so quickly.” He waved her to the seat across the desk and she sat, folding her hands demurely in her lap. Her hand felt bare where her engagement ring usually sat. She’d barely had it a few months and already it felt like a part of her. As soon as this interrogation was over, she needed to collect it from the jeweller’s, along with the insurance valuation certificate.

“Your assistant said it was urgent.”

Please, please don’t let him have heard about last night… she hated to disappoint her father.

“Did you enjoy the banquet last night?”

She blinked.

He never indulged in small-talk. So why did he want to talk about some charity event? She crossed her fingers in her lap, careful they were out of her father’s line of vision. She nodded. “It was a lovely evening.”

“Did Stefan go with you?”

“I told you last week that he’s away. He has meetings in New York.”

He wasn’t happy with that. He’d already made his feelings known on that score – he didn’t think Stefan would make a good husband for his only child. He’s too wrapped up in his work. He should take better care of you.

Her father was a good one to talk. He was married to his job.

She was used to being alone. And tough if he didn’t think Stefan was good enough. The man he’d thought suitable – the man they’d both thought eminently suitable – now lived in exile half a world away and she had to move forward with her life.

She didn’t want to be alone. She wanted a family. And since Fredrik’s departure, she and Stefan had seemed inevitable. She’d known Stefan since they were children. They’d grown up in the same social circles and his family lineage was almost as impeccable as her own. They were friends.

“You met the American actor?”

“I did.” At least that wasn’t a lie.

Her father moved to the chair behind his desk and sat, steepling his fingers together.

Oh-oh, she was in trouble. She just didn’t know what for, yet. For lying to him, or for paying so little attention to her safety that she’d endangered herself? Or both?

“I spoke to him.”

His eyes narrowed. Worse, then. Did he know how rude she’d been to a visiting celebrity? He might not be big on small-talk but he was big on manners. And for reasons she couldn’t fathom, he’d wanted her to meet the man.

“What did you discuss?”

She’d replayed the conversation enough times in her head since last night to be able to answer that. But somehow she didn’t think ‘I mistook him for an escaped con’ or ‘I insulted him’ would rank highly in her father’s estimation.

“We spoke about opera and ballet … and the Los Pajaros children’s charity, of course.”

“Of course. And what was he wearing when you had this scintillating conversation?”

He wanted to talk men’s fashions? Something was going on here she couldn’t quite see. Did he know she hadn’t attended the banquet last night? Did he know she was lying? He always knew everything… but she was in so deep now.

She closed her eyes briefly and summoned up an image of Christian Taylor. Torn evening jacket, crisp white shirt ripped to reveal bare, hard chest beneath. Smooth, muscled chest… skin a rich cappuccino colour. “He wore an evening suit, like everyone else.”

Her father leaned forward in his seat. “Very interesting… in view of the fact that he never made it to the banquet last night.”

Oh-oh. She cleared her throat but couldn’t think where to start.

“Which means you never attended either.”

She lifted her chin. “It’s a long story.”

He waved his hand, not interested, and she breathed an inward sigh of relief at not having to divulge the entire sorry story.

“You have the opportunity to redeem yourself. After last night’s stunt, the film production company is looking for a PA for Mr Taylor. Someone local who knows their way around this city and who can ensure he gets to where he’s needed on time. I suggested you.”

Tessa choked. “I’m not a PA!” And it wasn’t as if she needed a job.

She flinched as Christian’s words reverberated, still sharp in her memory. “So what difference are you making in the world?” Spoken in a tone so scathing, it had burned at her all night.

“It’s not much different from being a social secretary. You have plenty of experience at that.” Her father relaxed a fraction and almost smiled. “You’ve been doing it for me long enough.”

She tried to think, but her head had turned to mush. See Christian Taylor again? Oh no! Not after last night… “I’m planning a wedding.”

“You have an assistant,” he pointed out.

Precisely. She had an assistant. “You can use Anna. I could pull her off the wedding preparations for the next week, and she’s an excellent PA.”

And Anna would probably love the idea of being around movie people all day.

Her father shook his head. “Not just anyone can do this job. I need your help.”

She shut her mouth. He never needed help from anyone. Her father was the most self-assured, most formidable man she’d ever known. She’d often had reason to be grateful she was his daughter, the one person in the world he cared about, and not on the receiving end of his less-merciful side.

Even so, he wasn’t above manipulating her or trying to control her life. Her eyes narrowed. Was this a ploy to keep tabs on her? An actor as famous as Christian Taylor no doubt had an entourage of drivers and bodyguards. People who could just as easily watch over her too. If she’d thought her life was suffocating before now, it would have nothing on that.

She pictured herself, trapped in the back seat of a limousine with the man she’d insulted last night, watched over by beady-eyed security men. It was enough to make her break out in hives.

But not for nothing was she her father’s daughter. She summoned up her own most formidable expression. “Why me?”

His gaze bore into her. “Because I need someone I trust to get close to him. I need to know everything about him. It’s a matter of national security.”

She couldn’t keep the surprise from her face. Since when was a frivolous Hollywood actor a matter of national security?

Her father rose from his chair and paced back to the window. “You’ve seen Fredrik’s ring – the Waldburg ring?”

She nodded. Of course she had. Her former boyfriend had worn that ring as a symbol of who he was. She swallowed against the lump in her throat. The last time she’d seen him, at his brother Max’s engagement party, he hadn’t worn it.

That night had been one of the hardest she’d ever had to endure. Almost everyone there had known she and Fredrik were dating before he’d been summarily exiled. Most had expected them to get engaged. She certainly had.

She’d been so grateful for the protection of Stefan’s engagement ring on her finger that night, even though he’d been away on business and she’d had to brave the lion’s den alone.

It should have been even worse for Fredrik. He’d lost so much more than she had. Instead, he’d been so wrapped around his new girlfriend Kenzie he’d scarcely noticed anyone else.

She frowned. Fredrik had disappointed her. She’d believed he was above vulgar public displays of affection. That’s what one expected from a Hollywood actor, not from a European prince.

“You would recognise the Waldburg ring again if you saw it?”

She forced the past back where it belonged and lifted her chin. “Of course.”

“Did Fredrik ever tell you there are three rings?”

She shook her head. They were the rings of the heirs of the Archdukes of Westerwald. Fredrik had one. His brother Max, the new Archduke, had one. Of course there could be another, locked away in safety in the event of a third son and heir being born, though that hadn’t happened in over a century.

Her father contemplated the view beyond the window. “It’s not known outside the royal family, but the third ring disappeared more than thirty-five years ago. Fredrik believes he saw it on a chain around Mr Taylor’s neck a few nights ago.”

Tessa tried hard to remember what she’d seen last night. She had to struggle past the vision of toned, dark-skinned chest.

A flash of silver.

It was possible. A lot of men wore jewellery these days. But if the ring was genuine – and she trusted Fredrik implicitly – then how had Christian Taylor come by it? A royal heirloom like that must surely have been as closely guarded as the crown itself.

Her father smiled, answering her train of thought. “Yes, that’s what I need to know. Christian told Fredrik that he got it from his mother. I checked her out. She worked as a political intern in the palace here in Neustadt many years ago, on a policy think-tank. She left before he was born. I need to know how she got that ring, and anything else she may have taken. It shouldn’t take more than a week or two at most. Then we can send Anna in to replace you.”

She thought quickly. An intern would never have had access to the royal vaults. Christian’s mother must have had inside help. But who, and how deep did this go?

Her father was right. This wasn’t a job for any ordinary PA. And this way she could restore her father’s faith in her too. Wedding or not, she’d do whatever she could to help. Even lose her independence. Even face Christian Taylor again.

She wouldn’t only be doing it for her father, or out of friendship for Fredrik, but out of love for her nation. This was her home, her security, and she loved Westerwald more than she’d ever loved any man.

“I’m sure I don’t need to tell you to keep this strictly between us. Fredrik has asked me to keep this from Max until we have real evidence.” Her father slid a file across the desk to her. “Read this before you leave. The address is inside. You’re expected there in an hour.”

“How did you persuade them to hire me?”

He smiled. “I didn’t. Kenzie did.”

The film’s production office was in the warehouse district on the outskirts of town. Though it was another balmy day, unseasonably so for January, and the sky an enticing blue, Tessa kept the top firmly closed as she drove. She wasn’t taking any more chances.

A security guard signed her in and she circled the enormous car park looking for an empty space. Half the car park was filled with trucks and motor homes. People scurried between buildings and vehicles with an almost frenetic sense of urgency.

She sat in the car for a long moment, hands gripping the steering wheel. She wasn’t sure which was worse. Having to face Christian Taylor again, or having to make nice with Fredrik’s new girlfriend. No, not girlfriend. Fiancée.

Sucking in a deep breath, she climbed out of the car.

The offices were above a voluminous warehouse space, where a construction team hammered and sawed and raised voices echoed. Up a narrow flight of stairs she found the reception and was shown to a waiting room with faux-leather sofas, a water cooler and a pile of outdated magazines. Beyond the door she heard voices, phones ringing, laughter.

Suppressing the urge to pace, she sat with her ankles crossed and her hands clasped in her lap. And tried very, very hard not to imagine how abjectly she’d have to apologise to Christian for her behaviour last night before he’d even give her the time of day.

She would do or say whatever it took. Though for someone who always knew all the right words, who wasn’t fazed in any company, the sudden attack of butterflies in her stomach was disconcerting.

“Would you follow me, please?”

Tessa followed the young receptionist down a long hall lined with offices and into a nondescript glass box identical to all the others. The redhead behind the desk rose with a ready smile and waved the receptionist away. “Thanks for coming, Teresa.”

Fredrik couldn’t have chosen two women more different if he’d tried. Where Tessa was tall and fair, Kenzie was petite and freckle-faced, her face as open as any book – not an accusation anyone would ever make of Tessa.

People usually described Teresa as competent. Kenzie was more “damsel in distress”, fragile and delicate. Tessa could understand what Fredrik saw in her.

Kenzie came around the desk, and as she moved, her hand caught the sunlight from the bare windows. Tessa rubbed the empty spot where her own ring should have been. She still hadn’t managed to get to the jeweller’s to collect it, and without it she felt naked. Unprotected.

Kenzie wrapped her in a hug and Tessa stiffened. She wasn’t a hugging type of person. Especially with a woman she’d only met once in her life.

“Try to look as if we’re old friends,” Kenzie whispered. Then she moved to close the door and waved Tessa to sit. “No one here knows who you are. I’ve told them you’re a friend of mine and you’re looking for a job.”

“I didn’t know you worked in the movies.” Tessa hadn’t made much effort to find out anything about Fredrik’s new woman. About her replacement.

And yes, she was perfectly aware this was a case of pots and kettles. Just because she was now engaged to Stefan and would soon be married herself didn’t mean she wasn’t hurt Fredrik had moved on so quickly too.

“They’re calling me the location liaison, but really it’s just a fancy title they’ve given me because the mayor of Los Pajaros refuses to deal with anyone else. Rik and I are headed back tomorrow. The production team there have hit a few snags.” Kenzie bit her lip. “In fact I’ve never known so much to go wrong on a shoot before.”

Which explained why Kenzie wasn’t the one doing the snooping. “No one’s wondering why I’m being given the job over someone more experienced?”

Kenzie laughed. “That’s the thing. Westerwald doesn’t have much of a film industry, certainly nothing like the scale of this movie. There are no film-experienced PAs here.” She dropped her voice. “And the work permit application to bring in someone from London has been held up by red tape.”

Highly unlikely. Westerwald’s bureaucracy functioned like clockwork. But Tessa had a very good idea who had held up the application. “So what do I need to do?”

“It’s very simple. You’ll be the main contact person between Christian and this office. Every day you’ll be issued a call sheet for the next shooting day. You let Christian know what time he needs to be on set, then in the mornings you check that the driver is ready and waiting on time. If there are any delays, you let the second AD know, and if there are any changes to the schedule, you let Christian know.”

Tessa raised an eyebrow. It sounded like a lot of hand-holding. Most grown men she knew were quite capable of setting their own watches without their PA’s help. Stefan certainly was.

No wonder celebrities turned into such arrogant monsters if they didn’t even have to take responsibility for getting themselves to work on time.

And Christian was definitely a monster. What rational person would slam the car door on her and stalk off just because she hadn’t fawned all over him?

Kenzie handed her a folder. “This is from Christian’s publicist back in LA. He has a few promotional commitments you’ll need to manage: you’ll need to coordinate the arrangements for a premiere in Paris after filming here in Westerwald is done, and there are a few press interviews, a photo op or two… that sort of thing.”

Like the charity banquet he hadn’t attended last night.

“Anything else?”

“You might be expected to make dinner reservations, perhaps do a little personal shopping… ” Kenzie looked apologetic. “I’m sorry, Teresa. I know this is a terrible imposition, and I’m so sorry to ask it of you, especially since you have your wedding coming up.”

Tessa gave a cool smile. “It’s no problem. And my friends call me Tessa.”

Relief blazed in Kenzie’s face. “We can’t thank you enough. With everything that’s going on back in Los Pajaros I just don’t have time to look into this, but Rik is very concerned. He’s very grateful for your help.”

But not enough to pick up the phone and talk to her himself.

Kenzie escorted her along the corridor, introducing her to a dozen people along the way, the casting director, the production people, the assistant directors.

She still had to pass an interview with Gerry, the unit production manager. While she’d never had to interview for a job in her life before, this one was a walk in the park compared to the grillings her father subjected her to.

“Christian’s easier than most,” Gerry said, leaning his elbows on the desk between them. “He’s not one of those stand-offish stars with an entourage around them who won’t look you in the eye or who’ll treat you like his skivvy. He’s very approachable and easy-going.”

Which didn’t gel with the first impressions she’d got. He’d exuded so much testosterone that “easy-going” was the very last thing she’d have described him as. She hoped Gerry was right and the man she’d met last night was nothing like the man she was about to meet.

“I’ve worked enough diplomatic parties to be able to handle whatever he throws at me,” she replied. Her voice sounded way more sure than she felt.

“I like you,” Gerry leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers, just as her father did. But that was about where the resemblance ended. Gerry looked like a cuddly teddy bear – not something her father could ever be compared to. “I was worried about hiring a female PA for Christian, but I think you’re going to work out just fine.”

She arched a questioning eyebrow and Gerry laughed. “He has a bit of a reputation with women, but you look like someone who can hold your own. Somehow I don’t think you’re going to go all fangirl on him and fall into his bed.”

“I should hope not!” Perhaps it would not be such a good idea sending Anna in to finish this job when she’d got the information she needed. Not that her personal assistant was in the habit of falling into bed with men, but it would be like sending a lamb into a lion’s den.

But finding a replacement was a worry for another day.

“What is the movie about?” she asked.

“The usual. A little romance, lots of action. It’s about the bastard son of a king and a slave girl who becomes a pirate. You’re in luck. Today’s a day off for the shooting crew, but Christian’s downstairs in the costume department doing some final fittings so you can meet him straight away. If you don’t mind waiting a few minutes, I’ll walk you over and introduce you. There’s just one call I have to return before we go.”

“I’d like her to meet Lee first,” Kenzie said, rising from the chair beside Tessa. “So we’ll meet you down at Wardrobe in ten.”

“Who’s Lee?” Tessa asked as they headed downstairs. She’d learned a few tricks over the years and was good at remembering names and faces, but she was starting to reach saturation point.

“My best friend. He’s an art director and he’s supervising the set-build downstairs.”

In the vast warehouse space Kenzie had to shout to be heard over the din of construction. “Principal photography started a few days ago. The first couple of weeks are all location filming, mostly at the palace, then they move in here and shoot the interiors of the pirate ship for a few days before the entire production moves to Los Pajaros. You have three weeks to find out what you need.”

Tessa nodded. And she had four weeks until her wedding. The quicker she could get this job done, the better.

From the outside, the set looked like nothing more than makeshift wooden walls on wheels, but passing inside was like moving from one world to another. From a dirty warehouse into the captain’s cabin of a pirate ship.

Smoke and mirrors, like everything else in the film business where nothing was real.

Lee was bent over a table littered with drawings and schematics. He straightened with a grin, dimples flashing. He might easily be the most beautiful man Tessa had ever seen.

“How’s my best girl?” He winked at Kenzie and pulled her close into his side.

“This is Tessa,” Kenzie said, hugging him back.

“Ah, the super-spy.”

Tessa frowned. “You told him?”

“I tell Lee everything. You can trust him too.”

Lee turned the full wattage of his grin on Kenzie. “If you ever need anything, just ask.”

Tessa cast a glance over the drawings on the table. “Did you do these?”

He nodded, pride shining in his eyes. “I designed this set. It’s kind of what I do. Interior design with a difference.”

“Any chance you do weddings too?”

“Tessa’s getting married soon,” Kenzie jumped in.

“It’s been a whirlwind,” Tessa explained. “I wanted a spring wedding, but Stefan’s so busy and the only break he has is over the St Valentine’s weekend. It’s all terribly last-minute, but my biggest challenge has been finding Valentine’s themed decor that isn’t a cliché.”

Kenzie grinned. “If it’s spring you want, you’ve come to the right place. Ask Lee to tell you sometime how he decorated a St Pancras station platform with fresh frangipanis in October for Rik.”

They exchanged a look. “I didn’t do it for Rik,” he said, then he turned to Tessa. “I’ve never done a wedding scene before. Could be fun.”

“Just promise me no pink hearts. I fired my wedding-planner because she insisted on hearts and cupids.”

Lee grinned. “No pink hearts. Cross my heart. Are you and your fiancé free for dinner tonight so we can thrash out ideas?” He pulled his mouth down. “I’ve got nothing planned since my best friend’s ditched me for a better offer.”

Kenzie smacked his shoulder. “It’s Rik’s farewell dinner with his family. I told you.”

Tessa ignored the pang in her chest. She’d once been a part of that family. “Stefan’s out of town on business, but my assistant and I are available for dinner.”

Lee pulled her in against his free side and gave her a squeeze. “It’s a date.”

She tried hard not to flinch at the touch, and extricated herself as quickly as she could without being rude. “So when do I get to meet Mr Taylor?”

Kenzie smiled, mistaking her question for enthusiasm. “Right now.”

In the adjacent building, they passed a warren of dressing rooms, props workshops and store rooms before they reached the costume department.

Feeling very much like that lamb being led into the lion’s den, Tessa followed Kenzie through a set of wide double doors into a bright space lined with rail upon rail of period clothing. To one side, beneath the light of the tall windows, seamstresses beavered away behind clattering sewing machines. Straight ahead, in a cleared open space, stood a couple of battered sofas and a table with a tray of coffees. Tessa could smell the fresh coffee clear across the room.

Her stomach flipped. She’d skipped lunch too in the hurry to get here.

Beyond the sofas, reflected half a dozen times in the bank of mirrors behind him, stood Christian Taylor.

He wore full eighteenth-century costume, complete with ruffled cuffs and pantaloons. There weren’t a lot of men who could look masculine in an outfit like that. Christian did.