Falling For The Rebel Princess. Ellie Darkins
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the spell.
They’d been cocooned in that buzz, carrying them straight through the ceremony. Such a laugh as they’d toppled out of the chapel. Right up until that kiss. Then it had all felt very real.
Did she remember that feeling as they had kissed for the first time? He knew in his bones that he could never forget it, as they were pronounced husband and wife.
‘Are you going to hide in there all morning?’ he asked.
In the daylight, she didn’t look like a princess any more than she had the night before. Maybe that was how he’d found himself here. He’d expected to be on edge around her, but as soon as he had met her... Not that he was relaxed—no, there was too much going on, too much churning and yearning and desire to call it relaxed. But he’d been... He wasn’t sure of the word. Her boss had sent her out here to convince him that their label was a good fit—and he’d been right. They had... Maybe fit was the right world. They’d just understood each other. She understood the music. Understood him. And when they had started dancing, there had been no question in his mind that this was important. He didn’t know what it was, but he knew that he wanted more.
And marrying her—it had been a good move for the band. You couldn’t buy publicity like that. He must have been thinking about that, must have calculated this as a business move. It was the only thing that made sense.
But was she expecting a marriage?
Because she came with a hell of a lot of baggage. Oh, he knew which fork to use, and how to spot the nasty ones in a room of over-privileged Henrys. He’d learned that much at his exclusive public school, where his music scholarship had taken him fee-free. But the most important part of his education had been the invaluable lesson he’d got in his last year—everyone was out to get something, so you’d better work out what you wanted in return.
The only place he felt relaxed these days was on the road, with his band. They moved from city to city, sometimes settling for a few weeks if they could hire some studio space, otherwise going from gig to gig, and woman to woman, without looking back. Everyone knowing exactly what they wanted, and taking what was on offer with no strings attached.
‘Come on,’ he said, reaching for her hand. As his fingertips touched hers he had another flash of that feeling from last night. The electric current that had joined them together as they had danced; that had woven such a spell around them that even a visit to a courthouse hadn’t broken it.
‘I can’t believe we got married. This was your fault. Your idea.’
Was she for real? He shrugged and reminded her of the details. ‘No one forced you. You seemed to think it was a great idea last night.’
So why was she looking at her ring as if it were burning her?
‘Wh...?’
He waited to see which question was burning uppermost in her mind.
‘Why? Why in God’s name did I think it was a great idea?’
‘How am I supposed to know if you don’t? Maybe you were thinking it would be good publicity for the album.’
He looked at her carefully. Yes, that was why they had done it. But also...no. There was more to it. He couldn’t believe that she was such a stranger this morning. When they’d laughed about this last night, it hadn’t just been a publicity stunt—that sounded too cold. It had been a joke, a deal, between friends. A publicity stunt was business, but last night, as they’d laughed together on the way to the courthouse, it had been more than that.
And maybe that was where he had gone wrong, because he knew how this worked. He knew that all relationships were deals, with each partner out to get what they wanted. He had no reason to be offended that she was acting like that this morning.
‘I’m not sure why you’re mad at me. You thought it was a great idea last night.’
‘I hadn’t slept for thirty-six hours, Joe. I think we can say that I wasn’t doing my best reasoning. We have to undo this. What are my parents going to say?’
Her parents, the Queen of Afland and her husband. He groaned inwardly.
‘Last night you said, and I quote, “They’re going to go mental.” As far as I could work out, that was a point in the plan’s favour.’
In the cold light of morning—not such a good idea. Bad, in fact. Very bad.
He had married a princess—an actual blue-blooded, heir-to-the-throne, her-mother’s-a-queen princess.
He was royally screwed.
‘Look,’ Joe said. ‘I’m hungry, too hungry to talk about this now. How about we go out for breakfast and discuss this with coffee and as much protein as they can cram on a plate?’
CHARLIE GAZED INTO her black coffee, hoping that it would supply answers. Her memories had started to filter back in as she’d sipped her first cup; shame had started creeping in with her second. She hoped that this cup, her third, would be the one that made her feel human again.
‘So how do we undo this?’ she said bluntly. ‘This is Vegas. They must annul almost as many marriages as they make here. Do we need to go back to the courthouse?’
She looked up and met Joe’s eye. He was watching her intently as he took a bite of another slice of toast. ‘We could,’ he said. ‘If we want an annulment, I guess that’s how we go about it.’
‘If?’ She nearly spat out her coffee. ‘I don’t think you understand, Joe. We got married.’
‘I know: I was there.’
‘Am I missing something? The way I see things, we were joking around, we thought it would be hilarious to have a Vegas wedding, and we’ve woken up this morning to a major disaster. Aren’t you interested in damage limitation?’
‘Of course I am, but, unlike you, I think the reasons we got married were sound. Not necessarily the best reasons to enter into a legally binding personal commitment, but sound nonetheless.’
She raised her eyebrows. ‘Remind me.’
‘Okay, obvious ones first. Publicity. The band needs it. The album is almost finished, we’re looking for a new label, and there is no such thing as bad publicity, right?’
‘Mercenary much?’
‘Look, this isn’t my fault. You were good with mercenary last night.’
She snorted. ‘Fine, publicity is one reason. Give me another.’
‘It shows you’re serious about the band.’
She crossed her arms and sat back in her seat, fixing him with a glare. ‘I’ve signed plenty of bands before without marrying the lead singer. They signed with me because they trust that I’m bloody good at my job. Are you seriously telling me that whether or not I would marry you was going to be a deal-breaker?’
He leaned forward, not put off by her death stare. In fact, his eyes softened as he reached for her hand, pulling her back towards him. She went with it, not wanting to look childish by batting him away.
‘Of course it wasn’t,’ he said gently. ‘But breaking the marriage now? I’m not sure how that’s going to play out. I’m not sure what our working relationship could look like with that all over the papers.’
She shook her head, looking back into the depths of her coffee, still begging it for answers.
‘All of which I have to weigh against the heartbreak of my family if we don’t bury this right now.’
She avoided eye contact as she tried to stop the tears from escaping. But she took a deep breath and when she looked up they were gone. ‘Do you think anyone knows already? The press?’