The Duke's Boardroom Affair / Convenient Marriage, Inconvenient Husband: The Duke's Boardroom Affair. Michelle Celmer
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you to learn the ropes.”
A tickle of excitement worked its way up from her belly. Anyone who lived on Morgan Isle dreamed of going to the palace and meeting the royal family.
But honestly, what was the point? “Why bother? I’ll only be working for you for three weeks.”
“Yes, but how will you train your replacement if you don’t learn the job first?”
He had a point. Although his logic was a little backward. But the truth was, she really wanted to go. After all, when would she ever get an opportunity like this one again?
“When you put it that way,” she said, pushing away from her desk, “I suppose I should.”
“A car is waiting for us downstairs.”
She grabbed her purse from the bottom desk drawer and her sweater from the hook on the back of the door, then followed him through the outer office past Penelope—who didn’t even raise her head to acknowledge them—to the elevator. He was uncharacteristically quiet as they rode down and he led her through the lobby to the shiny, black, official-looking Bentley parked out front. Not that she knew him all that well, but he always seemed to have something to say. Too much, usually.
They settled in the leather-clad backseat, and the driver pulled out into traffic. She wasn’t typically the chatty type, but she felt this irrational, uncontrollable urge to fill the silence. Maybe because as long as they were talking, she didn’t have to think about the overpowering sense of his presence beside her. He was so large, filled his side of the seat so thoroughly, she felt almost crowded against the door. It would take only the slightest movement to cause their knees to bump. And the idea of any sort of contact in the privacy of the car, even accidental, made her pulse jump.
When she couldn’t stand the silence another second, she heard herself ask, “Not looking forward to this meeting?”
The sound of her voice startled him, as though he’d forgotten he wasn’t alone. “Why do you ask?”
“You seem…preoccupied.”
“Do I?”
“You haven’t made a single suggestive or inappropriate comment since we left your office.”
He laughed and said, “No, I’m not looking forward to it. Delivering bad news is never pleasant.”
He didn’t elaborate, and though she was dying of curiosity, she didn’t ask. It was none of her business. And honestly, the less she knew about the royal family’s business, the better.
The drive to the palace was a short one. As the gates came into view, Victoria’s heart did a quick shimmy in her chest. She was really going to visit the royal palace. Where kings and queens had lived for generations, and heads of state regularly visited. Though she had lived on Morgan Isle her entire life, not ten miles from the palace, she never imagined she would ever step foot within its walls. Or come face-to-face with the royal family.
Charles leaned forward and told the driver. “Take us to the front doors.” He turned to Victoria. “Normally you would use the business entrance in the back, but I thought for your first visit you should get the royal treatment.”
The car rolled to a stop, and royally clothed footmen posted on either side of the enormous double doors descended the stairs. One opened the car door and offered a hand encased in pristine white cotton to help her out. It was oddly surreal. She’d never put much stock in fairy tales, but standing at the foot of the palace steps, she felt a little like Cinderella. Only she wasn’t there for a ball. And even if she were, there were no single princes in residence to fall in love with her. Just an arrogant, womanizing duke.
Which sounded more like a nightmare than any fairy tale she’d ever read.
She and Charles climbed the stairs, and as they approached the top the gilded doors swung open, welcoming them inside.
Walking into the palace, through the cavernous foyer, was like stepping into a different world. An alternate reality where everything was rich and elegant and larger than life. She had never seen so much marble, gold, and velvet, yet it was tastefully proportioned so as not to appear gaudy. She turned in a circle, her heels clicking against marble buffed to a gleaming shine, taking in the antique furnishings, the vaulted and ornately painted ceilings.
Though she had seen it many times in photos and on television documentaries, and on television documentaries, those were substitute for the real thing.
“What do you think?” Charles asked.
“It’s amazing,” she breathed. “Does everyone who visits get this kind of welcome?”
“Not exactly. But I feel as though everyone should experience the entire royal treatment at least one time. Don’t you think?”
She nodded, although she couldn’t help wondering if he had done this out of the kindness of his heart or if instead he had ulterior motives. She knew from experience that men like him often did. How many other women had he brought here, hoping to impress them with his royalty? Not that she considered herself one of his women. But he very well might. In fact, she was pretty sure he did. Men like him objectified women, saw them as nothing more than playthings.
And she was buying into it. Playing right into his hand. Shame on her for letting down her guard.
She put a chokehold on her excitement and flashed him a passive smile. “Well, thank you. It was a nice surprise.”
“Would you like to meet the family?” he asked.
Her heart leapt up into her throat. “The f-family?”
“We have a meeting scheduled, so they should all be together in the king’s suite.”
The entire family? All at once? And he said it so casually, as if meeting royalty was a daily occurrence for her.
But what was she going to tell him? No?
“If it’s not a problem,” she said, although she didn’t have the first clue what she would say to them.
“They’re expecting us.”
Expecting them?
She went from being marginally nervous to shaking in her pumps.
He stepped forward, toward the stairs, but she didn’t budge. She couldn’t. She felt frozen in place, as though her shoes had melted into the marble.
He stopped and looked back at her. “You coming?”
She nodded, but she couldn’t seem to get her feet to move. She just stood there like an idiot.
Charles brow furrowed a little. “You okay?”
“Of course.” If she ignored the fact that her legs wouldn’t work and that a nest of nerves the size of a boulder weighed heavy in her gut.
A grin curled one corner of his mouth. “A little nervous, maybe?”
“Maybe,” she conceded. “A little.”
“You have nothing to worry about. They don’t bite.” He paused then added, “Much.”
She shot him a look.
He grinned and said, “I’m kidding. They’re looking forward to meeting you.” He jerked his head in the direction of the stairs. “Come on.”
She didn’t pitch a fit this time when Charles touched a hand to the small of her back to give her a gentle shove in the right direction. But he kept his hands to himself as he led her up the marble staircase to the second floor, gesturing to points of interest along the way. Family portraits dating back centuries, priceless heirlooms and gifts from foreign visitors and dignitaries.
It all sounded a bit rehearsed to her, but the truth was, as the family lawyer, he’d probably taken lots of people on a similar tour. Not just women he was hoping to impress. And it did take her mind off of her nerves.
“The