Chapter Three

       @LeeHill: @KenzieCole101 What’s up chica? Heat keeping you awake?

       @KenzieCole101: @LeeHill Something like that. But I’m behaving. Promise!

      Light filtered through Rik’s eyelids and he groaned into his pillow. Whoever had stuck his head in a vice grip then twisted it deserved to die. He’d see to it personally. Just as soon as he could lift his head off the pillow to see who it was.

      “Time to wake up, Sleeping Beauty.”

      The voice was annoyingly perky and not one he recognised. Probably a new housemaid. Where was Robert? It was usually his valet who brought his coffee and the morning papers.

      With herculean effort he lifted one eyelid.

      Ouch, the light was bright.

      He didn’t recognise her face either. And the housemaids didn’t usually wear jeans. He squeezed his eyes shut again, but that was worse. Now the room reeled about him.

      It wasn’t a sensation he was used to, but in a sickening instant he knew he was neither dreaming nor ill. He was hungover. And there wasn’t going to be any valet or housemaid, because they belonged to a life that wasn’t his anymore.

      “Here drink this. It’ll make you feel better.”

      Nothing could do that. He’d already tried. Neither time nor distance nor drink could dull the constant ache.

      He prised his eyes open. “What is it?”

      “A special concoction the concierge cooked up. He swears on his grandmother’s grave it works miracles.”

      Rik hoped so. Gingerly, he levered himself up on his elbow and took the glass of foaming green liquid from her outstretched hand. “What’s in it?”

      She shrugged. “Local herbs or something.”

      Local herbs – who was she kidding? “Isn’t it bad enough you got me drunk? Now you want to get me stoned too?”

      “I didn’t get you drunk. You did that all on your own. And I don’t want you stoned either. I want you sober and out of my bed so I can get to work.”

      The drink tasted surprisingly minty and though the first sip made him gag, he managed to drink it all down.

      “There’s a good boy. Ready to get up now?”

      “Ask me in another hour.” He shut his eyes and sagged back into the pillow’s softness. At least the room seemed to have stopped spinning about him. A miracle indeed.

      She ripped the duvet off him. “Oh no, you don’t! It’s already ten o’clock and the day is wasting away.”

      He pulled the duvet back. “Great, go and enjoy it,” he mumbled into the pillow. “I’ll stay here and sleep it off. You won’t even know I’m here.”

      “You’re taking me to see the mayor.”

      Why would he do that? He didn’t want to think, didn’t want to remember, but gradually the memories formed anyway … the resort bar, chosen because there were few locals there and little chance he’d be recognised … the pretty firecracker who’d made him smile … the summons from his brother …

      His whole damned useless life where one day dragged into another.

      He forced himself off the pillows and sat up.

      The room wasn’t as bright as it first appeared. Wooden shutters shielded the worst of the infernal sunshine. It leaked through the slats, casting moving patterns on the bed that made his stomach swirl.

      His gaze shifted back to the redhead. No, not red … more ginger. She wore it tied back in a loose ponytail, just as she had last night. Her eyes were too big for her face, her nose pert and slightly upturned, and her skin … he’d never understood the term ‘porcelain skin’ until now. The dusting of freckles stood out against the delicate paleness.

      Kenzie, she’d called herself. What kind of a name was that?

      “You look tired,” he observed.

      She pursed her lips. “I wonder why?”

      Her retort was too tart for him to have kept her awake in the most pleasurable of ways. So at least he hadn’t missed any fun stuff. “How did I get here? Last I remember I was celebrating alone in the beach bar.”

      “Didn’t look like much of a celebration. The night manager and barman carried you up here. It was either that or jail.”

      “In which case, I thank you. You have a kind heart.”

      She didn’t seem to like the compliment. Her eyes spat blue flame. “I didn’t do it for you.”

      “Ah yes, I promised you an introduction to the mayor. You didn’t take my advice though. Didn’t the hotel boutique have a dress?”

      Although her jeans were a snug fit so they might do the job too. They were certainly making his mouth dry. Or maybe that was just thirst.

      “I was a tad preoccupied this morning.” She pursed her lips again, and he found his gaze drawn to her mouth. Against his will, he licked his own lips.

      She blushed, her pale skin lighting up as the heat spread. Then she dropped her gaze and rose from the bed. “Now you’re finally awake, take a shower, and I’ll order you some breakfast.”

      “I’ll have toast, plain, and I like my coffee black and sweet.”

      Kenzie arched an eyebrow. “Anything else you’d like?” He almost heard the sarcastic Your Highness she bit back. He swallowed bitter laughter. She had no idea how close to the truth she was. Or how far.

      While she stalked off to call room service, he slipped into the bathroom. The shower’s temperature was set on cold, and by the time he’d managed to crank up the heat, he was well and truly awake. He was also starving.

      He didn’t have much experience of hangovers but he was pretty sure this level of alertness was unusual. Weren’t people supposed to throw up after they’d been drunk? He couldn’t remember being sick. The concierge’s grandmother could rest peacefully in her grave. Perhaps he should finance the concierge in a little sideline herbal remedy business.

      Rik discarded the idea as quickly as he’d discarded every other Plan B he’d come up with these last few months. There wasn’t a lot that an ex-prince could do without seeming like a loser or just plain desperate. Which he was. There was also only so much paradise one man could take. If he didn’t find something soon to fill his days he was going to go insane.

      But at least he still had his dignity – as long as the girl in the other room never got wind of who he was. A sordid night in a woman’s hotel room was exactly the kind of lurid headline he didn’t need.

      Like mother, like son. He could picture it already.

      He